A Companion to Global Queenship 9781942401469, 9781942401476

Table of contents :
Cover
Contents
Untitled
Acknowledgements
Contributors
1. Introduction
2. When the Emperor Is a Woman
3. Tamar of Georgia (1184–1213) and the Language of Female Power
4. Regnant Queenship and Royal Marriage between the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem and the Nobility of Western Europe
5. Queenship and Female Authority in the Sultanate of Delhi (1206–1526)
6. Anna Jagiellon
7. Female Rule in Imperial Russia
8. The Transformation of an Island Queen
9. Female Rangatira in Aotearoa New Zealand
10. The Social–Political Roles of the Princess in Kyivan Rus’, ca. 945–1240
11. Impressions of Welsh Queenship in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries
12. Queen Zaynab al-Nafzawiyya and the Building of a Mediterranean Empire in the Eleventh-Century Maghreb
13. Al-Dalfa’ and the Political Role of the umm al-walad in the Late Umayyad Caliphate of al-Andalus
14. The Khitan Empress Dowagers Yingtian and Chengtian in Liao China, 907–1125
15. Dowager Queens and Royal Succession in Premodern Korea
16. The Ambiguities of Female Rule in Nayaka South India, Seventeenth to Eighteenth Centuries
17. Helena’s Heirs
18. The Hohenstaufen Women and the Differences between Aragonese and Greek Queenship Models
19. The “Honourable Ladies” of Nasrid Granada
20. Comparing the French Queen Regent and the Ottoman Validé Sultan during the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries
21. Queens and Courtesans in Japan and Early Modern France
22. The Figure of the Queen Mother in the European and African Monarchies, 1400–1800
Index

Citation preview

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A COMPANION TO GLOBAL QUEENSHIP Edited by

ELENA WOODACRE

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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library © 2018, Arc Humanities Press, Leeds

The authors assert their moral right to be identified as the authors of their part of this work.

Permission to use brief excerpts from this work in scholarly and educational works is hereby granted provided that the source is acknowledged. Any use of material in this work that is an exception or limitation covered by Article 5 of the European Union’s Copyright Directive (2001/​29/​EC) or would be determined to be “fair use” under Section 107 of the U.S. Copyright Act September 2010 page 2 or that satisfies the conditions specified in Section 108 of the U.S. Copy­ right Act (17 USC §108, as revised by P.L. 94–​553) does not require the Publisher’s permission.

ISBN: 9781942401469 e-​ISBN: 9781942401476 arc-humanities.org Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

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CONTENTS

List of Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii Acknowledgements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix Contributors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix Chapter 1. Introduction: Placing Queenship into a Global Context ELENA WOODACRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Part I Perceptions of Regnant Queenship

Chapter 2. When the Emperor Is a Woman: The Case of Wu Zetian 武則天 (624–​705), the “Emulator of Heaven” ELISABETTA COLLA. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

Chapter 3. Tamar of Georgia (1184–​1213) and the Language of Female Power LOIS HUNEYCUTT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

Chapter 4. Regnant Queenship and Royal Marriage between the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem and the Nobility of Western Europe HAYLEY BASSETT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Chapter 5. Queenship and Female Authority in the Sultanate of Delhi (1206–​1526) JYOTI PHULERA. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 Chapter 6. Anna Jagiellon: A Female Political Figure in the Early Modern Polish–​Lithuanian Commonwealth KATARZYNA KOSIOR. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

Chapter 7. Female Rule in Imperial Russia: Is Gender a Useful Category of Historical Analysis? OREL BEILINSON. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79

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Contents

Chapter 8. The Transformation of an Island Queen: Queen Béti of Madagascar JANE HOOPER. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

Chapter 9. Female Rangatira in Aotearoa New Zealand AIDAN NORRIE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Part II Practising Co-​Rulership

Chapter 10. The Social–Political Roles of the Princess in Kyivan Rus’, ca. 945–​1240 TALIA ZAJAC. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125

Chapter 11. Impressions of Welsh Queenship in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries DANNA R. MESSER. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Chapter 12. Queen Zaynab al-​Nafzawiyya and the Building of a Mediterranean Empire in the Eleventh-​Century Maghreb INÊS LOURINHO. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 Chapter 13. Al-​Dalfa’ and the Political Role of the umm al-​walad in the Late Umayyad Caliphate of al-​Andalus ANA MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 Chapter 14. The Khitan Empress Dowagers Yingtian and Chengtian in Liao China, 907–​1125 HANG LIN. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 Chapter 15. Dowager Queens and Royal Succession in Premodern Korea SEOKYUNG HAN. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 Chapter 16. The Ambiguities of Female Rule in Nayaka South India, Seventeenth to Eighteenth Centuries LENNART BES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 Part III Breaking Down Boundaries: Comparative Studies of Queenship

Chapter 17. Helena’s Heirs: Two Eighth-​Century Queens STEFANY WRAGG. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233

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Chapter 18. The Hohenstaufen Women and the Differences between Aragonese and Greek Queenship Models LLEDÓ RUIZ DOMINGO. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245 Chapter 19. The “Honourable Ladies” of Nasrid Granada: Female Power and Agency in the Alhambra (1400–​1450) ANA ECHEVARRÍA and ROSER SALICRÚ I LLUCH. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255

Chapter 20. Comparing the French Queen Regent and the Ottoman Validé Sultan during the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries RENEÉ LANGLOIS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Chapter 21. Queens and Courtesans in Japan and Early Modern France TRACY ADAMS and IAN FOOKES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285 Chapter 22. The Figure of the Queen Mother in the European and African Monarchies, 1400–​1800 DIANA PELAZ FLORES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299

Index����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 309

Contents

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Figures 4.1 Family tree of the queens of Jerusalem.���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 40 8.1 Eighteenth-​century southwestern Indian Ocean.���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 96 15.1 The queens and kings of the Koryŏ (918–​1392)����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������204 16.1 Geographical locations in early modern south India mentioned in the main text or footnotes.����������������������������������������������211 16.2 Genealogical chart of the Nayakas of Ikkeri showing the (probable) family relations of Queens Chennammaji and Virammaji, with rulers in capitals and dotted lines indicating adoptions.����������������������������������212 16.3 Genealogical chart of the Nayakas of Madurai showing the (probable) family relations of Queens Mangammal and Minakshi, with rulers in capitals and dotted lines indicating adoptions. ������������������������������������������������������214 16.4 Details of murals depicting Queen Mangammal of Madurai receiving the royal sceptre from the local goddess, Minakshi, through a priest (left) and attending a divine wedding with her grandson, Vijayaranga Chokkanatha Nayaka (right); Unjal Mandapa (central ceiling), Minakshi Sundareshvara Temple, Madurai.���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������218 16.5 Statues thought by some scholars to depict Queen Virammaji of Ikkeri and her adopted son, Somashekara Nayaka III; Rameshvara Temple, Keladi. ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������219 16.6 Book covers of (from left to right) Mahādēvi, Vīra śirōmaṇi keḷadi cannamma rāṇi (in Kannada); Gayatri Madan Dutt and Souren Roy, Chennamma of Keladi: The Queen Who Defied Aurangazeb (in the Amar Chitra Katha series); Nāka Caṇmukam, Rāṇi maṇkammā (in Tamil).������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������225 19.1 Genealogical chart of the Nasrid dynasty in late medieval Granada.��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������256

Tables

15.1 Queen dowagers of the Chosŏn (1392–​1910). ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������200 15.2 Queen mothers of the Chosŏn (1392–​1910).����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������201

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge, first and foremost, the scholastic efforts and good-​natured cooperation of the fantastic group of contributors to this collection. I am very grateful to have such delightful colleagues to work with and I thank them for contributing their insightful research to this project. I would also like to thank Dymphna Evans at ARC for her assistance and support throughout; her advice and help have been

crucial to the success of this collection, and she has been a real joy to work with. Thanks also to Erika Gaffney, who has ably stepped into Dymphna’s shoes, as well as to Tom and Kennedy at ARC for their assistance with maps and genea­ logical trees for various chapters of the collection, which is very much appreciated. Elena Woodacre

CONTRIBUTORS

Tracy Adams received a PhD in French from Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1998. Associate Professor in European languages and literatures at the University of Auckland, New Zealand, she has also taught at the University of Maryland, the University of Miami, and the University of Lyon III. She was a Eurias Senior Fellow at the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Studies from 2011 to 2012 and an Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence in the History of Emotions Distinguished International Visiting Fellow in 2014. She is the author of Violent Passions:  Managing Love in the Old French Verse Romance (Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), The Life and Afterlife of Isabeau of Bavaria (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010) and Christine de Pizan and the Fight for France (Penn State University Press, 2014). With Christine Adams, she has just edited Female Beauty Systems: Beauty as Social Capital in Western Europe and the US, Middle Ages to the Present (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2015). Also with Christine Adams, The French Royal Mistress and the Creation of the State,

under contract with Penn State University Press, is scheduled to appear in 2018.

Hayley Bassett is a postgraduate student of medieval history at Cardiff University. Her research interests include Anglo-​ Norman politics and diplomacy, particularly royal succession, regnant queenship, and gender authority. More specifically, her current work examines inter-​dynastic marriage alliances as a tool of diplomacy in the twelfth century. Orel Beilinson is a historian of imperial and post-​imperial, but mainly socialist, eastern Europe. He is interested in the relationships between ideologies and between ideologies and social, political, and legal structures and practices. As such, his current researches investigate the relationship between socialism, modernity, and religion (Islam and Judaism) in this region during the turn of the nineteenth century. Lennart Bes is a historian and Indologist studying polit­ ical culture at Indic courts. He recently submitted his PhD

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Contributors

dissertation at the Radboud University Nijmegen (the Netherlands), which concerns court politics in the south Indian Vijayanagara successor states. In the past he was employed at the Netherlands National Archives, where he worked on the records of the Dutch East India Company (VOC). Currently he is teaching at Leiden University on the history of India and Southeast Asia, European expansion, and the VOC and its archives. He has published on early modern south Indian kingdoms, their contacts with the VOC, and Dutch records concerning South Asia.

Elisabetta Colla holds the following degrees: MA (Laurea) degree in Oriental languages and literatures, Ca’Foscari University of Venice; diploma in Chinese language and ­culture, former Beijing Languages Institute; MA degree in Asian studies, Faculty of Human Sciences of Oporto; and a PhD in Cultural Studies from the Faculty of Human Sciences of the Portuguese Catholic University, Lisbon. She is currently Assistant Professor at FLUL (School of Arts and Humanities, Lisbon University) and has written various articles and a dis­ sertation on Macau.

Ana Echevarría is Reader (Profesora Titular) of Medieval History at the National University of Distance Education in Madrid. She holds a PhD from the University of Edinburgh. She has been a Visiting Professor in NYU Madrid and has conducted research work in universities and libraries in sev­ eral countries. Recently she has been a Visiting Fellow at the Käte Hamburger Kolleg “Dynamics in the History of Religions between Asia and Europe” (Ruhr University, Bochum, Germany) and at the Institute for Advanced Study at the Excellence Cluster “Kulturellen Grundlagen von Integration” in Constance University (Germany). Her research interests include the relations between Christianity and Islam in the Iberian Peninsula, and queenship in the Mediterranean. She is the author of a book and several articles on Catherine of Lancaster and the coordinator, together with Prof. Nikolas Jaspert (University of Heidelberg), of a monographic issue of the journal Anuario de Estudios Medievales (Barcelona) on “Power and Agency of Medieval Iberian Queens.” Ian Fookes is a Graduate Teaching Assistant in Asian Studies at the University of Auckland, School of Cultures, Languages and Linguistics. With a background in French and philosophy, he is a specialist in the writings of poet Victor Segalen (1878–​1919) and the aesthetics of diversity. Research interests include exoticism, postcolonial approaches to literature, Pacific writing, travel writing, and Western representations of Asia.

SeoKyung Han (PhD, philosophy, State University of New York at Binghampton) explores the book culture and history of antiquity through premodern East Asia. She focuses on how the Buddhist sutras and the (Neo-​)Confucian classics were secularized and popularized across eras and regions and how women engaged in reproducing those authorial texts, not only as narrative object but also as author and/​or as audience (reader and listener) of the texts.

Jane Hooper received her PhD from Emory University, Atlanta, in 2010 and she is currently an Assistant Professor in the Department of History and Art History at George Mason University, Fairfax, Virginia. Her book Feeding Globalization:  Madagascar and the Provisioning Trade, 1600–​1800 was published in 2017 by Ohio University Press as part of its Indian Ocean Studies series. She has also written articles about pirates, the slave trade from the Indian Ocean to the Americas, and teaching the trans-​Atlantic slave trade. She is currently studying American commerce and whaling in the Indian Ocean during the first half of the nineteenth century. Lois Huneycutt is Associate Professor of History at the University of Missouri, Columbia, and has worked extensively on Anglo-​Norman queenship. She is currently at work on a project reassessing the role of women in Europe’s conversion to Christianity, and her most recent publication is an art­ icle on women and power in volume two of Bloomsbury’s A Cultural History of Women in the Middle Ages, edited by Kim M. Phillips. Katarzyna Kosior is a Leverhulme Early Career Fellow in the Department of Humanities at Northumbria University, researching early modern Polish-Lithuanian kingship, elective monarchy, and masculinity. Her forthcoming book, Becoming a Queen in Early Modern Europe: East and West, will be published by Palgrave in 2019. 

Reneé Langlois recently finished her MA at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and completed her thesis on a wider com­ parison of the rule of the Ottoman validé sultans and the French queens regent during the early modern period that juxtaposes the means by which both sets of women accessed great political agency. She has presented stages of her work at the 2015 “Kings & Queens” conference IV and at the 2016 Western Ottomanists’ Workshop. She also had the oppor­ tunity to present at the “Kings & Queens” V and VI, in 2016 and 2017, and at the 2017 Sixteenth Century Society and Conference. While her primary research focuses on royal women and sovereignty in France and the Ottoman Empire,

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Reneé also explores the ways that climate can be used as a lens to re-​examine history. Her forthcoming article “Dynastic Loyalty and Allegiances:  Ottoman Resilience during the Seventeenth Century Crisis” discerns the ways that the royal women of the imperial harem fought for Ottoman sur­ vival, and became major contributors to the empire’s resili­ ence during a century of dramatic climate change that was witnessed throughout the world.

Hang Lin is currently Assistant Professor at Hangzhou Normal University, China. He has completed his MA and PhD in Chinese history at the University of Würzburg, Germany, and a postdoctoral project at the University of Hamburg. His major research interest focuses on the history of the Khitan and the Jurchen, the archaeology and material culture of the non-​Han peoples in Chinese history, and manuscript cul­ ture and the history of the book in late imperial China. His recent publications include: “Nomadic Mothers as Rulers in China: Female Regents of the Khitan Liao (907–​1125),” in Royal Mothers and Their Ruling Children: Wielding Political Authority from Antiquity to the Early Modern Era, edited by Ellie Woodacre and Carey Fleiner (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 105–​25; and “Re-​envisioning the Manchu and Qing History:  A Question of Sinicization,” Archiv Orientalni 85 (2017): 141–​54. Inês Lourinho has been a journalist since 1992; she has completed her licence (bachelor’s degree) in communication in 1998 at the New University of Lisbon. In 2007 she enrolled in the master’s program in medieval history at the University of Lisbon, which she concluded in 2010 with a thesis, “1147: A Conjuncture Analysed from the Muslim Sources Perspective,” under the supervision of Professor Hermenegildo Fernandes. She has recently finished her PhD thesis, “The Frontier of Gharb al-​Andalus: Confrontation Ground between Almoravids and Christians (1093–​1147),” with the same supervisor. Currently she is a researcher at the Centre for History of the University of Lisbon, with al-​Andalus, Maghreb, Christian–​M uslim relations, frontier cultures, Mozarabs, warfare, and medieval fleets among her fields of interest. She is mentioned in the book The Historiography of Medieval Portugal (c. 1950–​2010), edited by José Mattoso and published in 2011 by the Institute for Medieval Studies (New University of Lisbon), due to her research on Islamic and Mozarabic studies. Danna R. Messer is an independent historian who received her PhD in medieval Welsh history from Bangor University. Her general research interest is women living in native Wales before the Edwardian conquest of 1282 and, specifically, the

Contributors

wives of the native Welsh rulers. She is the Medieval History Series Editor for Pen and Sword Books, the Layout Editor for the Royal Studies Journal, a contributor to the Dictionary of Welsh Biography, and a member of the Royal Historical Society. Ana Miranda is a researcher at the Centre for History of the University of Lisbon and at the Centre for Archaeology of the same institution. She is a PhD candidate on medieval history, currently working on her thesis: “Circulation Networks in the 11th Century: Gharb al-​Andalus between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic.” Her research domains are the history of al-​Andalus and the history of Mediterranean societies, with a special focus on topics such as learned men, minorities, border societies, circulation, and cultural transfer. She has presented several papers at both national and international conferences throughout Europe and has submitted articles, most of which are awaiting publication.

Aidan Norrie is a historian of monarchy. He is a Chancellor’s International Scholar in the Centre for the Study of the Renaissance at the University of Warwick, and an Honorary Associate of the Department of English and Linguistics at the University of Otago, New Zealand. Aidan is the editor of Women on the Edge in Early Modern Europe (with Lisa Hopkins) and of From Medievalism to Early-Modernism: Adapting the English Past (with Marina Gerzic).

Diana Pelaz Flores is an Assistant Professor at the University of Santiago de Compostela. She obtained her PhD from the University of Valladolid with a dissertation titled “ ‘Reynante(s) en vno’: Poder y representación de la reina en la Corona de Castilla durante el siglo XV,” written under the supervision of Professor María Isabel del Val Valdivieso, for which she was awarded the “VIII Premio a Tesis Doctorales” by the Asociación Española de Investigación en Historia de las Mujeres. She has worked on several research projects and has published several articles and book chapters in prestigious journals and publishing houses. She has also published three books, titled Rituales Líquidos: El significado del agua en el ceremonial de la Corte de Castilla (ss. XIV–​XV) (Ediciones de la Universidad de Murcia, 2017), La Casa de la reina en la Corona de Castilla (1418–​1496) (Ediciones Universidad de Valladolid, 2017) and Poder y representación de la reina en la Corona de Castilla (1418–​1496) (Junta de Castilla y León, 2017).

Jyoti Phulera is currently pursuing PhD research at the Centre for Historical Studies, School of Social Sciences, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Having majored in history

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Contributors

from Indraprastha College for Women, University of Delhi, she pursued her master’s in medieval Indian history from Jawaharlal Nehru University. Her M.Phil. research looked at “Religion, State and Gender Relations in the Delhi Sultanate.” Her research interests include a history of gender relations in medieval north India, with special reference to the Sufic traditions ca. 1100–​1500. Lledó Ruiz Domingo is a PhD student at the University of Valencia, where she is developing her doctoral project “Queenship in the Late Middle Ages:  Construction and Signification of Queen Consorts in the Crown of Aragon (XIV–​X V Centuries)” under the supervision of Professor Antoni Furió i Diego. Her more recent publications include “ ‘Del qual tenim loch’:  Leonor de Sicilia y el origen de la lugartenencia femenina en la Corona de Aragón,” for the 2017 issue of Medievalismo: Boletín de la Sociedad Española de Estudios Medievales. Also in press are The Strategies of Legitimacy of the Trastámara Dynasty in the Crown of Aragon and Power, Piety and Patronage: Maria of Navarre as Queen of the Crown of Aragon (1338–​1347), both for Routledge.

Roser Salicrú i Lluch is a Senior Researcher (Investigadora Científica) in medieval studies at the Department for Historical Sciences, Milà i Fontanals Institution, of the Spanish National Research Council (Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, CSIC) in Barcelona. She holds a PhD from the University of Barcelona (1996) and was a post­ doctoral researcher at the University of Genoa from 1996 to 1997. She has been Editor-​in-​Chief of the journal Anuario de Estudios Medievales since 2010 and the Group Manager of the consolidated research group of the Generalitat de Catalunya CAIMMed (the Crown of Aragon, Islam and the Medieval Mediterranean) since 2009. Her research interests include the relations between Christianity and Islam in the Iberian Peninsula and the western Mediterranean in the late Middle Ages, with specific attention on the former Crown of Aragon; trade, navigation, and shipbuilding in the medieval Mediterranean; travel and travellers in the Middle Ages; and

medieval slavery in the Mediterranean. She is a specialist in fifteenth-​century Nasrid Granada.

Elena (Ellie) Woodacre is a specialist in medieval and early modern queenship and a Senior Lecturer in Early Modern European history at the University of Winchester. She obtained an MA in Medieval Studies from the University of Reading and her PhD from Bath Spa University. Her publications include her monograph The Queens Regnant of Navarre: Succession, Politics, and Partnership, 1274–​1512 (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013)  and she has edited/​co-​edited several collections on queenship and royal studies. Elena is the organizer of the “Kings & Queens” conference series and the founder of the international Royal Studies Network (www.royalstudiesnetwork.org). She is also the Editor-​ in-​Chief of the Royal Studies Journal (www.rsj.winchester. ac.uk or www.royalstudiesjournal.com), an academic, peer-​ reviewed, multilingual, and fully open-​access publication.

Stefany Wragg completed her D.Phil. on eighth-​ and ninth-​ century Mercian literature at the University of Oxford in 2017. She is currently teaching full time at secondary school.

Talia Zajac is currently the Eugene and Daymel Shklar Research Fellow at the Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute. She holds a PhD from the Centre for Medieval Studies at the University of Toronto (2017) and has previously served as a course instructor at the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM). Her research, which focuses on the political activ­ ities and religious–cultural patronage of Latin Christian brides who came to Rus’, and vice versa, Rus’-born consorts of western medieval rulers has appeared in the Royal Studies Journal (2016) and the Proceedings of the Fourteenth International Congress of Medieval Canon Law (Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2016). In addition, a chapter on the cir­ culation of material objects by Rus’ princesses in Western Europe is forthcoming in the volume Moving Women, Moving Objects (400–1500). Maps, Spaces, Cultures, eds. Tracy Chapman Hamilton and Mariah Proctor-Tiffany (Brill, 2018).

1

1 INTRODUCTION: PLACING QUEENSHIP INTO A GLOBAL CONTEXT ELENA WOODACRE

THERE HAS BEEN a long tradition of interest in the history of queens, arguably stemming back to the classical period with treatments of the lives, reigns, and loves of Dido and Cleopatra. This interest was kept alight by contemporary chroniclers and biographers over the centuries, who documented and discussed the lives of royal women. An early example is Fan Ye’s biographies of the Chinese empresses and consorts in the Hou Han shu of the fifth century CE.1 Queens featured regularly in European collections of women “worthies” from Boccaccio in the fourteenth century onwards, with many collective biographers creating collections dedicated exclu­ sively to queens from the early modern period to the heyday of queenly prosopography in the nineteenth century.2 While many works, such as the well-​known multi-​volume Lives of the Queens of England produced by the Strickland sisters, take a nationalistic approach, Mary Hays’s Memoirs of Queens (1821) is an example of collections that feature female rulers and consorts from beyond Europe. Indeed, Hays’s work encompassed various periods and geographical locations, including figures such as Panthea, queen of Susa, and the Mughal empress Nur Jahan—​demonstrating perhaps an early interest in the premise of global queenship.3 The modern discipline of queenship studies has built upon this long-​term interest in the lives of queens, but taken the study of their reigns in new directions. While biography has not been ignored by queenship scholars, there has been an emphasis on other areas that had been previously underexplored, such as queenly patronage, political agency, 1  Mou, Gentlemen’s Prescriptions.

2  Examples include Florez, Memorias; and de Coste, Les éloges et vies de reynes. See also Woodacre, “Well Represented.”

3  Hays, Memoirs of Queens; and Strickland and Strickland, Queens of England.

household dynamics, reputation and representation, and, more recently, diplomatic activity.4 Queenship studies, like the aforementioned collective biographies of queens, have also seen nationalistic and dynastic groupings in various collections, such as Queenship and Political Power in Medieval and Early Modern Spain (2005), Tudor Queenship (2012) and Early Modern Habsburg Women (2013).5 Queens have also been grouped by type, such as queens consort, which are the focus of the “Marrying Cultures” project, or queens regent, in the case of Katherine Crawford’s insightful Perilous Performances: Gender and Regency in Early Modern France (2004).6 Yet, while this impressive and ever-​increasing study in the field of queenship has considerably improved our understanding of particular queens, as well as their activ­ ities and role in both the political dynamic of the realm and vis-​à-​vis their natal and marital dynasties, the field has focused almost exclusively on a European sphere, from the early medieval to the end of the early modern period. This is not to say that examinations of queens and royal women do not exist beyond these boundaries; in temporal terms there have been studies of queens and queenship in the ancient and classical period, such as Lana Troy’s examination of Egyptian queens or Altay Coşkun and Alex McAuley’s study 4  For examples, see Mitchell, “Marriage Plots”; Nolan, Queens in Stone and Silver; Silleras Fernández, Power, Piety, and Patronage; Germann, Picturing Marie Leszczinska; and Akkerman and Houben, The Politics of Female Households.

5  Earenfight, Queenship and Political Power; Hunt and Whitelock, Tudor Queenship; Cruz and Stampino, Habsburg Women.

6  See Watanabe-​O’Kelly and Morton, Queens Consort; and Crawford, Perilous Performances.

2

2

Introduction

of Seleukid royal women.7 Studies of modern queens (defined here as subsequent to the eighteenth century) have also been numerous, but with a greater emphasis on biographical treatment, rather than comparative works that seek to assess their reigns upon the same framework employed by queen­ ship scholars of earlier periods. A brief survey of recent works in the field demonstrates an attempt to redress this imbalance, both in terms of increasing the number of studies of queens and royal women beyond the European sphere and in terms of bringing diverse case studies together to understand queenship in other religious contexts and cultural settings. For example, Sarah Milledge-​Nelson has edited a collection that examines ancient queens around the world through archaeological finds.8 There has been a surge in works that examine queen­ ship within the framework of Islamic monarchy and culture. Fatima Mernissi has challenged the notion that Muslim royal  women had little or no engagement in the political sphere in her work, Forgotten Queens of Islam.9 Leslie Peirce’s insightful study of Ottoman royal women is incredibly useful for understanding how Islamic queenship operated in the context of the polygamous harem.10 Sher Banu A. L. Khan disputes the assumption that regnant queenship was an impossibility in the framework of Muslim monarchy with a collective study of the seventeenth-​century sultanas of Aceh.11 Moving further east, Jack Weatherford has explored the legacy of the female descendants of Genghis Khan, with a particular case study on the political and martial successes of Queen Mandhuhai.12 Keith McMahon has published two studies that bring together the lives of the empresses and royal concubines of China from 1250 BCE until the end of the Qing dynasty in the twentieth century.13 Finally, a truly global and comparative perspective is offered in Anne Walthall’s collection Servants of the Dynasty (2008), which makes a valuable contribution by bringing together work on women from the classical Maya court to the halls of Versailles, though this collection is not focused exclusively on queenship, as it 7  Troy, Patterns of Queenship; Coşkun and McAuley, Seleukid Royal Women. 8  Milledge-​Nelson, Ancient Queens. 9  Mernissi, Forgotten Queens.

10  Peirce, The Imperial Harem. 11  Khan, Sovereign Women.

12  Weatherford, Mongol Queens.

13  McMahon, Women Shall Not Rule; and Celestial Women.

includes examinations of servants, concubines, ladies-​in-​ waiting, and other royal women.14 Our collection aims to embrace and further develop this trend towards an increasingly global outlook for the field of queenship studies. We have deliberately mixed case studies of women from different periods, places, and religions in order to compare and contrast the realities of queenship in varied settings. We have aimed to draw out lesser-​studied examples of queens and areas that have not benefitted from much examination, but we have not excluded fresh perspectives on more familiar figures and regions. The aim of this collection is twofold: to increase our understanding of both individuals and groups of queens who have been understudied; and to encourage comparison of the framework and practice of queen­ ship in various contexts. Expanding the horizons of queenship studies beyond its normal geographical “comfort zone” and bringing together case studies of queenship in divergent cul­ tural contexts enables us to ask this question: are the theories and ideas about the norms of queenship solely applicable in a European framework or are there constants in the practice and parameters of the queen’s role and function that we can apply in any temporal, cultural, or geographical situation? There are a few important issues that must be acknowledged first. While we are taking a global perspective, it has not been possible, due to the constraints of space, to take in examples from every historical realm or civilization in this work. However, we hope that this volume encourages other future monographs and collections to build on our premise, and to include case studies of queens in geographical and cul­ tural contexts that have we have not been able to include here. In addition, although it would be ideal to include examples from both the ancient and classical eras as well as modern monarchies, as discussed earlier, it is beyond the scope of this particular work to do so due to the temporal focus of this series. However, this work is closely linked to two publications that do have a wider temporal scope: the Royal Studies Journal, and the History of Monarchy collection, which does feature both ancient and modern examples of global queenship.15 We must also address the nomenclature being used here. Clearly, the word “queen” itself is an entirely European con­ struct. Indeed, it is a word of Germanic origin that evolved from the Old English word cwēn to the Middle English quene.16 14  Walthall, Servants of the Dynasty.

15  Woodacre et al., The Routledge History of Monarchy. 16  Harper, Online Etymology Dictionary.

3

This word links to the concept of wife—​that is, the queen as the wife of the king—​which in itself is more limiting in scope than the Latin word regina, the root word for “queen” in all Romance languages, which is the female equivalent of rex, or “king,” rather than merely a descriptor of the ruler’s spouse.17 Moreover, titles can be linked to the political entity itself; the first lady of the land might be an empress in an imperial con­ text or a princess in a sovereign principality, but her role is clearly the equivalent of a queen. Fatima Mernissi discusses the lack of a clear equivalent to the word “queen” in Arabic, nor is there a direct counterpart in many other languages and cultures where the political framework is different from the European conception of monarchy.18 Indeed, we recognize that there is a considerable difference between the political structures and succession mechanisms of the realms that fea­ ture in this work, which range from seventh-​century China to nineteenth-​century New Zealand and feature examples from across Africa, Asia, the Indian subcontinent, and Europe. Differences in matrimonial customs, particularly regarding whether monogamy or polygamy (or even polyandry) was practised, also had a clear impact on the place and position of the “queen” within her societal and political framework. While recognizing these linguistic and cultural differences, for the purposes of this volume we are using the word “queen” as a way of expressing the position of the pre-​eminent woman in the political and societal context of the realm. Likewise, the concept of “queenship” itself can be used, beyond its original European context, as a means of understanding the political agency, activity, and position of those women, who were at the epicentre of power in their respective territories. Finally, it is important to consider the full cycle of queen­ ship that is normally denoted by adding the modifiers “regnant,” “regent,” “dowager,” and “consort” to the title of “queen.”19 These words are more than mere adjectives; they have clear connotations as to the specific role that the queen held and the means through which she accessed power. As a queen moved through her life, her title might change. For example, a woman might first become a queen consort on her marriage to a king; then serve as queen regent, if her husband predeceased her, leaving an underage heir; finally, 17  See Silleras Fernández’s discussion of the equivalent to “queen” and “queenship” in Romance languages, in “Queenship en la Corona de Aragón.” 18  Mernissi, Forgotten Queens, 9–​25.

19  See Earenfight’s discussion of queenly modifiers in “Without the Persona of the Prince.”

Elena Woodacre

when her child reached maturity, her regency might finish, and she would become a queen mother or dowager queen. Given the etymology of the word “queen” as discussed earlier, without an adjective we might assume that the woman in question was the consort of a king. As consort, her access to power was through her spouse; while this factor delimited her authority, consorts could have considerable political agency, becoming true and relatively equal co-​rulers, or even exercising the sovereign’s role on behalf of an absent, incapacitated or incompetent husband. The agency of queens consort has often been dismissed as difficult to quantify due to its often subtle, behind-​the-​scenes nature, yet recent schol­ arship and the case studies in this volume demonstrate that, whether consorts were ruling visibly or using techniques of “soft power,” their political activity cannot be denied.20 It might be easy to assume that, once a queen consort’s husband had died, her access to power died with him, yet regency could offer a queen an enhanced access to power; even if a consort had co-​ruled with her spouse, being regent would make her effectively sole ruler until her child came of age. As Jeroen Duindam and several case studies in this volume highlight, such as Seokyung Han’s study of the dow­ ager queens of Korea, queen mothers and dowagers often played a crucial role in the succession of the realm, as a physical link between one reign and the next—​whether she produced, or selected, the heir.21 A regnant queen wielded power in her own right as sov­ ereign, normally inheriting the right to rule as an heiress—​ though, as Belinson’s survey of Russian empresses in this volume demonstrates, she could also rise to power after the death of a spouse, even engineering it herself to seize the throne. Regnant queens normally had to negotiate co-​ruler­ ship with their king consort, which could prove challen­ ging, as case studies of Tamar of Georgia and the queens of Jerusalem in this collection by Huneycutt and Bassett demon­ strate.22 Yet other regnant queens were able to rule alone—​ either unmarried, as in the case of Elizabeth I of England, or after the death of their spouse, as in the case of Wu Zetian as featured in Colla’s study in the next chapter. This collection considers all of  these facets of queenship to be equally important, and these case studies include examples of each of 20  For further European case studies, see Watanabe-​O’Kelly and Morton, Queens Consort. 21  Duindam, Dynasties, esp. chap. 2.

22  For examples, see Beem and Taylor, The Man behind the Queen; and Woodacre, Queens Regnant.

3

4

4

Introduction

the various “types” of queens. By bringing together examples of all variants of queenship from diverse periods, places, and religious contexts, we aim to reveal both differences and constancy in the roles that queens occupied over their lives. Indeed, some of the chapters in this collection directly compare and contrast European examples of queen mothers, regents, and consorts to their African, Asian, and Islamic counterparts, so as to further our understanding of the mech­ anism of queenship itself. With these considerations in mind, it remains to turn to the contents of this particular collection, which are divided into three, fairly equal, parts. The first, “Perceptions of Regnant Queenship,” examines case studies of regnant queens from seventh-​century China to New Zealand in the early nineteenth century. There is an emphasis in this part, as the subtitle suggests, on how the power and authority of these women has been perceived, both in their own time and over the long term. Given that female rule could be a controversial and uncommon practice, these women had to work hard to establish and justify their position, employing various strat­ egies to ensure that their authority was accepted—​strategies that were not always successful or may have not have ensured an enduring legacy. The first chapter in this part, Elisabetta Colla’s exam­ ination of the controversial rule of Wu Zetian, China’s only ruling empress, discusses Empress Wu’s effort to embed her rule through religious patronage, enhancing her titles and linking herself to a pantheon of “sage queens” and goddesses. Through these stratagems, Colla argues that Wu Zetian was able to undermine the traditional patriarchal structures of power in Imperial China and create a “parallel universe” in which a woman could hold supreme power. Lois Huneycutt also examines strategies to promote female authority in her study of Tamar of Georgia. Huneycutt notes the positive language used to celebrate Tamar’s rule in contemporary literature and the deliberate links made between Tamar and St. Nino, a beloved female saint who had been called the “Enlightener of Georgia.” Huneycutt contrasts this laudatory language with the negative “virago” terminology that fre­ quently denigrated Tamar’s contemporaries in Europe. While the next four chapters diverge considerably in terms of their period and place, there is a connecting thread in the unusual means by which women were able to succeed to the throne, as proximity in blood or relationship to a pre­ vious ruler might be able to trump the issue of their gender. Hayley Bassett’s chapter examines the situation of the queens of Jerusalem, where women formed a key dynastic link to

confirm the authority of the tenuous Christian rulers of the Crusader states. Melisende, the first of the regnant queens of Jerusalem, was confirmed as her father’s heir, as his eldest child, in the absence of any legitimate sons. However, her husband, Fulk of Anjou, was selected with the approval of the barons of the realm to rule alongside her, merging the kingdom’s original premise of elected rulership with Melisende’s hereditary claim. Razia bin Iltumish became the female sultan of the Delhi Sultanate, sharing with Wu Zetian the distinction of being a realm’s only regnant queen. Like Melisende, Razia was also designated as her father’s heir, though her claim was initially bypassed by her half-​brother; however, Razia was able to eliminate this obstacle, and even­ tually obtain the crown of her father, at least for a brief period. Anna Jagiellon, the focus of Katarzyna Kosior’s study, was also considered to be a desirable option to rule because of her lineage. Like the early Kingdom of Jerusalem, Poland–​L ithuania had an elected monarchy, which had been dominated by the Jagiellon family since the marriage of Władysław Jagiełło of Lithuania and Jadwiga I of Poland in 1386. After a period of instability following the unex­ pected departure of Henri de Valois, who ruled for a matter of months, Anna’s accession or election was felt by many to be a means of re-​establishing the status quo through her connection to the Jagiellon dynasty. Yet Kosior notes the ambiguity of Anna’s position. Like Melisende, Anna provided the dynastic linkage but was married to a man of the sejm’s choosing, Stephen Bathory, the duke of Transylvania. Unlike Melisende, Anna had never been a clear heir to the throne, nor is her position as a queen regnant agreed among modern scholars; it is perhaps this lack of clarity about her role and her death without issue that has led to the mixed percep­ tion of Anna’s agency and authority. Finally, Orel Beilinson provides a survey of the empresses regnant of Russia in the eighteenth century, comparing their reigns and the varied means through which these women gained supreme power in the realm. Beilinson argues that a unique blend of soci­ etal and political circumstances, as well as legal reforms and situational factors, “allowed this unique ‘female century’ to happen,” when four women ruled for approximately 65 years combined between 1725 and 1796.23 The last two chapters in this part provide interesting examples of the perception of Western powers regarding the female rule in two island nations, Madagascar and New 23  See Beilinson, ­chapter 7 in this volume, 79–94.

5

Zealand. Jane Hooper and Aidan Norrie provide insights into the societal mechanisms that permitted women to wield authority. However, they also highlight how colonial powers misunderstood the role of these women, clumsily equating their power with European equivalents who they were more familiar with, which did not provide a nuanced understanding of these ruling women’s agency and their significance within their own society. Moreover, both authors note how female rulers were underestimated in accounts written by colo­ nial agents, or even, as Hooper argues in the case of the Madagascan queen Béti, portrayed as a sexually louche and exotic “other” in order to minimize her authority. The second grouping, “Practising Co-​Rulership,” looks at both consort and regent queens who ruled alongside their husbands and sons. While consort and regent queens can often be sidelined in dynastic histories that put their emphasis purely on the actual occupant of the throne, recent focus on the corporate nature of monarchy has placed greater emphasis on wives and mothers who played key roles as co-​ rulers. This part begins with two case studies of medieval queenship in areas at the fringes of Europe that have been in need of further exploration: Kyivan Rus’ and Wales. Both Talia Zajac and Danna Messer craft insightful studies of the unique societal context of queenship in the two regions. Zajac argues that, in spite of source material that often minimizes the agency and activity of the princesses of Kyivan Rus’ and a political framework that prevented female succession, careful analysis reveals their effective partnership in rule with both husbands and sons and their important religious patronage. Messer’s chapter aims to redress the balance in scholarship that has given prominence to Welsh rulership during the “Age of Princes” but has failed to adequately examine the signifi­ cant role that their consorts played in both the court and the realm. The next two chapters examine the role of consorts and royal mothers in an Islamic framework in the elev­ enth century—​on both sides of the Straits of Gibraltar. Inês Lourinho examines the important role that Zaynab bint Ishaq al-​Nafzawiyya played in the Almoravid Empire in this century. Zaynab’s political and business acumen and lively intelli­ gence led her contemporaries to call her “the sorceress.” Yet Lourinho reveals the difficult path that Zaynab had to navigate to reach the epicentre of power at the side of her third hus­ band, Yusuf ibn Tashfin, and earn recognition as his effective co-​ruler. Next, Ana Miranda explores the influence of al-​Dalfa’, who rose from slavery to become extremely influential in the sometimes deadly court politics of the Umayyad Caliphate in

Elena Woodacre

al-​Andalus. Both these case studies demonstrate the import­ ance of motherhood, particularly becoming the mother of a son, in raising a woman’s prestige in the framework of the harem. For al-​Dalfa’, earning the status of umm al-​walad, as the “mother of a child,” made her more than just a slave and set her on the path to political prominence as the mother of ‘Abd al-​Malik al-​Muzaffar. After his untimely and controver­ sial demise al-​Dalfa’ continued to play an important role in the court, as a prime mover in the succession as a means to avenge her son’s death. The final three chapters in this part take us to Asia, with a trio of case studies on the political agency and dynastic importance of royal mothers. Hang Lin argues that, contrary to the widely held view that royal women in China were sequestered with limited access to power, Chinese imperial history demonstrates a strong legacy of female regents or empresses dowager who ruled on behalf of their sons. Lin notes that the regents of the Liao offer an exceptionally strong group of female rulers, whose authority was plainly visible not only in court circles and the administration but even in military affairs, which were normally an entirely male function. SeoKyung Han’s case study offers an interesting contrast; her examination of dowager, regent, and consort queens in Chosŏn Korea demonstrates a more subtle but still discernible influence on events, particularly in managing the succession. Han’s thorough genealogies highlight the signifi­ cance of maternal lineage in Chosŏn history and the crucial role that royal women played not only as dynastic progenitors but as arbiters of the crown itself. Finally, Lennart Bes offers a fascinating study of female rulers in south India, drawing attention to these significant and powerful women who have been largely unexamined in the context of queenship. Bes notes that regional tradition, culture, and political phil­ osophy were not naturally supportive of female rule, yet the four Nayaka queens who form the basis of his contribution managed to access power by co-​opting or ruling on behalf of a minority king “in her lap.” Like Colla’s study of Wu Zetian, Bes notes the means through which these queens crafted their image to enhance their authority, and examines the reflection of this self-​fashioning that can be seen in modern media’s depiction of these women today. Connections can also be seen with the work of Hooper and Norrie in Bes’s use of colo­ nial sources—​in this case, documents of the Dutch East India Company—​to understand the perception that foreigners had of these ruling women’s political agency and activity. The third, and final, part, “Breaking Down Boundaries: Comparative Studies of Queenship,” includes case studies that

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6

6

Introduction

bring together queens and courts from different geograph­ ical and cultural contexts, to help increase our understanding both of how royal women functioned in different settings and the constant elements of queenship itself. The first two chapters in this part offer comparative studies with strong connections. Stefany Wragg argues that Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine, was a model of early medieval queenship who served as inspiration for the two eighth-​cen­ tury queens in her study, the Byzantine empress Irene and the Mercian queen Cynethyth. While these two queens offer contrasting case studies in many ways, both are examples of female power and agency in the early Middle Ages. Wragg also notes an interesting connection between the two—​that, although they were able to attain impressive authority and influence in their lifetimes, ultimately their dynastic lines both failed. Lledó Ruiz Domingo’s chapter offers a study of two Hohenstaufen women, both named Constance, whose lives offer an excellent opportunity to compare the practice of medieval queenship at opposite ends of the Mediterranean, in Greece and Iberia. Ruiz Domingo demonstrates that, although the women’s role placed them in divergent cultural contexts, the comparison between the two consorts demonstrates the continuity in queenship:  that queens were fundamentally dependent on their ties to their male relatives, constrained by similar expectations of their role, and that motherhood was the key means of obtaining long-​term security and influence. The following chapter is also set in Iberia, but it focuses on royal women in the fifteenth-​century Kingdom of Granada, offering interesting comparisons and interactions with Christian queens in Portugal and Aragon. Ana Echevarría and Roser Salicrú i Lluch frame their research within a wider academic movement to bring the “forgotten sultanas” of the Islamic courts out of obscurity, digging into the often limited source material to find evidence of their political activity and agency. They demonstrate that, while the roles and life experiences of Nasrid princesses may have been different from their Christian counterparts, that correspondence with the rulers and consorts of neighbouring realms reveals the deep engagement that these Granadan royal women had in diplomacy and politics. The final three chapters in the volume offer wide-​ranging and often unexpected comparisons between more familiar European and lesser-​studied global examples. Reneé Langlois offers an insightful comparison of royal mothers and regents in France and the Ottoman Empire during the early modern period. Both realms experienced an unusually high concen­ tration of female authority in this period, which provoked

considerable comment and controversy among their con­ temporaries. The three French regents, Catherine and Marie de Medici and Anne of Austria, ruled for and with their sons during periods of significant political turbulence; the criti­ cism of their authority can be still be seen in Catherine’s “black legend,” which modern historians continue to wrestle with. The validé sultans of the period, including the powerful regent Turhan, provoked the nickname for this period as a “Sultanate of Women,” whereby royal mothers exercised greater power than their sultan sons. Langlois demonstrates the means through which these women projected and solidi­ fied their authority, by constructing robust networks to ensure loyalty, through cultural and political patronage and the careful use of court ritual and spectacle. Tracy Adams and Ian Fookes also leverage the early modern French court as a basis for their comparative study. However, they provide a less obvious, but intriguing, com­ parison with Japan in their examination of court women and the role of courtesans in both contexts. Adams and Fookes parallel the Ôoku, or “great interior,” of the Japanese court with that of early modern France and also compare French salon culture with the Yoshiwara, which was home to elegant and refined courtesans. They reveal that, although France lacked a true courtesan culture in the same overt way as could be found in the Yoshiwara, both courts offer interesting simi­ larities in terms of the framework of court culture to which women had to conform to thrive and survive. Our last chapter offers another comparison with clear contrasts and connections in Diana Pelaz Flores’s study of queen mothers in Europe and Africa. While there are clear differences in terms of polygamy in many of the African soci­ eties, versus monogamy in European realms, and different mechanisms of succession, which both impacted on dynastic structure, Pelaz Flores is able to highlight continuity in the role of the royal mother in both contexts. The chapter brings together both theoretical discussion of the role of royal mothers and examples that illustrate the importance of queen mothers in dynastic continuity and rulership. The themes in Pelaz Flores’s study resonate with Han’s chapter on Korean queens who acted as arbiters of succession, and with the studies of other queen mothers and regents in the collection from China, India, and Europe who became effective and influential rulers alongside or on behalf of their sons. Taken together, these chapters demonstrate that, while the practice of queenship was undoubtedly influenced by specific and divergent cultural contexts, including religion, contemporary political philosophy, succession mechanisms

7

that favoured or barred female rulers and marital practices that placed one woman by the ruler’s side or offered that opportunity to many, the experience of many queens had clear continuity across variations in time and place. Regnant queenship might be more feasible in realms in which law, succession practice, and precedent made it pos­ sible, but, whether the door to power was already half open or nearly shut tight, a woman required effort to push it open. Once there, ruling queens had to work hard to cement their position by selecting allies and/​or male consorts to bolster their authority rather than undermine it, and through a careful crafting of their image to enhance their power and ensure their legacy, which could easily be undone by outside observers who did not fully understand their political agency. Motherhood and queenship are inexorably intertwined. However, as Jeroen Duindam has argued and these case studies demonstrate, “Women rarely acted only as passive vehicles of reproduction or as disinterested outsiders in succession conflicts.” 24 Whether as consorts or regnant queens, women played a key role in dynastic continuity; the lack of an heir had the potential to create instability, which could threaten the queen’s own position or cause conflict over who the designated heir might be. Yet, in the absence of

24  Duindam, Dynasties, 89.

Elena Woodacre

an heir of her own body, adoptive motherhood could allow a queen to direct the course of the succession, as the example of the Chosŏn consorts demonstrates. Motherhood could offer a queen a springboard to political power, either as the regent, ruling on behalf of a child, or as a co-​ruler, reigning with her offspring.25 The examples offered in these case studies dem­ onstrate the enduring influence of royal mothers, even if their children predeceased them, as al-​Dalfa’s role in the succession struggles after her son’s untimely death has shown. Finally, the diverse examples examined in this collection have highlighted the central spot that women occupied at the heart of the realm. They demonstrate that, whether we name them “queen” or “empress” or “malika” or “ranga­ tira,” there is always a vitally important place for women in the core mechanism of monarchy. The women in these case studies rose to prominence in different ways, all facing opposition or encountering obstacles of varying kinds on their path to power. Yet all were able to make their mark, either leading from the front or as the power behind the throne, and demonstrated that, no matter what societal framework they operated under, women could be equally effective administrators, patrons, and leaders as their male counterparts or consorts.

25  For further case studies and considerations of royal motherhood, see Woodacre and Fleiner, Royal Mothers; and Fleiner and Woodacre, Virtuous or Villainess?.

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Introduction

Bibliography Primary Sources De Coste, Hilarion. Les éloges et vies des reynes, princesses, dames et damoiselles illustres en piété, courage et doctrine, qui ont fleury de nostre temps, et du temps de nos pères. Paris: Sebastien Camoisy, 1630. Flórez, Enrique. Memorias de las Reynas Cathólicas. Madrid: Antonio Marin, 1761. Hays, Mary. Memoirs of Queens: Illustrious and Celebrated. London: T. and J. Allman, 1821. Mou, Sherry J. Gentlemen’s Prescriptions for Women’s Lives:  A Thousand Years of Biographies of Chinese Women’s Lives. Abingdon: Routledge, 2015. Strickland, Agnes, and Elisabeth Strickland. Lives of the Queens of England from the Norman Conquest. 16 vols. London: Bell, 1840–​48. Secondary Sources Akkerman, Nadine, and Birgit Houben, eds. The Politics of Female Households: Ladies-​in-​Waiting across Early Modern Europe. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Beem, Charles, and Miles Taylor, eds. The Man behind the Queen: Male Consorts in History. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. Coşkun, Altay, and Alex McAuley, eds. Seleukid Royal Women: Creation, Representation and Distortion of Hellenistic Queenship in the Seleukid Empire. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 2016. Crawford, Katherine. Perilous Performances: Gender and Regency in Early Modern France. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004. Cruz, Anne J., and Maria Galli Stampino, eds. Early Modern Habsburg Women: Transnational Contexts, Cultural Conflicts, Dynastic Continuities. Abingdon: Routledge, 2013. Duindam, Jeroen. Dynasties: A Global History of Power, 1300–​1800. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. Earenfight, Theresa, ed. Queenship and Political Power in Medieval and Early Modern Spain. Abingdon: Routledge, 2005. —​—​—​. “Without the Persona of the Prince:  Kings, Queens and the Idea of Monarchy in Late Medieval Europe.” Gender and History 19 (2007): 1–​21. Fleiner, Carey, and Elena Woodacre, eds. Virtuous or Villainess? The Image of the Royal Mother from the Early Medieval to the Early Modern Era. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016. Germann, Jennifer. Picturing Marie Leszczinska (1703–​1768):  Representing Queenship in Eighteenth-​Century France. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2015. Harper, Douglas, ed. “Queen (n.),” Online Etymology Dictionary. Accessed March 31, 2017. www.etymonline.com/​index.php? term=queen&allowed_​in_​frame=0. Hunt, Alice, and Anna Whitelock, eds. Tudor Queenship: The Reigns of Mary and Elizabeth. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012. Khan, Sher Banuu A. L. Sovereign Women in a Muslim Kingdom: The Sultanahs of Aceh, 1641–​1699. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2017. McMahon, Keith. Celestial Women: Imperial Wives and Concubines in China from Song to Qing. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2016. —​—​—​. Women Shall Not Rule: Imperial Wives and Concubines in China from Han to Liao. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2013. Mernissi, Fatima. The Forgotten Queens of Islam. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1993. Milledge-​Nelson, Sarah, ed. Ancient Queens: Archaeological Explorations. Walnut Creek: Altamira Press, 2003. Mitchell, Silvia Z. “Marriage Plots:  Royal Women, Marriage Diplomacy and International Politics at the Spanish, French and Imperial Courts, 1665–​1679.” In Women, Diplomacy and International Politics since 1500, edited by Glenda Sluga and Carolyn James, 86–​106. Abingdon: Routledge, 2016. Nolan, Kathleen. Queens in Stone and Silver: The Creation of a Visual Imagery of Queenship in Capetian France. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009. Peirce, Leslie P. The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993.

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Silleras Fernández, Núria. Power, Piety, and Patronage in Late Medieval Queenship:  Maria de Luna. New  York:  Palgrave Macmillan, 2008. —​—​—​. “Queenship en la Corona de Aragón en la Baja Edad Media: Estudio y propuesta terminológica.” La Corónica: A Journal of Medieval Spanish Language and Literature 32 (2003): 119–​33. Troy, Lana. Patterns of Queenship in Ancient Egyptian Myth and History. Uppsala: Acta Universiatis Upsaliensis, 1986. Watanabe-​O’Kelly, Helen, and Adam Morton, eds. Queens Consort, Cultural Transfer and European Politics c.1500–​1800. Abingdon: Routledge, 2017. Walthall, Anne, ed. Servants of the Dynasty: Palace Women in World History. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008. Weatherford, Jack. The Secret History of the Mongol Queens:  How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire. New York: Crown, 2010. Woodacre, Elena. The Queens Regnant of Navarre:  Succession, Politics, and Partnership, 1274–​1512. New  York:  Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. —​—​—​. “Well Represented or Missing in Action? Queens, Queenship and Mary Hays.” In The Invention of Female Biography, edited by Gina Luria Walker, 21–​36. London: Pickering & Chatto, 2018. Woodacre, Elena, Lucinda H. S. Dean, Chris Jones, and Zita Rohr, eds. The Routledge History of Monarchy. Abingdon: Routledge, 2019. Woodacre, Elena, and Carey Fleiner, eds. Royal Mothers and Their Ruling Children: Wielding Political Authority from Antiquity to the Early Modern Era. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.

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1

Part I

PERCEPTIONS OF REGNANT QUEENSHIP

13

2 WHEN THE EMPEROR IS A WOMAN: THE CASE OF WU ZETIAN 武則天 (624–​705), THE “EMULATOR OF HEAVEN” ELISABETTA COLLA

男不言內女不言外 Men do not speak of internal matters; women do not speak of external affairs1

Introduction This chapter analyzes the specific case of the most controversial sovereign ruler in Chinese imperial history: Wu Zetian, and her founding of the Zhou2 dynasty (690–​705). Wu Zetian’s reign (690–​705)3 occurred during the Tang dynasty (618–​906) and was regarded as a milestone in the history of Chinese dynastic changes and legitimacy processes, for she was a woman and the sole female emperor (Huangdi 皇帝)4 in Chinese history. After a short biographical introduction, this

1  From the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記); see neize 內則 (Principle of Inner Realm), in Ruan, Shisanjing zhushu, 1462, and translated by Legge, Li Chi: Book of Rites, 454–​70; see also McMahon, Women Shall Not Rule, 35. 2  Zhou 舟 was the name of her father’s fief and was a homophone of Zhou 周, the name of the dynasty considered the “Golden Age” of Chinese history by Confucian sources. Wu Zetian not only took the name of this emblematic dynasty, but reshaped the bureaucracy according to the nomenclature from the Zhouli 周禮 (Rites of Zhou), reintroduced the Zhou calendar and followed the Zhou ceremonials. See Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 10.

3  As can actually be read below, the complete title was Zetian dasheng huanghou 則天大聖皇后, or “Zetian 則天” (“Emulator of Heaven”), the posthumous name given to her in 705. Although she changed her title many times during her reign, “Wu Zetian” is how she is commonly remembered, and therefore this will be the name used throughout this chapter. Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 323.

4  The title Huangdi was coined by the first emperor of imperial China in 221 BCE, Qin shi huangdi 秦始皇帝, who considered himself not simply a new ruler but the supreme one. Starting from this date, and up to the foundation of the Republic of China in 1912, this title was used to identify the emperor. Emperors generally lived

chapter delineates how Wu Zetian faced the problem of legitimacy. She was aware of being a woman claiming the power destined, by Chinese tradition, to men, and her greatest innovation was to look to the ancient Chinese past as a model, as well as her use of religion, magic, and symbolism to legitimize her swift rise to the dragon throne, where she remained for almost fifty years.5 Women Shall Not Rule is the provocative title of Keith McMahon’s book, reminding the reader how difficult it was for any woman to aim to ascend the throne in imperial China. The Chinese traditional bureaucratic structure was not conceived for women, and they could not participate directly in the political, economic, and social leadership of the empire. within a walled compound, constituted by different buildings or halls within the imperial capital. Between the Ming (1368–​1644) and Qing (1644–​1912) dynasties, it was also known as the “Forbidden City” (jincheng 禁城). Besides the emperor and his immediate family, such as the heir apparent (taizi 太子), the empress (Huanghou 皇后) and the various consorts (fei 妃) were admitted to the palace, together with personal attendants (among which were the eunuchs). Hucker, A Dictionary of Official Titles, 3. For a more specific description of the female actors and their connection to central power between the seventh and ninth centuries, see Silvia Ebner von Eschenbach, in Kralle and Schilling, Schreiben über Frauen in China, 253–​84. At the end of her essay, the author provides a highly detailed map of Chang’an, the imperial capital (today’s Xi’an in Henan province), with the distribution of the princesses’ residences.

5  Wu Zetian was heavily criticized by traditionalists and considered a usurper. As Denis Twitchett and Edwin Pulleyblank point out, there were some Confucian scholars and historians who already questioned her legitimacy to rule during the compilation of the standard histories. Among these historians, Liu Zhiji 劉知幾 (661–​ 721) was extremely critical along these lines in his “History of Tang” (Tangshu 唐書). Twitchett, The Writing of Official History, 168, note 28; Pulleyblank, “The Tzyjyh Tongjiann Kaoyih.”

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When the Emperor Is a Woman

This did not mean that women were not powerful, of course. In this sense, McMahon’s book presents many examples of court ladies (imperial wives and concubines, among others) and demonstrates how they were not mere “wantons” 6 but actually played a key role in Chinese imperial politics. Women were powerful in China and treated political affairs as if they were playing chess, manipulating and influencing heirs apparent or weak emperors, most of the time hidden behind the curtain of their seraglio. Chinese history contains plenty of stories about arriviste concubines, malicious empress dowagers, and female status seekers, in general depicted as orchestrators of intricate plots aimed to influence the imperial power in their favour. 7 Women’s actions were planned “from within,” never overtly acted, developing a kind of “shadow power.” Stories about women who tried to take over the government were mostly part of the official rhetoric aimed at promoting the maintenance of a specific “natural” order of things largely based on the Confucian ideology, which—​as it was structured—​inevitably encouraged gender inequality. In the mainstream of Chinese imperial history, both the patriarchal system and the polygamous marital institution were considered means of reproducing the family while maintaining the social hierarchy imposed by Confucianism. Although one cannot assume that imperial China was characterized by a homogeneous history,8 historiography has tended to show coherence in the exegetical arguments. According to these arguments, as Richard Guisso has stressed in his research, Chinese women were depicted in official texts by Chinese authors as “inferior by nature” and as the “ruination of the states.”9 The case of Wu Zetian was 6  Chinese women were depicted in Confucius’s rhetoric as malicious, promiscuous, lascivious, and wicked. McMahon, Women Shall Not Rule, 77.

7  Extending this privilege to their clan. The interrelation within the network of clans linked to the imperial family (via maternal or paternal lines, or thanks to marriage policies) was crucial and helps in the understanding of the equilibrium of forces at the top level of the imperial bureaucracy. The influence of families directly affected the decision making. During Wu Zetian’s reign, the clans of Wu, Li, and Wei were among the families constantly struggling for power.

8  It is important to stress that, although, both during the Sui (589–​618) and Tang (618–​907) dynasties, the Yang and Li families claimed to be legitimate successors of the Han imperial line, they were actually the result of the long-​lasting interaction between the pastoral nomads of the steppe and the sedentary Chinese people. Wu Zetian’s mother belonged to the Yang clan. 9  Guisso and Johannesen, Women in China, 59; see also Kelleher, “Confucianism,” 135.

somewhat different. In fact, due to her aptitude, some of the sources emphasize her charisma and capability in surviving at the top of the empire for half a century.10 Women were not outlawed from rule; nevertheless, as Zhao Fengjie 趙鳳喈 (1896–​1969) pointed out, there was a silently observed prohibition of a woman becoming emperor.11 The ground to justify this attitude resulted from multiple causes, most of which were in existence before the foundation of the empire during the Qin dynasty (221–​206 BCE). At least from the Zhou dynasty onwards (1054–​221 BCE), patriarchy was the base of the state organization,12 and family lineage sacrifices to the ancestors13 were performed by male descendants. From the Han dynasty onwards, with the canonization of Confucius, as one can read in the Analects [LY 17.25],14 a Confucian-​influenced misogynous position was also promoted. Women symbolized calamity, such as Yang Yuhuan 楊玉環 (719–​756), who succumbed to her tragic fate, being considered the paradigm of the cataclysm that gradually brought the Tang dynasty to an end.15 10  Richard Guisso, although aware that Chinese historiography is full of negative examples of female rule, and that this will die hard, has always tried in his research, at least when analyzing Wu Zetian’s rise to power and rulership, to contradict this trend; see also Twitchett and Wechsler, “Kao-​tsung,” 246n8. 11  Zhao, Zhongguo funü zai falüshang zhi diwei, 111; see also Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 1.

12  Loewe and Shaughnessy, The Cambridge History of Ancient China, 557.

13  In general terms, there was constant contact between the human and divine spheres. Sacrifices, rituals, and divination aimed to control and keep the balance between these two worlds. Ancestors, who were linked to a specific temple, were placed within a ritual system designed by the living from the late Shang dynasty onwards.

14  The Master said, “Women and mean people are particularly hard to manage: if you are too familiar with them, they grow insolent, but if you are too distant they grow resentful” 子曰：「唯女子與小人為 難養也，近之則不孫，遠之則怨。」[LY 17.25]. A similarly misogynistic position can be found in the Analects for Women (Nü lunyu 女論語) by Song Ruozhao 宋若照 (d. ca. 820) and Song Ruoxin 宋若 新: “Listen carefully to and obey whatever your husband tells you.” For more on the Analects for Women, see De Bary and Bloom, Sources of Chinese Tradition, 827–​31.

15  The “Song of Lasting Pain” (Changhen ge 長恨歌), written by Bai Juyi 白居易 (772–​846), about the tragic love between Emperor Xuanzong 玄宗 (685–​762) and his favourite concubine. This ballad is generally interpreted by Confucian-​influenced readership as the paradigm of Yang Guifei’s fate. Considered to be at the origin of the An Lushan 安祿山 rebellion, she was finally forced to commit suicide.

15

The Chinese cosmological view emerged from a complex set of discursive relationships, among which were those based on the yin 陰–​yang 陽,16 or female and male, dichotomy. The yin–​yang relation, with its cyclical alternation, grounded on correlative thinking,17 had a strong impact on individuals, their environment, and the cosmos. Since ancient times, and throughout the imperial period, Chinese society was organized according to a strict gender hierarchy regulated by a specific rituality, which in the case of women was based on the “threefold following” (sancong 三從). A woman was generally confined to the domestic realm (nei 內) and was dependent on man18 in the following order: first, in following her father; then, in following her husband; and, finally, in following her son.19 This order of things was perceived as the emanation of the cosmic order, and, according to the tianren heyi 天人合一 formula, human beings were an integral part of nature. The emperor and the empress, who represented the Sun and the Moon respectively, had to keep a perfect balance of yang and yin within the imperial court; in this way they were respecting the heavenly patterns on Earth. When this order of things was unattended to then, the emperor, who was considered the “Son of Heaven” (tianzi 天子), lost his mandate (tianming 天命)20 to rule. In this complex set of relations, which was anthropocentric of a kind, both man and woman played codified roles. Wu Zetian not only succeeded in subverting these roles but also challenged male authority in various respects: first, as a simple concubine; then, as a mother of the heir apparent, as empress dowager and, finally, in 690, as emperor. In half a century she succeeded in questioning the traditional A translation of the ballad can be found in Owen, An Anthology of Chinese Literature, 442–​47. On Yang Guifei, see McMahon, Women Shall Not Rule, 211; and Mair, The Columbia History of Chinese Literature, 14.

16  Isabel Robinet has defined yin and yang as “lines of force, directions whose nature is to cross and mingle, to play against and with each other, both self-​g enerating and self-​p ropelling, disappearing and alternating”: Robinet, Taoism, 9. 17  See Graham, Yin–​Yang.

18  Who belong to the outer realm (wai 外). On the duality neiwai 內外, see Watson and Ebrey, Marriage and Inequality; and Rosenlee, Confucianism and Women. 19  This concept appears in the Liji or “Book of Rites.” Rosenlee, Confucianism and Women, 70, 92.

20  “Revolution” in Chinese uses the characters geming 革命, which literally means “dismiss the mandate.” On the Mandate of Heaven and the cosmic order of things, see Puett, To Become a God,  54–​61.

Elisabetta Colla

Confucian social order of things. In titling herself as emperor, Wu Zetian was challenging not just the tradition but also the cosmic order of things, and therefore she was not legitimate to rule; neither could she be recognized as supreme leader of “everything below heaven” (tianxia 天下). In this context, and to be legitimized, she had to propose an alternative model, which could be defined as a kind of “parallel universe.” In the words of N. Harry Rothschild, “Even if she continued to honour this canonical lineage of ideal rulers, sages, and worthies, she constructed a parallel pantheon of female divinities and paragons drawn from every ideological persuasion—​including Buddhist devis, Confucian exemplars (like the mother of Mencius), and Daoist goddesses, such as the Queen Mother of the West.”21

Wu Zetian: “One, No One and One Hundred Thousand”

Nobody knows who Wu Zetian really was. She was described in different ways, and even a careful and deep analysis of all the historical sources available would not be enough to challenge or deconstruct the popular myth that presents her as being a cruel woman. One, No One and One Hundred Thousand,22 the title of the famous Luigi Pirandello novel, has been borrowed in order to stress that the image we have of Wu Zetian is the result of multifaceted descriptions, most of which have come from mere speculation. Although the story proposed by Pirandello has nothing to do with China, nevertheless the message conveyed by his main character is very interesting. In Pirandello’s novel, the main character is alternatively characterized by others as the embodiment of one, no one and a hundred thousand different people. Similarly, the way Wu Zetian was perceived could result in different stories, changing over time: she was “one” before the eyes of the emperor, but, at the same time, “a hundred thousand” 21  Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 2.

22  Uno, nessuno e centomila was published in 1926 and is considered a classic work of Italian literature. Through this masterpiece, Luigi Pirandello aimed specifically to understand the dynamics that lie behind relationships between human beings with different personalities. More specifically, Pirandello magisterially pinpointed that the perception that one has of oneself is different from the image conveyed to the other. “One” represents the perception that one has of oneself; “no one” is the character that the protagonist of the story chooses to become; and, finally, “one hundred thousand” represents the different perceptions that others have of us. Pirandello, Uno, nessuno e centomila.

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When the Emperor Is a Woman

before her court ladies and scholars, and “no one” when she was wiped out of some sources by Confucian historians. Many authors have tried to reconstruct her biography, and have had trouble successfully delineating a clear border between speculation and reality. As a result, she has appeared and disappeared in Chinese history, and her biography has been written, rewritten, censored, imagined, and adapted for centuries. Today most people would remember her as proposed by the famous TV drama Wu meiniang chuanqi 武媚 娘传奇,23 in which Fan Bingbing 范冰冰 (b. 1981), the main actress, created a charming and powerful Wu Zetian, quite different from the depiction proposed by S. K. Chang in 1939. Other representations include the “true story” of “Madame Wu” presented by Lin Yutang 林語堂 (1895–​1976),24 or as proposed by Guo Moruo 郭沫若 (1892–​1978) in a drama directed by Jiao Juyin 焦菊隐(1905–​1975),25 in which Wu Zetian appeared much more as an incarnation of Mao’s wife, Jiang Qing 江青 (1914–​1991). The historical novel on Wu Zetian’s life by Su Tong 苏童 (b. 1963) was also very intriguing, with the author presenting a sort of Bildungsroman with Chinese characteristics, having “adapted the genres of the historical novel and the family saga.”26 The well-​known avant-​garde novelist tried to leave the reader a description of Wu Zetian, relying on her real story and not overemphasizing her desires and ambitions.27 When one approaches Wu Zetian’s life, it is important to understand that she cannot be reduced simply to a single character, but that she played “one, no one and a hundred thousand” roles, exactly as Moscarda, the main character of Pirandello’s novel, did. There was, apparently, no trace of Wu Zetian’s birth name. Written records attested that she was known as Wu Zhao 武曌 28 and Wu Meiniang 武媚娘 [“Wu, the Charming 23  It is worth noting that the title of this series was changed from Wu Zetian to the Legend of Wu Zetian, and finally changed into the current The Legend of Wu Meiniang, as required by the State Administration of Press, Publication, Radio, Film and Television of the People’s Republic of China (SAPPRFT). These variations show that Wu Zetian was and remains a sensitive topic in Chinese culture. 24  See Lin, Wu Zetian zhuan; and Lady Wu.

25  Performed for the first time in the famous Beijing People’s Art Theatre. 26  Li, Contemporary Chinese Fiction by Su Tong and Yu Hua, 73. 27  Su, Wu Zetian.

28  Neography was part of Wu Zetian’s process towards the legitimization and acceptance of her rulership. For instance, she decided to introduce new, very complicated characters, among which one can

Maid”]. During her life she was addressed by different names and titles, which she has been accumulating post mortem. According to Rothschild, she “was reputedly born in Lizhou 利州”29 (Sichuan province), where she is still adored as a goddess.30 Her father, Wu Shiyue 武士彠 (577–​635), who during the Sui dynasty (581–​618) resided in Shanxi province, was a merchant31 and rapidly became an eminent figure of his time when he joined the army. At the end of the Sui dynasty he took part in the foundation of the Tang dynasty (618–​907) process, which was headed by the future Tang emperor [Tang] Gaozu [唐]高祖 (r. 618–​626), née Li Yuan 李淵.32 The improvement of Wu Shiyue’s social status was very beneficial for his family, which steadily became closer to the imperial entourage. Wu Zetian’s mother, Lady Yang (579–​670), was the daughter of Yang Da 楊達, cousin of [Sui] Yangdi [隋]煬帝 (569–​618), also known as Emperor Ming明帝 (r. 604–​618). Wu Zetian was the second of three daughters. She also had two half-​brothers, who both died in exile, where they were sent by their father, Wu Shiyue. As a result, Wu Zetian grew up in a family with powerful political connections on both the father’s and the mother’s side. Wu Zetian was a teenager when, during the 640s, she first entered the imperial palace. She joined the Taizong’s seraglio as a concubine of the fifth rank (cairen 才人) or “Lady of Talents.” 33 Emperor [Tang] Taizong [唐]太宗 (r. 626–​649), né Li Shimin 李世民, was considered one of the find Zhao 瞾, “illumination above emptiness,” the name she chose for herself. Rothschild, Wu Zhao, 1–​10; Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 304. On the coinage of this name, see also Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 307n41; compare with Forte, Political Propaganda and Ideology in China, 357.

29  Other authors claim that Wu Zetian was born in Wenshui (Shanxi), which actually was Wu’s family ancestral homeland. Rothschild, Wu Zhao, 17; Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 38. Compare also with Wechsler, “The Founding,” 178. 30  Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 39. See also Rothschild, Wu Zhao, 19. In 1954 a stele (dated to the tenth century?) was found that proves that Wu Zetian was worshipped by locals as a deity protecting the place from any kind of [natural] disasters. Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 331.

31  According to the four classes of traditional Chinese society, merchants were considered further down the social ladder, preceded by artisans, farmers, and scholars. 32  For the historical precondition that helped the rise of Wu Zhao, see Rothschild, Wu Zhao. 33  Twitchett and Wechsler, “Kao-​tsung,” 245.

17

paradigmatic emperors of the cosmopolitan Tang Empire, his fame reverberating around the “four corners” (sifang 四 方) of the world: westward, reaching the Byzantine Empire, but also eastward, towards Korea and Japan.34 When Emperor Taizong died, in 649, Wu Zetian shaved her hair and became a nun (nigu 尼姑) of the Buddhist Ganye temple (感業寺) in Chang’an (actual Xi’an, Henan province), where she was supposed to spend the rest of her life.35 [Tang] Gaozong [唐]高宗 (r. 649–​683), born Li Zhi 李治, succeeded Taizong on the throne. Before Taizong’s death he may have already been intimate with Wu Zetian.36 Since Gaozong was an ardent supporter and in love with Wu Zetian, while she was still resident in the temple he paid visits to her as many times as he could. In 654, breaking the fulfilment of the Confucian funerary obligations, thanks to a favourable conjuncture of facts, Wu Zetian was allowed to come back to the imperial palace. One of the reasons she did not spend the rest of her life in the nunnery was the fact that the empress in charge, Madame Wang, who was very jealous of one of Gaozong’s favourite concubines, Xiao Shufei 蕭淑妃 (d. 655), hoped that she could more easily control Xiao Shufei’s influence if Wu Zetian came back to the imperial palace. Xiao Shufei actually bore the emperor a son and two daughters, therefore giving Gaozong a male descendant, and, for this reason, she became the emperor’s favourite. In this position, Xiao Shufei could easily be promoted and become empress. Since Empress Wang was not able to bear children, she persuaded Emperor Gaozong to let Wu Zetian come back to the palace. Empress Wang’s plan did not work, and her position was completely undermined by Wu Zetian’s intrigues. In a very short time both Empress Wang and the concubine Xiao were deposed, while Wu Zetian was promoted to the status of chenfei 屒妃, 34  On Emperor Taizong and his reign, see Wechsler, “T’ai-​tsung,” 188–​241. The Tang period was characterized by a remarkable maritime expansion; China was receiving merchants, emissaries (on tributary missions) and missionaries throughout maritime Asia. It was an interesting period of cultural interchange, and the main cities of the empire became multicultural centres. Islam was introduced into China in this period and Christian missionaries were travelling in the country. See Twitchett, The Cambridge History of China; Schottenhammer and Ptak. The Perception of Maritime Space; and Zheng, China on the Sea.

35  Twitchett and Wechsler, “Kao-​tsung,” 247; Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 304. 36  Twitchett and Wechsler, “Kao-​tsung,” 245.

Elisabetta Colla

“Celestial Consort.” Soon afterwards Wu Zetian gave birth to a daughter, who died in mysterious circumstances. Empress Wang was charged with having murdered the baby princess, and Wu Zetian became Gaozong’s new empress.37 Wu Zetian became very active in state affairs as Emperor Gaozong became increasingly sick and apathetic. Due to the fact that the emperor had been delegating much of his power to Wu Zetian, he was gradually losing control over his empire. Once in power, even as empress consort, Wu Zetian little by little eliminated any influence the Li clan38 had, in order to enhance her position. Some thirty years before Wu Zetian proclaimed herself emperor she organized a secret secretariat. The team of scholars, known as Beimen xueshi 北門學士 (“Scholars of the Northern Gate”), became extremely close to the empress.39 This private group not only compiled many works in Wu Zetian’s name but also dedicated different political and economic memorials to the throne.40 However, Wu Zetian’s support was not confined to scholars. In fact, she extended her patronage to religion, mainly Buddhism and Daoism, and surrounded herself with magicians. The empress was quite involved in religious ceremonials and superstition-​based performances, which were considered a way to both gain power over her husband and, consequently, over the empire. Her rising career was characterized by auspicious omens, which she may have had a hand in arranging. For instance, in 688 there was the mysterious discovery of a “Precious Diagram” (baotu 寶圖); it was actually a sort of white stone stele with the following inscription: “A Sagacious Mother shall come to rule mankind, and her empire shall bring eternal prosperity.”41 This event was naturally regarded as a positive token, not only announcing the arrival of a new ruler but also

37  Rothschild, Wu Zhao, 34–​35; Twitchett and Wechsler, “Kao-​ tsung,” 249–​51.

38  This was just the beginning of a widespread massacre that involved the imperial clan and was part of Wu Zetian’s plan to rise to power. As Ebner von Eschenbach points out, the position of the imperial princesses resulted in the combined actions of different rival clans: the Li 李, the founding lineage of the Tang dynasty, and the Wu 武 and Wei 韋 families, which were bound to the imperial clan thanks to politically based marriages. See Kralle and Schilling, Schreiben über Frauen in China, 253. 39  Twitchett, The Writing of Official History,  43–​52.

40  Twitchett, The Writing of Official History, 25; “ ‘Chen Gui.’ ”

41  Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 302; Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 51.

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suggesting the gender of this new sovereign. The stone was named Tianshou shengtu 天授聖圖, “Heaven-​bestowed holy stone,”42 and the name of the river Luo (close to Luoyang), where the stone was discovered, was changed to Yongchang jian 永昌江, “Eternal Prosperity.”43 For Wu Zetian’s life, this was the point of no return. Due to Gaozong’s weak health, the ambitious and devious Wu Zetian was ready to challenge44 his heir for the throne. In 683 Gaozong died of an illness. Wu Zetian’s third son ascended the throne, but was soon deposed by his own mother and substituted by his younger brother, who became known as Emperor Ruizong (r. 684–​690).45 In 690 a phoenix appeared above the imperial palace, Emperor Ruizong abdicated and Wu Zetian proclaimed herself “Holy and Divine Emperor” (Shengshen huangdi 聖神皇帝) of the new Zhou dynasty (690–​705).46

How to Become a God(dess): Wu Zetian’s Use of Art and Omens to Legitimize Her Position

When Wu Zetian became emperor of the “Zhou” dynasty, her strategic choice was purportedly to compare herself to the sage kings Wen and Wu, and to the duke of Zhou, and project herself into an idealized past. Although one cannot simplify the conception of rulership, grounding it in the Confucian tradition only for legitimization, these sage kings of the “Golden Age” were all considered by Confucius to be inspiring models for future generations, and “Zhou writings … pose[d]‌Heaven as acting with [these] king[s].”47 The sage 42  Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 302; Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 51. 43  Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 302; Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheons, 51.

44  Before her, another woman, Chen Shuozhen 陳碩真 (d. 653), who also declared herself emperor with the name Wenjia 文佳 during the peasant uprising of 653, had tried to occupy the dragon throne, but without success. She was quickly killed by Wu Zetian. This fact was recorded in the Zizhi Tongjian 資治通鑑, revealing that Wu Zetian was probably not the only woman who tried to become emperor, and—​in any event—​showing how women were important during the Tang dynasty. See Gao, Tang dai funü, 123. 45  Both Zhongzong and Ruizong returned to the throne after their mother’s death, reigning between 705–​710 and 710–​712 respectively. Twitchett, The Cambridge History of China. 46  Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 306. The first Zhou dynasty (1045–​221 BCE) was considered the “Golden Age.” 47  Puett, To Become a God, 60.

kings’ words, cemented throughout the three dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou and conveyed by Confucius as blueprints for civilization, were considered the foundation of Chinese familial relationships, social structure, and political practice. However, this model was conceived for a patrilineal structure, whereas Wu Zetian was a woman, and female authority was considered aberrant by any supporter of the Confucian tradition. Throughout her more than sixty years in power48 she worked tirelessly to propose an alternative model to the Confucian order of things in order to be recognized as a legitimate ruler. To ensure her power she had to propose a parallel pantheon of sage queens and become a god(dess) herself. Michael Puett49 has made clear all the processes that turned the emperor into a divine being. Although his survey mainly focuses on the pre-​imperial and early imperial periods, extending his research to the Qin and Han dynasties, the models he studies were paradigmatic in order to understand the theodicy of the Chinese state in general. According to his observations, the ruler—​considered to be the “Son of Heaven”, or something akin to a god—​played simultaneously the key role of ethical preserver and harmonizer of the relationship between Heaven and his liegemen. These two ideas—​the “Mandate of Heaven” (tianming), related to the fact that the emperor was considered the “Son of Heaven” (tianzi)—​represented a solidified argument for a coherent legitimacy of rulership, supported by an ideal past that could serve as a pattern for present predicaments and a plan for the future. This system was then promoted by classicists (ru 儒) and supported by Confucianists. “Although women in the classical period were not downtrodden as modern stereotypes suggest,”50 one cannot therefore state that the bureaucratic architecture, mainly based on Confucian teachings, was female-​friendly. As previously mentioned, women exerted their power internally, nei, while men exerted their power externally, wai; therefore, in becoming emperor, Wu Zetian was jumping from her inner 48  This calculation was based on the fact that, when Emperor Gaozong died in 683, although his seventh son ascended the throne (Wu Zetian’s third one), most of the power was delegated to the Empress Dowager Wu. Before his death Emperor Gaozong already relied so much on the empress that both Wu Zetian and Gaozong were considered ersheng 二聖 (“two sages”). Therefore counting from 684 to 705 in total, she was in power for more than sixty years. Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 51. 49  Puett, To Become a God.

50  Nylan, The Five “Confucian” Classics, 21.

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realm to the outer realm—​invading a space reserved for men. How could she solve the question of legitimacy when the foundations of the cosmological order, the bureaucratic structure and rituals were all against her? In trying to legitimize her position, Wu Zetian, a master of masquerades, was alternately attracted by Buddhism51 and Daoism.52 Buddhism and Daoism were already bound to central power but never succeeded in completely replacing the pre-​eminent Confucian conventions. During the Tang dynasty, although representatives of educated elites, whether Daoist or Buddhist in nature, participated in the debates at court, most of the political legitimacy was still based on learning the Confucian classics, and writing about these texts was considered a symbolic political gesture of civil governance. The civil service examination, reintroduced by the Tang emperor Gaozu, together with the reopening of the main schools in Chang’an, was, in fact, mainly based on the Confucian classics.53 During this time a certain competition arose between Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism about commitment to the central power through elites.54 Their influence was mostly limited to state interests, and, when these three teachings—​or, more specifically, when Buddhism (considered as a foreign religion/​philosophy) and Daoism (which was an autochthonous religion/​philosophy)—​were thought to threaten the interests of the empire, the emperor activated the mechanism of inspection and censorship. Wu Zetian knew all these mechanisms very well and was aware that it would be very hard to fight against the status quo. She was a learned woman, for her mother, Yang, conscientiously attended to the education of her children.55 Antonino Forte has stressed Empress Wu’s commitment to Buddhism very clearly.56 Wu Zetian’s mother was an ardent Buddhist supporter, and Wu Zetian, after Taizong’s death, was 51  It is important to stress that Buddhism entered China during the Eastern Han dynasty, when the religion/​philosophy was still at a very early stage. It was not until the Tang dynasty that China developed its own schools and Buddhism became sinicized. See Silk, Buddhism in China; and Kieschnick, The Impact of Buddhism, 83.

52  See Barrett, Taoism under the T’ang. Since the 660s both Emperor Gaozong and Empress Wu had been surrounded by Daoist adepts. After Gaozong’s death this continued under Wu Zetian’s reign, when she was also patronizing Buddhist monasteries and clergy. 53  Wechsler, “The Founding,” 179. 54  Ibid., 180.

55  Rothschild, Wu Zhao, 22.

56  Forte, Political Propaganda and Ideology in China.

Elisabetta Colla

sent to a Buddhist monastery, where she spent some time before being brought back to the imperial palace by Gaozong. When she came to power she ordered the translation of the Mahāmegha Sūtra, also known as the Dayun jing 大雲經 (Great Cloud Sūtra),57 by Dharmakṣema (385–​433?). Finally, among Wu Zetian’s lovers, such as the famous Xue Huaiyi 薛懷 義 (d. 694),58 there were also Buddhist monks who influenced her policy making.59 Wu Zetian’s liaison with Buddhism has also been exhaustively studied by Guisso, and by Rothschild in his recent work Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon of Devis, Divinities, and Dynastic Mothers,60 and it was during Wu Zetian’s reign that Buddhism was no longer considered a foreign faith and was gradually elevated to a state religion.61 However, Wu Zetian was also very devoted to Daoism. The study proposed by Denis Twitchett is very elucidating in this respect.62 Her relationship with Daoism was more complicated, for Daoism was directly linked to the Li clan, the legitimate imperial family, and therefore this association—​and, more specifically, the claim that Laozi was the ancestor of the Li family—​presented Wu Zetian with something of a dilemma: how could she keep her devotion to 57  This sūtra is very important, because it contained a prophecy announcing the reincarnation of Maitreya (Future Buddha) and a female deity and monarch of the world. See Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 305; Wu Tse-​t’ien, 306–​21. On the prophecy, see also the English translation by Forte, Political Propaganda and Ideology in China. This sutra was identified as importantly esoteric and one of the primary sources for Indra worship; see Sorensen, Payne, and Orzech, Esoteric Buddhism, 270. 58  He was one of the first known as Feng Xiaobao 馮小寶, from Shaanxi. In fact, Xue Huaiyi became a monk only after 690, when Wu Zetian rose to power.

59  Rothschild describes him as a “gifted Buddhist propagandist and skilled architect, who played a vital role in creating rhetoric and symbols to support Wu Zhao’s political ascent”: Rothschild, Wu Zhao, 100. He was substituted around 695 by Shen Nanqin, who Rothschild considers a “likely fictitious Confucian physician” and “supposedly Wu Zhao’s lover”; ibid., 228. 60  See part IV of Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 191–​226.

61  Key dates are as follows. In 690 Wu Zetian promulgated an edict that elevated Buddhism over Daoism. Two years later, in 692, a prohibition on the butchering animals was also promulgated. In 694 the Court of State Ceremonial was put in charge of Buddhist rites. For more, see Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon of Devis; Wu Zhao; Twitchett, The Cambridge History of China; and Guisso, Wu Tse-​t’ien. 62  Twitchett, “ ‘Chen Gui,’ ” 33–​109.

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Daoism and especially to Daoist practices without Laozi? The choice was made in promoting the Chengui 臣軌 (Rules for Officials),63 composed by the “Scholars of the Northern Gate” in Wu Zetian’s name. This work was a sort of vademecum for ministers, with an entire section centred on the importance of studying Daoism.64 This new work attributed to Wu Zetian took the place of the Daode jing 道德經 (the Classic of the Way of Virtue) in the imperial exams in 693.65 During the Tang period there was a close relation between Daoism and alchemy.66 Many examples demonstrate how religion was instru­mental to Wu Zetian’s power before and after becoming emperor of China. One such instance took place while Gaozong was still alive, when Wu Zetian decided to send her only daughter, Princess Taiping 太平公主 (?–​713), to a Daoist temple in order to honour her grandmother, Empress Zhaocheng, who died in 670.67 Timothy Barrett has argued that, although this episode was more symbolic than real, it does show the involvement of the imperial family with Daoism68—​and, in my opinion, Wu Zetian’s political strategy in making use of the malleability of the Buddhist faith, among others. Art and symbolism had been instrumental to Wu Zetian’s rise to power, underpinning and legitimizing her political discourse. She was a great patron of Buddhist art, and there is no doubt that this is one of the most studied aspects of her legitimization process, though there are also traces of her promotion of Daoist art.69 Throughout her reign she demonstrated a series of complex and interrelated political and religious concerns that were materialized by art. Images and statuary, with their theatrical style, their dimensions, and their 63  Twitchett, The Writing of Official History,  53–​61. 64  Ibid., 102.

65  Guisso, “Empress Wu,” 311.

66  Barrett, Taoism under the T’ang.

67  By 670 Princess Taiping was part of the complicated negotiations held by her father, Emperor Gaozong, in order to secure a peace treaty with the king of Turfan. After Gaozong died, Taiping came back to the imperial court. As one can read in the Tang hui yao 唐會要 (Institutional History of the Tang): “The princess Taiping was assigned as abbess (nü guan 女官) at the former Daoist Monastery of the Empress Zhaocheng (Zhaocheng guan 昭成觀), henceforth becoming the Monastery of Taiping (Taiping guan 太平觀)” (the translation is slightly modified). See Ebner von Eschenbach, in Kralle and Schilling, Schreiben über Frauen in China, 266. 68  Barrett, Taoism under the T’ang, 35.

69  See Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 255n87.

location, were part of a specific design. They belonged, in fact, to a general message that aimed to persuade the viewer on a specific topic: the legitimization of a female ruler. What Wu Zetian aimed for in patronizing both Buddhist and Daoist art was not only to encourage the creation of images celebrating her figure but to convince her people that she had the right to rule. Art was a means to overthrow a given political order. Her visual propaganda, which occupied a large place in her reign, was intelligible not only to limited elites but to the great majority of her people. Art—​and, more specifically, religious art—​could be “read” by literate and illiterate people alike, and Wu Zetian was aware of that. Images and sculptures were not just an opportunity to celebrate herself in a heroic manner but also a powerful device—​or, paraphrasing Erwin Panofsky, a means to reveal the basic attitude of Wu Zetian’s empire, period, class, and religious or philosophical persuasion condensed into one work.70

Concluding Remarks

More than twenty years ago I had the opportunity to visit the Longmen grottoes complex (Longmen shiku 龍門石窟), characterized by a huge amount of caves distributed all along the riverbank of a tributary watercourse of the river Luo, close to the “divine capital” (shendu 神都)71 in the present-​ day Henan province. The complex reverberates with the magnitude of Buddhist faith, not only of the Tang dynasty but also of previous dynasties, when this place was chosen as key site of worship.72 Because of their location between water and mountains, the visitor is overwhelmed by a myriad of small, medium-​sized, and big caves, housing symbolic elements mostly from the Buddhist faith.73 70  Panofsky, Meaning in the Visual Arts,  26–​54.

71  This is how Luoyang was considered by Wu Zetian during her reign. Luoyang became the permanent Eastern Capital in 657 and was considered the imperial temporary residence until 683, when Wu Zetian permanently established her court there. In 701 the capital was transferred again when Wu Zetian returned to Chang’an. See Twitchett and Wechsler, “Kao-​tsung,” 258.

72  The complex of Longmen 龍門 (lit. the Dragon Gate) was considered an ideal mountain river model, crucial in terms of fengshui, and therefore it was an ideal place to build a temple. In fact, after the introduction of Buddhism into China this place, besides being very close to one of the principal capitals of Chinese history, was chosen as an auspicious location for its cult. McNair, Donors of Longmen, 111. 73  Ibid., 118.

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Many scholars have speculated whether the seventeen-​ metre-​high Buddha statue, which possesses evident female characteristics, or the crowned and jewelled Buddha performing the bhūmisparsa-​m udrā really represent depictions of Wu Zetian herself.74 Whether this theory, based on stylistic and iconographical grounds, is valid or not, the Longmen complex and the huge Vairocana Buddha, “whose eyes appear to fix the viewer’s in their gaze,”75 not only express peculiar ties between esoteric Buddhism and Wu Zetian but also represent possibly the most striking of the many examples of how Wu Zetian’s complex political and religious strategy to deify herself and legitimize her rising power was crystal clear from the very beginning.76 In analyzing how she titled77 herself throughout her reign one can observe that, step by step, she assumed the title of “Divine Emperor” (690–​693), then became cakravartin (693–​694),78 and finally this process came to a crescendo when she decided to accumulate all the titles in one, becoming “Maitreya, Sagely and Divine Emperor, Cakravartin of the Golden Wheel Transcending Antiquity” (694–​695). In doing so, she not only became the “king of kings,” sage, and divine emperor, but also considered herself an incarnation of the Buddha of the Future, as described in the prophecy of the Mahāmegha Sūtra. We do not know what Wu Zetian looked like. One can imagine her like the ladies depicted by Zhang Xuan (710–​after 748) in his scroll Lady Guoguo’s Spring Outing (Guoguo furen youchun tu 虢國夫人游春圖), or as she was depicted in the famous collection “Portrait and Eulogies of the Ancients” by the artist Zheng Zhenduo.79 What writers such as Richard 74  This seated Buddha found in the Leigutai 擂鼓台 South Cave (Longmen—​East Side) presents similar features to those of the large Variocana Buddha. McNair, Donors of Longmen, 97. See also Sorensen, Payne, and Orzech, Esoteric Buddhism, 403. 75  McNair, Donors of Longmen, 111.

76  Ibid., 117; Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 4.

77  For a list of Wu Zetian’s titles, see Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, xvii–​xx.

78  In South Asia, during the reign of Aśoka (d. 232 BCE), the ideal concordance, or harmony, between the macrocosm (universe) and the political microcosm was granted by the cakravartin, a “king of kings” who detains the rcanum imperii of both the universe and its earthly counterpart. The concept of cakravartin symbolizes the paramount sovereign. On the importance of this title, see Forte, Political Propaganda and Ideology in China. At Longmen, there is also a bas-​relief of King Aśoka surrounded by a thousand Buddhas. See Karetzky, “Wu Zetian and Buddhist Art,” 132. 79  Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 4.

Elisabetta Colla

Guisso and Antonino Forte have argued is that she was particularly aware of how the adoption of specific texts and a cult of images were her major propaganda devices.80 The Vairocana, for instance, which represents the mainstream of Mahayana Buddhism between 655 and 675,81 not only represented the diffusion of the Buddhist faith worshipped by the imperial family but also implied a theomorphic claim of rulership itself. In this case, visual evidence, such as omens, statues, and palaces, together with the introduction of specific classics in the curricula of the future mandarins, such as Daoist texts,82 were very powerful means that Wu Zetian employed in a masterly manner to propose a new order of things. Her use of religious images to convey secular power should not be seen as autonomous forces but interlinked objects that promoted the cult of her personality. Although one should not think that she was a donor only to Buddhism, a Daoist religion,83 there is no doubt that Longmeng was Wu Zetian’s greatest legacy in art. Longmen was the sacred place where Buddhism and Daoism met, the image of the “Queen Mother of the West” and the “King Father of the East” blending through the Buddhist iconography that had been growing through the centuries.84 The same craftsmen, artisans, and anonymous artists were employed to build any kind of temple and different subjects, therefore creating a continuity in the stylistic narrative. Longmen was perhaps the perfect place to manifest queenship, political discourse, and power legitimization practices in the imperial Chinese context, which was essentially hostile to female rulership.

80  Such as performing the feng and shan rites. On these rites, see Chavanne, Le T’ai Chan; and Rothschild, Wu Zhao, 59–​63; Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon. 81  Sorensen, Payne, and Orzech, Esoteric Buddhism, 218.

82  As already stressed, although Wu Zetian was much inclined to Buddhism, she was the first to propose the incorporation of Daoist texts—​s uch as the Chengui—​into the civil service examination system.

83  The title of Rothschild’s book is highly informative in this respect; in fact, her pantheon focused not only on Buddhist and Daoist divinities but also on dynastic mothers and goddesses of antiquity, such as Nüwa, the river Luo goddess; the silk goddess, Leizu; and Mother Qi and the ur-​mother of the Zhou line, among others. For a complete study, read Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon. 84  McNair, Donors of Longmen, 68.

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Ad Fontes: A Glance at Sources Several writers interested in Wu Zetian’s biography, work, and world, most of whom have already been quoted in this short study, have made detailed lists available of both primary and secondary sources in their works. Reference works such as those written by Antonino Forte and Richard Guisso are the foundation for anyone who would like to study Wu Zhao. As N. Harry Rothschild points out, in the last century one could count more than fifty Wu Zhao biographies.85 A great number of these biographies were based on primary sources resulting from long-​lasting team works and produced between the tenth and thirteenth centuries: Liu Xu 劉昫’s “Old Standard History of the Tang History”, Jiu Tangshu 舊 唐書 (tenth century), Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修’s “New Standard History of the Tang History,” Xin Tangshu 新唐書 (eleventh century), and Sima Guang 司馬光’s “Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government,” Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (eleventh century),86 and the “Outline of the Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government,” Zizhi tongjian gangmu zizhi 資治通 鑑綱目, which was less accurate but more popular than the Tongjian because it was planned by the eminent neo-​ Confucian scholar Zhuxi 朱熹. These sources were written in later periods, which marked a major turning point for women’s place in society. If one analyzes these sources chronologically, it is clear that there is a gradual growth in the intention by scholars to erase the Wu Zetian experience from history and to depict her as a calamity. Besides, it is evident that the message conveyed by these documents aims to prevent any female involvement in male affairs and politics. To get a more balanced representation of Wu Zetian’s biography, one should check other sources, such as the local histories, imperial edicts, memorials (such as the “Collected grand edicts and decrees of the Tang dynasty,” Tang da zhaoling 唐大詔零集), and essays, among others, but also poems (e.g. the “Complete compilation of the Tang verse,” Quan Tang 85  Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, 215. The “Old Standard History of the Tang” is more accurate than the “New” one. However, the “New Standard History of the Tang” contains better monographs and tables than the “Old” one and is more readable; the “Old” and “New Standard History of the Tang” both cover the historical period between 618 and 906 and were reprinted by Zhonghua in 1975. The Zizhi tongjian was reprinted in 1995, also by Zhonghua. For more details, see Wilkinson, Chinese History; and Twitchett, The Cambridge History of China. 86  Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, x.

shi 全唐詩) and Buddhist sūtras (e.g. “Commentary on the Meaning of the Prophecy About the Divine Sovereign in the Great Cloud Sūtra,” Dayun jing shenhuang shouji yishu 大雲 經神皇授記義疏). In his Wu Zhao biography, Rothschild provides a detailed description of both official histories and less orthodox sources, stressing that, “while the [four]87 main histories contain a negative bias against Wu Zhao, flowery praise written by literary masters to legitimate Wu Zhao’s political authority is just problematic.”88 There is a very important essay by Twitchett 89 that contributes an important analysis of sources attributed to Empress Wu Zetian. Most of these works are listed both in the “Old” and “New Standard History of the Tang,” as well as in Japanese sources, such as the “List of Writings Currently Held in the Nation of Japan,” Nihokoku genzai sho mokuroku 日本國現在書目録, compiled during the ninth century by the Japanese aristocrat and scholar Fujiwara no Sukeyo 藤原 佐世, and the later (eleventh century) “Catalogue of the Transmission of the Torch to the East,” Tōiki dentō mokuroku 東域伝灯目録 by a Japanese monk, Eicho 永超. To conclude, as one can observe from the aforementioned sources, and quoting Harry Rothschild, a “biographer is left to weigh the conflicting materials, blending the biased official histories, the Buddhist propaganda and prophecies, the fulsome memorials, and the tall tales from unofficial sources into a coherent narrative of Wu Zhao’s life and political career.”90

87  Actually, Rothschild quotes only three main histories: the “Old” and “New Standard History of the Tang” and the “Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government”: Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, xiii. 88  Ibid.

89  Twitchett, “ ‘Chen Gui.’ ”

90  Rothschild, Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon, xiv.

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Bibliography

Elisabetta Colla

Primary Sources De Bary, Theodore W., and Irene Bloom. Sources of Chinese Tradition, vol. 1: From Earliest Times to 1600. New York: Columbia University Press, 1999. Kong, Qiu. Li Chi: Book of Rites: An Encylcopaedia of Ancient Ceremonial Usages, Religious Creeds and Social Institutions. Edited by Ch’u Chai and Winberg Chai. Translated by James Legge. New York: University Books, 1964. Owen, Stephen. An Anthology of Chinese Literature: Beginnings to 1911. New York: Norton, 1997. Ruan Yuan 阮元, ed. Yingyin Ruan ke Shisanjing zhushu 影印阮刻十三經注疏 [Thirteen Classics:  Explanatory Notes and Commentaries]. Vol. 27. Taipei: Wenhua tushu gongsi, 1970. Sima Guang 司馬光 and Bo Yang 柏楊. Bo Yang ban zizhi tongjian 柏楊版資治通鑑 [Bo Yang’s Critical Edition of the Zizhi Tongjian]. Vol. 48. Taipei: Yuan liu, 1988. —​—​—. Bo Yang ban zizhi tongjian 柏楊版資治通鑑 [Bo Yang’s Critical Edition of the Zizhi Tongjian]. Vol. 49. Taipei: Yuan liu, 1988. Secondary Sources Barrett, Timothy H. Taoism under the T’ang:  Religion and Empire during the Golden Age of Chinese History. London: Wellsweep, 1996. Cheng, Anne. Histoire de la pensée chinoise. Paris: Seuil, 1997. Chavanne, Édouard. Le T’ai Chan: Essai de monographie d’un culte chinois. Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1910. Dien, Dora Shu-​fang. Empress Wu Zetian in Fiction and in History:  Female Defiance in Confucian China. New York: Nova Science, 2003. Ebrey, Patricia Buckley. Women and the Family in Chinese History. Abingdon: Routledge, 2003. Eisenberg, Andrew. “Emperor Gaozong, the Rise of Wu Zetian, and Factional Politics in the Early Tang.” Tang Studies 30 (2012):  45–​69. Feng, Youlan, and Derk Bodde. A History of Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952. Fitzgerald, Charles Patrick. The Empress Wu. London: Crescent Press, 1968. Forte, Antonino. Political Propaganda and Ideology in China at the End of the Seventh Century: Inquiry into the Nature, Authors and Function of the Dunhuang Document S.6502, followed by an Annotated Translation. Kyoto: Scuola italiana di studi sull’Asia orientale, 2005. Gao Shiyu 高世瑜. Tang dai funü 唐 代 妇女 [Women of The Tang Dynasty]. Xi’an: Sanqin chubanshe, 1988. Graham, Angus C. Yin–​Yang and the Nature of Correlative Thinking. Singapore: Institute of East Asian Philosophies, 1986. Guisso, Richard W. “The Reigns of the Empress Wu, Chung-​tsung and Jui-​tsung (684–​712).” In The Cambridge History of China, vol. 3: Sui and T’ang China 589–​906, pt. 1, edited by Denis C. Twitchett, 290–​332. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. —​—​—​. Wu Tse-​t’ien and the Politics of Legitimation in T’ang China. Bellingham: Western Washington University, 1978. Guisso, Richard W., and Stanley Johannesen. Women in China: Current Directions in Historical Scholarship. Youngstown: Philo Press, 1981. Guo, Moruo 郭沫若. Wu Zetian: Simu shiju 武則天:  四幕史剧 [Wu Zetian: Play in Four Acts]. Beijing: Renming wenxue chubanshe, 1979. Hucker, Charles O. A Dictionary of Official Titles in Imperial China. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1985. Karetzky, Patricia E. “Wu Zetian and Buddhist Art of the Tang Dynasty.” Tang Studies 20/​21 (2002): 113–​50. Kelleher, Theresa. “Confucianism.” In Women in World Religions, edited by Arvind Sharma, 135–​60. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987. Kieschnick, John. The Impact of Buddhism on Chinese Material Culture. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003. Kralle, Jianfei, and Dennis R. Schilling, eds. Schrieben über Frauen in China: Ihre Literarisierung im historischen Schriftum und ihr gesellschaftlicher Status in der Gesellschaft. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2004.

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Lee, Lily Xiao Hong, and Sue Wiles, eds. Biographical Dictionary of Chinese Women, vol. 2: Tang through Ming 618–​1644. Armonk: M. E. Sharpe, 2014. Li Hua. Contemporary Chinese Fiction by Su Tong and Yu Hua: Coming of Age in Troubled Times. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Liang Yongyuan 梁永元. Wu Zetian zheng zhuan 武则天正传 [Wu Zetian:  A True Biography]. Beijing: Wenhua yishu chubanshe, 2015. Lin Yutang 林语堂. Lady Wu: A True Story. London: Heinemann, 1957. —​—​—​. Wu Zetian zhuan 武則天傳 [Wu Zetian: A Biography]. Tainan: Dehua chubanshe, 1976. Loewe, Michael, and Edward L. Shaughnessy, eds. The Cambridge History of Ancient China: From the Origins of Civilization to 221 BC. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999. McMahon, Keith. Women Shall Not Rule:  Imperial Wives and Concubines in China from Han to Liao. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2013. McNair, Amy. Donors of Longmen: Faith, Politics, and Patronage in Medieval Chinese Buddhist Sculpture. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007. Mair, Victor H. The Columbia History of Chinese Literature. New York: Columbia University Press, 2012. Nylan, Michael. The Five “Confucian” Classics. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001. Pang-​ White, Ann A., ed. The Bloomsbury Research Handbook of Chinese Philosophy and Gender. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2016. Panofsky, Erwin. Meaning in the Visual Arts. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982. Pirandello, Luigi. Uno, nessuno e centomila. Florence: Bemporad, 1926. Puett, Michael J. To Become a God: Cosmology, Sacrifice, and Self-​Divinization in Early China. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002. Pulleyblank, Edwin G. Essays on Tang and Pre-​Tang China. Burlington: Ashgate, 2001. —​—​—​. “The Tzyjyh Tongjiann Kaoyih and the Sources for the History of the Period 730–​763.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 13 (1950): 448–​73. Robinet, Isabelle. Taoism: Growth of a Religion. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997. Rosenlee, Li-​Hsiang Lisa. Confucianism and Women: A Philosophical Interpretation. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006. —​—​—​. “Neiwai, Civility, and Gender Distinctions.” Asian Philosophy 14 (2004): 41–​58. Rothschild, N. Harry. Emperor Wu Zhao and Her Pantheon of Devis, Divinities, and Dynastic Mothers. New York: Columbia University Press, 2015. —​—​—​. “Wu Zetian.” In Bibliography of Asian Studies, 571–​84. EBSCOhost, 2014. Accessed June 3, 2016. www.asian-​studies.org/​ Publications/​BAS. —​—​—​. Wu Zhao: China’s Only Woman Emperor. New York: Pearson Longman, 2008. Schottenhammer, Angela, and Roderich Ptak. The Perception of Maritime Space in Traditional Chinese Sources. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2006. Silk, Jonathan A., ed. Buddhism in China: Collected Papers of Erik Zürcher. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Song, Xianlin. “Re-​Gendering Chinese History: Zhao Mei’s Emperor Wu Zetian.” East Asia: An International Quarterly 27 (2010):  361–​79. Sorensen, Henrik Hjort, Richard Karl Payne, and Charles D. Orzech. Esoteric Buddhism and Tantras in East Asia. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Su Tong. Wu Zetian 武則天. Hong Kong: Tiandi tushu youxian gongsi, 1994. Twitchett, Denis C. “‘Chen Gui’ and Other Works Attributed to Empress Wu Zetian.” Asia Major 16 (2003): 33–​109. —​—​—​. The Writing of Official History under the T’ang. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Twitchett, Denis C., and Howard J. Wechsler. “Kao-​tsung (Reign 649–​83) and the Empress Wu: The Inheritor and the Usurper.” In The Cambridge History of China, vol. 3: Sui and T’ang China 589–​906, pt. 1, edited by Denis C. Twitchett, 242–​89. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Watson, Rubie S., and Patricia Buckley Ebrey. Marriage and Inequality in Chinese Society. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991.

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Wechsler, Howard J. “The Founding of the T’ang Dynasty: Kao-​tsu (Reign 618–​26).” In The Cambridge History of China, vol. 3: Sui and T’ang China 589–​906, pt. 1, edited by Denis C. Twitchett, 150–​87. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. —​—​—​. “T’ai-​tsung (reign 626–​49) the Consolidator.” In The Cambridge History of China, vol. 3: Sui and T’ang China 589–​906, pt. 1, edited by Denis C. Twitchett, 188–​241. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Wilkinson, Endymion P. Chinese History: A Manual. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000. Yang Lien-​sheng. “Female Rulers in Imperial China.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 23 (1960): 47–​61. Reprinted in Studies of Governmental Institutions in Chinese History, edited by John L. Bishop, 153–​70. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1968. Zhang Juzheng, and Chen Shengxi. Zhang ju zheng jiangping “lun yu” huangjia duben 张居正讲评《论语》皇家读本 [Imperial Reading Copy of the Analects with Comments by Zhang Juzheng]. Shanghai: Shanghai cishu chubanshe, 2007. Zhao Fengjie 趙鳳喈. Zhongguo funü zai falüshang zhi diwei 中國婦女在法律上之地位 [The Position of Women in Chinese Law]. Shanghai: Shangwu yinshuguan, 1929. Zheng, Yangwen. China on the Sea: How the Maritime World Shaped Modern China. Boston: Brill, 2014. Zürndorfer, Harriet, ed. Women in China’s Imperial Past: New Perspectives. Leiden: Brill, 1999.

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3 TAMAR OF GEORGIA (1184–​1213) AND THE LANGUAGE OF FEMALE POWER* LOIS HUNEYCUTT

THE TWELFTH CENTURY saw an unusual number of female candidates for major thrones in western Europe. In the Spanish kingdoms, Urraca of León-​Castille inherited the crown of her father, Alfonso VI, in 1109 and managed to hold the realm together for her own son to inherit despite nearly constant challenges from rebellious barons and members of her natal family, especially her half-​sister Teresa of Portugal.1 In England, Henry I forced his barons to swear to support the claims of his daughter Matilda almost a decade before his 1135 death after his only legitimate son died in a shipwreck. Although Matilda never managed to rule over England, she and her husband did have effective control over Normandy. The long civil war between Matilda and her cousin Stephen eventually resulted in Matilda giving up her claim for the throne in return for a promise that her son would inherit upon Stephen’s death. 2 Finally, in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, Melisende (1105–​1161), eldest daughter and heir of King Baldwin II, ruled in partnership with her husband Fulk of Anjou until his death in 1143, and then alone until her son Baldwin III came of age and they shared power until her own death in 1161.3 *  My thanks to Linda Ehrsam Voigts and Theresa Coletti for their comments on a preliminary version of this chapter, presented at the 2015 meeting of the Mid America Medieval Society, and to Ellie Woodacre for her insightful suggestions on the draft of this article. All remaining errors are of course my own. 1  Reilly, The Kingdom of León-​Castilla under Queen Urraca. 2  Chibnall, The Empress Matilda.

3  Many modern historians assert that Melisende “retired” in 1153, but even after 1153 she was sporadically active in diplomatic and administrative affairs until shortly before her death. See Mayer, “Studies in the History of Queen Melisende”; Newman, Defending the City of God; and Hayley Bassett’s chapter in this collection for more information on the queens in Jerusalem.

The claims of these women stem from an increasing preference in European kingdoms for direct lineal inheritance over other means of claiming monarchic power, and their struggles and successes are well known to scholars and students of the medieval period. But there is another, less well-​known female monarch at the fringes of Europe who rose to power in the twelfth century, and whose reign is generally considered to mark the apogee of her medieval realm. This woman, Tamar of Georgia, was born ca. 1160, and by 1178 her father had her crowned as his co-​ruler and heir. After overcoming initial opposition from ecclesiastics and aristocrats, she ruled a united and culturally flourishing kingdom. But, despite the length of her reign and its successes, Tamar is seldom discussed among Western medievalists, largely, it can be argued, because of the challenges of dealing with the linguistic problems raised by surviving sources in Georgian, Armenian, Russian, and Greek, as well as the Latin with which historians of the medieval West are accustomed to working. Translations of Georgian sources into Western languages in the last decade have made it possible to at least incorporate the outlines of Tamar’s life and the reasons behind her success into scholarship and teaching.4 Despite a few newly available sources, this case study of Georgian queenship presented daunting challenges to me, as a historian of medieval Britain and France. I have not become expert in the languages of the south Caucasus or 4  While there is no full-​length study of Tamar and her reign in a western European language to date, there are some shorter studies, and aspects of her reign have been well studied, and of course her reign usually gets a chapter in any survey of Georgian history. See Eastmond, “Gender and Orientalism,” for both an excellent analysis and bibliographic references. Donald Rayfield’s Edge of Empires: A History of Georgia (2012) provides a popular and readable recent introduction for anglophone readers.

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Russian, and my ability to read Greek is limited. Like most historians, I was trained to pay close attention to nuances in original languages, and I am painfully aware of the fact that I do not have the expertise to recognize nuances in either the textual or visual culture of medieval Georgia. Nevertheless, I do believe that the past twenty-​five years or so of queenship studies have taught historians to see patterns that allow us to ask meaningful questions when it comes to queens in global settings. My study of Tamar is informed by my work on twelfth-​century queenship in the British Isles, France, and the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, as well as familiarity with studies of other areas of Europe.5 It is also, I hope, enriched by knowledge of when and where women in similar situations faced difficulties and the means by which they strove to overcome them. If we are to truly try to envisage a global Middle Ages, this kind of comparative studies is at least a place to start. Here I am attempting to raise questions and point to possibilities when it comes to aspects of Tamar of Georgia’s reign, specifically the particular resources in Georgian history and culture that were available to bolster her claims to power and right to rule. While much of her story is familiar to medievalists and queenship specialists, there are also aspects of Tamar’s career, and the rhetoric surrounding it, that challenge long-​standing understandings about women and power in the Middle Ages. In this chapter, I look at Tamar from a comparative perspective, paying close attention to the sources and language of challenges to her authority, and also pointing to a vocabulary of power that she used to buttress her claims to power that was unavailable to her western sisters. For the most part, modern commentators have been more troubled than their medieval counterparts when a woman is found exercising public power as empress, queen, countess or abbess, or regent, mother or wife. However, it is also the case that medieval women of all classes operated within a patriarchal, misogynist framework that they must, at some level, often have confronted. Bernard of Clairvaux’s maddeningly condescending and apparently unsolicited advice to Melisende of Jerusalem about how to present herself as a “king” rather than a “queen” is but one example of the way in which that underlying misogyny could insert itself into political discourse.6 Tamar’s case offers an opportunity 5  Huneycutt, “Images of Queenship”; “The Creation of a Crone”; and Matilda of Scotland. 6  Bernard of Clairvaux, Opera Omnia, 557.

to take a fresh look at the question that was raised but not resolved in an article that I published over twenty years ago, “Female Succession and the Language of Power in the Writings of Twelfth-​Century Churchmen.” The article tackled the seeming paradox of gender constructions, often inherited from antiquity, that attributed qualities such as “capriciousness, physical weakness, lust, instability, lack of intelligence, irrationality, and a tendency toward duplicity to the female sex,” coupled with the seeming acceptance of women in positions of high power.7 It argued that medieval ideas about gender, as expressed by ecclesiastical writers, were more fluid than we had previously accepted. God, for reasons of his own, sometimes placed women in positions of power and men in positions of subordination. Individuals of each sex could sometimes be called upon to, and be praised for, stepping into roles most often reserved for the other sex. While the term “virago” has negative connotations in the modern world, those negative connotations did not apply in the medieval era. In general, medieval commentators expected that both men and women would sometimes have to step outside their expected gender roles and perform in ways most commonly associated with the opposite sex, and could often praise them for doing so effectively. Women in leadership positions often had to act in a way that was “manly,” while men in monastic or military situations were called upon to play subordinate and submissive roles more often associated with women. Scholars have generally accepted that one of the greatest compliments that medieval churchmen could offer to one of these women was to place her among the viragos, those women who managed to transcend what were seen as the natural limitations of their sex in order to perform great deeds or exhibit unusual intelligence or virtue. To cite just a few examples, Ambrose of Milan believed that a Christian woman could “progress to complete manhood” through belief in Christ, and Lupus of Ferrières praised Einhard’s wife Emma as having “surpassed not only those of her own sex” but “even ordinary men in her remarkable wisdom, sobriety, and uprightness,” so that, “although a mere woman in body, she had achieved in spirit the stature of man.” During the twelfth-​century English civil war Stephen’s queen, Matilda of Boulogne, was praised for having “a manly heart in a woman’s body,” and Ralph of Diss likewise praised her rival, the empress, for displaying “manly courage” in a

7  Huneycutt, “Female Succession,” 189.

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female body.8 In short, medieval writers usually considered political power as something to be wielded by men, though women could, under certain circumstances, take on masculine virtue and authority. When that happened, both literary and visual artists often struggled to find images of strength that both depicted the ruling woman’s authority and, at the same time, preserved all the necessary “feminine” virtues. We have come to accept virago language as both liberating and normal. Yet, when we look at the kingdom of Georgia, there is a completely different, feminized discourse of power. Tamar ruled at the zenith of Georgia’s “Golden Age,” which began with the accession of David IV “the Builder” in 1089 and continued until the kingdom was weakened by Mongol invasions, plague and, ultimately, the fall of the Byzantine Empire in the fifteenth century. During this “Golden Age” Georgia dominated the southern Caucasus region commercially and militarily, and also saw a flowering in both literary production and the visual arts. Tamar faced the same challenges to her authority as her counterparts in Spain, England, and the Latin East, but Tamar and her court consciously manipulated both textual and visual media not only to reflect but also to shape her image as a medieval monarch. The vocabulary of power that developed in Georgia in both visual media and texts drew on the fact that medieval Georgians accepted that their kingdom had been among the first to convert to Christianity, and that it had first been evangelized by a fourth-​century female missionary, Nino, who later developed into a powerful saint—​“St. Nino”—​who continued to protect the kingdom.9 When her ability to rule was questioned, Tamar and her supporters were quick to draw on both the visual and textual imagery of St. Nino in order to buttress Tamar’s right and ability to rule. Second, during the “Golden Age” that was Tamar’s reign, Georgian authors produced poetry, epic literature, biographies, and chronicles on an unprecedented scale that, together, imagined successful kingdoms ruled by women. The literature produced in Tamar’s reign culminated in the production of The Knight in the Panther Skin, Georgia’s national epic, and this work and others supplied images of positive images of 8  For Ambrose, see Cadden, Meanings of Sex Difference, 205–​6; for Lupus, see Letters of Lupus of Ferrières, 8: for Matilda of Boulogne, see Gesta Stephani, 27; and, for Empress Matilda, see Bandel, “The English Chroniclers’ Attitude,” 117. See also LoPrete, “Gendering Viragos.” 9  Eastmond, “Royal Renewal,” esp. 290–​93.

Lois Huneycutt

female authority that went far beyond the usual virago language we see in the West.10 Tamar was crowned co-​r uler of Georgia during her father’s lifetime, a practice that the Georgians had used on previous occasions to ensure smooth succession. As a female, Tamar’s accession to monarchical power was unprecedented. At the time, hostile neighbours that were quick to see the accession of a woman as a sign of internal weakness surrounded Georgia. A Persian writer, for instance, dismissed her as a “libidinous woman,” which was of course a time-​ honoured way of impugning the integrity and fitness to rule of a female candidate or queen.11 Signs of uneasiness about female rule can be seen even before her father’s death. The catholicos (a title used to denote the head of the Georgian Church) Nikolaus Gulaberisdze delivered and published a treatise explaining why God had seen fit to use a female to establish his church among the Georgian people.12 He argued that Georgia was an inheritance of the Mother of God; and, because Georgians are “the most cruel and fierce people of all,” God used a “the weak nature of a woman” to allow his 10  Margery Wardrop’s prose translation of the poem (Man in the Panther Skin) is the best known and most widely cited, but it will likely be superseded by the newer, poetic translation by Lyn Coffin (Knight in the Panther Skin). I have mostly relied on Wardrop’s translation here but have also consulted Coffin.

11  Ibn Bībī, Die Seltschukengeschichte des Ibn Bibi, 33. See also Canard, “Les reines Géorgie,” 6–​7. Tamar’s crime in his eyes was not marrying a Muslim prince but, rather, her habit of falling in love with foreign princes sight unseen, whenever she heard of a handsome one (quoted in Vasiliev, “The Foundation of the Empire of Trebizond,” 14). Examples of the “libidinous woman” topos are ubiquitous, but for an egregious example see the writings of Agobard of Lyons against the Empress Judith, consort of Louis the Pious (d. 843), discussed in Wemple, Women in Frankish Society, 80–​81; and de Jong, The Penitential State, 188. Urraca of Castile’s scandalous affairs with both Gómez González and Pedro González de Lara (and especially the presence of her children by Pedro) contributed to her problems in León and Castile. See Reilly, The Kingdom of León-​Castilla under Queen Urraca, 215–​16, though Reilly downplays any scandal and almost sees Urraca’s choice of lovers as policy decisions. 12  Eastmond, Royal Imagery, 119–​2 1. A note on names and transliterations from the Georgian is in order. For the most part I have used variants of names most commonly used in English language literature, such as “Yuri,” rather than “Iuri” or “Georgi,” for Tamar’s first husband, but “George” rather than “Georgi” for her father and son, simply because of scholarly convention. I have also followed the lead of those with more expertise than I in deciding whether to keep or discard diacriticals when transliterating from Georgian, Russian or Persian.

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divinity to shine all the more brightly. Finally, he said, the situation in the land of Georgia echoed the high dignity of women in the New Testament, most fully shown in the risen Lord revealing himself to Mary Magdalene before anyone else. Therefore, “every daring mouth shall be shut which vilely denigrates the proclamation of the Gospel to the Georgians and their conversion through the female nature.” 13 This “strength of God through the weakness of women” rhetoric is an almost expected trope, as it was often used to explain female strength or exercise of authority, and may here have been intended to pave the way for Tamar’s accession to power. Gulaberisdze had been forced from power before Tamar’s father’s death, but, upon succeeding to the throne, Tamar summoned him back to court from his retirement home in Jerusalem, so, clearly, his support was important to her.14 Before delving too much further into the rhetoric and imagery of Tamar’s reign, a summary of basic biographical information is in order. Tamar was the elder of two daughters of King George III and his queen, Burdukahn of the Alans. Her father died in 1184, six years after her coronation as his co-​monarch. Tamar submitted to an unusual, but not unprecedented, second coronation ceremony, in which she was ritually crowned and handed the symbols of royal authority by the bishop of Kutaisi and two of her western lords. 15 Tamar’s title, like every Georgian monarch before her, was mepe, which is usually translated as “king,” since it implies sovereign power. There is no feminine form of the title, since Georgian has no grammatical gender. The word for queen consort is dedopali. Tamar faced challenges to her authority and outright opposition in the early years of her reign. Her main opponent was the new catholicos, Mikel Marianisdze, who, between her first coronation and her father’s death, had managed to expel his predecessor as catholicos as well as the bishop of Chqondidi, who traditionally served in an advisory role, much like a “prime minister,” to the Georgian monarch. Tamar summoned a synod in 1185 to deal with Marianisdze’s usurpations, but was not successful in having him removed from power, though she did manage to have a number of sympathetic bishops ordained. The catholicos as well as other members of the court were concerned about royal 13  Quoted in Horn, “St Nino and the Conversion of Pagan Georgia,” 261–​62. 14  Eastmond, Royal Imagery, 94.

15  Rayfield, Edge of Empires, 107.

succession and began pushing Tamar towards a matrimonial alliance with a powerful Christian state. The royal advisors pushed Yuri Bogolyubsky, an ousted Kievan duke who was then currently in exile in the northern Caucasus. Despite Tamar’s objection to the haste and to being expected to marry a total stranger, Yuri and Tamar were married almost immediately after the synod. Yuri was declared king (mepe), and Tamar, who was now technically both monarch (mepe) and queen consort, was upgraded to “king of kings and queen of queens” (mepeta-​mepe dedopalta-​dedopali). Although Yuri showed early promise as a military leader, the marriage was a failure, and was annulled within three years, with Tamar’s partisans claiming that Yuri was both a habitual drunkard and a “sodomite.”16 Marianisdze also died in 1188, so, with both her troublesome husband and the hostile churchmen gone, Tamar was finally free to rule on her own terms. After turning down at least one other candidate, Tamar seems to have chosen her second husband, David Soslan, a prince of Alania in the north Caucasus, herself.17 They were married in 1189, and commentators have fancied that it was a love match.18 While the emotional lives of medieval people can only rarely be recovered, the marriage was outwardly successful. Tamar secured the succession by giving birth to a son and a daughter by 1193. David was talented both in administrative and military matters. He and Tamar seemed to work together well; Tamar often supported David’s military activities by accompanying the army until they reached the monastery closest to the field of battle, where she would pray for Georgian success. Tamar was known for her mercy and the fact that she opposed torture, mutilation, and executions, but David could sometimes appear to overrule her and punish repeat offenders more harshly than the monarch would have ordered.19 David’s first military actions, in 1191 and 1193, were to rebuff Yuri’s attempts to make common cause with neighbouring rulers with grievances, and thus regain some authority over Georgian territory. After dispatching Yuri a final time, David concentrated his military efforts on Georgia’s Muslim neighbouring states, which had made inroads into the 16  Ibid., 110–​11.

17  Tamar also seems to have seriously considered marrying a member of the Saltukid dynasty of Erzurum, a neighbouring state in Anatolia. See Peacock, “Georgia and the Anatolian Turks,” 130; and The Georgian Chronicle, 115–​17. 18  See, for example, Rayfield, Edge of Empires, 110, who explains that, after Yuri’s exile, “Tamar was also free to marry for love.” 19  Ibid., 112–​14.

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kingdom between George III’s death and 1188.20 Sometime between 1202 and 1205 the Georgians defeated the Seljuk Turks at the Battle of Basian, with David leading the largest Georgian army ever fielded.21 After David’s death, in 1207, the kingdom continued expanding to the east, led by Ivan and Zakaria Mkhargzeli, a pair of Armenian-​Georgian brothers from a family that had been long-​time vassals of members of Tamar’s dynasty.22 Tamar had her son George, then about fifteen years old, crowned as her co-​ruler after his father’s death. After 1207 Tamar is less visible in the sources. The last securely datable indication that she was alive is a 1210 coin issued jointly in her name and that of her son. There are indications in the sources that she was suffering from a “woman’s disease,” and that her health declined precipitously a few weeks before her death, which was most likely in 1213.23 During Tamar’s reign Georgia reached the height of its commercial importance, military power, and territorial extent. Modern scholars also agree that it was during her reign that Georgia reached its cultural and artistic apogee.24 Despite the turmoil of the early years of her reign, Tamar was able to stabilize her court and then her kingdom by attracting and retaining loyal courtiers and officers. Part of her success certainly lay in her successful partnership with David Soslan, and, indeed, the success of her second marriage and her ability to rule compared with the chaos that accompanied her unsuccessful first marriage are striking. It was also within this atmosphere of artistic innovation that the Georgians both adapted existing images of power to the new situation of a female ruler and created new ways of presenting 20  Ibid.; Peacock, “Georgia and the Anatolian Turks,” 130–​31.

21  Although the Battle of Basian (or Basiani) is the most celebrated battle in the history of Georgia, historians agree on neither the date when it occurred nor the place where it happened. Ibn Bībī, a Persian who wrote from Konya (Turkey) and whose memoir/​history covers the period between 1192 and 1280, placed the battle AH 598, which would be between October 1, 1201, and September 19, 1202 CE: see Ibn Bībī, Die Seltschukengeschichte des Ibn Bibi, 39, 358. Ronald Suny, The Making of the Modern Georgian Nation, 39, places the battle between 1203 and 1204. Rayfield, Edge of Empires, 114, provides the date July 23, 1202; while Alexander Mikaberidze, “Tamar,” cites 1202. 22  Rayfield, Edge of Empires, 115–​16.

23  Rapp, “The Coinage of T’amar”; Rayfield, Edge of Empires, 116–​17. 24  See, for instance, Canard, “Les reines de Géorgie,” 3–​4; Rayfield, Edge of Empires, 116; Eastmond, Royal Imagery, 95–​9 7; and Toumanoff, “Armenia and Georgia,” 623–​25.

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Tamar’s right and ability to rule to her subjects and to outside powers alike. The texts created in this period celebrate territorial expansion, military domination, medical and scientific advancement, and artistic and architectural achievement. They also celebrate the queen herself. According to her court poets, Tamar was “a second Constantine,” as “beautiful as Venus” and a “masterpiece of the Divinity.” She possessed the mildness of David and the wisdom of Solomon as well as the energy and foresight of Alexander the Great.25 Historian Marius Canard points out that, for her partisans, “it was not enough to love Tamar, even to love her wildly. It was necessary that she be deified.” Tamar, according to one poet, was literally God.26 Together, the texts and monuments present such a laudatory picture of Tamar that it is simply not possible to separate any “real” person from the portrait that emerges from the illustrious praises heaped upon her. In fact, the literature often presents her as what Antony Eastmond has termed “a passive muse; the cultural efflorescence is in response to her existence and presence, not her actions.”27 Instead of attempting the impossible and trying to find the actual woman behind the texts, let us look at the language of the texts, a few monumental artistic depictions and the role of the Georgian hagiographical tradition in shaping an image of Tamar and her realm, operating on the assumption that these depictions do not just follow and reflect cultural reality but, rather, create and promote new images of power and authority. The most important literary text in either medieval or modern Georgia is the national epic that is variously translated into English as either The Knight in the Panther Skin or The Man in the Panther Skin. Margery Wardrop, who spent her career trying to familiarize Western scholars with Georgian history and literature in the second half of the nineteenth century, wrote of the poem that “it has been in a unique manner the book of a nation for seven hundred years; down to our own days the young people learned it by heart; every woman was expected to know every word 25  Vasiliev, “The Foundation of the Empire of Trebizond,” 13–​14.

26  Canard, “Les reines de Géorgie,” 4 (translation mine). See also Vasiliev, “The Foundation of the Empire of Trebizond,” 14, referencing a translation by Nikolaj Marr, in “Ancient Georgian Poets of the Twelfth Century, II: A Singer of Tamara.” I have so far not been able to locate the original text, which appeared in a 1902 Russian journal. 27  Eastmond, “Gender and Orientalism,” 111.

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of it, and on her marriage to carry a copy of it to her new home.” 28 The poem, which is generally accepted to have been written just after Tamar’s marriage to David Soslan by the court poet Shota Rustaveli (ca. 1160–​ after 1120), consists of 1,666 stanzas, with each quatrain containing four sixteen-​syllable lines.29 Rustaveli claimed to be translating and reworking a Persian story, and set his tale in Arabia and India, but, since no Persian text has emerged that even resembles the Georgian poem, critics usually consider the exotic setting and claim of antiquity to be a literary device. The poem, which is dedicated to Tamar, tells the story of Tinatin, a female heir to her father’s throne, and a general, Avtandel, with whom she is in love. Avtandel and Tinatin’s father are out hunting one day when they see a man wearing the skin of a vepkhi—​which scholars have identified as a tiger, a leopard or, most likely, a panther—​weeping by a body of water. When the man disappears, Tinatin sends Avtandel on a three-​year quest to find him. Avtandel does locate him, and learns that he is on his own quest to find his lost love. In fact, this knight with the panther skin has killed a man that his lady love was being forced to marry against her will, which led to their separation. After long journeys and many adventures, the four lovers are all reunited, get married, and presumably live happily ever after. It is not difficult to see the story as an allegory supporting female rule, and, at the same time, critiquing forced marriages such as Tamar’s to Yuri. The dedicatory prologue to the poem praises Tamar’s beauty in conventional ways, but further in, when the king seeks advice from his courtiers about naming his daughter as his heir, they respond thus: Though indeed she be a woman, still as sovereign she is begotten of God. She knows how to rule. We say not this to flatter you, we ourselves, in your absence, often say so. Her deeds, like her radiance,

28  Wardrop, “Preface,” to Rustaveli, The Man in the Panther’s Skin, i. The rich Georgian literary tradition is virtually unknown outside Georgia, in part because the Georgian language is virtually an isolate (the largest by far of the three or four languages of the Kartvelian language family, all spoken largely within Georgia) and unrelated to Armenian, Persian/​Farsi, or the Turkic and Slavic languages of neighbouring peoples. See Comrie, “Linguistic Diversity in the Caucasus.”

29  The rhyme scheme of the poem is now known as the Rustavelian quatrain, or shairi. See Rayfield, The Literature of Georgia, chap. 8.

are revealed bright as sunshine. The lion’s whelps are equal, be they male or female.30

Besides the Knight in the Panther Skin, the era saw the production of chronicles, panegyric poetry, hagiography, and even biographical literature, such as a life of Ṣalāḥ ad-​Dīn (Saladin), the sultan of Egypt and Syria, who is perhaps best known in the West as the courtly and honorable nemesis of Richard I “the Lionheart” of England during the Third Crusade. What makes this literature somewhat unusual, though, is the central position of the queen within the texts. We are also told in The Life of Tamar, King of Kings that the Georgian people “had no name but Tamar on their lips,” and that her praises were engraved on Georgian homes and adorned seals, knives, and staffs of office, and that farmers composed verses in her honour as they tilled the soil and musicians in Iraq composed songs in praise of her, as did Frankish and Greek sailors.31 It was not only in literature that Tamar was celebrated. She was a great patron of the Church, especially monastic centres both within and outside the kingdom. During her reign Georgian churches were often decorated with monumental portraits of the queen. Five of these portraits are still extant, including the oldest one, which appears in the Church of the Dormition in Vardzia. The church is part of a huge rock-​ cut monastic complex that stretches 500 meters across the cliff face. Completely covered in wall paintings, the church stands in the centre of the site. Tamar, crowned but not yet married, appears in a donor portrait along the north wall, along with her father. She is in Byzantine dress and holds a model of the church. We learn from inscriptions that the “King of Kings, Tamar, daughter of George, May God grant her a long life” completed the construction of the church. Since the painting was completed after George’s death, his presence there serves to solidify Tamar’s dynastic claims, and, indeed, the image shows an angel passing a staff, one of the symbols of Georgian monarchy, to George, who presumably has now passed it to his daughter.32 Opposite Tamar, on the south wall of the church, is St. Nino, representative of the nation of Georgia and its guiding force. Nino, although always a very popular saint, does not appear in Georgian monumental art 30  Rustaveli, The Man in the Panther’s Skin, 7–​8 (verse 39). Wardrop provides an alternative and more literal translation for the final line of the quatrain, which actually works better for the purposes of this argument: “The lion’s whelps are alike lions, be they male or female.”

31  The Georgian Chronicle, 91–​9 2. See also Eastmond, Royal Imagery, 97. 32  Eastmond, Royal Imagery, 99–​109.

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until Tamar’s reign, but in Tamar’s reign she appears in three other monumental paintings, and two of these in conjunction with the queen’s portraits. Before discussing the significance of these pairings, let us turn to a closer look at St. Nino herself, who formed the inspiration for both the textual and artistic imagery surrounding Tamar. Nino, or Nina, is known in Orthodox tradition as the “Enlightener of Georgia” for her missionary work among those living in the eastern part of the country. Although she is little known in the West outside the Georgian community, her cult remains central to Georgian Christianity, and even today “Nino” is the most common female given name in Georgia (“Tamar” is second).33 The texts that concern her life date from the fourth century to the thirteenth, and in almost all of them she acted in unexpected ways. She was taught by the leading female scholar in Jerusalem, so was well educated. While still a teenager she set out on a missionary journey, she performed miracles, she preached publicly and she baptized. Her evolving story gave scholars new vocabulary and new images for the study of women, and, especially, provided new ways to think about women and power. The text to her vita begins, “Let us tell the story of our holy and blessed Mother, the enlightener of all Georgia, the apostle Nino, as she herself, at the time of her death, related it to the believer Salome of Ujarma, daughter-​in-​law of King Mirian, who wrote it down.”34 Right away we know that this is the story of a female saint told by one of her female disciples. This is not new, of course; we have numerous other examples of early medieval female hagiographers who wrote lives of female saints.35 The St. Nino text is complex; the opening chapters do indeed seem to come from one pen, but there are additions and interpolations throughout. The tenth-​century text is obviously a patchwork of several versions of the story, and the text provides conflicting details from the memories of the various characters who narrate episodes of Nino’s life and career. These narratives diverge in significant ways, which adds to the difficulties of trying to use it as a historical source. This Life forms part of a set of texts that are collectively known as the Conversion of Georgia. In addition to the Conversion text, 33  In the United States there is a parish church dedicated to Nino in New York (http://​georgianamerica.com/​eng/​information2/​church/​ st_​nino_​georgian_​orthodox_​church_​in_​ny_​30), and since 2012 there has been a female monastic community in Maryland. See www. saintnina-​monastery.org. 34  See Life of St Nino, 7.

35  Wemple, Women in Frankish Society, 181–​87.

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there is a second Life, reworked from the Conversion text by Leontius of Ruisis in the late eleventh century. Neither the Conversion nor the Life has been fully translated into a Western language and nor is there a critical edition.36 It is impossible to tell which versions of the Life would have been known or read in Tamar’s court; perhaps a variant of one of these, or perhaps even texts from a lost tradition, but it is also clear that St. Nino was a subject of lively discussion and textual and artistic production during Tamar’s reign. Nino’s parents were Zabulon, a Cappadocian nobleman and military leader responsible for defeating and converting the Franks, and Sosana, sister to the steward of the patriarch of Jerusalem. The Armenian Niaphori Sara, who afterwards became Nino’s foster mother and teacher, arranged their marriage. “Niaphori,” though clearly indicating a person of religious authority, is a problematic word here; it appears to be a title rather than a name, but it is unique to this text. Nino entered the Niaphori’s service at the age of twelve and served for two years, and the text informs us “she learned everything, for there had been and there was no one in Jerusalem equal to the Niaphori in knowledge of the ancient law and the new; she excelled all.”37 The Niaphori recognizes special talent in Nino, and tells her that I see, my child, thy strength, like the strength of the lioness, whose roar is louder than any four-​footed animal, or like the female eagle, which, soaring in the highest air, beyond the male, and with the pupil of her eye, seeing all the country, tiny as a pearl, stops, searches, and like lightning perceiving her prey, she plumes her wings and immediately swoops upon it.38

This is no virago language; early in the text the hagiographer has created or appropriated decidedly female powerful images for this female saint. The Niaphori predicted great things about to occur for Christ, and alluded to the fine tunic that Christ was wearing at the crucifixion that the Roman soldiers cast lots for, as well as the True Cross itself; both things are hidden, she said, but predicted that “when it pleases God they shall also appear.”39 Nino conceived a desire to set off to do God’s work; she wanted to preach the Gospel to the 36  Rayfield, The Literature of Georgia, chap. 5. 37  Life of St Nino, 10.

38  Life of St Nino,  10–​11. 39  Life of St Nino, 11.

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emperor’s mother, Helena, and to look for the tunic of Christ among the Jews of “Iberia” (now eastern Georgia), where it was rumoured to have been taken by Jews escaping the fall of Jerusalem to the Romans. After a long and arduous journey, as she prepared to enter Georgia, Nino experienced an internal crisis. She realized that she was entering the land as a stranger and did not even speak the local language. God sent a vision of a “man of exceeding tallness” who gave Nino a book “upon which was the seal of Jesus Christ,” with ten sayings “written in the Roman tongue” (probably Byzantine Greek) that clearly endorsed and encouraged female authority. 1. Wherever they preach this gospel, there shall they speak of this woman.40 2. Neither male nor female, but you are all one.41

3. Go ye and make disciples of the heathen, and baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.42

4. A light to shine on the heathen and to give glory to thy people Israel.43

5. Preach the good tidings of the kingdom of heaven in all the world.44

6. Whosoever receiveth you receiveth Me, and whoever receiveth me receiveth Him who sent Me.45 7. Now Mary was greatly beloved of the Lord, so that He always hearkened to her truth and wisdom.46

8. Be not afraid of those who can destroy your bodies, but are not able to destroy your soul.47

9. Jesus said to Mary Magdalene: Go, O woman, and tell the good news to My brethren.48 40  Matthew 26:13. 41  Galatians 3:28.

42  Matthew 28:19 tells the disciples to make disciples “of all men”; the text substitutes “heathen” for “all men.” 43  Luke 2:32. Here “heathen” is substituted for “Gentiles.” 44  Mark 16:15.

45  Matthew 10:40.

46  The language here from the Gospel of Mary Magdalene shows the disciples acknowledging a special relationship to Jesus, and that they conversed alone together, but none of the passages in the existing fragment are close enough to this “saying” to provide a clear textual match. See King, The Gospel of Mary of Magdala. 47  Matthew 10:28. 48  John 20:17.

10. Whithersoever ye go, preach in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.49

With the exception of number seven, all the “sayings” are New Testament texts, mostly from the Gospels. These are also clearly texts that endorse and encourage female preaching. A few miracles later, Nino is settled under a tree, next to which she has erected a cross, and is approached by a curious court maiden. Within a few days she encounters the wife of the king’s gardener, who invites her to stay with them for nine months. Among her early disciples are a Jewish rabbi, his daughter, and five other Jewish women. Three years go by before Nino invokes Christ in the healing of a sick boy, which leads the previously hostile Queen Nana to seek out her services. Eventually the king is converted. We are given the detail that Nino baptized the king, but the queen and their children were baptized by “priests and deacons” sent from the Roman church.50 Although space does not permit going into the myriad miracles involving females that fill the pages of the text, these passages demonstrate that this a text full of female metaphors, female actors, female hosts, female disciples, miracles performed for and by women, and a woman performing the sacrament of baptism. Yet, we might ask, what difference does this remarkable display of female power in a literary text make? Does a literary tradition that celebrates the conversion of a people to Christianity largely at the hand of females make any difference at all in the lived experience of actual women? At the very least, we know that Queen Tamar had powerful positive models and imagery celebrating female authority on which to draw during her reign. Among the ten sayings delivered to Nino, six are clearly directed at ecclesiastical situations, but the other four are general statements of women’s ability to assume leadership roles. As Eastmond contends, “By denying the difference between the sexes, S. Nino helps to minimize any possible arguments made against the new queen.”51 The visual pairing of Nino and Tamar implies that, since St. Nino’s sex does not play into her ability to act, Tamar’s rule is to be understood in the same manner. The fact that Nino does not appear in Georgian art until Tamar’s reign adds weight to 49  Life of St Nino, 17–​18. The last saying is close to the “Great Commission” of Matthew 28:16–​20 or Mark 16:15. Matthew enjoined the disciples to go and “baptize” while Mark urged them to “proclaim” the Gospel. 50  Life of St Nino, 42.

51  Eastmond, Royal Imagery, 120.

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the argument that she was specifically chosen as a symbol to support Tamar’s rule.52 This chapter has provided at least an introduction to the remarkable life and reign of Tamar of Georgia. However, I am sure that there are important cultural and historical references I am simply not seeing. For instance, the Niaphori compared Nino’s strength to that of a lioness, and in the twelfth century Rustaveli used the equality of the male and female offspring of a lion to refer to Queen Tamar. Do both refer back to some older exemplar, such as the lioness associated with Thecla in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla”?53 Does the reference to the whelps of the lion being equal whether male of female refer directly to the lioness in the Nino text, or are there other instances in the Georgian cultural tradition of the power of a lioness being referenced? It would take a scholar with a great deal more linguistic and cultural competence than I to begin to answer these questions. But perhaps this queenship-​based analysis, informed by a comparative framework and concepts of female agency, may spur further work by scholars who can add more in-​depth knowledge of the language and cultural contexts. And, although there is much work to be done here, I think the stories of Georgian queens and Georgian saints has much to say to Western scholars. Tamar came to power in Georgia at approximately the same time that a number of other medieval kingdoms were faced with a female candidate for the throne. The fate of the Empress Matilda in England, and the mixed successes of Melisende in Jerusalem and Urraca in León-​Castile, have been well explored. Tamar’s rule, in contrast, is generally accepted to be a success, and she is perhaps better compared with someone such as the later Elizabeth I of England, whose reign also occurred at an apogee of cultural production and commercial and military success, than her medieval contemporaries. There are some major differences among the circumstances of the four women. Tamar, for example, was able to rid herself of her first husband and marry a second husband, with whom she created a strong and lasting partnership—​something none of her western counterparts was able to accomplish, though both Melisende and Matilda at least achieved a degree of stability in their marriages after initial conflict.54 If there was any conflict with members of her 52  Ibid., 121.

53  “Acts of Paul and Thecla,” 369–​70.

54  Melisende and her partisans quelled Fulk of Anjou’s early attempts to exert independent authority; see Huneycutt, “Images of

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natal family, she was able to overcome it early in the reign, thus avoiding the rivalry that Urraca had with her half-​sister Teresa of Portugal. Tamar also had loyal and talented generals and administrators (as did Matilda, Melisende, and Urraca). Tamar also had the advantage of a visual and literary culture that was almost obsessively focused on the person of the monarch.55 We have struggled for several decades to create nuanced ways to talk about women and power, to show how women were able to break through social, cultural, and legal restrictions to exert their own autonomy, to occupy positions of authority and to exercise various forms of power. We have become adept at seeing the “manly woman” in our sources, and accept that virago language was the “normal” medieval Christian way of talking about women and power. The tradition offers us new language and new imagery that offers no apologies for the sex of the female in power, and forces us to rethink the parameters of the possible. We cannot know for certain what effect the panegyric chronicles of the court, or the language of the Life of St Nino, which would have been well known to the Georgian elite, really had in bolstering the position of Queen Tamar. Nor is there any way of determining whether the language of the Knight in the Panther Skin really softened attitudes by normalizing female rule. However, it is certain that Tamar and members of her circle drew upon language and imagery sanctioning and celebrating female authority that was simply not accessible to her western contemporaries.

Queenship,” 63–​64. It is more difficult to characterize Matilda and Geoffrey’s relationship. They were capable of working together to achieve mutual ends; after initial hostility to each other they united to rebel against Henry I in Normandy and produced three sons. Geoffrey periodically acted as count of Normandy, but Matilda’s vassals in Normandy and England remained suspicious of Geoffrey, and he played virtually no part in her attempts to gain control of England. See Chibnall, The Empress Matilda,  57–​63.

55  Eastmond, “Gender and Orientalism,” 111, points out that Tamar is often the passive object of praise rather than an actor in the panegyric literature, and that the role of the “passive, inspirational figurehead” was not one open to male monarchs.

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Bibliography

Primary Sources Anon. Life of St Nino. Translated by Margery Wardrop. Studia Biblica et Ecclesiastica 5 (1903): 1–​88. Reprint, Piscataway: Gorgias Press, 2006. Anon. “Acts of Paul and Thecla.” In The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in English, edited by James K. Elliott, 364–​74. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993. Anon. The Georgian Chronicle:  The Period of Giorgi Lasha. Edited by S. Qaukchishvili. Translated by Katharine Vivian. Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1991. Anon. Gesta Stephani. Edited and translated by Kenneth R. Potter and Ralph H. C. Davis. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976. Bernard of Clairvaux. Opera Omnia. Vol. 183 of Patrologia cursus completus, series latina. Edited by Jacques Paul Migne. 221 vols. Paris: Migne, 1854. Ibn Bībī. Die Seltschukengeschichte des Ibn Bibi. Translated by Herbert W. Duda. Copenhagen: Monksgaard, 1959. Lupus of Ferrières. The Letters of Lupus of Ferrières. Edited and translated by Graydon W. Regenos. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1966. Rustaveli, Shota [transliterated as Rust’haveli, Shot’ha]. The Knight in the Panther Skin. Translated by Lyn Coffin. Tbilisi: Poezia Press, 2015. —​—​—​. The Man in the Panther’s Skin: A Romantic Epic. Translated by Margery Wardrop. London: Royal Asiatic Society, 1912. Secondary Sources Bandel, Betty. “The English Chroniclers’ Attitude toward Women.” Journal of the History of Ideas 16 (1955): 113–​18. Cadden, Joan. Meanings of Sex Difference in the Middle Ages: Medicine, Science, and Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Canard, Marius. “Les reines Géorgie dans l’histoire et la légende musulmanes.” Revue des études islamiques 37 (1969): 3–​20. Chibnall, Marjorie. The Empress Matilda: Queen Consort, Queen Mother, and Lady of the English. Oxford: Blackwell, 1991. Comrie, Bernard. “Linguistic Diversity in the Caucasus.” Annual Review of Anthropology 37 (2008): 131–​43. De Jong, Mayke. The Penitential State: Authority and Atonement in the Age of Louis the Pious, 814–​840. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Eastmond, Antony. “Gender and Orientalism in the Age of Queen Tamar.” In Women, Men and Eunuchs: Gender in Byzantium, edited by Liz James, 100–​118. Abingdon: Routledge, 1997. —​—​—​. Royal Imagery in Medieval Georgia. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998. —​—​—​. “Royal Renewal in Georgia: The Case of Queen Tamar.” In New Constantines: The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, 4th–​13th Centuries, edited by Paul Magdalino, 283–​93. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1994. Horn, Cornelia B. “St Nino and the Conversion of Pagan Georgia.” Medieval Encounters 4 (1998): 242–​64. Huneycutt, Lois L.“The Creation of a Crone: The Historical Reputation of Adelaide of Maurienne.” In Capetian Women, edited by Kathleen Nolan, 45–​77. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. —​—​—​. “Female Succession and the Language of Power in the Writings of Twelfth-​Century Churchmen.” In Medieval Queenship, edited by John Carmi Parsons, 189–​201. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993. —​—​—​. “Images of Queenship in the High Middle Ages.” Haskins Society Journal: Studies in Medieval History 1 (1989): 61–​71. —​—​—​. Matilda of Scotland: A Study in Medieval Queenship. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2003. King, Karen L. The Gospel of Mary of Magdala: Jesus and the First Woman Apostle. Santa Rosa: Polebridge Press, 2003. LoPrete, Kimberly. “Gendering Viragos: Medieval Perceptions of Powerful Women.” In Victims or Viragos?, edited by Christine Meek and Catherine Lawless, 17–​38. Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2005. Mayer, Hans Eberhard. “Studies in the History of Queen Melisende of Jerusalem.” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 26 (1972): 93–​182. Mikaberidze, Alexander. “Tamar (1160–​1213).” In Women and War: A Historical Encyclopedia from Antiquity to the Present, edited by Bernard A. Cook, vol. 1, 579. Santa Barbara: ABC Clio, 2006.

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Newman, Sharon. Defending the City of God:  A Medieval Queen, the First Crusades, and the Quest for Peace in Jerusalem. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2014. Peacock, Andrew C. S. “Georgia and the Anatolian Turks in the 12th and 13th Centuries.” Anatolian Studies 56 (2006): 127–​46. Rapp, Stephen H. Jr. “The Coinage of T’amar, Sovereign of Georgia in the Caucasus.” Le Muséon 106 (1993): 309–​30. Rayfield, Donald. Edge of Empires: A History of Georgia. London: Reaktion Books, 2012. —​—​—​. The Literature of Georgia. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Reilly, Bernard F. The Kingdom of León-​Castilla under Queen Urraca, 1109–​1126. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982. Suny, Ronald Grigor. The Making of the Modern Georgian Nation. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994. Toumanoff, Cyril. “Armenia and Georgia.” In The Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 4: The Byzantine Empire, pt. 1, Byzantium and Its Neighbours, edited by Joan. M Hussey, 593–​637. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1966. Vasiliev, Alexander A. “The Foundation of the Empire of Trebizond (1204–​1222).” Speculum 11 (1936): 3–​37. Wemple, Suzanne Fonay. Women in Frankish Society:  Marriage and the Cloister, 500 to 900. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1985.

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4 REGNANT QUEENSHIP AND ROYAL MARRIAGE BETWEEN THE LATIN KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM AND THE NOBILITY OF WESTERN EUROPE HAYLEY BASSETT

ON AUGUST 21, 1131, Baldwin II, king of Jerusalem and veteran of the First Crusade, died in Jerusalem. His crown passed jointly to his eldest daughter Melisende, her husband Fulk (formerly the count of Anjou), and their infant son, Baldwin III. This was a highly unusual direction for royal succession to take, as traditionally a male relative (son, brother, nephew) was chosen as heir apparent, bypassing the female line completely. But Baldwin II, who had four daughters but no sons, had chosen this route and planned for the day when his crown would be passed to his successor. Upon his election to the throne in 1118 Baldwin II had been unwilling to set aside his wife, Morphia, in the hope of fathering a son with a second bride for the purpose of providing Jerusalem with a male heir. Instead, he pursued a different course of action, and sought the counsel of both the papacy and prominent Frankish kings to choose a suitable husband for his eldest daughter, one who would jointly rule the kingdom with her after his death. With the Latin kingdom barely thirty years old and precariously balanced between the Byzantine Empire and factions of Islam, dynastic continuity was perceived to be essential, and in 1131 Melisende became its first designated female heir and regnant queen. Melisende was not the only woman to inherit the throne of Jerusalem. Between 1186 and 1228 the lack of a healthy male heir made daughters crucially important to the succession, as a direct female heir was preferred to a distant male ­relative.1 Four queens ruled Jerusalem consecutively during this period: Sibylla (1186–​1190), Isabella I (1192–​1205), Maria (1205–​1212), and Isabella II (1212–​1228). Female rule was highly unusual in western Europe in the twelfth and

thirteenth centuries, and for some dynasties, particularly Capetian France, which had a direct line of male succession between 987 and 1328, there was no need for a female heir.2 However, other royal houses were not so fortunate, and England, in particular, endured nearly twenty years of civil war when Henry I died in 1135 without a male heir, leaving the country divided between support for his daughter Matilda and his nephew Stephen of Blois.3 In its short and turbulent history the dynastic sovereignty of the crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem was carried by five queens, each of whom married nobility from France, Italy or the Holy Roman Empire to create and strengthen bonds between the Holy Land and western Europe. The relative infancy of the dynasty and the backdrop of intense political, social, cultural, and religious turbulence created a unique environment for rule by women, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem provides the only example of consecutive female succession in a wider European context in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. By analyzing this unique set of circumstances, this chapter examines the role, position, and authority of the queen as dynastic heir and those chosen to rule with her between 1131 and 1228.

1  For a detailed background, see Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States.”

3  Chibnall, The Empress Matilda, chap. 4 (“Disputed Succession,” 64–​87).

Sources and Historiography

There are few surviving accounts that document the lives and deeds of the queens of Jerusalem, which is unsurprising given the turbulent events of the time and the fact that most scholars and writers of the period were churchmen who afforded little recognition of the deeds of women except as 2  The House of Capet ruled France from the succession of Hugh Capet, in 987, to Charles IV, who died in 1328.

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Regnant Queenship and Royal Marriage GODFREY Advocate of the Holy Sepulchre 1099–1100

BALDWIN I King of Jerusalem 1100–1118

BALDWIN II King of Jerusalem 1118–1131 = Morphia of Melitene

MELISENDE Queen of Jerusalem 1131–1153 = FULK V Count of Anjou King of Jerusalem 1131–1143 BALDWIN II King of Jerusalem 1143–1162 =Theodora Komnene

AMAURY I King of Jerusalem 1162–1174 = 1. Agnes de Courtenay = 2. Maria Komnene

SYBILLA Queen of Jerusalem 1186–1190

BALDWIN IV King of Jerusalem 1186–1190

ISABELLA I Queen of Jerusalem 1192–1205

= 1. WILLIAM of Montferrat

= 1. HUMPHREY IV of To ron

= 2. GUY de Lusignan King of Jerusalem 1186–1192

= 2. CONRAD of Montferrat King of Jerusalem 1192 = 3. HENRY of Champagne King of Jerusalem 1192–1197

BALDWIN V King of Jerusalem 1185–1186

MARIA of MONTFERRAT Queen of Jerusalem 1205–1212

= 4. AMAURY of Lusignan King of Jerusalem 1197–1205

=JOHN of Brienne King of Jerusalem 1210–1212 ISABELLA II Queen of Jerusalem 1212–1228 = FREDERICK II Holy Roman Emperor King of Jerusalem 1225–1228 CONRAD II King of Jerusalem 1228–1254

an adjunct of their men. However, there are a large number of histories, chronicles, letters, and other written sources from Frankish, Syrian, Byzantine, Armenian, and Muslim authors that document the period. Of particular relevance is William, Archbishop of Tyre’s A History of Deeds Done beyond the Sea, which was written during the 1170s and 1180s and contains a history of the Kingdom of Jerusalem from 1095 to 1184.4 4  William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done beyond the Sea (hereafter WOT). It was translated from the original Latin into old French sometime between 1204 and 1234, with the translated text referred to as the Estoire de Eracles in reference to the Byzantine emperor Heraclius, during whose reign William was writing. For a detailed background and narrative, see Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem. The references to the Eracles continuations are to the Lyon manuscript published in La Continuation de Guillaume de Tyr 1184–​1197 (hereafter Eracles). The Rothelin continuation and Acre continuation are both translated in Crusader Syria in the Thirteenth Century: The

Figure 4.1 Family tree of the queens of Jerusalem.

There have been additions to William of Tyre’s manuscripts, collectively referred to as the Continuations, including the Lyon Eracles, which dates from the late thirteenth century and is the only manuscript to cover the period 1184 to 1197.5 The separate but similar Chronicle of Ernoul and Bernard the Treasurer, named after a squire of Balian of Ibelin and the treasurer of St. Peter of Corbie, covers the period from the First Crusade to 1229 and 1232.6 Additional sources cover Rothelin Continuation of the History of William of Tyre with Part of the Eracles or Acre Text. 5  Edbury, “The Lyon Eracles.”

6  La Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard le Tresorier (hereafter Ernoul). A research project at Cardiff University funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council under the direction of Professor Peter Edbury began in September 2009 to produce a modern critical edition of the William of Tyre Eracles Continuations and the Ernoul

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particular time frames and events; for example, Fulcher of Chartres was chaplain to Baldwin I until the latter’s death in 1118 and chronicled the early years of the Kingdom of Jerusalem; Roger of Hoveden joined Richard I of England on the Third Crusade and documented the 1190s; and Le Livre au Roi, written between 1197 and 1205, was a treatise on the laws of the kingdom, drawn up for Aimery of Lusignan (Isabella I’s husband).7 These sources, together with non-​ Christian chronicles and histories, iconography, numismatics, and surviving letters and charters, piece together the deeds of the queens of Jerusalem, opening up their lives for modern historians to study. The queens of Jerusalem have received some scholarly interest since the 1970s; most notably, Hans Eberhard Mayer and Bernard Hamilton have written a number of articles on Melisende, her husband Fulk, and their sons and ­grandchildren.8 There have also been some studies published on royal succession and female heirs in Jerusalem, highlighting the difficulty in establishing and maintaining a royal dynasty in a kingdom forged through conflict where any nobleman has the possibility of being king through marriage to the female heir.9 Published articles on comparable female heirs have been particularly useful, especially when highlighting barriers facing female sovereigns and their consorts when they ascend the throne and exercise authority.10 Studies of the Chronicle and to examine the different translations of the History. Preliminary papers have been published analyzing the translation of the Eracles but a new edition is still awaited. See Handyside, The Old French William of Tyre; and Gaggero, “La Chronique d’Ernoul.” 7  Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia Hierosolymitana; Roger of Hoveden, Chronica magistri; Le Livre au Roi.

8  Mayer, “Studies in the History of Queen Melisende”; “Angevins versus Normans”; “The Beginnings of King Amalric of Jerusalem”; Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States”; “King Consorts of Jerusalem and Their Entourages”; The Leper King and His Heirs; “The Titular Nobility of the Latin East.” 9  Gerish, “Ancestors and Predecessors,” concludes that, in a kingdom established by conflict, there is little differentiation between royal and noble. Lambert, “Queen or Consort,” points out that gender succession in Jerusalem focused on the lack of formal laws governing such events and subsequent interpretations by male chroniclers of female rule, arguing that, while female succession was a dynastic necessity to maintain the bloodline in the absence of a male heir, the authority of the female heir was diminishing as a direct result of members of the High Council controlling whom she married.

10  Woodacre, “Questionable Authority.” For comparable female heirs in western Europe in the twelfth century, see Chibnall, The Empress Matilda. Matilda of England fought against her cousin Stephen

Hayley Bassett

queens as individuals are few in number, with Melisende, and to a lesser degree Sibylla, receiving some scholarly interest, but little exists for their successors. 11 Sources for Maria and Isabella II are limited, mainly because they died young, but there are studies on their husbands that provide some narrative: John of Brienne (husband of Maria and father of and regent for Isabella II) and Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor (husband of Isabella II).12 All these modern interpretations of female heirs, royal succession, and crusader society provide a foundation upon which this chapter will examine the role, position, and authority of the dynastic female heir in twelfth-​ and thirteenth-​century Jerusalem.

The Queens of Jerusalem: Comparison and Context of Their Rule

The newly established Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem elected its first leader on July 22, 1099; Godfrey of Bouillon refused the title of “king,” preferring “defender of the Holy Sepulchre.”13 Godfrey’s death barely a year later in 1100 created a succession crisis, with his brother Baldwin, count of Edessa, being crowned King Baldwin I on Christmas Day 1100 by Daimbert, patriarch of Jerusalem. The position of monarch had shifted in a little over a year from a wholly elected position to a hereditary one with the election of the nominated candidate a mere formality. A similar crisis emerged in 1118 on the death of the childless Baldwin I, whose closest male relative, his brother Eustace count of Boulogne, had returned home after the First Crusade. Baldwin I selected his nephew to succeed him, who was subsequently crowned King Baldwin between 1135 and 1154 for the right to succeed her father, Henry I, the struggle ending with the recognition of her son as legitimate heir following Stephen’s death. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-​Castilla under Queen Urraca. Urraca of León, Castile, and Galicia was the heir of Alfonso VI, and, despite internal and external turbulence, she delivered a whole and peaceful kingdom to her son on his succession in 1126. 11  Mayer, “Studies in the History of Queen Melisende”; Tranovich, Melisende of Jerusalem, 13–​21; Nicholson, “ ‘La roine preude femme et bonne dame.’ ” 12  Perry, John of Brienne, 52, 120–​25, 133–​36, 141–​45; Abulafia, Frederick II, 150–​53,  173–​74

13  A full and detailed account can be found in Runciman, History of the Crusades, vol. 1, 315–​2 6. Riley-​S mith, The Crusades, 2–​4 , 42, 85–​100, esp. 51, 64; WOT, bk. 9, chaps. 1–​3: “Advocatus Sancti Sepulchri”; and La Monte, Feudal Monarchy in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 4.

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II, setting the precedent that any future heir to the crown should be present in the Holy Land.14 This firmly established a hereditary monarchy for the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and for continuity purposes a royal dynasty needed, preferably, a male heir, but in the absence of one by blood then one by marriage would suffice. Baldwin II, with the backing of leading nobles of the High Council and with the advice of the papacy, appealed to King Louis VI of France to suggest a suitable husband for his daughter and heir apparent Melisende.15 Louis recommended Fulk V, count of Anjou, a widower and proven military commander. Kingdoms were often protected by a web of marriage alliance with neighbouring lords and those considered valuable allies. Baldwin pursued this policy with the marriage of his second daughter, Alice, to Bohemond II prince of Antioch in 1126, joining together the noble houses of Rethel (Alice) and Hauteville (Bohemond) to provide stability and unity in the crusader states.16 In the absence of a male heir, a female heiress acted as the conduit through which her family’s lands, wealth, and title could be passed from one generation to the next, and a prospective suitor was carefully selected by her family and feudal lord with the heiress having minimal, if any, input.17 This is evidenced by Eleanor, heiress to the Duchy of Aquitaine in the twelfth century, whose husband was entitled to be duke of Aquitaine only as long as he was married to her.18 In the crusader states an heiress was afforded a greater degree of legal and social freedom because the near-​continual warfare in the region resulted in a general shortage of manpower.19 14  Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, vol. A, 63.

15  Runciman, The History of the Crusades, vol. 2, 177–​78.

16  Asbridge, The Creation of the Principality of Antioch, 147; Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia Hierosolymitana, bk. III, chap. lxi, 820–​21, says of Bohemond of Antioch’s marriage alliance with Fulk’s daughter Alice: “[R]‌ex ei terram suam tradidit totam et de filiabus suis in matrimonium unam.”

17  Duby, Love and Marriage in the Middle Ages, chap. 7 (“Family Structure in the West during the Middle Ages”). For an overview of marriage analysis, see McDougall, “The Making of Marriage in Medieval France.” For background on feudal Jerusalem, see Edbury, “Fiefs and Vassals in the Kingdom of Jerusalem,” 52–​54.

18  Marriage to and divorce from Louis VII of France and marriage to Henry II of England; Turner, Eleanor of Aquitaine, 99–​109.

19  Edbury, “Women and the Customs of the High Court of Jerusalem,” 285–​88; Prawer, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 469–​533; Russell, “The Population of the Crusader States,” 298. Prior to the 1160s an heiress could marry freely without the consent of her feudal lord;

This was a unique set of circumstances, and the cultural mix of Latin East, Latin West, and Islam was creating a new social and political environment for the early kings, later queens, and kings consort. In her position as heir apparent, Melisende had been included in government for some years before Baldwin’s death in 1131, and her name had appeared on charters and documents as “filia regis et regni hierosolimitani haeres” from 1129. As her father’s heir, she was growing accustomed to the business of kingship and was capable of exercising her authority before her marriage to Fulk.20 The first few years of their joint rule highlighted the different expectations Melisende and Fulk had of their royal role and responsibilities: Melisende had grown accustomed to actively participating in the business of kingship under the tutelage of her father, but Fulk was used to holding the reins of power alone, and he excluded her from his administration.21 Jerusalem needed Fulk to be a strong king, able to counter territorial threats, protect the kingdom and its people, keep the population in line, and, when necessary, expand the borders; but there was also a role for Melisende to fulfil in the day-​to-​day business of rulership.22 In 1134 Hugh II Le Puiset, count of Jaffa, the only remaining nobleman of royal blood in the kingdom (his father and Baldwin II were first cousins), was accused of treason, which escalated into an attempted revolt against Fulk. The revolt failed, and Melisende personally intervened to secure a more lenient punishment for Hugh, but a subsequent unsuccessful assassination attempt on Hugh was attributed to Fulk. Having been politically sidelined by Fulk, Melisende rallied her supporters and forced a change in the power dynamic.23 This emphasized not only the authority Melisende held as an Amalric altered the process, such that three barons were proposed to a female heiress, from among whom she was obliged to choose her husband. Prawer, Crusader Institutions, 30–​31; Schein, “Women in Medieval Colonial Society,” 140–​41. 20  Regesta Regni Hierosolymitani (hereafter RRH), 121 (1129), 137 (1130); WOT, bk. 14, chap. 2: “Daughter of the king and heir to the kingdom of Jerusalem.” 21  Mayer, “Angevins versus Normans,” 22.

22  Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, vol. 6, 390–​92: “To begin with Fulk acted without the foresight and shrewdness he should have shown … Consequently great disaffection spread and the stubbornness of the magnates were damnably aroused.”

23  Melisende was aggrieved by the treatment of Hugh and the slight upon her honour, and made life so unpleasant for Fulk that he and his supporters did not feel safe at court. Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States,” 150–​51.

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heiress but how she then exercised that authority in her own right against her husband, setting the status of the blood royal above that of the outsider.24 Fulk’s loss of power was a direct result of him underestimating two things: first, the support for Melisende from the Church and nobles of Jerusalem; and, second, the character of the queen herself. William of Tyre emphasized the change in the power dynamic between the royal couple after this incident, stating that “the king did not attempt to take the initiative, even in trivial matters, without her knowledge.”25 Melisende and Fulk continued to govern together until Fulk’s unexpected death in a hunting accident in 1143. Following Fulk’s death, Melisende and her thirteen-​year-​ old son, Baldwin III, were jointly crowned on Christmas Day 1143. The purpose of this action was to stress to the population of Jerusalem and its neighbours that the kingdom had a continuing ruling dynasty in the form of Baldwin II’s daughter and grandson. William of Tyre stated that it was Melisende who securely held the reins of power, as a competent and experienced ruler in her own right, not as regent for her son.26 St. Bernard of Clairvaux acknowledged the unique position Melisende now found herself in, declaring that “the eyes of all look to you and on you alone the whole weight of the kingdom falls.”27 Iconography of the coronation from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries is varied, with Melisende depicted in a variety of guises: with or without a crown, seated or standing, taking part in the coronation or sitting on the sidelines. There had been no prior queens of Jerusalem with her rank and position for artisans and artists to use as a blueprint for their work, so the images they produced reflected Melisende’s somewhat confusing unique status.28 24  Huneycutt, “Female Succession,” 192–​96. 25  WOT, bk. 14, chaps. 15–​18.

26  WOT, bk. 15, chap. 27: “Jerusalem the seat of power in the hands of her mistress Melisende to whom she belonged by hereditary right the Queen beloved of God.” William gave particular prominence to Melisende in the establishment and continuation of a royal dynasty in Jerusalem; whether the status he afforded her was real or idealistic is open to question. 27  “A Letter from Bernard of Clairvaux, Abbot (1143–​44).”

28  Lambert, “Queen or Consort,” 157–​58. A thirteenth-​century French illustration depicts Melisende as holding transitionary status only as queen mother to Baldwin III, whose position would be changed when he took a wife, rather than as a permanent ruler in her own right. Descriptions and examples of illustrations can be found in Folda, “Images of Queen Melisende”; and Lambert, “Images of Queen Melisende.”

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Melisende’s position as queen, whether she reigned as regent or regnant, was largely irrelevant until 1152, when her son Baldwin III demanded to be crowned solely.29 Baldwin III had attained maturity and asserted that he should rule alone as the heir of his grandfather, Baldwin II. This is a key point, as it questions the nature of female rule and regency, particularly the circumstances under which a female heir is required, by convention or agreement, to hand power back to the next male heir during her lifetime. This suggests that Melisende’s position as queen was temporary, in contrast to a male heir, who would generally rule until his death. She was in reality a “holding queen,” enjoying a higher status than a regent because of her position as heir, but in situ only until her son came of age to replace her. As Baldwin II’s daughter and named heir, Melisende had an acknowledged right to rule after her father’s death, but with her husband and son as joint rulers, not alone. When Baldwin III desired sole rulership, Melisende was expected to hand power back to the male heir who had come of age. There are no surviving documents that provide “terms and conditions” for the joint rule of Melisende, Fulk, and Baldwin III, so we cannot be certain whether Melisende was required to stand aside in favour of her son. But it would be highly unlikely that Fulk, had he lived, would have stepped aside in favour of his son and heir when he attained maturity. To avert war between the supporters of Melisende and Baldwin III, the royal council agreed to divide the kingdom into two administrative units, with Melisende retaining Jerusalem and the territories in the south. This situation lasted for only a few weeks before Baldwin III launched a campaign to reclaim the whole kingdom—​a sensible course of action, given the tensions in the region and the fact that the fractured crusader state would present an invitation to neighbouring antagonists.30 While Melisende held the reins of power in Jerusalem she also maintained a network of political alliances throughout the region: her sister Hodierna was countess of Tripoli, and, following the assassination of her husband Raymond II in 1152, she was acting as regent for her son Raymond III; and her niece Constance was the ruling princess of Antioch following the death of her husband, Raymond of Poitiers, in 1149. These family connections strengthened Melisende’s influence in the region and made her a powerful political ally. It is interesting that, after seeking sole rule, Baldwin 29  Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States,” 152–​53.

30  Mayer, “Studies in the History of Queen Melisende,” 166–​71.

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continued to involve Melisende in government, where she acted as regent in his absence, initiated military action when necessary and oversaw the appointment of the new patriarch of Jerusalem, Amalric of Nesle, following the death of Fulcher in 1157.31 This made the possibility of her taking a second husband highly unlikely, and there is nothing in the sources to suggest this was considered; she carried full royal blood, was the acknowledged sovereign with sufficient support to govern, enjoyed a considerable degree of political and administrative independence and had produced two living male heirs, both of whom had attained adulthood. Jerusalem had a king and a queen, even though they were mother and son rather than husband and wife. Baldwin III had married Theodora Komnene, a niece of the Byzantine emperor Manuel I Comnenus, in 1158 to cement cultural and political relations. This could have been a familial flashpoint but Theodora’s youth and inexperience did not present a challenge to Melisende’s unique position as queen. Melisende’s forceful character may account for why both Baldwin III and Amalric were reluctant to allow their wives to participate in state affairs.32 This draws parallels with the Angevins later in the twelfth century; Eleanor of Aquitaine enjoyed similar political and governmental freedom during Richard I’s reign and acted as regent when he went on crusade.33 In addition, Berengaria, like Theodora, may have been queen in name but was firmly on the periphery of royal authority, whilst her mother-​in-​law acted as sovereign. Having examined the reign of Melisende and the precedent she established as regnant queen in Jerusalem, the next section focuses on her granddaughters, Sibylla and Isabella, and discusses the development of queenship into the later twelfth century. Sibylla, Isabella I, Maria, and Isabella II represent the longest unbroken line of successive female heirs to a ruling kingdom in western European medieval history, but theirs was not a simple concatenation of events. Melisende had established the precedent for female rule in Jerusalem but the women who came after her lived through periods of intense political change that altered not just the geographic boundary of the Kingdom of Jerusalem but the sovereignty of the monarch. Succession issues arose after the death of Melisende’s second son, Amalric, in 1174. Amalric’s first marriage, to Agnes of Courtenay, had been dissolved on 31  WOT, bk. 18, chaps. 19–​20.

32  Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States,” 158. 33  Turner, Eleanor of Aquitaine, 258–​75.

grounds of consanguinity as a condition of his succession in 1163 and there was a question of legitimacy affecting the two surviving children of that marriage: a son, Baldwin IV, who was afflicted by leprosy, and a daughter, Sibylla.34 In 1167 Amalric married again, to Maria Komnene, niece of Emperor Manuel, a union that also produced a daughter, Isabella. Upon Amalric’s death, in 1174, the kingdom faced dynastic stalemate, as his only male heir was potentially illegitimate and leprous; illegitimacy was surmountable but leprosy was considered debilitating and life-​limiting and made it highly unlikely that Baldwin IV would marry and produce an heir.35 The situation was further complicated by the fact that both Sibylla’s mother, Agnes de Courtenay, and Isabella’s mother, Maria Komnene, remarried prominent nobles, which brought the influence of stepfamilies into the royal circle. Agnes de Courtenay, after the annulment of her marriage to Amalric, married Hugh of Ibelin, a union that was not without contention.36 Agnes had strong familial links with Edessa, her brother Jocelyn was given the influential role of seneschal by Baldwin IV when he arrived in Jerusalem from captivity in 1176, and the High Council feared an influx of landless nobles from Edessa receiving land and heiresses because of their kinship to the king.37 There was considerable opposition to 34  For the marriage of Amalric and Agnes, see Robert of Torigni, Chronicon, 194. On the constitutional problems relating to the succession of Amalric, Baldwin IV, Sibylla, and Isabella, see Riley-​ Smith, The Feudal Nobility and the Kingdom of Jerusalem, 104–​108. For discussion concerning the legitimacy of Amalric and Agnes marriage, see Hamilton, The Leper King and His Heirs, chap. 2 (“Baldwin’s Childhood,” 23–​43). 35  Baldwin’s leprosy became apparent as he approached the age of puberty: WOT, bk. 21, chaps. 1–​2. Unofficial regent Miles of Plancy was assassinated in Acre in October 1174 and was replaced by Raymond III of Tripoli, Amalric’s first cousin, as formal regent until 1176. See Hamilton, The Leper King and His Heirs, chap. 5 (“The King’s Minority,” 84–​108).

36  Agnes and Amalric’s marriage was annulled on grounds of consanguinity but that would not require the dispensation to legitimize the lady and her children. Accusations of prior marriage between Agnes and Hugh arise from Ernoul, 17: “Agnes de Courtnei, fille de Joscelin II d’Edesse, veuve de Renaud de Mares, et deja fiancée en secondas noces a Hugues d’Ibelin, quand le Comte Amaury l’epousa” [“Agnes de Courtenay, daughter of Joscelin II of Edessa, widow of Renaud de Mares, and already betrothed to Hugues d’Ibelin, when Count Amaury married her”]. See also Edbury, “The Lyon Eracles,” 13. 37  Mayer, “The Beginnings of King Amalric of Jerusalem,” 128–​30; WOT, bk. 10, chap. 7; Hamilton, “The Titular Nobility of the Latin East,” 198–​99; WOT, bk. 21, chap. 11. Jocelyn was captured at the Battle of Harim in 1164 and was released when Agnes paid his ransom, 50,000

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Agnes’s counsel to Baldwin IV and Sybilla from the barons, and this continued after Hugh’s death in 1169 and Agnes’s subsequent marriage to Reginald of Sidon, another of the premier barons of the kingdom.38 The dowager queen Maria Komnene married Balian of Ibelin (Hugh’s brother) in 1177, a union that produced half-​siblings to the future Queen Isabella to further complicate relations within the royal family.39 Given the nature of Baldwin IV’s illness, the interest of both Church and political protagonists in Jerusalem and western Europe turned to potential marriages for Amalric’s daughters. Amalric’s choice of husband for Sibylla was Stephen of Sancerre; his sister, Adele, was married to King Louis VII of France and he was well connected to the French and English royal houses, but, after journeying to Jerusalem in 1171, he rejected the match. 40 As Baldwin IV’s regent, Raymond of Antioch selected William of Montferrat, first cousin of King Louis VII of France and Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, as a suitable husband for Sibylla. However, it was a short-​lived affair, due to William’s death in June 1177 after five months of marriage, but it did produce a son, Baldwin V, born two months later, in August 1177.41 As the instability in the region grew, a well-​connected, wealthy, and strong male leader was vital to protect and preserve the dynasty; the Kingdom of Jerusalem needed either a new royal dynasty or a suitable husband for the female heir. With little prospect of installing a new royal line from among the existing aristocracy, the only option open was to find a suitable second husband for Sibylla. In 1178 Hugh III duke of Burgundy was approached, but he rejected the match, possibly because Sibylla had already given birth to a son who would have a stronger claim to the throne than any offspring of him and Sibylla.42 dinars, with some help from the royal treasury. Barber, The Crusader States, 267. 38  Hamilton, “The Titular Nobility of the Latin East,” 199–​200.

39  WOT, bk. 21, chap. 18; Chronicle of the Third Crusade, bk. 1, chap. 63.

40  The reasons for Stephen’s rejection of the match are unknown; speculation such as Baldwin’s leprosy, Sibylla’s legitimacy, the age and childbearing capacity of Maria Komnene, and political positioning between Jerusalem and the Byzantine Empire exists, but there is nothing definitive. WOT, bk. 20, chaps. 22–​24; Phillips, Defenders, 206. For the treaty of 1171 regarding the overlordship of Jerusalem, see Hamilton, “Manuel I Comnenus,” 364. 41  WOT, bk. 21, chap. 13.

42  Phillips, Defenders, 239–​40.

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The prospect of becoming king by marriage was extremely rare in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, as it was not common to have a female heir to the throne who was either single or widowed. The Kingdom of Jerusalem provided such an opportunity to western nobles and factions within the extended royal family, who saw a chance to extend their own influence and power by proposing suitable candidates.43 One such opportunist was Phillip I, count of Flanders and cousin to Baldwin IV and his sisters, as they shared a common grandfather (Fulk). Phillip offered Baldwin much-​needed military support in return for the right to arrange marriages for both Sibylla and Isabella I to his own vassals.44 Phillip favoured the sons of Robert V of Bethune as suitable candidates—​the eldest son, Robert, for Sibylla and second son, William, for Isabella—​in return for Robert surrendering land in Flanders to Phillip.45 There were advantages for Jerusalem in marrying the sisters with nobles from the west, particularly as Robert V was regarded as high nobility in Flanders and had received generous grants of land in England from Henry II; but the move was rejected by the High Council. For both Sibylla and Isabella, queenship was overshadowed by the need for a male sovereign to see to the defence of their kingdom. With this in mind, Baldwin’s former regent, Raymond of Tripoli, marched to Jerusalem at Easter 1180, supported by Bohemond III of Antioch, with the intention of appointing a suitable husband for Sibylla. In failing health and under pressure, Baldwin IV selected Guy of Lusignan as a husband for Sibylla and made arrangements for the betrothal of his eight-​year-​old half-​sister Isabella to Humphrey IV of Toron.46 Guy was an unpopular choice, as 43  The traditional view was that lepers were afflicted as reparation for sexual impropriety and religious deviance; see Moore, The Formation of a Persecuting Society, 4–​5, 50–​58, 63–​65; and Edbury and Rowe, William of Tyre, 65. This has been challenged by later historiography, in which lepers are represented as chosen by God “to be afflicted on earth, so that through their suffering they would attain salvation in the world to come.” Brenner, “Recent Perspectives on Leprosy in Medieval Western Europe.” 44  WOT, bk. 21, chap. 14.

45  Hamilton, The Leper King and His Heirs, 126.

46  WOT, bk. 22, chaps. 5–​9. Agnes of Courtenay is depicted as selecting her choice of husband for the king’s sisters, accumulating lands and titles and placing her choice of candidate in key Church and governmental posts (Jocelyn as seneschal, Amalric as constable, Heraclius as patriarch) by William of Tyre, all for her own greed and vanity. William’s condemnation of Agnes may be a result of his not being selected as patriarch of Jerusalem in 1180, when her choice of candidate, Heraclius, was successful. Whatever the reason

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he had only recently arrived in the kingdom, brought little wealth and few men to contribute towards the defence of the kingdom and was considered inferior to Sibylla by nobility of birth.47 Ernoul recounts the anger caused by Guy’s selection, as Baldwin of Ibelin, during his imprisonment by Saladin in 1179, had allegedly received correspondence from Sibylla suggesting marriage upon his release.48 There is little doubt that, if Baldwin IV had not acted when he did, a husband would have been chosen for Sibylla in 1180, and Baldwin’s actions were an attempt to exercise his authority over both his kingdom and family, underpinned by the realization that choosing a husband from within the nobility of the kingdom could well have produced more problems than it solved. Guy was unpopular, and an unsuccessful period as regent for Baldwin IV in 1183 did nothing to change the general view of Guy’s unsuitability to be king.49 This led Baldwin IV to excluded Guy and Sibylla from the succession, and he named Sibylla’s son, the infant Baldwin V, as his successor, with Raymond of Tripoli named as regent and Joscelin of Courtenay (Agnes’s brother) as the child’s guardian. The succession was secured by a clause in his will that, should Baldwin V die a minor, the Pope, the Holy Roman Emperor and the kings of England and France would decide upon a successor.50 However, when Baldwin V died in 1186, Sibylla’s supporters took the initiative, and she was crowned queen by Patriarch Eraclius at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Her coronation was not without controversy, and varying accounts appear in the sources; broadly, in order for her coronation to proceed, Sibylla was required to divorce Guy—​to which she agreed, but only on the proviso that she be allowed to choose the replacement. Once crowned, Sibylla chose Guy and crowned him herself.51 for William’s animosity, Agnes had built a secure power base, but it required the king to be well enough to rule in person to continue. Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States,” 167–​68.

47  WOT, bk. 22, chap. 9; Hamilton, The Leper King and His Heirs, 158. For a discussion of the factions in the court of Jerusalem, see Edbury, “Propaganda and Faction in the Kingdom of Jerusalem.” 48  Ernoul,  56–​60.

49  WOT, bk. 22, chap. 26: “He was unequal in strength and wisdom to the great burden he had taken upon himself.” Guy lacked experience, both in exercising authority and in military campaigns, and popularity amongst the nobles. 50  WOT, bk. 22, chap. 29. Ernoul, 116–​17; Eracles, bk. 23, chap. 4.

51  There are differing accounts of the coronation. Ernoul, 131–​34, and Eracles, 32–​33 (Edbury, “The Lyon Eracles,” 25–​27), stated that the patriarch gave Sibylla the crown to choose who would be anointed

In light of the precedent established by her predecessor, Melisende, Sibylla may have had the opportunity to exercise a greater degree of authority as queen, but her reign was short and hindered by an unpopular husband. She was not a politically naive woman: her consent was recorded on grants and letters to nobles and religious orders jointly with both Baldwin IV and Guy; she had petitioned Saladin and raised the ransom for her husband’s release after the Battle of Hattin in 1187; and she had resolutely chosen her husband in the face of stern opposition.52 However, she did not have the opportunity to test the limits of the authority she held as queen before she died, in an epidemic outside Acre on July 25, 1190. Guy had no legitimate claim to the throne in his own right, so, as Sibylla left no surviving offspring, the crown of the much-​depleted Kingdom of Jerusalem passed to her half-​ sister Isabella. In 1180 Baldwin IV had overseen the betrothal of eight-​ year-​old Isabella to Humphrey of Tolon, and the marriage took place in 1183 at Kerak Castle, while it was besieged by Saladin.53 The selection of a suitable husband for Isabella was a matter of state, and, although the High Council could not install a new royal dynasty, it could control the succession king, and she chose Guy, setting the crown on his head herself. This version has been widely used by older modern historians; see Runciman, The History of the Crusades, vol. 2, 447–​49. Arab chronicler Ibn al-​Athir claimed Sibylla handed all authority over to Guy when she placed the crown on his head: Chronicle of Ibn al-​Athir, 316. Roger of Hoveden, Gesta, vol. 1, 358–​59, and Chronica Magistri, vol. 2, 315–​ 16, portrayed Sibylla’s agreement to a divorce as part of the public coronation, whereas Guy of Bazoches claimed Sibylla flatly refused to divorce Guy. Thus we have a twofold representation of Sibylla, first as a loyal and God-​fearing wife who would not set aside the husband chosen for her and to whom God had joined her in marriage, and, second, capable of treachery to force nobles to accept Guy as king. For Guy of Bazoches, see Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 150–​51, 154–​55; Nicholson, “ ‘La roine preude femme et bonne dame,’ ” 117; and Woodacre, “Questionable Authority,” 395. 52  Letters issued jointly by either Sibylla and Baldwin IV or Sibylla and Guy. RRH, 172–​74, 182–​86 (nos. 650, 653, 654, 681, 690, 693, 696). Sibylla petitioned Saladin for Guy’s release; see Ernoul, 252; Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States,” 172; Nicholson, “ ‘La roine preude femme et bonne dame,’ ” 111–​1 3; and Woodacre, “Questionable Authority,” 397.

53  Hamilton, The Leper King and His Heirs, 192. For Saladin’s siege of Kerak, see Baha’ al-​Din Ibn Shaddad, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 76–​77. The match was suggested by Agnes, Baldwin’s mother, in a bid to separate Isabella from the influence of her mother, Maria, and stepfather, Balian of Ibelin, as rival for the kingdom; see note 55.

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by choosing the queen’s husband. Isabella came under pressure from her mother, Maria, to set aside Humphrey and take Conrad of Montferrat as her husband. Humphrey was considered unsuitable, as he had refused to be crowned with Isabella in 1186, and had left Nablus for Jerusalem to promptly swear an oath of fealty to Sibylla.54 Maria declared that Isabella’s marriage to Humphrey was invalid, because she had been forced into it by Baldwin IV at the age of eight, and, after coming under considerable pressure from her family, Isabella agreed to set Humphrey aside and marry Conrad.55 Conrad was a strong leader and had twice repulsed Saladin’s army from Tyre in the 1180s but there were controversial issues surrounding his suitability, not least of which was the forcible seizure of another man’s wife.56 However, with Guy still entrenched as king, marriage to Isabella did not bring Conrad automatic kingship. With the arrival of the western kings on the Third Crusade both Guy and Conrad sought to gain support; Conrad secured the backing of Phillip II of France after his arrival at Acre in April 1191 and Guy journeyed to Cyprus to swear fealty to Richard I of England on May 12, 1191.57 Guy’s reign was short-​lived, as, undermined by lack of support, his position soon became untenable. In April 1192 Conrad was elected unanimously and Guy, newly ousted from his position, purchased the island of Cyprus from Richard for 60,000 bezants, where he died in 1194.58 Conrad received notification of his election at Tyre on 54  Humphrey is portrayed as weak in the sources: “[M]‌ore like a woman than a man, gentle with his dealings and with a bad stammer.” Chronicle of the Third Crusade, bk. 1, 120; Eracles, bk. 25, chaps. 18–​21; Ernoul, 134–​39, 267–​68.

55  Hamilton, “Women in the Crusader States,” 172; Eracles, 106 (Edbury, “The Lyon Eracles,” 95–​97). Conrad’s conduct in “wickedly and forcibly” marrying Isabella “in the hope of becoming king” is condemned in Chronicle of the Third Crusade, bk. 3, 222. See Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 168–​74. For the Muslim viewpoint, see Baha’ al-​Din Ibn Shaddad, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 191.

56  Isabella’s sister Sibylla had been married to Conrad’s brother William, which made the marriage incestuous. Conrad had been married twice previously, and some doubt existed as to whether his wives were deceased. Riley-​Smith, The Feudal Nobility, 116.

57  Kings of England and France were included in an 1183 list of who would choose the next king should Baldwin V die young; see note 56 above. Agreement was struck in July 1191; Guy would remain as king and, upon his death, Conrad, recognized as consort to the heir, would receive the crown. Runciman, The History of the Crusades, vol. 3, 51. 58  Eracles, 134–​35 (Edbury, “The Lyon Eracles,” 112–​13).

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April 24 but was assassinated four days later, before he and Isabella could be crowned.59 Yet again the kingdom needed a king who could lead its forces in battle, and the High Council chose Henry of Champagne, nephew of Richard of England and Phillip of France. Henry had brought extensive funds from Champagne when he joined the Third Crusade, and these, combined with his royal connections, made him an ideal candidate for king.60 Richard counselled against marriage to Isabella, as she was recently widowed and pregnant, but Henry submitted to the will of the nobility, and the marriage took place on May 5, 1192.61 Again Isabella was the conduit for the legitimacy of the High Council’s candidate for sovereign, but neither was crowned, as Henry postponed his coronation, hoping to recover Jerusalem and be crowned there, but then died from a fall, in September 1197, before this could happen.62 Widowed a second time and still without a male heir, Isabella faced pressure to marry again. In January 1198 Aimery, king of Cyprus, former constable of Jerusalem and older brother of Guy of Lusignan, was selected by the High Court, and Isabella was crowned with her new husband. 63 Aimery had political and military experience, and his position as king of Cyprus was acknowledged by ecclesiastical and imperial mandate. 64 Hereditary female succession and the election of a king by the High Council 59  Roger of Hoveden, Annals, vol. 2, 267, stated that the assassination took place “on the fifth day before the calends of May,” which would be April 26. Ralph of Diceto, Ymagines Historiarum, 104, gave the date as April 28.

60  Chronicle of the Third Crusade, bk. 5, 310–​11; Lambert, “Queen or Consort,” 164; Hamilton, “King Consorts of Jerusalem,” 16.

61  The nobility insisted upon Henry’s marriage to Isabella, as she was the rightful heir and it legitimized Henry’s election. The marriage is celebrated in Chronicle of the Third Crusade, bk. 5, 311–​12. The Quran, sura 2:234, describes a mourning period of four months and ten days before a widow should engage with society after the death of her husband, hence the surprise of Imad al-​Din al-​Isfhani, Conquête de la Syrie et de la Palestine par Saladin, 377. 62  Hamilton, “King Consorts of Jerusalem,” 14–​15.

63  Eracles, 220–​24; Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus, 33.

64  Guy had bequeathed Cyprus to his eldest brother, Geoffrey, who had returned to France. Aimery was elected lord by the nobles of Cyprus in 1194 and crowned king with the backing of the Church and Henry IV, Holy Roman Emperor, in 1196. Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus, 29. Conrad, bishop of Hildesheim, proposed Aimery as a suitable consort for Queen Isabella. Hamilton, “King Consorts of Jerusalem,” 16.

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produced a dilemma; was he the king of the realm, able to act independently with full authority, or merely consort and husband of the reigning queen? The Livre au Roi, written during the reign of Isabella and Aimery, provided some clarification, stating that an elected king who has married a reigning queen must submit his acts to the High Council and the queen for approval, as he acted through her and not independently. 65 Charters issued by Aimery from August 1198 onwards provide some additional insight into royal authority, as they include the consent of his wife Isabella and, occasionally, her children.66 The real power in the kingdom came from the line of succession, and, as blood heirs, it was Isabella’s children from her earlier marriage to Conrad of Montferrat who would legitimately inherit. After the deaths of Aimery, Isabella, and their young son in April 1205, Isabella’s eldest daughter, Maria of Montferat “la Marquise,” aged thirteen, succeeded her mother as queen of Jerusalem, with John of Ibelin appointed as regent until she came of age.67 During her minority, charters issued by John of Ibelin contained the phrase “consensu dominae regni Mariae” (“with the agreement of the royal lady Maria”), emphasizing his acting under her authority as legitimate heir, as well as others under the title “filia Conradi marchionis et domne quondam Isabelle regine” (“daughter of Marquis Conrad and former Queen Isabella”).68 When Maria reached maturity, in keeping with tradition, a husband was chosen for her, with the nobles of Jerusalem asking Phillip II of France for his recommendation of a suitable candidate. John of Brienne was proposed; he was not quite the vigorous, rich young man the nobles hoped would be attracted to the throne of Jerusalem, but he possessed many qualities necessary for the role, and he married Maria in September 1210.69 There is some disagreement as to whether Maria was crowned Queen, with the Ernoul stating the couple travelled to Tyre, where John was 65  Le Livre au Roi, 87–​106.

66  There was a settled reign in the Holy Land under Aimery and Isabella: Runciman, The History of the Crusades, vol. 3, 98. Charters issued by Aimery with the consent of Isabella: RRH, nos. 743, 744, 746, 747 and 776; charters issued by Aimery without the named consent of Isabella: RRH, nos. 761, 774 and 780.

67  Ernoul, 407; Eracles, 305; Runciman, The History of the Crusades, vol. 3, 103.

68  RRH, no. 812; Mayer, Die Urkunden der lateinischen Könige, vol. 2, 651, no. 379; vol. 3, 1061–​66, 1351, nos. 644, 645, 646. 69  Perry, John of Brienne, 52, 68

crowned alone, and the Eracles, favoured by Guy Perry in his book on John of Brienne, stating that it was a joint coronation at Tyre.70 For the two years that Maria and John were married, charters issued by her husband contained the queen’s consent in a similar fashion to that of her mother Isabella, suggesting that her position was more than simply a dynastic figurehead required to validate the acts of the king.71 The queen as blood heir legitimized her husband’s position as king, and, although it is difficult to determine if she did take an active part in government, it is clear that her documented consent was a necessary administrative process. As John’s position derived from his wife, when Maria died in childbirth his role as king consort died with her, as had been the case with Guy de Lusignan. However, it also produced a new scenario, as the kingdom had an infant female heir, Isabella II, with a living paternal regent.72 As the king’s authority ended with the death of his wife, so the regent’s authority ended when the heir came of age. When Isabella attained maturity and married Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor, on November 9, 1225, Frederick declared himself king of Jerusalem and transferred all regency rights from John of Brienne to himself, effectively removing John from power.73 Isabella retired into seclusion at the imperial palace at Palermo, and is mentioned in just one of the charters issued by Frederick as king of Jerusalem, which suggests that her involvement in the government of her kingdom was limited.74 Isabella gave birth to a daughter in November 1226, who died a few months later, and then a son, Conrad, on April 25, 1228, before dying on May 4, 1228, aged just sixteen.75 After the death of his wife, Frederick, like John of Brienne, found himself no longer king consort of Jerusalem but a regent for his infant son. Conrad’s birth concluded the cycle of female heirs of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and the kingdom itself came to an end sixty years later with the fall of Tyre in 1291. The kingdom had survived successive waves of succession crises from its 70  Ernoul, 408–​409; Lambert, “Queen or Consort,” 167. For Maria and John’s joint coronation at Tyre, see Perry, John of Brienne, 55.

71  RRH, nos. 853, 855, 858a; Mayer, Die Urkunden der lateinischen Könige, vol. 3, 1021–​68, nos. 627, 628, 640, 647, 649.

72  Runciman, The History of the Crusades, vol. 3, 133. In March 1222 John included the consent of his daughter Isabella on a grant: RRH, no. 940. Isabella was also called Yolande of Brienne. 73  Abulafia, Frederick II, 150–​53.

74  RRH, no. 974; Ernoul, 449; Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus,  55–​56.

75  Abulafia, Frederick II, 172.

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inception and acknowledged female heirs in a bid to maintain a ruling Christian dynasty in the Holy Land. The function of queenship had to adapt to reflect the changing fortunes of the country and its people, particularly after the fall of Jerusalem in 1192. As queen, Melisende combined power sharing with her husband and son, authoritative action in her own right, and acquiescence when confronted with direct opposition from her son. But this adaptive form of queenship was not realistic for the heirs who came after her; in some circumstances a kingdom ruled solely by a queen or by a husband and wife partnership could work well, but a time came when the challenges facing the kingdom required a greater response than a queen could provide. From a modern perspective this may seem highly prejudiced, but the reality of twelfth-​century Jerusalem was that the monarch had to be

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the spear point of the kingdom, with the ability to lead an army against an enemy, foreign or domestic. There was also a distinct difference between the balance of co-​rulership seen in the early 1130s and 1140s, with Melisende and Fulk, and the later joint sovereignty of Sibylla and Guy, Isabella and Aimery, and Maria and John. The dismal fortunes of the crusader states after 1186 necessitated the need for a strong king rather than a husband and wife collective, so the king consort exercised royal authority whereas his queen symbolized the continuity of the royal bloodline. Across the Latin West and Latin East in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries regnant queenship was rare, and, although Melisende, Sibylla, Isabella I, Maria, and Isabella II were acknowledged heirs to the throne of Jerusalem, the parameters within which they ruled were unique because of the fortunes of the kingdom itself.

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—​—​—​. “Women and the Customs of the High Court of Jerusalem according to John of Ibelin.” In Chemins d’Outre-​mer: Études d’histoire sur la Méditerranée médiévale offertes à Michel Balard, edited by Damien Coulon, Catherine Otten-​Froux, Paule Pagès, and Dominique Valérian, 285–​92. Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2004. Edbury, Peter W., and John G. Rowe. William of Tyre: Historian of the Latin East. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Folda, Jaroslav. “Images of Queen Melisende in Manuscripts of William of Tyre’s History of Outremer: 1250–​1300.” Gesta 32 (1993):  97–​112. Gaggero, Massimiliano. “La Chronique d’Ernoul: problèmes et méthode d’édition.” Perspectives médiévales: Revue d’épistémologie des langues et littératures du Moyen Âge, 34 (2012). http://​peme.revues.org/​1608. Gerish, Deborah. “Ancestors and Predecessors: Royal Continuity and Identity in the First Kingdom of Jerusalem.” In Anglo-​Norman Studies XX: Proceedings of the Battle Conference 1997, edited by Christopher Harper-​Bill, 127–​50. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998. Hamilton, Bernard. “King Consorts of Jerusalem and Their Entourages from the West from 1186–​1250.” In Crusades, Cathars and Holy Places, edited by Bernard Hamilton, 13–​24. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999. —​—​—​. The Leper King and His Heirs:  Baldwin IV and the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. —​—​—​. “Manuel I Comnenus and Baldwin IV of Jerusalem.” In Kathegetria: Essays Presented to Joan Hussay for her 80th Birthday, edited by Julian Chrysostomides, 353–​75. Camberley: Porphyrogenitus, 1988. —​—​—​. “The Titular Nobility of the Latin East: The Case of Agnes of Courtenay.” In Crusades, Cathars and Holy Places, edited by Bernard Hamilton, 197–​203. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999. —​—​—​. “Women in the Crusader States: The Queens of Jerusalem (1100–​1190).” In Medieval Women, edited by Derek Baker, 143–​74. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978. Handyside, Phillip. The Old French William of Tyre. Leiden: Brill, 2015. Hodgson, Natasha R. Women, Crusading and the Holy Land in Historical Narrative. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2007. Huneycutt, Lois L. “Female Succession and the Language of Power in the Writings of Twelfth-​Century Churchmen.” In Medieval Queenship, edited by John Carmi Parsons, 189–​201. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993. La Monte, John L. Feudal Monarchy in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 1100 to 1291. Cambridge, MA: Medieval Academy of America, 1936. Lambert, Sarah. “Images of Queen Melisende.” In Authority and Gender in Medieval and Renaissance Chronicles, edited by Juliana Desvina and Nicholas Sparks, 140–​65. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2012. —​—​—​. “Queen or Consort: Rulership and Politics in the Latin East 1118–​1228.” In Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe:  Proceedings of a Conference Held at King’s College London, April 1995, edited by Anne J. Duggan, 153–​69. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1997. McDougall, Sara. “The Making of Marriage in Medieval France.” Journal of Family History 38 (2013): 103–​21. Mayer, Hans Eberhard. “Angevins versus Normans: The New Men of King Fulk of Jerusalem.” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 133 (1989): 1–​25. —​—​—​. “The Beginnings of King Amalric of Jerusalem.” In The Horns of Hattin, edited by Benjamin Z. Kedar, 121–​35. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1992. —​—​—​. “Studies in the History of Queen Melisende of Jerusalem.” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 26 (1972): 93–​182. —​—​—​. Die Urkunden der lateinischen Könige von Jerusalem. 4 vols. Hanover: Hahn, 2010. Moore, Robert I. The Formation of a Persecuting Society:  Power and Deviance in Western Europe, 950–​1250. Oxford: Blackwell, 1987. Nicholson, Helen. “‘La roine preude femme et bonne dame’:  Queen Sybil of Jerusalem 1186–​1190 in History and Legend 1186–​1300.” Haskins Society Journal: Studies in Medieval History 15 (2004): 110–​26. Perry, Guy. John of Brienne:  King of Jerusalem, Emperor of Constantinople, c.1175–​1237. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Phillips, Jonathan. Defenders of the Holy Land: Relations between the Latin East and the West 1119–​1187. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Prawer, Joshua. Crusader Institutions. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980. —​—​—​. The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem: European Colonialism in the Middle Ages. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1972.

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Reilly, Bernard F. The Kingdom of León-​Castilla under Queen Urraca, 1109–​1126. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982. Richard, Jean. The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. Translated by Janet Shirley. 2 vols. Amsterdam: North-​Holland Publishing, 1979. Riley-​Smith, Jonathan. The Crusades: A History. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005. —​—​—​. The Feudal Nobility and the Kingdom of Jerusalem: 1174–​1277. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1974. Runciman, Steven. A History of the Crusades. 3 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1951–​54. Russell, Josiah C. “The Population of the Crusader States.” In A History of the Crusades, vol. 5: The Impact of the Crusades on the Near East, edited by Norman P. Zacour and Harry W. Hazard, 295–​314. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989. Schein, Sylvia. “Women in Medieval Colonial Society: The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem in the Twelfth Century.” In Gendering the Crusades, edited by Susan B. Edgington and Sarah Lambert, 140–​53. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2001. Tranovich, Margaret. Melisende of Jerusalem: The World of a Forgotten Crusader Queen. London: East and West Publishing, 2011. Turner, Ralph V. Eleanor of Aquitaine. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009. Woodacre, Elena. “Questionable Authority: Female Sovereigns and Their Consorts in Medieval and Renaissance Chronicles.” In Authority and Gender in Medieval and Renaissance Chronicles, edited by Juliana Desvina and Nicholas Sparks, 376–​406. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars, 2012.

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5 QUEENSHIP AND FEMALE AUTHORITY IN THE SULTANATE OF DELHI (1206–​1526) JYOTI PHULERA

THE LACK OF development of queens and queenship studies as a multidisciplinary field of analysis to supplement and enrich mainstream historical understanding for medieval South Asia has been a major lacuna in our understanding of those societies. Despite the reinstatement of gender as an important tool of analysis in historical studies, studies that focus on the experiences, potentialities, and meanings related to the office of a queen in this particular geographical context are yet to become widespread. While this may in part be due to a lack of knowledge of the Persian language and the reluctance on the part of scholars of the language to take up such studies, there is another reason for this lacuna as well. The field of queenship studies is confronted with the complex problem of dealing with historical sources that reflect the views, ideas, and concerns of the dominating patriarchal elements. This problem is particularly evident in the study of the present theme, wherein the texts presented to us are “male” texts, written by men and reflecting their worldviews and concerns.1 There is no woman’s voice in these courtly texts and chronicles, in the sense that we have no texts penned by women, or the queens themselves, for the sultanate period between the thirteenth and early sixteenth centuries.2 The Sultanate of Delhi reflected the generally changing nature of Islamic polities in the eastern half of Islamic rule after the decline in power of the Abbasid Caliphate from the tenth and eleventh centuries 1  For example, Nilanjan Sarkar has studied the politics of history writing and its repercussions for a study of non-​heteronormative gender and sexualities for the period; see Sarkar, “Forbidden Privileges and History-​Writing.”

2  In fact, virtually all the problems outlined by Anne Duggan for medieval Europe stand true for the present area of analysis. See Duggan, “Introduction,” xv.

onwards, to a more secular political institution with overall official allegiance to Islam.3 We have neither any surviving architectural work commissioned by a queen nor any pictographic depiction of royal women for this period.4 Thus, in a sense, their histories need necessarily to be extracted in a refracted form from these texts, which speak in distinctly biased voices. This is one of the major aims of queenship studies, with a particular focus on medieval India, which has been relatively neglected till now. However, these histories, such as the Tabqat-​i Nasiri, Khazain-​ul Futuh, Futuh-​us Salatin, Rehla, Futuhat-​i Firuz Shahi, Tarikh-​i Firuzshahi of Barani, Tarikh-​i Firuzshahi of Afif, Tarikh -​i Mubarakshahi, Waqiat-​i Mushtaqi, and Tarikh-​i Firishta, are not particularly disadvantaged in that sense, and it is possible to open these texts up to a completely different line of enquiry to reveal aspects of medieval Indian queenship under the Delhi Sultanate. It is with this understanding in mind that I have approached the present theme. In the first section of the chapter, I try to bring out the gaps in historiographical attention that the theme of queens in medieval India has received. The next section then proceeds to situate the theme within its medieval Indian setting, to 3  Lapidus, “The Separation of State and Religion in the Development of the Early Islamic Society.”

4  Philip Rawson remarks that no “Islamic” painting of India can be dated before 1500. See Rawson, Indian Painting, 104. Although it is not clear whether manuscript illustrations were done in the Sultanate, painting was very much a flourishing art, and was patronized in the royal court and workshops; see Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi; and Tughlaq, Futuhat-​i Firuz Shahi, 27–​28. We have a few surviving paintings from Gujarat, Mandu and Jaunpur for the period, and a few illustrated folios from late fifteenth century. See Khandalavala and Chandra, Preface. However, none of them contain any depiction of any royal lady of the Sultanate of Delhi.

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bring out the several influences that Islam, the Turkish and Persian heritage, and the Indian situation have had on the position of royal ladies in the household and the administration of the state. I then progress to look at Razia in detail, simultaneously trying to look through the layers of politically inspired historical accounts to argue that, far from being a rare example, she was only one of many talented and active royal women of the period. In this, I will analyze other aspects related to queenship, such as the implications of royal birth for the power of these women. The next section engages with the issue of legitimacy and how the queens and royal women added to the image of the state, while adding to its stability. In the final section I take note of the extraordinary involvement of the harem in the politics of the time, and argue that it is necessary to move beyond the romantic narratives of a secluded and weak harem to appreciate the kind of authority that many of the queens had access to.

Historiography

A comprehensive study engaging with the queens and royal women of the Delhi Sultanate is yet to be undertaken. Any reference to such women has thus mostly been incidental, with the focus mainly being on the state and its politics, relegating many extraordinary women to the margins of such processes. While the role of some royal ladies in medieval Indian society and politics is well recognized, the implications for the idea and concept of queenship in medieval India and its contributions to the creation of a particular political and cultural milieu are yet to be studied.5 The few studies that have touched upon the theme of royal women of the sultanate have tended to emphasize the romantic orientalist/​colonial images of the strict exclusion of women from public life, their subjugation within the harem and in society, and their treatment as mere sex objects, subservient to the authority of a male elite. Although this concept has since been questioned, such ideas still linger in the accounts of Sultanate royals that have come down to us, which still tend to emphasize the disadvantaged status of medieval Indian queens.

5  See Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi, 151–​64, in which the author has mostly dealt with biographical sketches of royal women to acknowledge their contributions. In this context, the focus of most studies has been Razia, who has the distinction of being the only regnant queen of Delhi and the only regnant queen for the two major periods in medieval Indian history: the Sultanate and Mughal.

An example of the kind of scholarly attention received by royal females of the period is Kunwar Ashraf’s study of the social, political, and economic aspects of medieval India.6 Ashraf regards the harem of Delhi Sultanate rulers as a separate and secluded entity whereby a large number of women were subservient to the monarch, secluded from the outside world through institutions such as purdah, which restricted interaction with only mahrams or relatives who could not be married. However, he does concede that, despite this, the royal ladies could be educated and qualified in arts and literature and for administration. Thus there was little questioning of traditional ideas about seclusion and very little reflection upon the status of a queen or the kind of power that could be wielded by royal women. Scholars such as Iqtidar Siddiqui and Sunita Zaidi, in their respective studies on the participation of women in society and politics in the Delhi Sultanate, provide useful information about women’s various roles in the sultanate, including some powerful royal women, yet they do not engage with the potentialities that the office of a queen represented nor make any analysis regarding the position of these women.7 Zaidi argues that Muslim women were disadvantaged by the patriarchal system of medieval India, which stunted their progress.8 In the sub-​theme on “state and women,” her focus is the accession of Razia. This is regarded as representative of the ways in which an elite woman could exercise political power and yet “have her sex become a weak point in her political life.”9 While one may do well to note the contributions of these writings in widening the scope of enquiry and understanding of the medieval scenario and the specificities of its structure, they are limited for the study of queenship as queens, and their offices were never the centre of their investigations. Certain communal historical accounts, with their roots in the colonial divisions of India’s past based on the religious affiliations of its ruling elite, into Hindu, Muslim, and British periods, have for long studied medieval Indian history as a “dark” period. It is held responsible for introducing several evils and reversing the golden achievements of its ancient past. Within this framework, such histories as Kishori Lal’s have, on the other hand, highlighted royal women to represent 6  Ashraf, Life and Conditions of the People of Hindustan.

7  Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi, 151–​64. 8  Zaidi, “Women or Muslim Women in Medieval India.” 9  Ibid., 55.

5

the denigrating and immoral sexual conduct of the Muslim “foreigners” and the unfair ways in which they treated and secluded their own women, while subjecting the women of the Hindus to humiliation and sexual violence.10 To understand the specificities of the practices of the time in an unbiased manner and to scope out a history of medieval royal women, it is important to keep away from such colonial, communal, and nationalist conceptions and hangovers. However, despite the aforementioned baggage that the medieval period carries in terms of perceptions related to the harem and royal women, study of this period in India has generally received less attention from scholars. The need for such studies gains greater importance given the entrenched nature of these erroneous and outmoded perceptions and their representation in not only modern historical works but also popular culture. Other works on the queens of the Delhi Sultanate include individual biographical sketches of certain prominent women, or isolated pieces of information that incorporate the names and achievements of many important women of the time in a merely descriptive manner.11 Such positivistic works often fall short of making any larger analytical points about the position enjoyed by a queen in the body politic and the cultural-​social realm of the Sultanate. For the most part, representations of royal women form a part of the wider writing of history that gives them only oblique attention, despite the renewed interest in gender history since the 1960s. The studies that have engaged with the subject have given the Delhi Sultanate less attention compared to the Mughal period, with the consequence that studies on the queens and royal women of the sultanate are rare. For example, Ruby Lal’s study of the harem and royal women and their role in the politics and courtly and diplomatic relations of the time is based on the Mughal period.12 The only notable and welcome exception to this has been the adequate attention that Razia Sultan has received. Modern historians have discussed the participation of elite women in politics and studied Razia as a historical figure in the patriarchal society of the time to address the issues related to exercise of power by women in the Delhi Sultanate.13 10  Lal, Muslim Slave System in Medieval India.

11  See Nand, Women in Delhi Sultanate; see also Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi, 151–​64. 12  Lal, Domesticity and Power in the Early Mughal World.

13  See Gabbay, “In Reality a Man”; Jackson, “Sultan Raḍiyya bin Iltutmish”; and Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate

Jyoti Phulera

However, on the whole, the discipline of queenship studies for the period is yet to break out of its mould and emerge as a separate and wholesome area of enquiry rather than as a mere adjunct to studies related to feminism or politics. This chapter is an attempt in the direction of understanding the various aspects related to the study of medieval queens and their office and position in India to derive a comprehensive picture. It aims to examine the role that women of the Delhi Sultanate royal families played in forming the larger medieval state, the position they occupied in its rhetoric and legitimacy, and possible implications that could have not only in terms of shaping the image of the monarchy but also with respect to the gender relations and ideas of masculinity and femininity in the period. It aims to understand issues such as the political and administrative role of a queen beyond her familial status as the wife of the king. What were the means and strategies employed by such women to exercise power? How have females in authority been represented in the contemporary records? These are some of the questions that I sought to explore in the present work.

The Setting

In order to understand the context of many views on women in authority present in this literature, it is necessary to appreciate that the religious background of many of these authors colours their views, as almost all these authors were trained in religious studies. In addition, to understand aspects of medieval Indian queenship it is also necessary to appreciate its social and ideological context to reach a holistic understanding of its specificities and complexities. It is therefore useful to preface a discussion of queenship in this period with a summary of how gender relations and female authority are envisaged in Islam. Broadly, the Quran recognizes men and women as equals with regard to their individual capacity to attain God’s rewards and punishments (sura 33:35). They were also created from a single soul (4:1, 7:189). Marriage was recognized as a contract between two people, and a woman was allowed to receive mihr, or dower, from her groom, rather than it being given to her family. The rights of a married woman were extended with respect to prevailing conditions in pre-​Islamic Arabia. Many women are recognized in the Quran for having converted before their husbands and thus of Delhi, 152–​54. For a complete biographical sketch of Razia, see Brijbhushan, Sultan Raziya.

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displaying independence of action, duly recognized by the Quran.14 However, they are not regarded equally in all areas, and thus a man’s testimony is deemed equal to that of two women. The Quran in this regard remarks that men are a rank higher than women (2:228) and they are put under the care and guardianship of men by God (4:34). This curious mix of rights for and restrictions on women in Islam is reflected in several injunctions. Thus, while a woman is affirmed with the right to hold property and maintain her dignity, her inheritance is only half that of a man. Despite the wide-​ranging participation that women seem to have enjoyed in the early days of Islam, there is no example of any woman holding an authoritative religious position, though they were active participants in politics along with their male spouses. Since the concept of kingship in itself was at odds with the original Islamic ideal of a community of equals, and a king was often equated with a religious head handling temporal responsibilities, this must be regarded as an important precedent for the development of Islamic political theory. Although many of the earlier Islamic ideals were compromised with the rise of Sultanates after the break-​up of the Abbasid Caliphate, it is still worth noting that a prerequisite for being an imam was to be a man.15 However, in certain other ways Islam has also provided women with a better station than several other religious traditions. Unlike the Christian tradition, the Quran does not stigmatize women with the blame for the fall of mankind and original sin.16 The simultaneous presence of restrictive and liberating injunctions in Islam, for women, was the result of several conflicting factors. With the spread of Islam beyond the Arabian Peninsula, these ideas took varied and complex forms in contact with different type of patriarchal social formations.17 Such interactions and injunctions, on the one hand, allowed for demonizing women as inhabitants of Hell and naqs aql (deficient in intellect), but equally, on the other, also left much scope for the exercise of female will and agency. The potentialities offered by such interactions and the related changes in the Islamic doctrines were such that, by the tenth century AD, there was barely any valid constitutional objection that could be raised against assumption of power by a woman.18 At the accession of Razia, the chronicler 14  Ibid.

15  Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 750.

16  Marin, “Women, Gender and Sexuality.”

17  See ibid.; see also Ahmed, “Women and the Advent of Islam.” 18  Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 751.

Minhaj Siraj Juzjani, who himself was a qazi, reported or found nothing legally wrong in crowning a woman, and nor was any other such voice of dissent reported even when her name was added in the Khutba or Friday prayers.19 It is only in the seventeenth century that we come across a jurist expressing surprise at a woman being allowed to ascend the throne.20 Indeed, the rebellions that followed her accession never questioned her right to rule.21 In this light, it is perhaps not surprising that in the political theory of the sultanate, the Fatawa-​i Jahandari, written by the alim Zia-​ud-​din Barani, who held a very religious view of kingship, the ruler is always assumed to be a male.22 The advice, therefore, is directed towards men despite the fact that the Sultanate had already seen a female monarch in Razia, in the same century that Barani was writing—​a fact that he was well aware of. In this context, the prevalent theories of kingship in the sultanate did allow space for the exercise of female political agency. It was a special feature of early Turkish polities that, despite the overall subordinate position accorded to women in theory, they still had the right to rule.23 This did not necessarily make it incumbent upon the woman to seek the agency of the man to exercise power, and was derived from a long tradition of politically and socially active females amongst the Turko-​Mongol people. This was also a common practice in ancient Iranian society, to which the Persianized Turks were probably exposed.24 Moreover, the history of the Turks was full of examples wherein no theoretical qualification apart from 19  See Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi, 152; and Abdul-​Haqq Dahlvi’s Tarikh-​i Haqqi, in Tripathi, Some Aspects of Muslim Administration, 29. A qazi is an officer trained in Islamic jurisprudence.

20  Dahlvi, Tarikh-​i Haqqi, in Tripathi, Some Aspects of Muslim Administration, 29. 21  Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 759.

22  Barani, Fatawa-​i Jahandari, 2–​6. Elsewhere, Barani insinuates that women are deficient in intellect; see Barani, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, Fuller and Khallaque translation, 13. However, it may be noted that, despite being an alim (a Muslim theologian), Barani was very aware of the fact that religion could not be the basis of rule in India. Perhaps no other author in medieval India displays this uncomfortable dialogue between religious ideals and political realities better than Barani. For a discussion of this internal tussle between Islam and the realities of statecraft in this work, see Sarkar, “The Voice of Mahmud.” 23  Tripathi, Some Aspects of Muslim Administration, 109.

24  Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah”; Szuppe, “Status, Knowledge, and Politics,” 141–​47.

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fitness and ability was required of a ruler.25 Thus, different treatments of women in power as seen in different texts of the time may be regarded as a result of complex interactions between traditions that allowed for greater gender freedom, within a patriarchal society and a state situated in a competitive political milieu. What may also be highlighted is that the local Indian population was not alien to the idea of females in power; therefore, as a society, it probably had no qualms in accepting the political authority of women. Queens such as Didda and Sugandha in Kashmir in the tenth century, Akkadevi in Karnataka and Zainab Tari in Sindh in the late tenth to early eleventh centuries, represent that long and continuing tradition of acceptance towards the exercise of power by royal women.26 This tradition of powerful queens is reflected when, during his visit to India, Ibn Battuta encountered a female ruler who commissioned temples for the convenience of passers-​by. It may therefore be appreciated that, at the establishment of the sultanate, the Indian scenario, including both the ruling elite and the masses, represented a complex tussle between normative gender ideas, traditions, and realities.27 However, it did not present a picture of intolerance towards women in power, and so, at the accession of the queen Razia, some of the strongest support for her rule came from the people of Delhi, who remained loyal to her to the very end.28

Queens and Royal Women of the Sultanate: Representations and Reality

The relation between history writing and history for medieval court literature has long been appreciated as a complex

25  For example, Iltutmish, who was a slave, was able to rule; seniority was not a criterion either, and nor was investiture by the Caliph. See Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 754.

26  In an interesting study, it was found that, in many Indian traditions, queens were deified as goddesses, and, in some, they were the ones who conferred sovereignty on a king through his marriage to the queen goddess. See Bernard and Moon, Goddesses Who Rule.

27  I agree with Ashraf that, at the time of the sultanate, the ideas of patriarchy, honour, and family that the Muslims had were congruent with the Indian practices whereby a woman was subordinated to man, was secluded, and was deemed deficient in intellect. However, what was different was what family life meant for them, as they had different norms of inheritance, divorce, etc. Ashraf, Life and Conditions of the People of Hindustan, 165, 167–​68. 28  Jackson notes that, for this reason to depose her, Razia had to be lured out of the capital by her foes. Jackson, “Sultan Raḍiyya bin Iltutmish,” 185.

Jyoti Phulera

one, given that issues of patronage, propaganda, rhetoric, and power are inseparably linked to the kinds of accounts that have come down to us. The challenge for the historian, therefore, is to piece together a history from this maze of information, which is often laced with the personal biases, specific background, education, and religious affiliations, etc. of the authors themselves.29 To delve into these motives and prejudices to discover the rich possibilities that they give us a glimpse into is a rewarding exercise, and it is with this understanding that I attempt to address the various issues related to medieval Indian queenship. The most notable amongst all of the royal women of the sultanate was the aforementioned regnant queen, Razia (1236–​1240), who ruled for a little more than three years with the adoption of the gender-​neutral title of “sultan.” Razia has a unique position in the history of India, as the only regnant queen to sit on the throne of Delhi. The primary account for the reign of Razia is provided by the contemporary historian Minhaj Siraj Juzjani, who had received favours both from Razia and her father.30 Juzjani speaks of Razia in the highest of terms and is all praise for her qualities as a just, learned, brave, and generous ruler.31 However, in the very next line he enigmatically poses the question to the reader: “As she did not attain the destiny, in her creation of being computed among men, of what advantage were all these excellent qualifications unto her?”32 If we are to believe Juzjani, then Razia was the daughter of Sultan Iltutmish from his chief queen, Turkan Khatun, who in all probability was the daughter of Qutubuddin Aibak, the founder of the Delhi Sultanate. By virtue of this, the princess had access to much authority within the harem, and had a residence within the royal palace called the Kushak-​i Firuzi. After the death of his designated heir, Sultan Iltutmish appointed Razia as his heir apparent, despite being warned by his associates against privileging a 29  For an idea of the kind of histories this has given birth to, see Hardy, “The Muslim Historians of the Delhi Sultanate”; and Historians of Medieval India. 30  Juzjani, Tabqat-​I Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 615, 644.

31  Ibid., 637. Elliot and Dowson have conveyed the sense of this line better in their translation as follows: “She was endowed with all the qualities befitting a king, but she was not born of the right sex, and so in the estimation of men all these virtues were worthless. (May God have mercy on her!)” See Tabqat-​i Nasiri, Elliot and Dowson translation, 332. 32  Juzjani, Tabqat-​i Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 638.

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daughter over two adult sons; but he believed that she had better rulership abilities than his sons. 33 Although Peter Jackson has rightfully pointed out that, since Juzjani was in Gwalior at the time, he could not have witnessed this event, it is still possible that such a decree was actually passed rather than merely being a fiction put forward by those who had brought her to power, as Razia was known to be powerful and authoritative even during her father’s time.34 Despite this, just before his death, the sultan, we are told, brought his son Ruknuddin Firuz to the capital, probably as an indication of him being his heir apparent, “for the people had their eyes upon him” since he was the eldest of his remaining sons.35 At Iltutmish’s death the “nobles” seated Ruknuddin on the throne, but the newly crowned monarch was given to a wasteful life and was little interested in affairs of state.36 As a result, effective control of the affairs of the kingdom lay with his mother, Shah Turkan, who misused her position to kill the youngest of Iltutmish’s sons and torment several members of the harem.37 This led to a revolt from maliks or commanders in several parts of the empire, which the sultan had to depart from the capital to quell. In his absence, we are told, the queen mother tried to kill Razia, which resulted in Razia becoming openly hostile to Turkan. With the help of the common populace she seized the queen, ascended the throne with the support of the powerful Turkish “nobles,” and executed Ruknuddin. Following this, we are told, normal functioning of the state resumed, and initial challenges to her authority and rebellions were deftly tackled through Razia’s clever strategies to sow dissension in the ranks of her opponents.38 Next Razia set out to reorganize the administration of the state by distributing several important offices to her followers. Juzjani relates that the elevation of the Abyssinian Yakut to the office of amir-​i akhur, or the lord of the stables, inspired the envy of the Turkish military chiefs. Around the same time it seems that Razia also decided to do away with the veil and to appear 33  Ibid., 639.

34  Jackson, “Sultan Raḍiyya bin Iltutmish,” 183–​84.

35  Juzjani, Tabqat-​i Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 631. However, Juzjani does not tell us who these “people” are.

36  The meaning of the term “nobility” for the Delhi Sultanate differs slightly from its European connotations. See Nigam, Nobility under the Sultans of Delhi, 182–​86. 37  Juzjani, Tabqat-​i Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 632–​33. 38  Ibid., 639–​40.

in public view, sometimes riding on an elephant, wearing a headdress and tunic.39 Although the discomfort of the Turkish nobles was on the rise, Razia’s authority was intact, and she successfully controlled the rebellion of the iqtedar of Lahore.40 However, it was when she moved out of the capital to suppress the rebellion of Malik Altunia of Tabarhindah, with the help of the Turkish nobles, that Razia was captured and Yakut was killed.41 Not one to give up easily, Razia made a renewed attempt to capture Delhi, after espousing her captor Altunia and winning over his support. However, due to the loss of support of the powerful Turkish faction, which had helped her come to power, Razia’s side lost. She was finally killed at the hands of “Hindus” after being deserted by her troops.42 Later accounts add further and more colourful, yet less credible, details about her reign, though none of them was written even within a century of her rule. Allegations of her love affair with Yakut also seem to have been added later. Isami, a century later, tells us that he was told that Razia appealed to the nobles and military commanders of her time to consider her for the crown by letting loose her scarf from the window, and delivering a remarkable speech to the effect that they could snatch the crown from her if she were not found worthy of it.43 It is interesting to note the kind of details that Isami adds to such speeches and conversations without ever having witnessed them.44 He also provides detailed description of the kind of veiled durbar (royal court) 39  Ibid., 642–​43.

40  Ibid., 644–​45. Raverty has translated the term iqtedar as “feudatory,” even though the connotations of the two terms differ. An iqtedar was the holder of an iqta or a transferable territorial assignment, with rights and responsibilities to collect taxes due to the state and maintain troops and horses for the sultan. An iqtedar was not the owner of the land and was dependent on the ruler for his position. See Lapidus, A History of Islamic Societies, 197–​200. 41  Juzjani, Tabqat-​i Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 645.

42  Ibid., 648. The term “Hindus” in medieval sultanate historiography refers to the local population that followed religions other than the Islamic religion of the new political elite, whose self-​definition and coherence was derived from the authority of Islam. For a discussion of early encounters with and the formation of Hindu and Muslim identities in the period, see Talbot, “Inscribing the Other, Inscribing the Self.” 43  Isami, Futuh-​us Salatin, vol. 2, 250–​51.

44  Isami, who, in the footsteps of the Persian poet Firdausi, aspired to write a Shahnama (an epic poem) for India, probably got carried away in his task. See the discussion of maliks and amirs in ibid., 251.

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that Razia carried out in the early part of her reign. Details of the shameful liberties that Razia started taking in the later part of her reign, such as physical proximity with Yakut while mounting the horse, are further built upon.45 In this narrative Razia was captured within Delhi itself, and there is no mention of her second attempt to regain power.46 Muhammad Ibn Battuta, in his travelogue from the second half of the fourteenth century, relates to us the account of events that he heard circulating in the markets and amongst nobles about Razia. In his account another imaginative layer is added, and Razia is said to have donned the red garments of an aggrieved person and made a plea to the army. In this account, from the very start Razia had given up female dress and humility, and was eventually therefore deposed and married off to a relative of hers, with whom she made a renewed bid for Delhi but eventually met a disgraceful end at the hands of a peasant.47 Muhammad Kasim Firishta in the seventeenth century states that Razia often undertook many administrative tasks during the lifetime of her father and was appointed as regent to the throne of Delhi while the king was away on an expedition, with the entire dialogue as to why a daughter was chosen over two adult sons being shifted to this particular issue.48 The embellishment of Razia’s history has continued to the present day, and her love life remains a subject of much fabrication and fabulous fantasies. Mountstuart Elphinstone, for example, depicts her as an ambitious temptress who trapped Altunia in the snares of her charm and love.49 Similarly, the famous comic series Amar Chitra Katha, and other popular strips, present Altunia as forever being in love with the beautiful queen and having revolted out of jealousy inspired by Razia’s alleged closeness with Yakut.50 Edward Thomas paints 45  Ibid., 252–​53. On this occasion, Isami ceases deriding the character of women in general for a good page or so; ibid., 254. In fact, Razia rode only elephants, never a horse, while the narrative suggests that, whenever she mounted a horse, her intimacy with Yakut was shamelessly displayed. See Ahmad, Political History and Institutions of the Early Turkish Empire of Delhi, 193. 46  Isami, Futuh-​us Salatin, vol. 2, 255–​57. 47  Ibn Battuta, Rehla,  34–​35.

48  Incidentally, Firishta copied the account of this period from Tabaqat-​i Akbari, which in turn drew from the authority of Juzjani. Firishta, Tarikh-​i Firishta, 217. Habibullah has also erroneously accepted this as true; see Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 754. 49  Elphinstone, The History of India, 12.

50  See the comic strips Pai, Sultana Razia, 22–​23; and Gaur, Razia Sultan, 17.

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a rich romance between Razia and Yakut.51 On the other hand, a 1983 Hindi feature film titled Razia Sultan not only suggested romantic relations between Razia and Yakut but also depicted Razia in sensual moments with the women of the harem.52 It is unclear as to what prompted Razia to don male attire and give up seclusion. It is probable that this was a performance of the gender identity of a male, as opposed to her biological sex.53 It may also be possible that this was done to fit the traditional image of a monarch and to enhance the personal image of the sultan, as well as that of the state itself. Or was it done merely because it added ease of conduct to the demanding job of a ruler? However, what is beyond doubt is that, as a ruler, she proved to be a confident and able administrator during her short reign of just over three years. The administration of the army under her rule was meticulous and her understanding of the dominant and dangerous nature of the Turkish slave nobles was also largely correct, which is why she made an effort to place her own loyal followers in important positions.54 While in power she was credited with the creation and reshuffling of several important offices to strengthen the position of the monarchy vis-​à-​vis the military elite.55 Militarily, she was successful in putting down challenges to her authority, and was adept in employing military strategies and diplomacy. Even though, as Jackson points out, she did lose a part of the territory won by her father, we may also do well to appreciate Siddiqui’s observation that, within a few years of her removal from power, the efficient military and administrative system that she had successfully maintained unravelled into several disparate parts.56 51  Thomas, The Chronicles of the Pathan Kings of Delhi, 106.

52  In the song Khwab ban Kar Koi Aega, Razia is shown lying lazily while a female attendant sensuously leans against her; the rest is suggestively hidden from the camera behind a feather. The other female attendants are then shown to be scandalized by this interlude between the two.

53  Gabbay, “In Reality a Man,” 46. The author argues that, through such performances, Razia sought to delve deeper into the theoretical space in which a woman could bypass the limitations of her sex by being recognized as a man in reality and therefore exercise power.

54  For military administration under Razia, see Siddiqui, Authority and Kingship under the Sultans of Delhi, 8–​10. However, her tackling of these elements was not as successful, and it was not until the rule of Sultan Balban that the power of these Turkish slave nobles vis-​à-​ vis the Crown was successfully countered. 55  Juzjani, Tabaqat-​i Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 640–​42.

56  Jackson, “Sultan Raḍiyya bin Iltutmish,” 188; Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi, 154.

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Razia’s determination to assert the authority of the Crown in the eyes of the dissenting nobles stands out in her persistent pursuit of the rebellious iqtedar of Lahore.57 Habibullah points out that, by single-​mindedly suppressing the early dissent to her rule, she prevented the establishment of the dangerous precedent of giving a strong say to local governors in the appointment of the sultan.58 Her political and military wisdom also kept the boundaries of the Delhi Sultanate safe from Mongol invasions, for she refused to be drawn into an alliance against the mighty power of the Mongols when approached by the son of a Khwarzimi general. At the same time, she had courteously set aside the revenues from the province of Baran in the service of a prince of the neighbouring Qarlugh Kingdom, a policy that probably had the effect of placating the Mongols.59 However, the boundaries of the sultanate were pushed back by the Mongols soon after her deposition. The need for writers of history to provide justifications to political motives and occurrences is apparent in the historical narratives about Razia. While it has been pointed out, rightly, by both Alyssa Gabbay and Peter Jackson that it is unlikely that her gender had anything to with her deposition, her gender and her transgression of gendered conduct were presented by the medieval histories as reasons for overthrowing her.60 A fifteenth-​century account poetically holds the ill repute earned by Razia as the reason for her downfall, likening it to a scar on a garment: Away turned fortune her reigns from her (Razia) environs, When she discerned a scar on the hem of her garment.61

Remarkable as her life and struggles were, should Razia be considered an exception in the time of the sultanate? Were power and political influence an elusive dream for a royal woman in the sultanate, something that could be achieved only when the male rulers were weak?62 Contrary 57  Ibid., 644; Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 762. 58  Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 760.

59  Juzjani, Tabqat-​i Nasiri; see also Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 763. 60  Jackson, “Sultan Raḍiyya bin Iltutmish”; Gabbay, “In Reality a Man,”  56–​57. 61  Sirhindi, Tarikh-​i Mubarakshahi, 25.

62  Tripathi, Some Aspects of Muslim Administration, 109. Siddiqui suggests that strict and strong rulers, such as Balban and Alauddin

to the perception that the exercise of authority on the part of queens was rare, it appears that the women of the sultanate did in fact have considerable access to power, which is evident in the few incidental references to them. The life and career of Shah Turkan (d. 1236) is probably one of the best ways to approach certain aspects of queenship in the Delhi Sultanate. Turkan is unanimously demonized in both modern and contemporary histories of the period for being a jealous and spiteful woman.63 However, her career represents the same richness and openness of early Turkish polities that had allowed a woman to wear a crown. Although little is known of her early career, accounts do tell us that Turkan was earlier a Turkish slave girl who eventually rose to the position of Iltutmish’s queen, and finally became the queen mother of the state, despite not being of royal lineage herself.64 Contrary to her later depictions, Juzjani tells us that she was quite a benevolent woman whose charity towards learned, poor, and religious men had earned her a good name.65 On the accession of her son to the throne, Shah Turkan assumed greater powers in the workings of the Sultanate. Given that in the Persian tradition, to which the Turks had been exposed, the divinity of the person of the king could be passed on only through descent to his kin, it is not surprising that royal women were seen as legitimate carriers of sovereignty, and that marriage with them was seen as a legitimate way to forge diplomatic alliances and gain political advantage.66 Therefore, Iltutmish is known to have married a daughter of Aibak; similarly, his rival to the throne of Delhi had a strong claim, for he too had espoused a daughter of the late sultan. Another daughter of Sultan Iltutmish married the powerful noble and regent Aitigin.67 It is indicative that, immediately Khilji, restricted the political roles of the sultanate queens; see Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi, 156, 157.

63  Falling into the trap of medieval historians and speaking in their language, certain historians have referred to her heyday in power as “petticoat rule.” See Habibullah, “Sultanah Raziah,” 757. 64  Juzjani, Tabaqat-​i Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 630–​31. 65  Ibid., 631.

66  Browne, Literary History of Persia, 128–​31.

67  This was the second marriage of the lady in question, the first one having been dissolved at her own request. Second marriages, it seems, were not uncommon for royal women, and Khudawandzada Begum is also known to have married twice. See Juzjani, Tabqat-​ i Nasiri, Raverty translation, vol. 1, 650; and Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, 77.

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after the marriage, Aitigin is supposed to have assumed royal paraphernalia. It was in the same tradition that Razia married Altunia, and many more such political alliances were forged. Such marriages were approvingly cited by Barani through the example of a Khwarizm shah who averted a military calamity by sending his daughter to the harem of the Caliph Mutasim, the leader of the invading power.68 Royal women were seen as important as carriers of legitimacy and a key aspect of the power relations envisaged by the dominant patriarchal elements in the political theory of the Delhi Sultanate, and so it was inadvisable that their marital bonds be forged with non-​Muslims.69 While this may be in part be regarded as a restrictive idea, it could also have had a liberating influence for women such as Razia who desired to capitalize on their position to influence the course of politics in their own time. Moreover, royal birth provided a queen with much bargaining power in terms of authority. In the case of Razia, it was noted that she had always enjoyed much power by virtue of being the daughter of the king’s chief queen. The fact that she had royal pedigree from both her father’s and her mother’s side had added to her claim to authority and the throne. Royal birth, especially from the mother’s side, guaranteed recognition as a legitimate contender for power. While it was possible for royal women of common birth such as Shah Turkan and their kin to be elevated to higher positions, it seems that children born out of such relationships did not have much legitimacy or legal rights as a general rule. We are told that, as part of his generous nature, Sultan Firuz Shah Tughlaq legitimized the claims of the children of an elite noble, suggesting that this was more of a rare and generous act than a regular practice.70 Isami also tells us that Kai Khusrau’s claim to the throne was overlooked for the reason that he was not born of a queen.71 Similarly, the claim of a son of Sultan Bahlul Lodi was rejected because he was born of a slave concubine who did not come from a very respectable background.72 In this regard, queens with royal descent were an important element in adding to the grandeur and image of the state itself. Thus, according to Shihab ud-​Din Umari, when a ruler of India sent an embassy to Umar bin Abdul Aziz, the king of Arabs and

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the Umayyad caliph, it was specially mentioned that his wife came from royal descent in the effusive introduction that the ambassadors gave of their Indian master.73

Queens, Legitimacy, and the Image of the State

The historical texts of the period were an integral part of the propaganda and identity of the Islamic state, and the writing of history served as one of the royal insignias of rulers such as Firuz Shah Tughlaq.74 It is therefore not improbable that the images of queens and women of the royal household were built upon to strengthen the image of the state, whereby they became an important part of how the state itself was envisaged. However, it is difficult to tell fact from fiction in such instances. Were these women actually as powerful as they were described as being, or was their authority exaggerated? It may also be argued that, in the making of such images of the state, these women lose their selves and become pawns in the agenda of the state. However, it is important to also appreciate that the image of queens, households, and the culture that they created around the court was an important element of maintaining the social, political, and cultural stature of the medieval state. The sultanate to a great extent depended on symbols and traditions to create the idea of a powerful state, and queens and royal women were inherently involved in this symbolism. They therefore emerge as important contributors to the overall stability of its rule, as symbolism was important for willing submission to the state’s authority.75 In this regard, the symbolic space of royal authority—​the royal palace—​ represented the king and his wives’ family. Not even his nobles or concubines and slaves were a part of this image.76 Therefore, opulent spending on the harem was seen as politically essential for the development of the image of kingship: You ask my advice in a political point of view, then I say that whatever your Majesty spends upon your

69  Ibid., 77.

73  Umari, Masalik al-​Absar, 28. This reference precedes the establishment of the Delhi Sultanate, as the Umar II mentioned here was an eighth-​century Umayyad caliph, who is said to have sent embassies to some Indian kings so that they might embrace Islam. This instance suggests that it was common practice to develop the image of the state by glorifying the royal backgrounds of queens.

71  Kai Khusrau was the nephew of Sultan Balban (1266–​1287), who laid claim to the throne of Delhi after his death.

75  See Hangloo, “Legitimising Delhi Sultanate,” 117, 119, 120, 121. For a list of royal insignias, see Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi,  80–​81.

68  Barani, Fatawa-​i Jahandari, 80. 70  Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, 223.

72  Firishta, Tarikh-​i Firishta, vol. 1, 563.

74  Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, 81. 76  Umari, Masalik al-​Absar, 36.

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harem no doubt tends to raise your dignity in the eyes of men; and the exaltation of the king’s dignity is a requirement of good policy.77

The royal workshops, or karkhanas, regularly produced high-​quality garments for both the ruler and his harem.78 As a part of the image of the state, the harem was maintained in an opulent fashion. The description of the feast received by Ibn Battuta at the house of Makhduma-​i Jahan, the queen mother, seems to suggest a lavish lifestyle on the part of the women of the harem.79 For the arrival of a noble from a foreign country, the queen mother is also described as hosting the women of the visitor. These queens evidently acted as agents of “soft power” on behalf of the state and added to its grand image, as the Makhduma-​i Jahan is also described as being very active in charitable activities and is reported to have built many khanqahs for the welfare of travellers. The royal mothers used to throw parties and entertain guests on many occasions, and this occupied a significant amount of their time.80 Since the roles of queens were not well defined in the political theories of the time, such traditions and customs played an important role in imparting meaning to medieval queenship in India. In light of the above discussion on the activities and importance of royal women, we may appreciate that queen mothers also seem to have enjoyed a favoured station in the creation of the state’s grand image. While their own images were developed and glorified, they were further exalted by images of personal regard and service rendered to them by the ruler. Considering the theoretical allegiance that the Delhi Sultanate owed to Islam, and the divine image of kingship in the Turkish tradition, such images conferred a certain divinity on these women.81 The harem of a sultan was 77  Barani, Tarikh-​i Firuzshahi, Elliot and Dowson translation, 187.

78  Umari, Masalik al-​Absar, 39. Apart from this, the royal karkhanas also produced clothes to be gifted to “nobles” and their wives on special occasions. 79  Ibn Battuta, Rehla, 118–​19.

80  Siddiqui, Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi, 157. Khanqah refers to a hospice where Sufis devote their time in meditation and the spiritual training of their disciples. They often served multiple roles in the socio-​political and economic milieu of the time as educational centres, resting places for travellers, etc. For a description, see Khan, “Khanqahs: Centres of Learning,” 71.

81  The Turks held kingship to be a divine position; see Tripathi, Some Aspects of Muslim Administration, 105. For the theoretical links that the sultanate maintained with the Islamic world, see Ahmad, “Delhi Sultanate and the Universal Caliphate.”

therefore referred to as “sacred”, in reflection of his image.82 Accordingly, Sultan Muhammad bin Tughlaq’s mother was described as very charitable and virtuous, and the sultan supposedly showed his deference to her by kissing her feet in public.83 Sultan Mubarakshah (1421–​1434) was also praised for the high regard in which he held his mother.84 The sacrifice of Malika-​i Jahan (“Queen of the Universe”), a Rajput princess and the mother of Firuz Shah Tughluq, in marrying Rajab to save her father’s ancestral domain from oppression was glorified in the histories of his reign.85

Harem: Beyond the “Private”

In the context of political power enjoyed by royal women, it is also important to define the power dynamics of the harem itself, which does not seem to conform to the ideas of a “private” sphere, given its strong involvement in matters of state.86 In the context of medieval India, most modern historians have merely regarded it as a place of seclusion, owing to certain descriptions in the contemporary accounts.87 However, what has been missed in these depictions is the very political nature of the Delhi Sultanate’s harem itself, which made connections with and within the harem a powerful force. In this regard, we come across the reference of the wife of a powerful noble, Nizamuddin, who paralleled the efforts of her husband in gaining ascendency at court and the state with her own politics of trying to gain a strong status within the harem. She is described as actively participating in the 82  Sirhindi, Tarikh-​i Mubarakshahi, 81. 83  Ibn Battuta, Rehla, 118.

84  Sirhindi, Tarikh-​i Mubarakshahi, 234. The sultan was described as having rushed back from a military campaign to attend to his unwell mother. 85  Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi,  43–​45.

86  The use of the term “harem” has been contested by scholars owing to the great variety it encompassed across geographical and temporal boundaries. In the South Asian context it also included eunuchs, pre-​ pubertal sons, and many other female relatives, apart from queens and female slaves of the rulers. It has a long history, going back to Mesopotamian times, and is often linked to now outdated orientalist stereotypes about powerless women serving the sexual appetite of the ruling elite. For a discussion of various ideas related to “harem,” see Solvang, “Another Look ‘Inside.’ ” 87  For a full description of “complete seclusion,” see Mushtaqi, Waqiat-​i Mushtaqi, 98–​99. A notable exception to this kind of reading is Ruby Lal’s work on the Mughal harem; see Lal, Domesticity and Power in the Early Mughal World.

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activities (political?) of the harem, and thereby gaining the devotion of all the women. Her influence is believed to have reached such heights that she assumed the role of the main manager of these apartments and earned the honorary title of queen mother.88 In a situation in which rules of succession were ill-​defined, the queens and the women of the harem enjoyed much power to decide the course of politics, and therefore emerge as central figures in the power play of the time rather than the powerless characters they were previously believed to be. We have many remarkable examples for this. Apart from Shah Turkan, another queen of Sultan Iltutmish, referred to as Malika-​i Jahan by Juzjani, played an important part in the power politics of the time and displayed considerable tact in doing so. The lady married a powerful noble of her time after Iltutmish’s death, to strengthen her position in order to both raise her son to the throne and force the then monarch to release two of her captive sons.89 Having put her son on the throne, she assumed the title of queen mother and shuffled powerful nobles, including the now powerful Balban, in and out of power and positions, to strengthen her status. Khudawandzada Begum (ca. 1324–​1 351), the eldest sister of Sultan Muhammad bin Tughlaq, seems to have been a powerful woman, and she laid a strong claim to the throne for her son after the death of her brother on account of their royal descent and kinship, raising concern amongst the amirs.90 The begum is said to have continued her spirited struggle to put her son on the throne even after the accession of Firuz Tughlaq. It is probably a symbol of the high regard that the lady commanded that the newly crowned sultan Firuz Shah Tughlaq regularly paid tributes to her, and continued to provide a respectable living for her despite her attempts to take his life.91 Another apparently powerful woman was Bibi Masto, the widow of Islam Shah. She is believed to have led the defence of the fort of Delhi in the fifteenth century against an attack by Jaunpuri forces, dressed as a man, along with a retinue of female guards in the absence of Sultan Bahlul Lodi.92 Another example of the kind of political power 88  Barani, Tarikh-​i Firuzshahi, Elliot and Dowson translation, 128; Firishta, Tarikh-​i Firishta, 276. 89  Juzjani, Tabaqat-​i Nasiri, vol. 2, 677. 90  Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, 48. 91  Ibid., 76.

92  Mushtaqi, Waqiat-​i Mushtaqi, 6. It is interesting to note how the assumption of male attire by Bibi Masto was celebrated while,

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at the disposal of these women is the queen mother at the time of Muhammad bin Tughlaq (ca. 1324), referred to as the Makhduma-​i Jahan. The Makhduma-​i Jahan, along with a wazir called Khwaja Jahan. was entrusted with the administration of the capital when the sultan was away on a trip to the suburbs of Qannauj.93 Some of these royal women of the harem also maintained a surveillance system of their own for maintaining their power. Although the details of it are difficult to ascertain in the records, there is an anecdote about the wife of Jalaluddin Khaliji, Malika-​i Jahan (ca. 1290–​1296),94 who watched the activities of Alauddin Khalji closely and warned the nobles of his designs to establish an independent regime of his own, which seems to suggest that she too had informants at her disposal.95 While the histories of the time used prevalent gender ideas about “the nature of women” to justify many political outcomes and to shift the blame, what the narrative cannot mask is the power that these women evidently wielded. For example, although Barani blames the foolishness of the womanly nature of Malika-​i Jahan, the widow of Jalaluddin Khalji, for the victory of Alauddin Khilji, what he lets slip is the immense power that the lady had at her disposal.96 Elsewhere, he therefore suggests to the rulers that they must not allow anyone, not even their wives or sons, to have ascendancy over them lest the ruler become the ruled.97 An example is given of Sultan Hussain Sharqi of Jaunpur, who undertook an expedition on the advice of his wife, Bibi Khonza, the daughter of the Saiyid ruler Sultan Alauddin of Delhi, ignoring the advice of his other faithful nobles—​and thus he faced defeat.98 While the narrative speaks unfavorably of the sultan, for motives of its own, it is evident that Bibi Khonza had much political

in the case of Razia, the sources presented it as calamitous to the social order. 93  Ibn Battuta, Rehla, 24.

94  This title, meaning “queen of the universe,” was assumed by many queens of Delhi. 95  Firishta, Tarikh-​i Firishta, 304.

96  Barani, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, Fuller and Khallaque translation, 13. Interestingly, Sirhindi tells us that Ruknuddin Qadr Khan was made the ruler by nobles in view of the delay in Arkali Khan reaching the capital on the death of Sultan Jalauddin Khalji, thereby exonerating the malika of the blame. See Sirhindi, Tarikh-​i Mubarakshahi, 67. 97  Barani, Fatawa-​i Jahandari, 96.

98  Mushtaqi, Waqiat-​i Mushtaqi, 12.

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power at her disposal to be able to influence her husband’s decisions.

Queens and Power in the Sultanate: Negotiations and Adjustments

In the previous sections it has been noted how Razia was not a mere exception in the Delhi Sultanate polity, as women could and did exercise a considerable degree of power within the state structure as queens. However, while these women had much power at their disposal, they could not break free of the patriarchal ideology of the structure itself. Many of these women used marriage as a tool to negotiate and further their ambitions, yet it was not sufficient to change the predominantly male character of state institutions. It was precisely as a result of complex interactions involving politics, tradition, and religion that, on the death of a sultan, the female claimant was very often overlooked despite the precedents of female monarchs.99 Thus, on the death of Alauddin Khilji, his wife, called Mahhaq-​mah, who was the mother of his son Khizr Khan, made her brother pledge that he would try his best to raise her son, amongst other sons of the king, as the monarch.100 No mention was made of his daughters in this respect, despite the fact that the sultan also had daughters. Similarly, on the death of Muhammad bin Tughlaq, the only way his ambitious daughter Khudawandzada Begum could claim power for herself was through the agency of her son, even though ties of kinship were a legitimate claim for her own accession.101 This is ironic, because the source of their power was not the men related to them; rather, these women themselves were a source of legitimacy, by virtue of their position as royalty. It seems that the earlier tribal elements of Turkish origin were slowly fading away into a situation in which women were starting to be seen as belonging to the domestic and private sphere. While this gradual change in practice prevented the coronation of

more regnant queens after Razia, it could not stop queens from accessing the power that they had traditionally enjoyed. The growth of such ideas also does not seem to have been opposed by a male-​dominated state, whose own interests in maintaining power lay in perpetuating this gender divide.102 However, what needs to be stressed is that the Sultanate of Delhi allowed for the fashioning and conceptualization of several power equations, and royal women were by no means marginalized in this scheme.

99  Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, 53. See also Juzjani, Tabqat-​i Nasiri, vol 2, 529–​30. On this evidence, on the death of Qutubuddin Aibak, none of this three daughters was seen as a successor to the throne; rather, one of the daughters married Iltutmish, and it was the latter who ascended the throne. 100  Ibn Battuta, Rehla, 42.

101  Afif, Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi, 48. Also taking advantage of the fact that the sultan had only a daughter and that a male claiming kinship could be a legitimate successor to the throne, a powerful noble tried to raise a stranger to the throne by claiming that he was the sultan’s son. See ibid., 53.

102  See Mushtaqi, Waqiat-​i Mushtaqi, 225. This instance relates to the reign of Sultan Nasiruddin of Malwa, when the sultan said to a singer that, had she not been a woman, he would have conferred kingship upon her.

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Bibliography

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Primary Sources Afif, Shams Siraj. Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi. Translated by Ramesh C. Jauhri. Delhi: Sundeep Prakashan, 2001. Barani, Zia-​ud-​din. Fatawa-​i Jahandari. Translated by Mohammad Habib and Afsar U. S. Khan as The Political Theory of the Delhi Sultanate. Allahabad: Kitab Mahal, 1961. —​—​—​. Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi. Translated by Henry M. Elliot and John Dowson. In History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, edited by Henry M. Elliot and John Dowson, vol. 3, 93–​268. London: Trübner, 1871. —​—​—​. Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi. Translated by Saleem Kidwai. In Same-​Sex Love in India: Readings from Literature and History, edited by Ruth Vanita and Saleem Kidwai, 129–​59. Delhi: Palgrave Macmillan, 2001. —​—​—​. Tarikh-​i Firoz Shahi. Translated by A. R. Fuller and A. Khallaque as The Reign of Alauddin Khilji: Translated from Tarikh i FiruzShahi. Calcutta: Pilgrim Publishers, 1967. Firishta, Mohamed Kasim. Tarikh-​i Firishta. Translated by John Briggs as History of the Mahomedan Power in India till the Year AD 1612. Calcutta: Camray, 1908. Ibn Battuta, Muhammad. Rehla. Translated by A. Mehdi Hasan. Baroda: Oriental Institute, 1976. Isami. Futuh us Salatin. Translated by A. Mahdi Husain. 2 vols. Agra: Educational Press, 1938. Juzjani, Minhaj Siraj. Tabqat-​i Nasiri. Translated by Henry M. Elliot and John Dowson. In History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, edited by Henry M. Elliot and John Dowson, vol. 2, 259–​383. London: Trübner, 1869. —​—​—​. Tabqat-​i Nasiri. Translated by Henry G. Raverty. 2 vols. Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1995. Kamboh, Jamali. Siyar ul Arifin. Translated by Ishrat Husain Ansari and Hamid Afaq Siddiqi. Delhi: Idarah i Adabiyat i Dilli, 2015. Khan, Maksud Ahmad. “Khanqahs: Centres of Learning.” In Sufis, Sultans and Feudal Orders: Professor Nurul Hasan Commemoration Volume, edited by Mansura Haidar, 71–​104. New Delhi: Manohar, 2004. Khusrau, Amir. Khazain ul Futuh. Translated by Mohammad Habib as Campaigns of Alauddin Khalji. Bombay: D. B. Taraporewala Sons, 1931. Mushtaqi, Shaikh Rizq Ullah. Waqiat-​i Mushtaqi. Edited and translated by Iqtidar H. Siddiqui. New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research, 1993. Sirhindi, Yahya bin Ahmad. Tarikh-​i Mubarakshahi. Translated by Henry Beveridge. Delhi: Low Price Publications, 2011. Tughlaq, Firuz Shah. Futuhat-​i Firuz Shahi. Translated by M. A. Mokhdoomi and Abdur Rashid. Aligarh: Aligarh Muslim University, 1949. Umari, Shihab ud-​Din. Masalik al-​Absar fi Mamalik al-​Amsar. Translated by Iqtidar H. Siddiqui and Zazi M. Ahmad as A Fourteenth Century Arab Account of India under Sultan Muhammad bin Tughluq. Aligarh: Siddiqui Publishing House, 1971. Wassaf, Abdullah. Tazjiyat ul Amsar. Translated by Henry M. Elliot and John Dowson. In History of India as Told by Its Own Historians, edited by Henry M. Elliot and John Dowson, vol. 3, 24–​54. London: Trübner, 1871. Secondary Sources Ahmad, Aziz. “Delhi Sultanate and the Universal Caliphate.” In Studies in Islamic Culture in the Indian Environment, edited by Ahmad Aziz, 3–​11. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964. Ahmad, Mohammad Aziz. Political History and Institutions of the Early Turkish Empire of Delhi (1206–​1290). New Delhi: Oriental Books Corporation, 1972. Ahmed, Leila. “Women and the Advent of Islam.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 11 (1986): 665–​91. Ashraf, Kunwar M. Life and Conditions of the People of Hindustan. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1970. Bernard, Elisabeth, and Beverly Moon, eds. Goddesses Who Rule. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Brijbhushan, Jamila. Sultan Raziya: Her Life and Times. New Delhi: Manohar, 1990. Browne, Edward. Literary History of Persia. Vol. 2. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1919. Duggan, Anne J. “Introduction.” In Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe: Proceedings of a Conference Held at King’s College London, April 1995, edited by Anne J. Duggan, xv–​xxii. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1997.

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Elphinstone, Mountstuart. The History of India. Vol. 2. London: John Murray, 1905. Gabbay, Alyssa. “In Reality a Man: Sultan Iltutmish, His Daughter, Raziya, and Gender Ambiguity in Thirteenth Century Northern India.” Journal of Persianate Studies 4 (2011): 45–​63. Gaur, Anita. Razia Sultan. New Delhi: Saraswati Trust, 2014. Habib, Mohammad. “Life and Thought of Ziauddin Barani.” In The Political Theory of the Delhi Sultanate, edited by Mohammad Habib and Afsar U. S. Khan, 117–​72. Allahabad: Kitab Mahal, 1961. Habibullah, Abu B. M. “Sultanah Raziah.” Indian Historical Quarterly 16 (1940): 750–​72. Hangloo, Rattan Lal. “Legitimising Delhi Sultanate: The Role of Ceremonials and Symbolism.” In Medieval India: Problems and Possibilities, edited by Radhika Seshan, 116–​36. New Delhi: Rawat, 2006. Hardy, Peter. Historians of Medieval India. London: Luzac, 1960. —​—​—​. “The Muslim Historians of the Delhi Sultanate: Is What They Say Really What They Mean?” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Pakistan 9 (1964): 59–​63. —​—​—​. “Some Studies in Pre-​Mughal Muslim Historiography.” In Historians of India, Pakistan and Ceylon, edited by Cyril H. Philips, 115–​27. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961. Jackson, Peter. “Sultan Raḍiyya bin Iltutmish.” In Women in the Medieval Islamic World: Power, Patronage, and Piety, edited by Gavin R. G. Hambly, 181–​97. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 1998. Khandalavala, Karl, and Moti Chandra. New Documents of Indian Painting: A Reappraisal. Bombay: Board of Trustees of the Prince of Wales Museum, 1969. Lal, Kishori Saran. Muslim Slave System in Medieval India. New Delhi: Aditya Prakashan, 1994. Lal, Ruby. Domesticity and Power in the Early Mughal World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Lapidus, Ira M. A History of Islamic Societies, 3rd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. —​—​—​. “The Separation of State and Religion in the Development of the Early Islamic Society.” International Journal of Middle East Studies 6 (1975): 363–​85. Marin, Manuela. “Women, Gender and Sexuality.” In The New Cambridge History of Islam, vol. 4: Islamic Cultures and Societies to the End of the Eighteenth Century, edited by Robert Irwin, 355–​80. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Nand, Lokesh Chandra. Women in Delhi Sultanate. Allahabad: Vohra, 1989. Nigam, Shiva B. P. Nobility under the Sultans of Delhi 1206–​1398. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1968. Pai, Anant, ed. Sultana Razia. Mumbai: Amar Chitra Katha, 2014. Rawson, Philip S. Indian Painting. Paris: Pierre Tisné, 1961. Sarkar, Nilanjan. Composite Culture under the Sultanate of Delhi. New Delhi: Primus, 2012. —​—​—​. “Forbidden Privileges and History-​Writing in Medieval India.” Medieval History Journal 16 (2013): 21–​62. Siddiqui, Iqtidar H. Authority and Kingship under the Sultans of Delhi. New Delhi: Manohar, 2006. —​—​—​. “The Voice of Mahmud: The Hero in Zia Barani’s Fatawa-​i Jahandari.” Medieval History Journal 9 (2006): 327–​56. Solvang, Elna K. “Another Look ‘Inside’: Harems and the Interpretation of Women.” In Orientalism, Assyriology and the Bible, edited by Steven Holloway, 374–​98. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2007. Szuppe, Maria. “Status, Knowledge, and Politics: Women in Sixteenth-​Century Safavid Iran.” In Women in Iran: From the Rise of Islam to 1800, edited by Guity Nashat and Lois Beck, 140–​69. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003. Talbot, Cynthia. “Inscribing the Other, Inscribing the Self: Hindu–​Muslim Identities in Pre-​Colonial India.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 37 (1995): 692–​722. Thomas, Edward. The Chronicles of the Pathan Kings of Delhi. London: Trübner, 1871. Tripathi, Ram Prasad. Some Aspects of Muslim Administration. Allahabad: Allahabad Central Book Depot, 1959. Zaidi, Sunita. “Women or Muslim Women in Medieval India.” In Status of Muslim Women in India, edited by Hajira Kumar, 52–​63. New Delhi: Aakar Books, 2002.

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6 ANNA JAGIELLON: A FEMALE POLITICAL FIGURE IN THE EARLY MODERN POLISH–​LITHUANIAN COMMONWEALTH* KATARZYNA KOSIOR

ANNA JAGIELLON (1523–​1596) was a Jagiellonian princess, the daughter of King Sigismund the Old of Poland and Bona Sforza. Anna’s political career started when her brother, Sigismund II August, died in 1572, leaving his three sisters, Anna, Sophie, and Catherine, the heiresses to his considerable wealth. A tumultuous interregnum followed, and another one when the newly elected Henry Valois fled back to France in 1574. In 1575 the Polish nobility elected Anna queen of Poland and grand duchess of Lithuania alongside her husband and king, Stephen Bathory (1533–​1586). As the sister and successor of the last Jagiellonian king of Poland, she provided continuity and financial stability to the Commonwealth torn by the two interregna. Following a long struggle to ratify her brother’s last will, Anna navigated the meanderings of Polish politics to gain some autonomy from the Polish nobility through marriage and the crown of a consort, renouncing much of her wealth in the process. As the parliament refused to ratify Sigismund’s last will, this wealth was not accessible to the princess as things stood. When the nobility elected her to become queen, she agreed out of her own will and shrewdly negotiated the financial terms of her election. While managing to keep some of the wealth, she built a rhetoric of sacrifice to the severely destabilized Commonwealth of the early 1570s.

*  This research was carried out thanks to a generous grant from the Halina and Zdzislaw Broncel Trust. I would like to thank my PhD supervisors, Dr. Alice Hunt and Professor Maria Hayward, for their constant enthusiastic support and encouragement, which have been my greatest motivation. I am grateful to Matt Kelly for his unfailing belief in me, his readiness to read drafts, and the invaluable evenings spent discussing Polish queens.

Anna’s rise was unparalleled, but she is remembered primarily as a maritally unfulfilled woman rather than the only early modern woman to be a candidate in royal elections. In Polish historiography she has the reputation of a pathetic old spinster motivated by romantic notions of marriage and having children, even though Anna was already fifty-​three when she married Bathory and there could be no hope of having children.1 Instead, following Bathory’s death, she used her position of authority and wealth to orchestrate the election of her nephew, Sigismund III Vasa, whom she quickly began treating as her son both in public and private, while continuing to exercise political agency. Anna’s rise to power was so unusual that there is some confusion as to her status among modern historians. Her most prominent biographer, Maria Bogucka, claims that she was elected queen regnant and “anointed as the king, not as queen.”2 Anna was never anointed as the king, and the debates surrounding her election and coronation make it clear that the idea to elect her a queen regnant was fast abandoned in favour of finding her a husband and king. Robert Frost is right to argue that elective monarchy limited female access to power through children and regency.3 More than that, with the hereditary principle gone and the succession regulated by the elective system, there was no need to risk having a woman on the throne. This chapter seeks to untangle how Anna Jagiellon’s rise to authority was enabled by the political upheaval after the 1  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 111–​38.

2  There is no equivalent of the term “queen regnant” in the Polish language, and the noun meaning “king” describes a genderless office. Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 134, 139–​40. 3  Frost, “The Ethiopian and the Elephant?,” 794–​96.

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death of the last Jagiellonian king and the unique system of parliamentary democracy and elective monarchy in Poland–​ Lithuania. Anna was neither a queen regnant nor an exploited princess, but a political figure who maximized her opportunities and acted in what she considered to be her own and the Commonwealth’s best interests. This chapter presents an intriguing case study of a very unusual form of queenship. Other women in this volume can be classed as queens consort, regnant, regent or mothers, but Anna, thanks to her political skill, managed to combine some of these roles in her elective queenship. Much of the scholarship about queenship is devoted to the methods queens used to secure their influence. The right to rule was rarely inherited by women, and examples of Anne of Brittany, Elizabeth I of England or the queens regnant of Navarre shine in their isolation.4 But Anna was even more unusual, because her queenship was constitutional, dictated by the will of the parliament, rather than by a hereditary blood right. Recent volumes edited by Carey Fleiner and Elena Woodacre suggest that a significant way of accessing political power for queens was through their children.5 However, Anna’s example throws into sharp relief the fact that the Polish political system, independent of dynastic perpetuation, provided an alternative route to access power, thereby complicating our sense of how a powerful woman might operate in the early modern period. Anna’s extraordinary career was enabled by the unique system of parliamentary government and elective monarchy that developed following the heirless death in 1370 of Casimir III the Great, the last hereditary Piast king of Poland. He was succeeded by his nephew, Louis I of Hungary, a member of the cadet branch of the French Anjou dynasty. Robert Frost argues that, by the time of Louis’s death, “whatever the merits of the various candidates, none was in a position to dictate to the Poles who should rule over them. By 1382 they had developed an ideology that justified their right to decide, and the institutional means to effect that decision.” 6 Louis’s youngest daughter, Jadwiga, was chosen, the first and last woman crowned as queen regnant of Poland. The nobility then selected Władysław Jagiełło, 4  Levin, The Heart and Stomach of a King; Woodacre, The Queens Regnant of Navarre; Guy, My Heart Is My Own; Knecht, Catherine de’ Medici. 5  Woodacre and Fleiner, Royal Mothers and Their Ruling Children; Fleiner and Woodacre, Virtuous or Villainess?. 6  Frost, The Oxford History of Poland–​Lithuania, 11.

the grand duke of Lithuania, as Jadwiga’s husband in 1386, establishing the elective principle as well as starting the personal union between Poland and Lithuania. The Polish monarchy’s elective nature was formally recognized after Jagiełło’s death in 1434.7 Until a constitutional union was established at the Lublin parliament in 1569, Jagiełło’s children, grandchildren, and great-​g randchildren (including Anna) were elected to the Polish throne as the hereditary rulers of Lithuania to perpetuate the union. All Polish nobles enjoyed equal political rights, including the right to elect their king, regardless of their financial status. Elections were open not just to the members of the sejm, or parliament, which consisted of the Chamber of Envoys and the Senate. All nobles could come to the election and cast their votes; this is known as the election viritm. The establishment of the elective monarchy was accompanied by the rise of the Polish nobility, and the gradual development of a parliamentary system of government. In order to secure the succession for Jadwiga, in 1374 Louis signed the Koszyce privileges, which exempted the nobility from all taxes levied without their consent, except for a land tax, establishing an important principle.8 This started the process of gradually establishing the Polish nobility as the dominant political group. In 1505 Alexander I Jagiellon signed the Nihil Novi act, by which the Polish monarchy renounced much of its legislative powers in favour of the sejm, giving equal powers to the Senate and Chamber of Envoys. The sejm was thus established as the central organ of the Polish monarchy.9 The Nihil Novi act provided the basis for the idea of the Polish–​ Lithuanian Commonwealth, based on the Roman Republic, where all nobles enjoyed equal privileges and liberties. Within this extraordinary political system the nobility were identified by their non-​hereditary offices, such as voivode or castellan, rather than aristocratic titles, such as duke or count. This fostered a sense of collective responsibility for the state in theory and practice, because service to the Commonwealth rather than birth was the mark of status and power. This is the political landscape into which Anna was born on October 18, 1523, as the fourth child and third daughter of Sigismund the Old and his Italian wife, Bona Sforza. 7  Bardach, Lesnodorski, and Pietrzak, Historia państwa i prawa polskiego, 62–​63, 102–​3; Nowakowska, Church, State and Dynasty in Renaissance Poland, 33. 8  Frost, The Oxford History of Poland–​Lithuania,  65–​66. 9  Ibid., 351.

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Much has been made of how their education influenced the later political manoeuvres of other great sixteenth-​century women. For example, John King emphasizes the special relationship between Catherine Parr and Elizabeth I of England as a mentor and mentee.10 Just as Elizabeth I’s mind was shaped by a mother figure, so Anna’s later actions should be understood in the context of her upbringing by Bona. I have recently challenged Bona Sforza’s black legend as an uncaring mother and argue that there is much evidence to testify that she was a caring mother to all her children and inspired a special loyalty in her three younger daughters, Sophie, Anna, and Catherine.11 Explaining her mother’s political actions also provides essential context to the situation in which Anna found herself in 1575. Bona’s fortitude, so vigorously resisted by the Polish nobility, was based on her influence over her husband, Sigismund the Old, widely considered by modern historians as an impotent ruler.12 In 1528 the elderly king allowed his wife to start buying Crown lands pawned for royal debts to magnates, the wealthiest class of the Polish nobility, most of whom were also senators.13 While every European monarchy had an equivalent of the Crown lands, which provided the king and his family with an income, following the transition of the Polish monarchy from hereditary to elective the Crown lands became state rather than dynastic property. At the beginning of the sixteenth century the majority of them were pawned.14 This created an uneven dynamic between the Senate and the Chamber of Envoys, because the king remained a debtor to some senators. As part of his larger efforts to recover these lands, Sigismund gave Bona permission to buy out Crown lands in 1528. Anna Sucheni-​Grabowska suggests, following the detailed work by Władysław Pociecha, that Sigismund was persuaded by Bona’s good management of her vast lands in Lithuania, where she conducted wide-​ranging and profitable reforms.15 Some of these Lithuanian lands, such as the duchy of Pińsk and Kobryń, she received as gifts from 10  King, “Patronage and Piety”; McConica, English Humanists and Reformation Politics, 7, 215–​17; Maria Dowling then argues against: Dowling, Humanism in the Age of Henry VIII, 235. 11  Kosior, “Outlander, Baby Killer, Poisoner?”

12  Pociecha, Królowa Bona (1494–​1557), vol. 4, 177.

13  Gella, Development of Class Structure in Eastern Europe,  91–​98.

14  Sucheni-​Grabowska, Odbudowa Domeny Królewskiej w Polsce, 14.

15  Sucheni-​Grabowska, Odbudowa Domeny Królewskiej w Polsce, 155–​57; Pociecha, Królowa Bona (1494–​1557), vol. 3, 46–​194, 227ff.

Katarzyna Kosior

Sigismund, while others were Crown lands, such as Bielsk, Suraż, Brańsk, Narew, Kleszczele, and Kowno, she purchased from the Lithuanian nobles, such as Gasztołd and Radziwiłł. These lands brought in an approximate annual income of 36,000 Polish guldens. The Crown lands bought out by Bona in Poland included fifteen cities and 191 villages worth approximately 91,000 Polish guldens, a substantial proportion of the pawned Crown lands, which in total were worth around 675,000 Polish guldens.16 These lands brought Bona an annual income of 20,000 Polish guldens. Historians agree that, by buying these lands as a private person rather than returning them to the property of the state, Bona created another kind of tension between the king and the nobility.17 Even though the official status of these lands remained unchanged and they were still referred to as “Crown” in all documents, she had the right to appoint her own officers. However, more importantly, the succession was not limited to members of the Jagiellonian family, or even men. Documents state that, in the event of Sigismund August’s death, the lands would still be passed on to the king of Poland, but Bona’s daughters would have to be compensated.18 Bona continued to build her power base by persuading Sigismund in 1545 to exchange her dower for Masovia (the region where Warsaw is located), with its thirty-​five cities (including Warsaw), 253 villages, ninety-​ eight folwarks, and 230 mills, amounting to an annual income of 30,000 Polish guldens in 1555. 19 This is where Bona escaped with her younger daughters, including Anna, in a voluntary exile to show disapproval when Sigismund August’s secret marriage to Barbara Radziwiłł was revealed in 1548. As her relationship with her son deteriorated further, Bona left Poland for her Italian land in 1556, having renounced her claim to her Polish dominions in favour of her son, who was also the main successor designated in her last will. After what her biographers describe as a rather uneventful existence, it is in Vilnius that we find Anna making the first sacrifice for the Commonwealth. Following Bona’s return to Italy in 1556, selecting appropriate husbands for 16  Sucheni-​Grabowska, Odbudowa Domeny Królewskiej w Polsce, 145–​46, 150–​51,  14.

17  Pułaski, “Gospodarka Królowej Bony na kresach”; Kolankowski, Polska Jagiellonów, 233–​68; Konopczyński, Dzieje Polski nowożytnej, 54–​57; Wojciechowski, Zygmunt Stary, 290–​92, 300–​18.

18  Sucheni-​Grabowska, Odbudowa Domeny Królewskiej w Polsce, 176–​77. 19  Ibid., 184. A folwark is a grange or farmstead.

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the remaining princesses, Catherine and Anna, became an important issue. In 1562 John (later III of Sweden), the duke of Finland, asked for Catherine’s hand, but Polish tradition dictated that Anna, as the elder, should marry first. Łukasz Górnicki, Sigismund August’s secretary, reported in his chronicle that Anna selflessly gave permission for Catherine to marry before her. Sigismund then visited the princesses to formally ask Catherine in person, but she changed her mind and refused. Anna, who was in the room, displayed initiative worthy of Bona Sforza’s daughter when she curbed Catherine’s defiance by addressing her: “But you agreed to the marriage in front of me, your royal highness, so what is the point of claiming otherwise now?” And, turning around to the king, she said: “She agreed, gracious king! Please do not ask her again, your royal highness.”20 This episode shows Anna as authoritative, quick on her feet, and not hesitant to do what she considered necessary to secure a profitable alliance for the good of her family and the Commonwealth.21 She could not have predicted the dynastic consequences of her action. The union between Catherine and John III of Sweden produced two children: Sigismund, who Anna would later help elect top the Polish throne, and another Anna, who was to become a companion to her elderly aunt. Anna took centre stage in 1572 after the death of her brother, Sigismund August, which left her as the last Jagiellonian in the Commonwealth. However, the union between Poland and Lithuania ceased to be dependent on the dynasty in 1569, when the two states were linked by a constitutional union. Any member of the European nobility could be a candidate in the 1572 elections, and their number included John III of Sweden, Ivan IV the Terrible, Archduke Ernest of Austria, and Henry Valois, duke of Anjou. Richard Knecht, perhaps misled by the French sources, displays a fundamental misunderstanding of the Polish monarchy by stating that two paths to the Polish throne lay open. The first was to marry Anna and succeed as heir presumptive; the other was election. For the Polish monarchy was elective. Catherine [de Medici] sought the opinion of Jean de Monluc … He thought it better for Henri to marry Anna than to face the risk of losing an election.22

20  Górnicki, Dzieje w koronie polskiej, 119–​21. 21  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 88. 22  Knecht, Hero or Tyrant?, 54.

Despite the nobility’s sentimental attachment to the Jagiellonian dynasty, which Frost argues should never be underestimated as a factor in the perpetuation of composite monarchy, Anna had no hereditary rights to the throne.23 According to Sigismund August’s last will, Anna should have become the richest and most influential woman of Poland–​Lithuania. The inheritance was meant to be divided between the three Jagiellonian sisters, but Anna was the only one remaining in the Commonwealth. Sigismund August’s will states clearly that Bona’s original holdings in Lithuania were augmented by those of Sigismund the Old and “some of our own lands inherited by us from some prominent people of Lithuania.”24 The list of lands inherited by Anna was included by Świętosław Orzelski in his chronicle of the interregna.25 If she was allowed to take possession of these, albeit divided by three, Anna would far surpass in wealth even her crafty mother. Instead, the next few years of her life and career would be marked by a struggle with the nobility over her brother’s will. Parliament refused to ratify the document and ordered Anna to take residence in Piaseczno, Krasnystaw or Łęczyca, because they were far away from Tykocin Castle, where Sigismund August’s movables were assembled. Letters exchanged between Anna and her sister Sophia, the margravine of Branderburg-​Ansbach, suggest that Anna refused to comply.26 Even though Maria Bogucka emphasizes the desperate tones of Anna’s letters to Sophia, the princess was hardly the spineless, pathetic creature the biographer describes.27 Anna’s letter listing her efforts to secure their Italian inheritance, seized by Philip II of Spain, is testament to the princess’s proactive character. She wrote that they should send an ambassador to the king of Spain and that “I have already written to the old French queen as our cousin, asking her to petition her son to send an ambassador to the Spanish king on our behalf.”28 The nobility never forgot that much of Anna’s inheritance had belonged to the royal office once upon a time. The matter of using Anna’s wealth for the good of the Commonwealth 23  Frost, “The Limits of Dynastic Power,” 152.

24  For Sigismund’s last will, see Przeździecki, Jagiellonki polskie, vol. 3, 247. 25  Orzelski, Bezkrólewia ksiąg ośmioro, vol. 3, 215–​16.

26  The letters are printed in Przeździecki, Jagiellonki polskie, vol. 4, 11–​16. 27  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 88–​101.

28  Przeździecki, Jagiellonki polskie, vol. 4, 9–​11.

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first came up in 1573 during the convocation sejm, which traditionally preceded the election sejm. Wawrzyniec Rylski reported to Sophia that “among other things it was also decided to take 500,000 Polish guldens from Tykocin for the protection of the Commonwealth,” but Stanisław Słupecki, the castellan of Lublin, persuaded the parliament that it would be immoral to take the inheritance of the princesses.29 However, members of the parliament must have realized that whoever married the ageing princess would claim all her wealth. Anna’s popularity in Masovia, the region that experienced both Bona’s and Anna’s good management, meant that her husband could also count on the Masovian votes.30 Anna’s position was slowly changing, from a burden on the Commonwealth to an important player in the upcoming election. The letter she sent to Sophia on April 22, 1573, is very different in tone. Anna reported that she was right to stubbornly remain in Warsaw for the election, because the senators now welcomed her with “great promises to always serve the Jagiellonian tribe.”31 The first free election was proving chaotic, and some nobles started believing that, “however much the Commonwealth is torn, if we have the princess as our queen, there will be peace.”32 The two serious candidates to the throne, Archduke Ernest of Austria and Henry Valois, started discreetly courting Anna, even though the sejm made it clear that she should not marry without its consent.33 But the princess was hardly naive. In her letter to Sophia she admitted that “they promise me much, but God knows what is in their hearts.”34 Despite her scepticism, by the end of May Anna appeared to show a preference for the French candidate. Stanisław Czarnkowski reported to Sophia that Anna had secretly persuaded the nobility of Masovia to join with the Płock and Rawa voivodeships to elect Henry Valois, duke of Anjou.35 Henry was elected on May 20, 1573, and arrived in Poland in January 1574. In the meantime, Anna was busy organizing her brother’s funeral, earning respect and praise from the nobility.36 Despite Henry’s promises to marry Anna, months 29  Ibid., 28.

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after his coronation he had still not made her the queen of Poland. The reasons seem obvious. The Polish princess was rich, but marriage would bring Henry no other advantage. He was already the king of Poland and having an (almost certainly) barren wife would make any attempt to secure the Polish monarchy for the Valois impossible. Anna was aware of these considerations and complained to Sophia that her age was openly discussed in parliament.37 For a while it seemed that Anna would fail to make a permanent mark on Polish politics, but the situation changed on May 30, 1574, when Charles IX of France died. Henry, next in line to the throne, was recalled by Catherine de Medici and fled the palace at Wawel Castle secretly at night on June 18, stealing much jewellery along the way. The sense that the Commonwealth had descended into chaos must have been acute. The realm had not been properly governed since Sigismund August’s death, and Henry’s brief career as the Polish king had left the Crown treasury empty and the nobility divided. This sense of distress is palpable in the letter sent by Elżbieta Świdnicka, Anna’s lady-​in-​waiting, to Sophia on December 19, 1574: There is nothing good to report from Poland only raids, murders and slander. […] They had a convocation in Warsaw on St. Catherine’s Day [November 25] …, agreed to nothing, and it nearly came to spilling blood in the debating chamber and a few hundred swords were drawn.38

The first experiment with free elections had failed miserably, leaving the Commonwealth virtually defenceless between three powers: the Holy Roman Empire, Muscovy, and the Ottoman Empire. Stanisław Czarnkowski, who kept Sophia up to date with the events unfolding in Poland, reported the danger bred by this uncertainty on January 31, 1575: I do not understand what madness seized the nobility, but I am afraid of them proclaiming a Pole or the duke of Muscovy in a riot. […] The king [Henry Valois] is also reluctant to let go of the Polish crown … and if we elect someone else, he will incite the Turks and other pagans against us.39

32  Ibid., 49.

The nobility were divided between waiting for Henry to come back and electing a Habsburg or Ivan the Terrible. With partition of the state looming, many nobles cried for a local

34  Ibid.,  53–​54.

37  Ibid., 36.

36  Ibid.,  91–​94.

39  Ibid., 205.

30  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 102.

31  Przeździecki, Jagiellonki polskie, vol. 4, 48. 33  Ibid.,  48–​49. 35  Ibid., 58.

38  Ibid., 191.

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nobleman to become king. They would soon realize that Anna was the only person able to bring continuity and stability to the torn Commonwealth. After the deadline set by the sejm for Henry Valois’s return to Poland passed on May 12, 1575, the Polish nobility convened near Warsaw. The discussions concerning the election were recorded in detail by Świętosław Orzelski, a member of the parliament, who documented the interregnum. First, the senators read letters and listened to ambassadors from other European kings, who either provided general council on who to elect (to serve their own interests) or submitted themselves as candidates. Anna’s name was first mentioned in the proposition of King John III of Sweden, who provided a statement of support for his sister-​in-​law and mentioned Elizabeth I of England as a positive example of a queen regnant’s rule.40 The senators decided that, if Anna was elected, she would be given the voivode of Sandomierz and the voivode of Bełżec as her protectors. She would also swear not to take a Habsburg husband, because the nobility were wary of Poland–​Lithuania being swallowed up by the Habsburg Empire like Bohemia and Hungary.41 “Campaigning” would be too strong a word to describe Anna’s actions, but the princess was certainly making attempts to build political capital of the parliament’s goodwill. On May 20, 1575, Anna sent the marshal of her court, Jan Konecki, with a letter to the senate. Among various complaints, including an accusation that a certain Młochowski had raided her village, Anna mentioned how her deceased brother’s possessions at Tykocin Castle had been abandoned and she now kept them under guard at her own expense. She also pointed out that she was personally financing the completion of the new bridge over the river Vistula in Warsaw, which had been started by Sigismund August.42 This probably helped persuade the nobles of Masovia to elect Stephen Bathory, the duke of Transylvania, in December 1575, provided that he married Anna.43 Before becoming a duke, Bathory had supported Jan II Sigismund Zapolya, Anna’s nephew, against the Habsburgs. The sejm sent the voivodes of Sandomierz and Bełżec, the castellans of Dobrzyń and Raciąż, Stanisław Górka, and Stanisław Cikowski, the chamberlain of Krakow, to Anna in order to report the outcome of the election and

implore her to accept, for there was “a great turmoil in the Commonwealth, which only she could ease. […] To this, the Infanta replied most graciously that she is not opposed to such an arrangement, because she would be ready to give her life for the Commonwealth.”44 It is interesting that, in both the first and second free elections, Anna’s decision was in line with her mother’s politics. Bona had long supported a French alliance and the Hungarian national party, of which Bathory was now the leader, in the struggle against the Habsburgs. But trouble was afoot. Three days before Bathory’s election a rogue gathering of the nobility proclaimed the election of the Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian II, who in the meantime substituted his candidature for Archduke Ernest’s. The emperor was informed of this and wrote a letter to Anna, assuring her that she would not be harmed under his rule.45 The Commonwealth was destabilized, with partition a tangible threat, because the emperor was unlikely to accept the subsequent election of Bathory, even if it was by a majority of the nobility. On January 26, 1576, the nobles gathered “in great numbers” for a parliament in Andrzejów. The sense of danger to the Commonwealth from the spurned candidate, Emperor Maximilian, was palpable as the voivode of Lublin and Stanisław Przyjemski, a representative of the Kalisz voivodeship, claimed that “every hour may bring gravest danger to the state.”46 But the defence of the Commonwealth would require money from the empty treasury, and “the representatives made a motion that Anna should renounce her right to any movable or immovable property for the Commonwealth.”47 The marshal of the parliament, Mikołaj Sienicki, protested that it would be immoral, but the voivode of Krakow, Piotr Zborowski, argued that “the parliament represents the Commonwealth which gives it the right to equally elect the queen and present her with conditions of election.”48 The parliament decided not to delay the couple’s coronation, to strengthen the defences of Warsaw and Tykocin Castle, to disperse the opposition by force, and to send envoys to Anna

40  Ibid., 191.

45  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 134–​35.

41  Ibid., 326.

42  Orzelski, Bezkrólewia ksiąg ośmioro, vol. 2, 107. 43  Ibid., 328.

to convince her to unconditionally renounce her wealth … in exchange for the standard queen’s dower. The treasury is empty at the moment … There is no hope for peace, so it is important to act quickly

44  Ibid., 328–​29.

46  Orzelski, Bezkrólewia ksiąg ośmioro, vol. 3, 65. 47  Ibid., 66. 48  Ibid.

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and energetically, to keep these projects secret, send envoys to the Reichstag, forbid any gatherings.49

The situation in the Commonwealth was still unstable, but the nobility’s controversial decision to ask Anna to renounce her inheritance was more complex than just filling the crown coffers, as Anna’s biographers, Paweł Jasienica and Maria Bogucka, suggest. 50 Anna’s agreement would mend the tensions caused by Bona and Sigismund’s policy of buying out pawned Crown lands and converting them into dynastic property. This would also prevent Anna’s sister Catherine, the queen of Sweden, from laying claim to lands in the Commonwealth. The nobility’s aim was to repair the deep tear in the state’s fabric and prevent another European monarch from meddling in the Commonwealth’s affairs. Historians disagree over who benefited most from this financial agreement. By claiming that the nobility exploited Anna’s naive wish to get married and have children (at fifty-​ three!), Bogucka’s narrative is that of female vulnerability in face of patriarchy and ascribes stereotypically naive motives to the princess.51 Jasienica claims that Anna’s situation was rather advantageous, but neither of these historians provides details of this momentous deal.52 According to Sigismund August’s last will, the lands Anna inherited would pass to the Commonwealth upon her death.53 She would not be allowed to pass it to her heirs. Anna was renouncing her claim to an inheritance she would not be able to access, because of the parliament’s refusal to ratify Sigismund’s testament. Instead, she would receive a stable (and not immaterial) income as well as political influence as queen. The standard Polish queen’s dower, which she would hold for life, comprised the estates of Korczyn, Wiślica, Żarnowiec, Radom, Jedlina, Kaszewice, Chęcin, Radoszyce, Łęczyca, Przedecz, Kłodawa, Konin, Pyzdry, and Inowrocław, as well as the tax income from Radziejów and Słońskiem, and was worth 100,000 Polish guldens. There was also the matter of Bona Sforza’s Italian lands and Sigismund August’s possessions crowding the depths of Tykocin Castle. Anna was not losing out on this front, because the nobility gave her the use of the movables for life and Philip II of Spain claimed Bona’s estates in Italy for himself. 49  Ibid., 205.

50  Jasienica, Ostatnia z rodu, 208; Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 137–​38. 51  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 128–​40. 52  Jasienica, Ostatnia z rodu, 137–​38.

53  Orzelski, Bezkrólewia ksiąg ośmioro, vol. 3, 66.

Katarzyna Kosior

Anna continued to negotiate to substitute the traditional queen’s dower she was offered with the income from the entire region of Masovia, just as Bona had in 1543.54 With an agreement in the offing, Anna shrewdly insisted on delaying the transaction until the state’s return to normalcy, and was made uneasy about the parliament’s insistence on haste.55 Once crowned, Anna might have been able to renegotiate the deal, using her and Bathory’s newfound authority. A shadow of deceit and suspicion fell between the parliament and its new queen. Finally, the two parties agreed: Anna would receive the same dower as Bona “received the second time,” meaning her exchange of the standard queen’s dower for Masovia, and 60,000 Polish guldens in cash to distribute among her supporters.56 Thanks to her political instincts, Anna had procured a deal that would allow her to gain new authority as the queen while retaining both her position as one of the richest of the Commonwealth’s political figures and her political influence in Masovia. As justification for their demand, the nobles reminded Anna of the sejm’s condition to her great-​g randfather, Władysław Jagiełło, that he should join Lithuania to Poland as the price for his election. This was an apt comparison, because Anna’s circumstances and actions were more characteristic of a male political figure seeking elective office than a queen consort chosen for her ability to create inter-​­dynastic links by producing children. The impossible question to answer is whether Anna still harboured any real hopes of becoming a queen regnant, having been offered a consort’s dowry and a king and husband. Her negotiation demonstrates that she had her mother’s political aptitude, but was more able to operate within Poland’s political system and the political culture of the Polish nobility. Anna’s adult life had passed under the mark of her brother’s struggles with the Chamber of Envoys’ movement for execution of the laws, aiming to return the power balance between the senate’s magnates and the chamber of representatives’ lower nobility by calling for the return of all mortgaged Crown lands to the state. As Frost argues, Sigismund “faced an increasingly confident political class that considered its rights and liberties were natural and rested not on royal privileges, but on the bedrock of statute law, agreed by the citizens in the sejm.”57 The movement 54  Ibid., 218–​22. 55  Ibid., 222. 56  Ibid., 224.

57  Frost, The Oxford History of Poland–​Lithuania, 442.

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had a formidable ideological foundation in Andrzej Frycz Modrzewski’s On the Improvement of the Commonwealth (O poprawie Rzeczypospolitej), part of which was published in 1551.58 Modrzewski begins by claiming that he does “everything for the love of the Commonwealth” and implores: “May everyone support the Commonwealth according to their office, duty and means.”59 Anna’s reply, that she would give her life for the Commonwealth to the nobility’s appeal that she becomes queen and renounces her inheritance, echoed these sentiments. As Sigismund August’s sister and Bona Sforza’s daughter, she learnt from their struggles and must have understood the importance of building a reserve of positive political capital. But, rather than using “a carefully accumulated reservoir of positive sentiment about her capacity as a good woman, widow, and mother to construct her political claim” like Catherine de Medici and other European queens, Anna would build her political authority on her service to the Commonwealth.60 After the election the parliament issued a decree stating that Anna was elected queen and “Stephen Bathory was given to her as a husband.”61 The formula is misleading, and has led some modern historians, such as Przemysław Szpaczyński, to think that Anna was an elected queen regnant.62 Szpaczyński even calls the queen “Anna I Jagiellon,” which has little grounding in the sources.63 Anna was chosen first, giving the nobility an excuse to request that she renounce her wealth, but it does not mean that she was elected a queen regnant. The nobility quickly moved on to electing a king and husband for her. Despite the confusion surrounding the election, the letter sent to Bathory outlining the conditions of his election stated that the couple had been jointly elected as king and queen. This has further grounding in the debate on whether Anna should be crowned separately, in case Bathory failed to arrive in Krakow on time. Noblemen in favour argued that a timely coronation was necessary for keeping peace in the realm, that the cities would be more willing to pledge their loyalty to a crowned queen and that Anna’s coronation would prevent the

emperor’s supporters from taking control of Krakow and staging his own coronation. They also pointed out that there was a precedent for such a ceremony, the coronation of Jadwiga as the queen regnant of Poland in 1384, and that the edicts of the election parliament did not forbid such a ceremony.64 Precedent was important but, unlike Jadwiga, Anna had never been proclaimed ‘rex.’ Others argued that a separate coronation would give Anna the powers of a queen regnant, and claimed that by the parliament’s decree Anna should first marry “Bathory, the King Elect, as he was the main person [elected].”65 They also pointed out the dangers of having Anna as a queen regnant on the throne, such as the possibility of the emperor coercing her to marry his son Ernest. The nobles who opposed Anna’s separate coronation reasserted that she was to be queen by election and marriage rather than hereditary right by arguing that “[t]‌oday the Commonwealth has opened the most splendid rooms of the royal castle to the Infanta, so that she may stay there waiting for the arrival of her husband, who is her head and her body.”66 Finally, the nobility decided to wait for the king’s arrival and that the king should be greeted separately to avoid giving the impression that the couple had equal powers. On May 1, Stephen and Anna were married in the Wawel palace and then crowned in the cathedral as husband and wife. Despite Anna’s agreement to renounce her inheritance, she threw a rather unroyal fit in the cathedral when two members of the Chamber of Envoys, Jan Biejkowski and Świętosław Orzelski, presented the act of renunciation for the Queen to sign, as she was standing in the quire next to the main altar, according to the collective will of their fellow members of the parliament. The Infanta hesitated for a moment, torn by anger and grief, finally she burst into tears; while signing the act she was bitterly complaining that the parliament had so little trust in her and that forcing her to sign publicly was uncivil.67

59  Modrzewski, O poprawie Rzeczypospolitej, 4; for the dedication for the senate printed in it, see the translation by Edwin Jędrkiewicz, 91.

This was a surprising reaction from a person who up to this moment had displayed political shrewdness and, most importantly, had agreed to the deal with the nobility. Anna’s reasons might have been more complex than pettiness over losing her inheritance. Seemingly there are a number of

61  Orzelski, Bezkrólewia ksiąg ośmioro, vol. 2, 333.

64  Orzelski, Bezkrólewia ksiąg ośmioro, vol. 3, 135–​36.

58  Modrzewski, O poprawie Rzeczypospolitej.

60  Crawford, “Catherine de Medicis and the Performance of Political Motherhood,” 653. 62  Szpaczyński, “Anna I Jagiellonka kontra Jan Zamoyski,” 5.

63  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 134; Szpaczyński, “Anna I Jagiellonka kontra Jan Zamoyski,” 3.

65  Ibid., 141. 66  Ibid., 142. 67  Ibid., 224.

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parallels between Anna and Mary II of England. Charles Beem argues that Mary was “a royal heiress who brought a superior dynastic claim to her marriage with a royal usurper” and offered “William what many contemporaries believed to be a de facto elective crown.”68 The difference was subtle, but crucial: Anna had no hereditary rights to the Polish throne. Even as the senators rhapsodized about the virtues of the Jagiellonians as the “most noble and greatest European house, which for centuries ruled in glory and prosperity,” they were engaged in what could be characterized as the de-​ dynasticization of the Commonwealth.69 The parliament took away the dynastic lands accumulated by Bona, the movables that symbolized the Jagiellonian identity (though Anna was allowed to use them for life), and the palaces that used to house the Jagiellonian dynasty. Wawel ceased to be Anna’s family home, but she was explicitly invited to use it by the sejm. The nobles ensured that no hint of the old Jagiellonian hereditary succession was evident during the coronation. To emphasize Anna’s position as a consort, she entered the cathedral as Bathory’s wife, and he was crowned first while she waited in the quire. Anna’s age was no secret and there was no danger of dynastic continuity. Her coronation portrait suggests that measures might have been taken to avoid putting too much emphasis on the queen’s fertility. Instead of displaying her hair, the symbol of virginity, fertility, and health, she was painted wearing a short veil. Anna’s tears were a response to the parliament’s distrust and the public ratification of the downfall of the Jagiellonian dynasty brought about by her signature, as much as it represented the change in her own status. Together with her inheritance she had publicly signed away the advantage that had brought her to the throne. From the Jagiellonian heiress and kingmaker of the interregnum she was destined to become a woman of the court once more. After the coronation Anna took on the role of queen consort, but without the benefit of gaining political influence by becoming a mother to the heir. The marriage was hardly a success, and Bathory spent most of his time at war or parliament. For example, the couple spent 1577 and 1578 apart because the king was busy subduing Gdańsk, whose citizens stubbornly refused to acknowledge his election and kept faith with the emperor, showing the extent of the damage the interregnum had inflicted on the Commonwealth.70 In

the meantime, Anna busied herself with, among other things, renovating royal palaces and developing Warsaw’s infrastructure, which do doubt added to her already significant political capital in Masovia. An opportunity to use it arose when Bathory died in 1586, only ten years after the couple had been elected. The Jagiellonian dynasty might have been long gone, but Anna still had a family: her sister Catherine, the queen of Sweden, had two children, Sigismund and Anna. The dowager queen proposed the candidature of her nephew and, having acquired his father’s approval, immediately started sending out letters praising the boy as closely resembling his Jagiellonian mother and as a devout Catholic; she expressed similar sentiments to the envoys of the election parliament in March 1587. 71 According to the anonymous report of the convocation sejm sent to Marcin Kromer, the bishop of Warmia, on February 7, 1587, the parliament greeted the elderly queen as “the only one left, by the grace of God, of the great Jagiellonian family.”72 The Jagiellonians had become a formidable myth. No longer able to cause dynastic threat to the monarchy’s electiveness, they were remembered primarily in a positive light as one of the forces that had shaped the Commonwealth’s republican system of government. The family connection also made Anna’s allegiances seem less antagonistic to other candidates in the election. The imperial ambassador, Daniel Prince, was sympathetic towards the queen’s efforts on her nephew’s behalf, “which no one can begrudge her.”73 Anna again proved her ability in politics. Just as during the 1575 election, the Habsburg candidate, Archduke Maximilian, garnered substantial support and divided the nobility. The Zborowski clan was among the archduke’s greatest supporters since Stephen Bathory had executed Samuel Zborowski in 1584 for killing another nobleman (Andrzej Wapowski, the castellan of Przemyśl) during the celebrations accompanying the election of Henry Valois in 1573. Andrzej Zborowski, Samuel’s brother, who would in 1587 take part in an armed rebellion against Sigismund III Vasa, argued that, even if Anna’s ancestors were good for the Commonwealth, her scheming would lead to partitions. 74 The voivode of

69  Orzelski, Bezkrólewia ksiąg ośmioro, vol. 3, 5.

73  Ibid., 52.

68  Beem, The Lioness Roared, 118.

70  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 141.

71  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, p.  160; Sokołowski, Dyjaryjusze Sejmowe r. 1587, 90. 72  The report was printed as Sokołowski, Dyjaryjusze Sejmowe r. 1587, 15. 74  Ibid., 136.

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Poznań, Stanisław Górka, who supported Maximilian to counter the growing influence of Jan Zamoyski, argued even more sharply that Anna’s attachment to her own blood would ruin the Commonwealth.75 But by that time Anna had become a formidable politician experienced in the ways of the Polish royal elections. Her retort, expressed in August 1587 via envoys to the bishop of Kamieniec, Wawrzyniec Goślicki, was that “she supports the Swedish prince, her own blood, just like other lords support their candidates, but the difference is that she has nothing but the Commonwealth’s interest at heart.”76 While implying that other senators were corrupt or otherwise pursued their own interests, Anna mastered the rhetoric of sacrifice for the Commonwealth. Her envoys claimed that “the queen is offering to your lordships, whatever can be used for the good of the Commonwealth.”77 Anna’s frequent missives to the parliament were not just empty words. The treasurer of the Crown, Jan Dulski, reported during the election that he had discussed ways of filling the treasury with the queen, who offered 200,000 thalers for the state. Anna also used her considerable wealth for a targeted political campaign by offering the vacant offices in Masovia to Sigismund’s supporters. 78 The starosta (elderman) of Śniatyń, Mikołaj Jazłowiecki, admitted that his main incentive for having supported Sigismund was that “her highness the queen showed favour to our house … Her charity was so helpful to us that I would like to repay her in supporting the Swede.”79 Although Jazłowiecki eventually switched sides and signed the rogue document electing Maximilian, most remained faithful to Anna in electing Sigismund to the Polish throne in August 1587. We have seen Anna in various positions of power, both traditionally associated with queenship, as the king’s sister, wife, and widow, as well as the Commonwealth’s political figure employing her wealth and political capital in the particular circumstances of the Polish elective monarchy. The election of Sigismund III Vasa enabled the old queen to adopt a new guise: that of political motherhood. At the end of her life she would be exerting authority not dissimilar to that enjoyed by Catherine de Medici, albeit in a very different way. Bogucka is right to argue that a thread of letters exchanged

between Anna and her nephew suggests that she was happy to be surrounded by family in her old age.80 Some of these were very affectionate, and Anna often requested news of Sigismund’s health and ensured him of her “maternal love,” and always addressed him as “nephew and our most beloved son,” signing “affectionate aunt and mother” with her own hand.81 Sometimes she rebuked Sigismund in a truly motherly manner, saying, for example, that he had chosen a dangerous time to travel. She just as often recommended her people to vacant offices. 82 In May 1591 she asked Sigismund to appoint Jan Wilczki, “a local man, prominent, distinguished in the Commonwealth’s service and deserving” to be the chamberlain of the Czersk Lands, and in March 1591 she recommended a certain Suski to be the Ziembrow notary.83 In April 1591 Anna asked the king for favour for two priests, Jan Tarnowski and Stanisław Fogelweder, while giving Sigismund more general advice that “he should take care not to favour foreigners over Poles”—​something she would have learnt from the politics of Bona, Henry Valois, and Bathory.84 Despite being unfortunate in her marriage, Anna navigated the particularities of the Polish political system to reinvent herself as a mother figure to her nephew and retain political agency by sustaining positive relationships within the family. Times of upheaval produce political opportunities for those with enough instinct to exploit them. Anna was a politician to the bone, using her wealth and family connections to secure her influence and exercise agency. She showed an extraordinary agility in moving between different political roles, and ability in playing both the dynastic and the republican political games. Most importantly, she demonstrated the capacity to learn from the experiences of her mother, brother, and husband, becoming a more formidable political player with age. Anna’s circumstances and life were unique on a global scale, but nevertheless add to the collective experience of queenship, which was not always based on a single pattern driven by marriage and biological motherhood. Her elective queenship helps us understand the diversity of early modern European women’s lives and the complexity of the historical forces shaping them.

75  Ibid., 212.

81  Central Archives for Historical Records (hereafter AGAD), Zbiór Dokumentów Papierowych, MS 899.

76  Ibid., 175. 77  Ibid.

78  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 162.

79  Sokołowski, Dyjaryjusze Sejmowe r. 1587, 148.

80  Bogucka, Anna Jagiellonka, 168–​72.

82  AGAD, Zbiór Dokumentów Papierowych, MS 890.

83  AGAD, Zbiór Dokumentów Papierowych, MSS 896, 888. 84  AGAD, Zbiór Dokumentów Papierowych, MSS 894, 895.

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—​—​—​. Hero or Tyrant? Henry III, King of France, 1574–​89. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2014. Kolankowski, Ludwik. Polska Jagiellonów: Dzieje polityczne. Lviv: Skład Główny Gubrynowicz i Syn, 1936. Konopczyński, Władysław. Dzieje Polski nowożytnej. Warsaw: Skład Główny u Gebenera i Wolffa, 1936. Kosior, Katarzyna. “Outlander, Baby Killer, Poisoner? Rethinking Bona Sforza’s Black Legend.” In Virtuous or Villainess? The Image of the Royal Mother from the Early Medieval to the Early Modern Era, edited by Carey Fleiner and Elena Woodacre, 199–​223. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016. Levin, Carole. The Heart and Stomach of a King:  Elizabeth I  and the Politics of Sex and Power. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994. McConica, James Kelsey. English Humanists and Reformation Politics under Henry VIII and Edward VI. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965. Nowakowska, Natalia. Church, State and Dynasty in Renaissance Poland: The Career of Cardinal Fryderyk Jagiellon (1468–​1503). Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007. Pociecha, Władysław. Królowa Bona (1494–​1557):  Czasy i ludzie Odrodzenia. 4  vols. Poznań:  Poznańskie Towarzystwo Nauk, 1949. Pułaski, Kazimierz. “Gospodarka Królowej Bony na kresach.” In Szkice i poszukiwania historyczne, 132–​88. Krakow: J. K. Żupański & K. J. Heumann, 1887. Sucheni-​Grabowska, Anna. Odbudowa Domeny Królewskiej w Polsce, 1504–​1548, 2nd ed. Warsaw: Muzeum Historii Polski, 2007. Szpaczyński, Przemysław. “Anna I  Jagiellonka kontra Jan Zamoyski:  Kilka uwag w sprawie dążeń królowej do zapewnienia ciągłości dynastii Jagiellonów.” Klio: Czasopismo poświęcone dziejom Polski i powszechnym 28 (2014): 3–​29. Wojciechowski, Zygmunt. Zygmunt Stary (1506–​1548). Warsaw: Państwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1979. Woodacre, Elena. The Queens Regnant of Navarre:  Succession, Politics, and Partnership, 1274–​1512. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Woodacre, Elena, and Carey Fleiner, eds. Royal Mothers and Their Ruling Children: Wielding Political Authority from Antiquity to the Early Modern Era. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.

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7 FEMALE RULE IN IMPERIAL RUSSIA: IS GENDER A USEFUL CATEGORY OF HISTORICAL ANALYSIS? OREL BEILINSON

Upon examining the list of Russian rulers from the time of Kiev to the Russian Federation, one finds nine women who ruled the Russian state: Olga (tenth century), Elena Glinskaya (sixteenth century), Natalia Naryshkina and Sofia Alekseyevna (seventeenth century), and Catherine I, Anna, Anna Leopoldovna, Elizabeth, and Catherine II (eighteenth century). Although regnant queens and female rulers were not uncommon in the medieval era,1 alternation between male and female rulers, as demonstrated in eighteenth-​ century Russia, is quite rare. While the list of works written on various Russian Tsars, both males and females (ranging from relatively neglected Catherine I and Anna to thoroughly studied Peter the Great and Catherine the Great), is long and impressive, the characteristics, particularities, and types of queenship in the Russian Empire, or any other era in the development of east Slavic statehood, have rarely received any treatment, beyond the context of a specific reign or a specific theme in the history of the early empire.2 The purpose of this chapter is to offer a historical sketch of the reigns of the four empresses of eighteenth-​century Russia in an attempt to enhance our understanding of female rule in Imperial Russia. In her classic paper “Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis,” Joan Scott argues for the adoption of a prism of gender to the writing of history 1  See Shadis, “Queens,” for a comprehensive bibliography of medieval queenship; and, for a longer introduction, see Earenfight, Queenship in Medieval Europe.

2  For example, more than 100 books were written on Peter I alone, starting with the history of his reign as written by Nikolay Gerasimovich Ustryalov already in the nineteenth century, while Elizabeth predominantly appears in literature as a part of a longer interlude between Peter I and the immediately following Catherine II.

in order to develop “new perspectives on old questions,” “redefine old questions in new terms,” “make women more visible as active participants” in history and “create analytic distance between the seemingly fixed language of the past and our own terminology.”3 Although it yielded mostly negative reactions right after its release, Scott’s argument has had wide-​reaching implications and served as a catalyst in a wave of gendered history. While it is tempting, in line with a rising trend in historical studies in recent years, to view any rule by a female as “female rule” and to study it using methodology devised specifically for the study of women in history, such as queenship studies, I argue that the rise, rule, and demise of a series of female emperors in eighteenth-​century Russia were prompted by factors not directly related to gender, and therefore the prism of gender—​albeit important—​must be complemented by a wider view of the evolution of Russian law and society. By discussing each reign as a case study, one can establish a firm understanding of both rather synchronous, “early modern Russian” phenomena (such as the process of empire building in eighteenth-​century Russia) and diachronic phenomena, such as the acceptance of the premise of female rule. Each case study evaluates the respective reign in terms of historiography and the popular imagination. This will be achieved by a survey and analysis of the rise, actions, and legacy/​ memory of each empress. The case studies are preceded by an analysis of the conditions and reforms that allowed such an unusual concentration of female rulers in this period, while the conclusion aims to draw together all the individual reigns to produce a coherent understanding of the concept and practice of “queenship” in Russia in the eighteenth century. 3  Scott, “Gender,” 1075.

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The Russian Empire in the Eighteenth Century It was not by chance that all the empresses regnant reigned during the eighteenth century. Russia saw changes in many areas of life during the eighteenth century, the most important of which were developments in the legal status of women and changes in the legal and cultural constructions of Tsardom. The convergence of these elements, spurred by Peter the Great, allowed this unique “female century” to happen. Despite the fact that the Russian Tsar was viewed as a person above society, I pose an underlying assumption that the social status and function of women had direct influence on the possibility of queenship, its boundaries, and its legacy. Much like the general periodization of queenship, there are three main periods in the history of women in pre-​Soviet Russia: the pre-​Petrine period (in which sporadic cases of feminine rule can be seen, but only as regents), the eighteenth century (which saw four feminine rulers out of eight overall), and the nineteenth century/​e arly twentieth century (in which direct rule by women was no longer plausible). Based on the chronology, it is plausible to argue that female rule (as an empress regnant) was possible only in the specific context of the conditions and opportunities that first came into being with the rule of Peter the Great and whose existence ended with the accession of Paul. With the accession of Peter the Great, in the second half of the seventeenth century, there began a “Golden Age” of women’s rights, which replaced the Muscovite seclusion.4 A German visitor to Russia in the nineteenth century noted “what a great influence women enjoy in [Russian] society” as a result of the fact that “a big share of the real estate is … held by women.”5 This striking equality is evident to a similar extent in criminal law as well. While Garthine Walker, writing about early modern England, could discuss the “relative leniency or harshness with which women were treated compared to men within the legal process” as a “major theme,”6 Imperial Russian criminal and property laws “made few concessions to female weakness in the eighteenth century …, meting out similar punishments regardless of sex.”7 Moreover, it was only in 1782 that a legal document of the Russian Empire prescribed feminine obedience to males in non-​religious legal settings, which led the influential nineteenth-​century legal 4  See Kollmann, “The Seclusion of Elite Muscovite Women.” 5  Von Haxtausen, Studien über die Innern Zustände,  21–​23.

6  Walker, Crime, Gender and Social Order in Early Modern England, 22. 7  Marrese, “Gender and the Legal Order in Imperial Russia,” 338.

historian Mikhail Vladimirskii-​Budanov to conclude that the most “distinguishing characteristic of Russian law” was the “recognition of rights for men and women.”8 This rather atypical picture stems from the reforms of Peter the Great, who, after visiting the great European capitals with his Grand Embassy, set the Europeanization of the Russian state as his top priority.9 Some of these reforms were common to elite members of both genders, such as the requirement to adopt Western dress, the expectation to converse in French, and the infusion of French court culture. Other changes were more particular to one sex, such as the campaign to end the traditional seclusion of Russian woman, replacing it with socially active women, even in the newly formed “assemblies,” which were created to serve as a means of socialization. Beyond the sphere of the court, Peter promoted legislative deeds that seem beneficial to all women, such as his 1702 decree that required the consent of both parties in order for a marriage to be valid. This may have stemmed from his personal discontent with Eudoxia Lopukhina, the wife his mother chose for him. It is worth mentioning, though, that most women did not embrace most of these reforms, especially regarding the new styles of court etiquette, such as the new, “skin-​revealing” fashion.10 However, these legal definitions and changes in policy did not fundamentally transform the core values of Russian society, and in practice even worsened the status of non-​ elite women. In fact, while dismissing arranged marriages, which were the norm at least through the reign of Nicholas I (1825–​1 855), divorce became increasingly impossible, asserting the supremacy of the husband. Wife beating, for example, did not constitute a reason for divorce, and a husband could even deposit his wife in a nunnery, just as Peter himself did, even though the minimum age to take the veil voluntarily had been increased to sixty.11 In the lower social strata, changes in the structure of society, often caused by industrial or military processes, were at odds with the traditional family structure. This is highlighted by the appearance 8  Vladimirskii-​Budanov, Obzor istorii russkogo prava, 510.

9  For a good general overview of Peter the Great and his reforms, see Cracraft, The Revolution of Peter the Great. To this day not much has been written on the effect of Peter’s reforms on women. Some major exceptions include Hughes, “Between Two Worlds”; and “From Caftans into Corsets.” 10  See Clements, A History of Women in Russia,  66–​68.

11  Hughes, Russia in the Age of Peter the Great, 199–​200; Engel, “Women, the Family and Public Life,” 309.

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of the soldatka class, the wives of soldiers (especially conscripted soldiers), who suffered from their liberation from serfdom, which cost them their husband’s share of crops, hence making them an unproductive mouth to feed.12 Moreover, as expected, the efforts started by Peter and carried further by his successors that aimed to expand educational opportunities for women almost completely skipped non-​elite women, at least in the eighteenth century.13 This changed in the second half of the nineteenth century. In the cultural realm, influenced both by the European surroundings and by internal processes in Russian intellectual circles, the “querelle des femmes”—​an intellectual debate on the nature and role of women in society—​started to attract profound attention in the empire, emphasizing women’s perceived natural weakness and fragility and the role of motherhood. However, these same writers also called for an expansion in women’s right to education, 14 which indeed happened.15 In the legal realm, the 1832 Digest of Laws took up Catherine II’s 1782 Statute on Public Order and extended the obligation of a married woman to “unlimited obedience” to her husband.16 In criminal law, the nineteenth century saw sharp differentiation between men and women, based on the depiction of the latter as weak, fragile, passionate, and governed by their emotions, yet more virtuous than men, which translated into softer punishments.17 But looking at legal and societal changes with regard to Russian women provides only half the explanation for the high number of female rulers in this period. In the course of the eighteenth century changes in both the legal and cultural constructs of Tsardom allowed females to legally inherit but also to rule in a socially acceptable way. The legitimacy of the Tsar, at least before Peter the Great, was both secular and religious.18 His secular legitimacy 12  Engel, “Women, the Family and Public Life,” 311; Shcherbinin, “Soldatskie zheny v XVIII—​nachale XX V.” 13  Black, “Educating Women in Eighteenth-​Century Russia”. 14  See, for example, Pirogov, “Questions of Life.”

15  Many works were written on the history of female education in nineteenth-​century Russia. Some noteworthy ones are Dudgeon, “Women and Higher Education in Russia”; Johanson, Women’s Struggle for Higher Education in Russia; and Dudgeon, “The Forgotten Minority”; among others. 16  See Svod zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, vol. 8, chaps. 2–​6, chap. 1, articles 103, 106–​8. 17  Schrader, Languages of the Lash, 157–​61. 18  See Cherniavsky, Tsar and People.

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was perceived in a patrimonial sense, as that of a father but first and foremost as a landowner of all the Russian lands—​gosudar’, a word of Old Novogordian origin referring to a householder. As his patrimony, the state (gosudarstvo) remained a physical concept, even when the state began to develop as an abstract concept elsewhere. Therefore, there was no Russian state without a Russian Tsar, the lord of the Russian lands and people.19 The Tsar’s religious legitimacy stemmed from two roles he assumed: that of an intercessor and that of a protector. As an intercessor, he served as a link between the people of God, whose country is a holy land and whose capital (in the Muscovite period) was the “Third Rome.”20 It was his job, then, to protect his faith (especially after the Byzantine–​Russian split following the Council of Florence in 1438/​9), as the liberator of the faithful Russians from the hand of the Tatars; and, indeed, the control by the Russian state of its religion and its interference in Christian affairs outside Russia only increased as time went by, culminating in the Crimean War. This model of legitimacy held out, with some variations, until 1917. Many of these variations took place during the eighteenth century, once again often spurred by the reforms of Peter the Great. As a part of his efforts at Europeanization, the Russian state began to absorb, with some transformations, contemporary European ideas, according to which the monarch was perceived as the marshal of public good. These ideas conversed with traditional Russian/​Muscovite ideas, leading to a concept of a Tsar-​demiurge, the creator of a new state and new people under God.21 This, in turn, gave rise to a new “imperial cult,” whose mythology was structured within the world of the Orthodox Church. This view of the Tsar might explain the radicalism of both Peter and Catherine II, as radical ideas typically attract such “messiahs,” no matter how far they were from the actual despotic nature of imperial absolutism.22 This myth of the Tsar, an essential part of any historical enquiry into the rise, function and/​or fall of the Russian Empire, gives no strong reasons for the coronation of females 19  See Pipes, Russia under the Old Regime, chaps. 2–​4, 9. 20  Uspenskii and Zhivov, “Tsar and God.”

21  Uspenskii and Lotman, “Otzvuki Kontseptsii ‘Moskva—​Tretii Rim’ v Ideologii Petra I.”

22  This convincing interpretation was developed by Victor Zhivov in his essay on eighteenth-​century Tsarism, “The Myth of the State in the Age of Enlightenment and Its Destruction in Late Eighteenth-​ Century Russia.”

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as queens or empresses regnant. Combined with the fairly equal property law of the empire, it might be more plausible that a woman could hold the patrimony of the Russian Empire. Therefore, there were no reasons to favour a male Tsar or a female Tsar. One reason that explains the creation or the maintenance of masculine dynasties is succession laws, which often favour males, or even require the absolute exclusion of females. Kievan Rus’ and the early Muscovite state adopted the “rota,” or “ladder” system, in which the throne was passed from brother to brother (most often to the fourth brother) and then to the eldest son of the eldest brother holding the throne. Theoretically, this would mean each principality is ranked on a hierarchy, and then, upon the death of the Great Prince, each prince (brother of the deceased) is promoted to rule the principality one place higher than the one he had ruled until the death of the Great Prince.23 Under Vasily II (r. 1425–​1462), Muscovy adopted a system of linear, male succession. In 1722 Peter the Great issued a new succession law (ukaz o nasledii prestola), according to which the monarch was able to choose his successor. No conditions were laid, with regard to gender, nationality or membership of the Romanov dynasty; anything went as far as the language of the law allowed.24 In spite of several failed attempts to change this system, starting with Catherine I in 1727 and ending with no fewer than three attempts during the reign of Catherine II, the system was a crucial auxiliary factor, which gave yet another legal option for females to rule the vast empire. This is why the repeal of this law and its replacement with male primogeniture, which allowed women to rule only if the entire male line was extinct, in the days of Paul called female rule in Russia to a halt. In conclusion, it seems that the “Golden Age” of female rule in the Russian Empire grew out of convenient legal conditions rather than new philosophical conceptions about women or any other reason to prefer women on the throne. While the atmosphere of a “new world,” a result of the combination of European political ideas with classical Muscovite ones spurred by Peter the Great’s reforms, might have created a suitable arena for experiments, the legal option gave almost 23  There is an unresolved debate as to whether this system has actually worked and in which practical application. See Martin, “Calculating Seniority and the Contests for Succession in Kievan Rus’ ”; and Stokes, “The System of Succession to the Thrones of Russia.” 24  Lentin, Peter the Great, 22.

equal rights to females. To this one should add a demographic condition in the Romanov dynasty itself, in which females were overrepresented; therefore, upon choosing a sovereign, females often were one of the only options in fact to keep the empire in Romanov hands, which was a major, but not pivotal, factor. However, as the survey of individual reigns shows, the phenomenon of “feminine rule” in Imperial Russia can hardly be generalized into an all-​encompassing model.

Catherine I

The fact that Catherine I was the first ruler of the Russian state to be selected under Peter the Great’s new rules of succession is extraordinary. Born to a Catholic peasant in the Polish–​Lithuanian Commonwealth, she found her way to the household of Prince Alexander Menshikov, where she became a mistress in the household of Tsar Peter I, Peter the Great. Before long she converted to Orthodoxy and married the Tsar, probably in secrecy, around 1707.25 In 1724 she was crowned and became co-​ruler of the newly declared Russian Empire, and yet was not declared officially as the successor until Peter’s death. However, this remarkable and attractive story of accession is often complemented by ignoring her rule of the vast Russian territory almost altogether. Often serving no more than an anecdote as a non-​royal wife to Peter the Great, virtually no serious scholarship is dedicated to examining her period as queen regnant, short as it might be.26 In fact, in the renowned Encyclopaedia of Russian History, Lindsey Hughes dedicates sixty out of 511 words in her article about Catherine to her rule, as opposed to the way she became a ruler, giving due credit to the Supreme Privy Council.27 This, perhaps, can be attributed to the fact that the person whose name is most associated with the achievements and misfortunes of Catherine I’s reign is Alexander Danilovich Menshikov. Indeed, one book even goes so far as to declare her “Sovereign by the Grace of Menshikov.” 28 Therefore, examining her rule and the limited historiography of her rule provides interesting insights not only into her specific reign, 25  Hughes, “Catherine I of Russia, Consort to Peter the Great,” 131–​32.

26  What seems to be the only exception is Tsarstvovanie Ekateriny I, published in 1856 by the Imperial Academy of Science in St. Petersburg. 27  Hughes, Encyclopedia of Russian History, s.v. “Catherine I.” 28  Detlef, Russkie Tsaritsy.

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or into queenship more broadly, but also into the nature and dynamics of ruling the emerging empire. The traditional narrative holds that, in the competition for the throne, Catherine was favoured by the “new men” who owed their rise to her late husband. One of them, Menshikov, arranged a coup, interrupting the council’s succession assembly, at the end of which she was proclaimed queen regnant by the Semyonovsky Guards Regiment. Some historians tried to explain this with her character, arguing she was “hardly the woman to preside over a glittering and elaborate court, even had she been allowed to make the attempt,”29 while others, such as Hughes, claim that it was her gender that “proved to be an advantage, for the last thing the men close to the throne wanted is another Peter.”30 These two explanations, each acceptable and evident in the historiography, demonstrate that the people “close to the throne” (which we can now identify both as the “new men” and the traditional nobility) would prefer a “quiet” ruler, who was less keen to reinvent the already unstable social and political order. The nobility, still unsettled by Peter the Great’s reforms, wanted someone who might choose to restore them to their pre-​Petrine glory, while the “new men” preferred someone who would at least let them have what they acquired by merit. It is possible, yet not at all obvious, that a female ruler would be more pliable and possibly subject to subjugation to the already dominant members of the society. However, what is clear is that the “new men” may not have wanted another Peter, but they did not want an “anti-​Peter” either. It is possible that Catherine was retained because she embodied the Petrine spirit. Theophan Prokopovich, who was in charge of implementing Peter’s reforms on the Orthodox Church and served as one of the founding members of the Academy of Sciences, commented in one of his writings how “a woman’s body does not prevent you from being like Peter the Great,” that it was as though “Peter did not leave us.”31 Gabriil Buzhinskii, an episcope of the Orthodox Church, wrote in 1726 that, just as “in the heavens Peter reigns with Christ, in you, Russia, Peter rules through Catherine. The spirit of Peter lives in the inheritance.”32 In either case, Catherine clearly survived as she was perceived as being the better option for those who held (physical) power and had the most 29  Anderson, “Peter the Great,” 267.

30  Hughes, Encyclopedia of Russian History, s.v. “Catherine I.” 31  Prokovich, “Slovo na pogrebenie Petra Velikogo,” 1725.

32  Buzhinskii, “Slovo v den’ godishchnogo pominoveniia,” 1726.

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to lose: those who rose thanks to Peter’s Table of Ranks meritocratic system, receiving power even though she came from non-​noble origins. While any “passive” emperor who could be easily subordinated to their wills would do good to any stakeholder in the existing system, it was Catherine, living under the aura of her late husband’s ideas yet passive enough to not follow them as violently and decisively as he did, who could play to their benefit in the most elegant way, especially as she had been crowned as consort by Peter himself, which added to her legitimacy. Although she had been placed on the throne with armed assistance, it is evident that legitimacy was still important to her supporters and opponents. Most of this legitimacy arose as a result of Peter’s coronation, which can be seen as a declaration of intent to name her his successor, according to his new law. Another source of legitimacy, which is related directly to the empress, is the spirit of Peter now invested in her. Therefore, this way or the other, her legitimacy rested on her deceased husband, as the legal foundation or as the charismatic foundation of her reign. The perception of her passivity as reflected in the historiography might as well be biased or false, but this is the historical picture painted by contemporaries and later historians of her rule. Given this passivity, the foundation of the Supreme Privy Council comes as no surprise. Founded by Catherine in 1726 as a “body of advisors,”33 the council soon became the force steering the government, leaving little for the empress to do.34 In a 1726 document issued by the council called “Opinion not in a Decree on the Newly Established Privy Council,”35 the council established its functions and relations with other organs of government. Although it gave assurances that no decree would be published without their consent, their decisions became decrees only after the approval of the empress. However, their executive power did not come from any legal basis but, rather, from the fact that its members subjugated all important positions of power in the country, eventually appointing the heads of these institutions. Nevertheless, it remained limited in power, as demonstrated by the fact that Catherine herself deleted a clause from one of 33  Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, no. 4830 (Sobranie Pervoe, vol. 7, 568–​69).

34  This is one of three main historiographic attitudes taken in the study of the council, represented by historians such as Evgenii V. Beliavskii, Evgenii V. Anisimov and others. 35  Sbornik Imperatorskogo Russkogo istoricheskogo obshchestva, vol. 55, 93–​97.

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their decree drafts stating that “all reports shall be served to the Supreme Privy Council.”36 Most great achievements of her era, therefore, cannot be attributed to Catherine. The rule of Catherine serves above all as a case study for the attitudes towards female rule more than as a case study for queenship in early modern (Eastern) Europe. Her passive character as preserved in the accepted narrative of the period has no inherent connection to her gender but, rather, stems from her lack of education and her upbringing as a servant and mistress, combined with the strong character of those who insisted on “helping” her. Therefore, her reign served as an opportunity for a group of nouveaux riches (riche in terms of political power) to preserve the system that allowed them to rise in what seemed to be a long-​term, structured way. This points to the elasticity of the Russian state following the death of its “great reformer,” who died while the new government had still not quite moulded, allowing the successors to work on its structure to the favour of those in charge.

Anna

Peter II, who succeeded Catherine I, died at the age of fourteen, obviously without descendants and without declaring a successor. According to Catherine I’s manifest of May 7, 1727, the throne should have passed to Tsarevna Anna Petrovna (who had died two years earlier) and her descendants or her sister Elizabeth and her descendants. After their pleasant experience with Elizabeth and following drastic changes both in their structure and function, the Supreme Privy Council realized that an ideal emperor was an indebted emperor. In their meeting following the death of the young emperor, they pointed to Anna Ioannovna, a niece of Peter the Great, who thus had enough royal blood in her veins to be accepted as the leader of the Russian people yet not enough autocracy in her blood to be a threat to their potentially fragile power. Anna Ioannovna was indeed an attractive candidate for an elite group seeking to preserve their power. Being the niece of Peter the Great through his brother Ivan V, she was royal by blood; more than just in blood, as she had held power over her late husband’s duchy of Courland for almost two decades, which gave her experience in government. She was also near impoverishment and had no children, which eliminated the danger of foreign rule later. Most importantly, she would be indebted to those who elevated her. Indeed, they had other 36  Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, no. 3518.

options for indebted emperors, but none of them was as attractive: Catherine, her elder sister, was married to the duke of Mecklenburg-​Schwerin, but was shamefully living on her own in Russia and had children, which could lead to troubles in succession upon her death. Upon her ascension, Anna was asked (and kindly agreed) to accept, or maybe acquiesce, to “conditions” laid out by those who appointed her. The purpose of the conditions was to set limits to her autocratic power, while codifying the functions of the Supreme Privy Council as obligatory advisors for war and peace, promotions and deprivations, and other decisions on important matters, such as the appointment of heirs. On January 18, 1730, the conditions were fully accepted and signed by Anna in her capital, and thus began the preparations to enter Moscow. One can hardly exaggerate the importance of such an occasion, which has received virtually unparalleled attention from scholars and varied interpretations. One group of scholars believe that this was an attempt by the ruling elites to impose limitations on an absolute autocrat.37 Another interpretation, which I find more convincing, suggests that the conditions were merely the written product of an attempt to codify what was already reality in terms of succession.38 In this light, it seems that the only “serious” clause is the one reversing the Petrine law of succession, since such agreements that forced the autocrat to consult the boyars seemed to exist starting with Ivan IV in the sixteenth century and to continue at least until the rule of Alexis in the late seventeenth century.39 However, some lesser nobles did not believe this to be a sincere, Swedish/​Polish-​inspired attempt to move towards a constitutional monarchy. While gender, so far, has been overlooked in scholarly literature about this peculiar issue, it was amidst this battle of interests that Anna, having entered Moscow, tore up the conditions, reassuring her subjects of the autocratic nature of the Russian Tsar. Her reign, with its magnificent beginning, is remembered as “one of the darkest pages” in Russia’s history.40 Despite her various actions in favour of the nobility, which Zhand Shakibi describes as the “beginning of an upgrading of the Russian nobility’s status,”41 they are described by Sergei Platonov, 37  Pipes, Russia under the Old Regime, 184.

38  Korsakov, Votsarenie Imperatritsy Anny Ioannovny,  17–​18.

39  Kotoshikhin, O Rossii v tsarstvovanie Alekseia Mikhailovicha, 125. 40  Kliuchevskii, Kurs rosskoi istorii, 238.

41  Shakibi, Encyclopedia of Russian History, s.v. “Anna Ivanovna.”

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Emanuel Aronsberg, and Frank Alfred Golder as “anti-​noble,” and even “not national.”42 In his “Re-​Examination of the “Dark Era” of Anna Ioannovna,” Alexander Lipski finds three main common accusations against Anna: taxes, brutally collected “through the evil influence of [Ernst Johann von] Biron”—​ Anna’s German lover; a “reign of terror,” also under the responsibility of Biron; and the German domination “for their personal advantage,” which, he argues, was “not in the interest of Russia.” In one of the most comprehensive and well-​argued Western analyses of her reign, Lipski deconstructs these arguments, and, while not rejecting the historical core behind them, shows how small the role of Biron was in the government, and how xenophobic the discourse that arose as a response to the “xenophilia” advocated by Peter the Great and his supporters was.43 However, it should be noted that, with the rise of Elizabeth, part of her legitimacy was constructed on the basis of the identification of Anna as an agent of foreign involvement. Biron, born in Semigallia (a historical region of Latvia that was a part of the larger area of Semigallia and Courland), is assumed to have played a role so important in the reign of Anna that the entire period is sometimes called Bironschina, “the Era of Biron.” While in reality it was the Cabinet, appointed by Anna and characterized by significant German representation, and to a lesser extent the Senate (of pure Russian composition) that ruled,44 Biron’s name is the one associated with her rule. This is perhaps due to his easy-​to-​ blame foreign identity, all the more so since he became the ruler of a non-​Russian region thereafter, which strengthened the view that he was motivated by personal, rather than Russian, interests. It is this spirit, rejected by Lipski, that inspires Shakibi to describe Anna as one who “had little inclination for ruling, preferring gossip, trivia, and matchmaking.” 45 Another quite typical description is given in the fin-​de-​siècle Russian Biographical Dictionary, in which Dmitrii Korsakov, undoubtedly one of the greatest Russian experts on Anna’s reign, recounts that “her heart was not devoid of emotions, but the circumstances of her life turned to be so unfortunate that these natural qualities … were distorted, mutilated.”46

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These two depictions of Anna, equally popular in both contemporary and later literature, are contradictory, as they depict one lazy Anna, inclined to “female” activities (which, in that sense, resembles the gender-​motivated attack on Marie Antoinette), and one “distorted” Anna, who diverged from the natural feminine way of emotion and sensitivity in favour of ways of terror. Despite the decisive, calumnious character assigned almost unanimously to her reign, in reality it can be seen largely as a continuation of Peter the Great’s directives. However, in internal affairs one of the most influential processes, characteristic of a court ruled by the upper classes, was the expansion of noble rights at the expense of the serfs and other people of lower classes. In the cultural sphere, Westernization was growing steadily, despite the fact that it still affected a small percentage of the country, but was carried out by foreigners themselves, and not under the wings of a strong, charismatic leader working in a “preponderantly utilitarian” fashion, which might have increased reasons for xenophobia and anti-​Western sentiment.47 To conclude, the story of Anna Ioannovna is interesting for its representations and memory. Although she continued Peter the Great’s reforms, albeit at a much lower intensity, and was not being very dominant on her own accord (not unlike Elizabeth I), her reign was seared into Russian collective memory as an era of darkness and cruelty, maybe more than any other Tsar after Peter the Great. As demonstrated above, I believe that this image was constructed both by the raging xenophobic atmosphere in eighteenth-​century Russia, resulting from a significant foreign, mainly German, presence in court, and by the influence of gender norms that presumed that a woman’s role was entrenched in mundane affairs rather than high politics, possibly influenced by notions of femininity imported from the West. Together, they supported the image not only of her dark rule but also of a two-​sided Anna: a lazy, traditionally feminine Anna, who was interested in gossip and mundane matters such as matchmaking; and a brutal, “distorted,” emotionless Anna.

Elizabeth

43  Lipski, “A Re-​Examination of the ‘Dark Era’ of Anna Ioan­novna,” 478.

Elizabeth’s ascension was not an extraordinary story of maid-​ turned-​queen or old-​distant-​relative-​turned-​queen. In fact, she was raised as the favourite daughter of Peter I and the

46  Korsakov, Russkii biograficheskii slovar’, s.v. “Anna Ioannovna.”

47  Lipski, “Some Aspects of Russia’s Westernization during the Reign of Anna Ioannovna.”

42  Platonov, Aronsberg and Golder, History of Russia. 44  Ibid., 484.

45  Shakibi, Encyclopedia of Russian History, s.v. “Anna Ivanovna.”

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daughter of another queen regnant, Catherine I. She is often described by different biographers and contemporaries as very gentle, beautiful, and even fluent in French (possibly so that she could marry into French royalty), but not very educated, as she did not appear to know that “Britain is an island.”48 Despite her beauty and eloquent French, she stayed in Russia. Her mother’s origin was too obscure to gain her a place in the French royal court, and her German fiancé died before they had the chance to get married. Instead, she chose a series of lovers: a sergeant from the Semyonovsky Guards Regiment, a coachman, a footman, and, finally, a Ukrainian serf named Alexis Razumovsky.49 Thanks to Razumovsky and her good relations with the regiments, she seized power in yet another coup, with the help of the Preobrazhensky Regiment on November 25, 1741. The coronation of Elizabeth served as the culmination of a process leading from Moscow to St. Petersburg. If the reigns of Catherine I and Anna had introduced variations and innovations into the ceremony, which in turn reflected the entire institution of Tsardom, Elizabeth conducted a series of ceremonies that demonstrated the shift from the “Muscovite coronation into the consecration of an absolute monarch beholden to no earthly power, not excepting the church.”50 In her elaborate celebrations, which lasted months into her reign, she reinforced the basic fundamentals of the Petrine state and the subsequent shift from Muscovite ideals, deliberately marking the return of an era. It was not only “symbolic externals”51 that demonstrated Elizabeth’s Petrine spirit. In the domestic sphere, institutions that were the hallmarks of the Petrine era, such as the Senate, were revitalized and even amplified in significance as a clear marker of continuity, as an attempt to place her reign in the context of her father’s glory. This can be demonstrated by taking the Senate as a case study.52 Instituted by Peter the Great, the Governing Senate was a Westernized alternative to the Muscovite Boyar Duma in its role as a legislative, judicial, and executive council to the Russian emperors. Under Catherine and Anna, it lost its power to the Supreme Privy Council and Her Majesty’s Cabinet respectively, effectively 48  Shcherbatov, O povrezhdenii nravov v Rossii, 27. 49  Waliszewski, Doč’ Petra Velikogo,  80–​95. 50  Wortman, Scenarios of Power, 44. 51  Ibid., 52.

52  See also Murashov, “Senat v period pravleniya Elizavety Petrovny.”

retaining power in the hands of a handful of members. In a decree signed by Elizabeth on December 12, 1741, the power of the Senate was restored.53 Another interpretation, which I find complementary rather than contradictory, is that the act of restoring the Senate’s power was a way of rewarding the officers of the regiments, who were excluded from the political arena by all means except direct military involvement.54 Having ascended the throne in a sudden coup, Elizabeth had to make the case for her legitimacy. She did this by emphasizing her “legal right by dint of the closest blood tie,”55 and described her ascension as the “wish of the people,”56 stemming from the “unrest and disorder” inflicted upon the empire by “various people” who had served as regents.57 These traditional and legal sources of charisma were complemented by a regal effect built by the ceremonies described above.58 The famous ceremony, one in a series of coronations, in which she “appeared before the soldiers, a sword in her hand, and told them in a few words that they saw in her a legitimate empress and those who loved her had to follow her immediately,” “succeeded in winning her everyone’s hearts,”59 as described by the French ambassador at that time. Another popular claim was that this reign was elevating the legacy of Peter the Great through his daughter at the expense of the German faction that had characterized Anna’s reign.60 Despite her “ignorance” in geography, recounted by both contemporaries and later writers, Elizabeth was particularly interested in foreign policy. With a government ruled by a consultative manner and armed with senior, experienced statesmen, the empress was able to negotiate war and peace using military approaches alongside diplomacy. Following the legacy of her father, Russia’s prestige rose to unprecedented heights under Elizabeth, especially due to its bloodless yet successful mediation in the War of Austrian Succession. 53  Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, no. 8480.

54  Belova, “Vysshie i tsentral’nye organy vlasti v Rossii v pravlenie Elizavety Petrovny,” 6.

55  Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv drevnikh aktov, f. 2, op. 3, ed. khr 59 (February 14, 1742). 56  On the idea of the Russian emperor as an elected emperor, see Whittaker, “Chosen by ‘All the Russian People,’ ” esp. 15–​16. 57  Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, no. 8473. 58  Ospovat, “The (Dis)Empowered People,” 46–​47.

59  Sbornik Imperatorskogo Russkogo istoricheskago obshchestva, vol. 96: 654, 648; quoted in Ospovat, “The (Dis)empowered People.”

60  Raikov, Ocherki po istorii geliotsentricheskogo mirovozzreniia v Rossii, 203–​13.

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However, her greatest impact as a personality was in terms of culture, so much that her reign was thereafter known as the “cultural renaissance of Russia.” A great patron of the arts, it is reported that Elizabeth held as many as two balls per week, one for a greater audience of the nobility and one of her close circle of friends and family.61 Building on the work of Anna Ioannovna, who began importing cultural institutions and developing Russian versions of Western art, she further developed ballet and, especially, theatre.62 Indeed, she continued her father’s policy of importing art by inviting artists of international reputation, such as Bartolomeo Rastrelli and Jakob von Stählin, and at the same time developed Russian talents, serving as a patron to Mikhail Lomonosov, Alexander Sumarokov, Vasily Trediakovsky, and the Volkovs. Another area of utmost importance to Elizabeth was education. During her reign many schools were opened, and, most importantly, Moscow State University, now named after Lomonosov, was opened, with faculties of philosophy, theology, and law teaching in Russian. A firm believer in education, she even broke the monopoly of the Synod over censorship by awarding the Academy of Sciences and Moscow State University the right to censor their own publications.63 One of the achievements attributed to Elizabeth, described in many versions and explained as a part of different processes, is the abolishment of capital punishment. According to one version, which appears, for example, in Kostomarov’s Russkaia Istoriia, Solovev’s Istoriia Rossii, and others, Elizabeth vowed in a prayer to abolish capital punishment if her attempt to seize the throne were successful. While the implementation of what eventually was indeed decreed was hindered by the structure of the Russian legal system,64 the mere existence of such a decision provides an interesting case study of the sources of influence on the empress. Cyril Bryner attributes this decision not to personal benevolence (as the Russian public did) nor to Enlightenment thought (which even in the original French was not yet developed enough to discuss capital punishment) but, rather, to three main circles of influence:  the Orthodox Church, Peter the 61  Talbot Rice, Elizabeth, Empress of Russia, 135. 62  Ospovat, “The (Dis)Empowered People,” 38.

63  Reifman, Tsenzura v dorevoliutsionnoi, sovetskoi i postsovetskoi Rossii,  30–​31.

64  Bryner, “The Issue of Capital Punishment in the Reign of Elizabeth Petrovna,” 389.

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Great, and popular fiction in French.65 He claims that the personal character advocated by the Church and the moralizing content of popular fiction allowed this decision to be made in combination with the legacy of Peter the Great. While this theory clearly does not explain the methods of torture often described in legal histories as an essential tool in criminal justice, this case study demonstrates three threads that undoubtedly accompanied the empress in other decisions. The combination of these seemingly unrelated strands yields a cohesive picture of Elizabeth as an empress: a patron of the arts, following in the footsteps of Anna and setting the tone for Catherine II, a ruler in the shadow of her father’s legacy, yet first and foremost an independent empress who had to build herself, using favourites and the regiments like her predecessors, but clearly with her own initiative. Interestingly enough, this conclusion sometimes fades in historiography in favour of a more passive view of Elizabeth. In his textbook of Russian history, Paul Dukes describes Elizabeth’s ascension as something she “allowed herself” to do to avoid confinement in a nunnery, while actually paying most attention to her “insatiable liking for clothes … leaving fifteen thousand dresses at her death.” He does nevertheless, acknowledge that she “paid more attention to the business of government than had Anna before her, but still left most to her favourites.”66

Catherine II (“The Great”)

It is difficult to offer a brief, yet comprehensive analysis of the reign of Catherine II, not due to lack of previous scholarship (like the previous empresses discussed) but, rather, due to both the quantitative and qualitative richness of previous studies. With books dedicated to her life and to the era named after her, she is arguably second in importance (at least in the eyes of traditional historiography) only to Peter himself. Therefore, the discussion offered in the present chapter is limited to the same essential “big questions” discussed in the previous case studies: her accession to the throne, legitimacy, ideology and its applications, and legacy. While Catherine was raised to become a part of the court, the intended court was not in Russia. Born Sophie Friederike August von Anhalt-​Zerbst-​Dornburg, she was educated at home following a rigorous curriculum supported by a French governess and tutors. Despite her father belonging to the 65  Ibid., 402–​3.

66  Dukes, A History of Russia, 88.

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ruling family of Anhalt and his rank of a general as the governor of Stettin, her family was quite poor and her childhood quite boring, as she attested herself on various occasions.67 Following an ambitious mother and as a part of a greater diplomatic plan, Catherine was chosen for the future Peter III (who was himself half German) while they were still around ten years old. Catherine arrived in Russia in 1744, and she later wrote at length how “detestable” she found Peter, being so childish, on the one hand, and yet so fond of alcohol at such an age, on the other.68 Driven by the desire to wear the crown, she devoted days and nights to studying Russian and converted to Orthodoxy, which resulted in her changing her name from Sophie to Catherine. When Elizabeth died in January 1762 Peter became emperor, and Catherine became his empress consort. Even before becoming empress regnant became a feasible option, Catherine began attending and supporting social circles that opposed her husband. These circles, along with other elements of the nobility, became increasingly alienated as Peter became grew increasingly close to Frederick II of Prussia. Approximately six months after becoming emperor, Peter was forced to abdicate in a well-​planned scheme, which is believed to have been led by his wife with the cooperation of the Ismailovsky Regiment and the clergy. If Catherine I and Anna could rely on others for legitimacy and Elizabeth could count on her Petrine legacy, Catherine II had to be more creative. The series of autobiographical writings she produced, written over five decades, emphasize her fitness to rule, even if indirectly, and demonstrate that her legitimacy as a non-​Russian non-​Romanov empress had to be reaffirmed and maintained. In a series of manifestos, she asserted her position as an “elected empress” who felt that ascending the throne was her obligation, considering the many troubles and problems Peter III had inflicted on the country and based on the “clear and sincere desire of our loyal subjects,” which would be remedied with “God’s help”.69 To satisfy the voices calling for a respectable empress from a good family, she emphasized her patrilineal heritage, as well as her affinity to Peter’s political spirit. In a compelling analysis of Catherine II as a “female ruler,” Victoria Ivleva demonstrates how Catherine II “employed various strategies … and was ultimately able to capitalize on what her 67  Streeter, Catherine the Great, 3. 68  Ibid., 6.

69  Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiskoi Imperii, no. 11582; quoted in Whittaker, “Chosen by ‘All the Russian People.’ ”

contemporaries perceived as both masculine and feminine roles and behaviours.” 70 The progressive part of Russian society, she claims, enjoyed her “androgynous qualities … and the image of an enlightened monarch,” while the more traditional part of society needed her “respect for homegrown traditions and … womanhood …, matriarchal qualities and domestic roles.”71 During her thirty-​four-​year reign Catherine was more of a reformer than a reactionary (a policy adopted in her later years). While maintaining her autocratic supremacy, she expanded the options of the nobility to participate in the political process and granted more rights to townspeople as well as nobles. In addition, she was one of the first Russian rulers to rule according to an “official ideology,” in this case Enlightenment thought. Under this influence she encouraged learning and was a patron of the arts and culture, and even began projects related to economics and public welfare. However, not unlike the rest of eastern Europe at that time, the implementation of her ideals was often paid for by the lower classes, who also bore the price for her many wars. Moreover, her period of “reaction” (approximately since 1775) was not mild, with heavy persecution of intellectuals. Her efforts to make Russia an equal member of the European community meant catching up with contemporary European thought. This led to several diversions from Peter’s original programme, such as her development of a rather decentralized structure of statehood with clearly defined social orders and limits. In an effort to make such a system run smoothly, she attempted to codify the laws of the empire, as the last attempt had been carried in 1649. Her reforms yielded a provincial hierarchy to run the provinces (following a statute from 1775) and noble assemblies that had to elect these officials (following the Charter of the Nobility of 1785). In 1785 the status of town dwellers, as mentioned above, was defined for the first time in modern Russian history, in line with European traditions. In the foreign sphere, an area very dear to her heart, she worked on territorial expansion, which was also part of her quest to become a true part of Europe. Her wars yielded territories in Poland and Turkey mostly, and her acquisitions to the west and the south were more numerous than Peter’s. All these moves proved essential to the construction of an empire; she unified territories and added new ones, building a system of provincial organization that allowed such large territories 70  Ivleva, “Catherine II as Female Ruler,” 45–​46. 71  Ibid.

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to be ruled effectively. In many ways, her achievements allowed the further expansion of the empire in the nineteenth century, or perhaps even allowed its very existence. Catherine accrued immense popularity almost immediately, and sparked the imagination of scholars and the public alike. In one of the many biographies written about Catherine, John Alexander says that “her career raises fundamental issues between the sexes.”72 He even proceeds to claim that “women writers have generally treated her more sympathetically than their male counterparts.”73 This claim was thoroughly tested by Anthony Cross in a dedicated study,74 in which he concludes that “so many of the old arguments and propositions are still rehearsed,” referring to the “more sensational and lurid aspects of her life and reign,” which nineteenth-​century Europe and its biographers found “hard to resist.”75 Such an allure can be seen in book titles such as Catherine the Great: Love, Sex, and Power,76 which promises to speak about a “dutiful daughter, passionate lover, doting grandmother, tireless legislator, generous patron of artists and philosophers.” Another interesting conclusion can be obtained by comparing biographies of Catherine. Unlike Virginia Rounding’s aforementioned book, which discusses Catherine’s achievements while paying minor attention to her personal qualities (let alone feminine qualities), Catherine the Great:  Portrait of a Woman77 pays more attention to her character and “feminine” nature, speaking about her “weak, bullying husband, Peter (who left her sexually untouched for nine years), and her favourites—​the young men from whom she sought … the recapture of youth as well as sex.” Simon Dixon’s take on her biography78 starts with her achievements yet moves on to promise an “intimate and revealing” discussion about a woman who “could be ruthless when necessary, but she charmed everyone she met, joking at private dinner parties in the Hermitage, which she had built for her own use.” He even goes so far as to blatantly add that, “determined to endear herself to the Russians, she made religious devotions in which she never believed.”79

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On the other hand, Robert Massie80 reinforces traditional gender roles by depicting Peter the Great as “a barbarous, volatile feudal tsar with a taste for torture; a progressive and enlightened reformer … a statesman of vision and colossal significance,” with virtually no comments on his sexual activity or domestic life. Derek Wilson81 pays greater attention to his character, describing him as “ruthless and tyrannical” but “of necessity,” with a rather violent tone all along the back cover description. Such a comparison shows perhaps more clearly than anything else how gender still reflects historical memory, long after the nineteenth century.

Conclusion

76  Rounding, Catherine the Great.

By following the rise and reign of each individual empress, this chapter has unravelled and echoed truths concerning the overall development of the early Russian Empire. The chaotic nature of accession did not become significantly smoother over time but did become less dependent on the nobility, as a sophisticated body of thought about the legitimacy of the emperor developed. The emperorship, which began as the creation of an unprecedentedly strong ruler, developed into dependence on favourites and then became increasingly institutionalized, or at least unsurprising, and less arbitrary. In all aspects of foreign and domestic affairs one can see continuity and change, but an overall flow of the same grand narrative. This continuity, and even harmony, especially given interludes of male rule between them, require a microscopic reading of the elements we want to label as “feminine.” We saw that female rulers can be as passive, as in the case of Catherine I or Anna, who were basically placed on the throne, or as active as Elizabeth or, even more so, Catherine II, who placed themselves on the throne. Therefore, while the short answer to the question “Is Imperial Russian ‘queenship’ different from Imperial Russian ‘kingship’?” is “Not really,” such an answer is in itself very important for scholars of the history of gender who engage in the study of Russia or queenship itself. Further research is clearly needed into specific aspects related to gender or influenced by gender in the reigns of these empresses regnant and across their respective reigns, but a general model cannot be devised. The sudden change in circumstances, which most likely did not foresee this phenomenon, allowed the rise of women and provides evidence

79  Ibid., back cover.

81  Wilson, Peter the Great.

72  Alexander, Catherine the Great, viii. 73  Ibid., xii.

74  Cross, “Catherine the Great.” 75  Ibid., 220.

77  Massie, Catherine the Great. 78  Dixon, Catherine the Great.

80  Massie, Peter the Great.

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for the theory that men and women did not necessarily live in “separate spheres,” causing the women an inherent deficiency (which was solved later by education and equal opportunities) that then enabled them to serve as queens. In the Russian case, it seems to be both a legal and social barrier that prevented women from “blending into” the line of succession. The dimensions of how extraordinary this phenomenon was are often ignored by scholars. It is indeed worth noting that certain emperors were elected despite being further removed from the throne than some living daughters, while in other

kingdoms in Europe a woman, no matter how close she was to the throne, could not become queen regnant. One aspect that this chapter has aimed to examine explicitly through the prism of gender is the way that these empresses are remembered both in scholarly and popular imagination. Regardless of the role played by gender in their rise, reign, and fall, it certainly influenced and shaped the way we think and write about them, as demonstrated most clearly in the contrast between Peter the Great and Catherine the Great. In this respect, we still have much to learn.

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Engel, Barbara A. “Women, the Family and Public Life.” In The Cambridge History of Russia, vol. 2: Imperial Russia, 1689–​1917, edited by Dominic Lieven, 306–​25. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Hughes, Lindsey. “Between Two Worlds: Tsarevna Natal’ia Aleksevna and the ‘Emancipation’ of Petrine Women.” In A Window on Russia: Papers from the V International Conference of the Study Group on Eighteenth-​Century Russia: Gargano, 1994, edited by Maria Di Salvo and Lindsey Hughes, 29–​36. Rome: La Fenice, 1996. —​—​—​. “Catherine I.” In Encyclopedia of Russian History, edited by James R. Millar, vol. 1, 204–​5. Farming Hills: Thomson Gale, 2004. —​—​—​. “Catherine I of Russia, Consort to Peter the Great.” In Queenship in Europe, 1660–​1815: The Role of the Consort, edited by Clarissa Campbell Orr, 131–​54. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. —​—​—​. “From Caftans into Corsets: The Sartorial Transformation of Women during the Reign of Peter the Great.” In Gender and Sexuality in Russian Civilisation, edited by Peter I. Barta, 17–​32. London: Routledge, 2001. —​—​—​. Russia in the Age of Peter the Great: 1682–​1725. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998. Ivleva, Viktoria. “Catherine II as Female Ruler: The Power of Enlightened Womanhood.” Vivliofika:  E-​Journal of Eighteenth-​ Century Russian Studies 3 (2015): 20–​46. Johanson, Christine. Women’s Struggle for Higher Education in Russia, 1855–​1900. Kingston: McGill-​ Queen’s University Press, 1987. Kliuchevskii, Vasilii O. Kurs russkoi istorii. Vol. 4. Petrograd: Gosudarstvennaia Tipografiia, 1918. Kollmann, Nancy Shields. “The Seclusion of Elite Muscovite Women.” Russian History 10 (1983): 170–​87. Korsakov, Dmitrii A. “Anna Ioannovna.” In Russkii biograficheskii slovar’, vol. 2, 158–​78. Sankt Peterburg: Sankt-​Peterburgskii Imperatorskii Russkii Istoricheskoe Obeschestvo, 1900. —​—​—​. Votsarenie Imperatritsy Anny Ivannovny. Kazan: Tipografiia Imperatorskoi Universiteta, 1880. Kotoshikhin, Grigorii. O Rossii v tsarstvovanie Alekseia Mikhailovicha. Sankt Peterburg: Izdanie Arkheograficheskoi Komissii, 1884. Lentin, Anthony, ed. Peter the Great: His Law on the Imperial Succession in Russia, 1722: The Official Commentary. Oxford: Headstart History, 1996. Lipski, Alexander. “A Re-​Examination of the ‘Dark Era’ of Anna Ioannovna.” American Slavic and East European Review 15 (1956):  477–​88. —​—​—​. “Some Aspects of Russia’s Westernization during the Reign of Anna Ioannovna, 1730–​1740.” American Slavic and East European Review 18 (1959): 1–​11. Marrese, Michelle L. “Gender and the Legal Order in Imperial Russia.” In The Cambridge History of Russia, vol. 2: Imperial Russia, 1689–​1917, edited by Dominic Lieven, 326–​43. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Martin, Janet. “Calculating Seniority and the Contests for Succession in Kievan Rus’.” Russian History 33 (2006): 267–​80. Massie, Robert K. Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman. New York: Random House, 2011. —​—​—​. Peter the Great: His Life and World. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980. Murashov, Il’ya Y. “Senat v period pravleniia Elizavety Petrovny.” Omskij Nauchnyj Vestnik 79 (2009): 45–​47. Ospovat, Kirill. “The (Dis)Empowered People: Kingship, Revolt, and the Origins of Russian Tragic Drama.” In Acta Slavica Estonica, vol. 6: Russian National Myth in Transition, edited by Ljubov Kisseljova, 38–​58. Tartu: University of Tartu Press, 2014. Pipes, Richard. Russia under the Old Regime. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1974. Platonov, Sergei F., Emanuel Aronsberg, and Frank Alfred Golder. History of Russia. New York: Macmillan, 1925. Raikov, Boris E. Ocherki po istorii geliotsentricheskogo mirovozzreniia v Rossii. Moscow: Izd-​vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1947. Reifman, Pavel S. Tsenzura v dorevoliutsionnoi, sovetskoi i postsovetskoi Rossii, vol. 1: Kurs lektsii. Moscow: Probel-​2000, 2005. Reingardt, Nikolai V. O lichnykh i imushchestvennykh pravakh zhenshchin po russkomu zakonu. Kazan: Tipografiia Gubernskogo Pravlenia, 1885. Rounding, Virginia. Catherine the Great: Love, Sex, and Power. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2007. Schrader, Abby M. Languages of the Lash: Corporal Punishment and Identity in Imperial Russia. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2002. Scott, Joan Wallach. “Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis.” American Historical Review 91 (1986): 1053–​75.

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Shadis, Miriam. “Queens.” Oxford Bibliographies in Medieval Studies, August 26, 2013. www.oxfordbibliographies.com/​view/​ document/​obo-​9780195396584/​obo-​9780195396584-​0123.xml. Shakibi, Zhand P. “Anna Ivanovna.” In Encyclopedia of Russian History, edited by James R. Millar, vol. 1, 63–​64. Farming Hills: Thomson Gale, 2004. Shcherbinin, Pavel P. “Soldatskie zheny v XVIII—​nachale XX V: Opyt rekonstrukcii sotsial’nogo statusa, pravovogo polozheniia, sotsiokul’turnogo oblika, povedeniia i nastroenii.” Journal of Power Institutions in Post-​Soviet Societies 4/​5 (2006). Stokes, Antony Derek. “The System of Succession to the Thrones of Russia: 1054–​1113.” In Gorski Vijenats:  A Garland of Essays Offered to Professor Elizabeth Mary Hill, edited by Robert Auty, Lucian R. Lewitter, and Alexis P. Vlasto, 268–​75. Cambridge: Modern Humanities Research Association, 1970. Streeter, Michael. Catherine the Great. London: Haus, 2007. Talbot Rice, Tamara. Elizabeth, Empress of Russia. New York: Praeger, 1970. Uspenskii, Boris A., and Iurii M. Lotman. “Otzvuki kontseptsii ‘Moskva—​Tretii Rim’ v ideologii Petra I.” In Khudozhestvennyi iazyk srednevekov’ia, edited by Vladimir A. Karpushin. Moscow: Nauka, 1982. Uspenskii, Boris A., and Victor M. Zhivov. “Tsar and God: Semiotic Aspects of the Sacralization of the Monarch in Russia.” In “Tsar and God” and Other Essays in Russian Cultural Semiotics, edited by Marcus C. Levitt, 1–​112. Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2012. Vladimirskii-​Budanov, Mikhail F. Obzor istorii russkogo prava. 6th ed. Moscow: Territoria Budushchego, 2005. Waliszewski, Kazimierz K. Doč’ Petra Velikogo, edited by Evgenij V. Anisimov. Moscow: Kniga, 1990. Walker, Garthine. Crime, Gender and Social Order in Early Modern England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Whittaker, Cynthia H. “Chosen by ‘All the Russian People’: The Idea of an Elected Monarch in Eighteenth-​Century Russia.” Acta Slavica Iaponica 18 (2001): 1–​18. Wilson, Derek. Peter the Great. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2010. Wortman, Richard. “‘Ofitsial’naia narodnost’ i natsional’ni mif rossiiskoi monarkhii XIX veka.” Rossiia 3 (1999): 233–​44. —​—​—​. Scenarios of Power:  Myth and Ceremony in Russian Monarchy from Peter the Great to the Abdication of Nicholas II. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006. Zhivov, Victor M. “The Myth of the State in the Age of Enlightenment and Its Destruction in Late Eighteenth-​Century Russia.” In “Tsar and God” and Other Essays in Russian Cultural Semiotics, edited by Marcus C. Levitt, 239–​57. Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2012.

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8 THE TRANSFORMATION OF AN ISLAND QUEEN: QUEEN BÉTI OF MADAGASCAR JANE HOOPER

In 1750 a French vessel anchored off the east coast of Madagascar. 1 The men on board carried orders from Île de France (Mauritius) to finalize an agreement with the king of Foulpointe, “Tamsimalo” (Ratsimilaho), and form a settlement on his lands.2 The French sought a base from which to organize the export of rice, cattle, and slaves to the Mascarene Islands of France and Bourbon Réunion. Despite the failure of earlier French attempts in settling Madagascar, Mascarene officials were motivated by the belief that finally gaining a foothold on the large island would ensure the success of their commercial operations in the Indian Ocean. When foreigners arrived at Foulpointe, Ratsimilaho, clothed in European garments, greeted them in either French or English.3 His wives, many as fair-​skinned as Ratsimilaho, were also well dressed and likely spoke some English and French as well.4 Ratsimilaho, his queens, and other elites in eastern Madagascar claimed to be descendants of Anglo-​ American pirates who had resided on the island during the late seventeenth century.5 By 1750 these pirates had dispersed, but 1  Portions of this chapter were presented at the 2015 African Studies Association meeting as part of two panels on “Women and Trade on the African Coast.” The author wishes to thank the panellists, discussants and audience members for their feedback. 2  Pierre Félix Barthélemy David, “Instructions données au Sieur Gosse,” June 18, 1750, “COL C/​5a/​1.” Also written “Ratsimilahoe.”

3  Example: ship journal of the Duc d’Anjou, 1737, “MAR/​4JJ/​76.” The king reportedly travelled to England: Ellis, “Tom and Toakafo,” 449. 4  Ship journal of the Duc d’Anjou; ship journal of the Heron, 1743, “MAR/​4JJ/​76.” 5  Most histories of Ratsimilaho rely upon Nicolas Mayeur’s “Histoire de Ratismila-​h oe, roi de Foulpointe et de Bet-​t simiscaracs,” in Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire, vol. 2, 183–​300. See also Wright,

their influence was still present in the names and titles assumed by rulers in eastern Madagascar. Ratsimilaho was the head of an expansive state, later known as the Betsimisaraka (meaning the “Many that shall not be separated”) Confederation, that dominated the export commerce for much of eastern Madagascar. Guillaume Gosse, the primary negotiator in 1750, appeared convinced that he would have little trouble in establishing a French settlement in the region, as Ratsimilaho had earlier indicated that he would be amenable to such a proposal.6 The French hoped to land colonists on the small island of Sainte Marie [Nosy Boraha]. The narrow island was about twenty miles long, but only a few miles wide, and visible from the shores of eastern Madagascar. It would serve as a secure landing spot for French personnel.7 With the labour of enslaved men and women who could be purchased on the main island, the land of Sainte Marie would be made to produce cotton, tobacco, and sugar for export—​or so some French optimistically hoped.8 However, after Gosse had arrived he discovered that Ratsimilaho had recently died and Ratsimilaho’s daughter Béti was “heir to the kingdom and all the rights of Tamsimalo, her father.”9 Prior to this date Europeans had written little about “Early State Dynamics,” 311–​12; Ellis, “Tom and Toakafo,” 447–​48; and Hooper, “Pirates and Kings.” The “confederation” was not explicitly identified by European visitors until the late eighteenth century. 6  See report by David, 1750, “COL C/​4/​6(2).”

7  Ship journal of the St Louis, April 1746, “MAR/​4JJ/​92.”

8  M. Vignol, “Projet d’établissement à Madagascar,” 1749, “COL C/​ 5a/​1.”

9  All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. The treaty can be found in “COL C/​5 a/​1 ”; see a copy in Lacombe, Voyage à Madagascar, 357–​6 4. Her full name was Elizabeth Sobobie Béty: Allen, Slaves, Freedmen, and Indentured Laborers, 86.

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100 0 100 200 300 400 km

inheritance patterns in this part of Madagascar, and even less about women in positions of political power. However, these Frenchmen rapidly recognized Béti’s claim to the throne, especially as she was willing to cooperate with their plan. The queen, along with “all her family, assisted by the grands of the kingdom, the chiefs and commandants of the villages that belong within it,” accompanied the French to Sainte Marie. After their arrival, and in the presence of several French observers, Béti signed the treaty with an “X,” agreeing to give the island to King Louis XV of France “en perpétuité.” She was again identified as “Béti, queen of Foulepointe, daughter of the deceased king, sole inheritor of his estate.” The treaty included additional crosses below the queen’s, including that of the “queen mother” and twenty-​nine other chiefs. One of them was identified as the “beau-​père” of the deceased king, himself a chief in the nearby port of Fénérif. The treaty thus reveals that not only had Béti inherited the kingdom but that she had done so with the support of male relatives. Even though the resulting colony on Sainte Marie was short-​lived, the treaty signed in 1750 was cited repeatedly by the French for more than a century to justify a pro-​imperialist agenda in Madagascar. However, in some retellings of this history Béti’s role has been forgotten or misconstrued. It has

Figure 8.1 Eighteenth-​century southwestern Indian Ocean.

become rare for Béti to be mentioned by scholars without some speculation about the men with whom she may have shared her bed, and, as a result, all evidence of Béti’s political power has been overshadowed by the perception that she was a beautiful and exotic woman, sexually available for foreign men. This assumption, that relationships with white men played a role in her political decision making, was tacitly accepted not only by nineteenth-​century French officials but also by later historians. The veracity of such accounts is, in many ways, less significant than the sheer diversity and persistence of romantic tales about her life. This chapter examines this proliferation of stories about Béti. An examination of historical evidence reveals not only that it was unlikely that white men influenced her choices but also that Béti was one of several queens who ruled in pre-​ colonial Madagascar. However, the memories of these other queens were untarnished by rumors of their sexual exploits. Béti’s reign had been on the east coast of Madagascar, where sexual relationships between islander women and white men had become common by the nineteenth century. Such relationships contributed to Western condemnation of women in eastern Madagascar and ultimately led to the reshaping of the memory of Queen Béti in historical writings.

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Eighteenth-​Century  Queens Eighteenth-​century Madagascar was divided into a variety of social and political groupings.10 Monarchs who identified themselves as the Sakalava ruled over the ports of the west coast and shared a belief that they had inherited rule from divine ancestors. Despite their prominence on the coast, their ability to exert political control was limited. Sakalava kings and princes were capable of mobilizing their supporters in battle and demanding ritual tribute payments in the form of slaves, cattle, and rice from neighbouring communities, but they were not powerful enough to access all the trade networks that crossed the island. Ratsimilaho and his Betsimisaraka descendants on the opposite coast also drew upon local communities for military and material support, but seldom waged war beyond their coastal trading centers. Elsewhere on the island, leaders had their own distinctive histories of political authority and organization. While Sakalava and Betsimisaraka monarchs monopolized exchanges with Western merchants, the rulers of these other communities prevented the coastal states from dominating the interior. Western merchants left detailed descriptions of the coastal monarchs, who sold provisions and slaves. With their penchant for negotiating with the most (seemingly) powerful males in each port, European provide us with descriptions that seem to suggest that political rule was centralized and dominated by men. By the eighteenth century Sakalava and Betsimisaraka rulers communicated their political status by using French and English titles, including “king,” “prince,” and “roi.” The adoption of such labels demonstrated that island leaders understood the benefits that could be accrued from European recognition of their sovereignty.11 However, the use of the word “king” places only a thin veneer over cultural complexities that baffled Europeans, who hoped (and failed) to understand the exercise of political authority, the geographical limits of states and the diversity of social identifications within Madagascar. In fact, rulers in coastal Madagascar probably exercised limited independent political authority.12 Kings and princes were typically surrounded by governors, pursers, and other 10  Hooper, Feeding Globalization, esp. 88–​90.

11  European titles, languages and dress created a sense of similitude, a term deployed by Jeremy Prestholdt in Domesticating the World,  13–​32. 12  Hooper, Feeding Globalization; on political power elsewhere in Madagascar, see Middleton, “Power and Meaning,” 175; and Bloch, “The Ethnohistory of Madagascar,” 297.

Jane Hooper

elites when they negotiated with merchants, suggesting that power was as “diffuse and multifaceted” as it was in the West African state of Dahomey.13 In West Africa as well as in Madagascar, these political elites included women. Unlike in coastal communities elsewhere in the Indian Ocean, in Madagascar elite females were not kept in seclusion. Kings were typically accompanied by their wives (usually multiple, as royal males practised polygyny), sisters, mothers, and daughters when they greeted Europeans.14 These queens and princesses certainly benefited materially from connections with Europeans, as they were gifted cloth, mirrors, and other “trifles,” even if there was no indication if they themselves also owned property such as land or slaves.15 There were repeated signs that women in Madagascar who possessed biological and marital connections to the throne asserted themselves as queens, queen mothers, and queen sisters, as women did in other African societies.16 When the French first formed a colony in southeastern Madagascar, in the middle of the seventeenth century, it was unsurprising that many of their settlers decided to set up households with local women who could provide them with material support as well as access to familial networks.17 Most famously, a Frenchman known as La Case married a woman named “Dian-​Nong,” who reportedly inherited power after her father, a local leader, died, though we know little about the arrangements through which she gained control.18 Dian-​Nong and her husband spent years raiding communities for cattle, slaves, and food and selling the stolen property to the starving French settlers. Even after the colony had failed some colonists brought their wives with them when they departed, and some, including La Case, even chose to remain behind rather than leave their wives. Europeans encountered other influential women in western Madagascar. In 1741 an English East India Company 13  Bay, Wives of the Leopard, 7.

14  Examples: ship journal of the Philibert, 1733, “MAR 4JJ/​97”; ship journal of the Hertford, 1734, “IOR/​L/​MAR/​B/​656 E-​G”; ship journal of the Harrington, 1736, “IOR/​L/​MAR/​B/​654 B”; dagregister on the ship Schuijlenburgh, 1751, “C2247.” 15  “Journal and Logbook of an Anonymous Scotch Sailor,” 1726.

16  Schiller, “The Royal Women of Buganda”; Bay, Wives of the Leopard; Askew, “Female Circles and Male Lines”; Thornton, “Elite Women in the Kingdom of Kongo.” 17  Flacourt, Histoire de la grand isle Madagascar, 268–​72.

18  Dellon, A Voyage to the East Indies, 23; Alexis Marie Rochon, A Voyage to Madagascar and the East Indies, 65–​111; Gautier and Froidevaux, Un manuscrit arabico-​malcache.

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vessel anchored off west-​central Madagascar. A royal representative told the English that the king was at war but the queen would arrive shortly with “the head purser.”19 The representative assured the English that the queen had “full power to act from the king.” Before the English departed she supplied them with slaves and several baskets of rice. When another English ship visited northwestern Madagascar in 1761, the captain met with “Queen Salima” to discuss the slave trade.20 Her husband, described as a “Moor” and thus probably not born on Madagascar, acted as governor in the port and led negotiations with the English. Despite their brevity, these examples reveal that some women held positions of political power even if they also relied on male support to conduct trade. As coastal elites exercised a monopoly over valuable imports, including firearms and silver coins, the ability of women to participate in such exchanges would have provided them with significant authority. The authority exercised by these queens paled in comparison to that of the Sakalava queen Ravahiny (r. ca. 1785–​1812), who was the sovereign leader of a kingdom in northwestern Madagascar. 21 As in many states within Madagascar, Sakalava royal bloodlines were calculated through both the paternal and uterine lines through bilateral descent.22 In order to maintain succession within the royal family, the Sakalava had a tradition of brother–​sister incest similar to that practised by the Polynesian, Andean Inca, and Egyptian states.23 The son of a king would marry his sister or, if not possible, a female cousin. When the king died, his eldest 19  Ship journal of the Onslow, 1740–​41, “IOR/​L/​MAR/​B/​164  C.”

20  Ship journal of the Diligent, 1760–6​1, “IOR/​L/​MAR/​B/​320 E.” A French naval captain recorded the history of the northwestern Sakalava kingdom based on “traditions locales”: Guillain, Documents sur l’histoire, 9, 20–​31. Guillain describes an unnamed Sakalava princess who married an “Arab from Surat named Seïd Abderrhaman” and then, after he died, another “Arab,” named Sidy Ahmet, from Pate; ibid.,  21–​22. 21  On the dates of Ravahiny’s rule: Guillain, Documents sur l’histoire, 370–​71 n. Q; Dubins, “A Political History of the Comoro Islands,” 64. See also Guillain, Documents sur l’histoire, 366–​67 appendix L.

22  On succession, see Ottino, “Ancient Malagasy Dynastic Succession,” 267–​72; Bloch, From Blessing to Violence, 18–​19; Goedefroit, À l’ouest de Madagascar, 95; Wright, “Early State Dynamics,” 304–​14; and Randrianja and Ellis, Madagascar, 99–​107. Rules of succession were complicated by the formation of blood brotherhoods among the Sakalava that enabled rulers to create fictional blood ties. 23  Duindam, Dynasties, 96. On double filiation elsewhere in Madagascar, see Ottino, “Ancient Malagasy Dynastic Succession,” 254.

son would inherit the throne, or, if there was no son, the son of his sister (his nephew) or daughter (his grandson) would rule. Sons from other women, lacking a maternal connection to the royal line, could not be kings. This practice presumably offered the queen mother and other female relatives heightened levels of influence.24 The line of succession in northwestern Madagascar had become contested by the middle of the eighteenth century. The practice of creating alliances between Sakalava and neighbouring lineages through marriage had complicated issues of inheritance, as did the presence of “bastard” sons, who could not legitimately take the throne but constituted a real threat when they allied with regional rivals.25 According to royal traditions, when the Sakalava king Andriamahatindi died in the mid-​eighteenth century and left six legitimate daughters (born to him and his sister), but no sons, there was a conflict over inheritance between his grandsons and their illegitimate uncles. Three legitimate grandsons ruled in succession, but each died without producing male heirs.26 At this point, the need to have a ruler with royal blood seems to have trumped the tradition of male inheritance. Their sons having died, two queen mothers, Andriamagnin’-​Arivou and Andriamihavoutsi-​Arivou, briefly took the throne. The second abdicated rule ca. 1785 in favor of her niece, Ravahiny, who had been previously married to two of the deceased kings (both her brothers).27 Her rule was initially challenged by half-​blooded male royal claimants allied with rival factions, but Ravahiny managed to defeat her most powerful foes and rule for about twenty-​seven years. Ravahiny presided over the unprecedented expansion of global commerce in northwestern Madagascar. 28 The main port in her kingdom, Mahajanga, was frequented by merchants from the Comoros, East Africa, the Middle East, and India. The port also became a global slaving centre. Captives were imported from East Africa and then sold within Madagascar or to slavers from the Mascarenes, the Cape, and Brazil. Northwestern Madagascar was linked to internal centres of agricultural and pastoral production, and Ravahiny’s subjects sold provisions to feed crews and slaves 24  Feeley-​Harnik, “Dying Gods and Queen Mothers,” 162–​64. 25  Guillain, Documents sur l’histoire,  22–​28.

26  Ibid., 29–​31. Note that most of the royal names provided here, other than Ravahiny, were given after death. 27  Ibid., 371.

28  Randrianja and Ellis, Madagascar, 106.

9

on ships. She was an influential regional leader and even engaged in written correspondence with the Portuguese governor on Mozambique Island.29 The queen was also wealthy, reportedly owning a herd of more than 10,000 cattle.30 She was so powerful that she controlled all her subjects as if they were her “slaves,” according to a French merchant.31 Ravahiny’s rule was remembered in oral traditions as one of the most prosperous in the Sakalava state’s history, and the praise name she received after death translates as “Noble woman who gave birth to thousands.”32 Did Ravahiny’s rule constitute a definite shift in political practice on the island, as suggested by anthropologist Gillain Feeley-​Harnik?33 While independent sovereigns in Madagascar were not typically female, women had earlier assumed positions of power in the Sakalava state, as they did elsewhere in the world, when male succession was disputed or men were unable to rule (as when they were away on military campaigns, for example). 34 However, Ravahiny’s ascent to the throne did set a precedent for later female rulers in northwestern Madagascar.35 It is important to note that, unlike the Betsimisaraka queen Béti, few historians ever mentioned Ravahiny’s relationships with men, white or otherwise, after she took power.36 Even when Queen Tsioumé, one of Ravahiny’s descendants, signed away the island of Nosy Be to the French in 1841 in a clear parallel to Béti’s actions a century earlier, her authority was unquestioned by French historians, perhaps because women in western Madagascar were thought to eschew sexual relationships with Europeans.37 29  Alpers, “Madagascar and Mozambique in the Nineteenth Century,” 49.

30  Mayeur, “Voyage au pays des Seclaves, côte ouest de Madagascar,” April 1774, in Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire, vol. 1, 86–​94.

31  Julien Pierre Dumaine, “Voyage à la côte de l’ouest,” 1793, in Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire, vol. 1, 141–​215. 32  Feeley-​Harnik, “Dying Gods and Queen Mothers,” 171.

33  Ibid., 153. Thornton suggests that female rule among the Kongo was also the result of the fracturing of political power: Thornton, “Elite Women in the Kingdom of Kongo,” 455–​60.

34  Goody, “Introduction,” 32. On female roles in succession crises, see Duindam, Dynasties, 89. 35  On precedence setting, see Thornton, “Elite Women in the Kingdom of Kongo,” 38–​40; and Duindam, Dynasties, 95.

36  After becoming queen she married outside her family line, and there is no indication that she had relationships with European men.

37  There was, instead, a preference for East African or Arab men; see Putnam, “A Cruise to the Indies,” 103. For more on nineteenth-​century

Queen Béti in 1750

Jane Hooper

These examples from western Madagascar provide important background to the brief reign of Queen Béti on the opposite coast. Despite the distance between their two states, the Sakalava and Betsimisaraka ruling families were connected through commerce and marriage. Like Ravahiny, Béti gained the throne through local kinship practices, though there was no sign of conflict over her inheritance. As on the west coast, kinship is reckoned bilaterally in eastern Madagascar. Children can inherit from, and are part of, both their mothers’ and fathers’ families. However, as Jennifer Cole points out, “a patrilineal bias is built into the system,” so that a father’s kinship ties are valued more highly and frequently take precedence over those of a mother.38 While we need to be cautious about projecting contemporary Malagasy kinship practices into the middle of the eighteenth century, it seems that bilateral inheritance may have contributed to Béti taking the throne in 1750. According to later traditions, Béti was the daughter of Ratsimilaho and an elite mother who was herself the daughter of a powerful Sakalava king.39 In some African societies, queen mothers supported and legitimized male rule; perhaps Béti’s mother played a similar role during her reign.40 Later events certainly illustrate that Béti’s mother had many loyal followers. Possessing royal blood from both parents, Béti was thus identified as the “sole inheritor” of the kingdom in 1750, even though she had a full brother.41 The next heir apparent, he was dismissed as too young to rule upon their father’s death and did not participate in the signing of the treaty. However, the presence of other male signatories suggests that Béti’s male kinsmen supported her claim to the throne and her decision in signing away Sainte Marie. Even with this show of royal support, the French settlement on Sainte Marie floundered within a few years of the treaty’s signing. The colonists fell victim to many of the same challenges that had plagued other French attempts, including queens, see Decary, L’île Nosy Bé de Madagascar, 15–​16; and Baré, Sable rouge,  35–​36. 38  Cole, Sex and Salvation,  51–​52.

39  Mayeur, “Histoire de Ratismila-​hoe,” 297.

40  Bay, Wives of the Leopard, 79–​80; Hansen, “Queen Mothers and Good Government in Buganda,” 220–​21.

41  “COL C/​5a/​1.” Her brother was Andrianjanahary (also written “Jean Harre” or “Zanhare”): Ratsivalaka, Les Malgaches et l’abolition de la traite européenne des esclaves, 44.

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disease, a lack of food supplies, and hostile island neighbours. Despite arrivals of supplies and reinforcements from the Mascarenes, settlers died at an alarming rate, most from tropical diseases.42 The jagged reefs that surrounded the small island made accessing the shoreline challenging. However, the deadliest threat was produced by the behaviour of the French commander, Guillaume Gosse, who reportedly abused the islanders until they refused to work or sell him food. According to one account, the commander gravely insulted the queen mother, Ratsimilaho’s widow, by disturbing her husband’s remains on Sainte Marie, a truly weighty offence in Madagascar, where ancestral remains were worshipped and seen as the continued embodiment of royal authority.43 Whether true or not, the accusation served to present the ensuing violence as justified retribution. The queen mother instigated an attack on the already weak French, and her supporters killed Gosse and fourteen of his men. In one French account of the attack, Béti intervened on behalf of the French. She carried away some of the injured settlers to the main island and nursed them back to health.44 Aspects of this story, in which she shared intimacies, though not sexual ones, with white men, and displayed conflicted loyalties, would be echoed in later tales of the queen. Béti was not only credited with granting the French ownership of Sainte Marie but also initially blamed for the failure of the colony. Following news of the massacre, French officials dispatched a warship and brought Béti to Mauritius to stand trial.45 After her arrival in Mauritius Béti described how Gosse had ignored her warnings and argued that she had nothing to do with the attack on the settlers. Béti must have been persuasive, because she was acquitted and granted permission to remain in Mauritius, letting her brother assume the throne at Foulpointe. Her life on Mauritius was distinguished: in 1758 she became the first free person of colour to receive a land 42  Ship journal of the Princess Amelie, 1751, “MAR 4 JJ/​86”; Bouvet, report, November 4, 1754, “COL C/​4/​8”; “Journal ou notes détaillées sur les opérations de MM de Bellecombe Marechal de Comp. et Chevreau commissaire général de la Marine,” 1776, “COL C/​5a/​7.”

43  On ancestor worship during the nineteenth century, see Crossland, Ancestral Encounters in Highland Madagascar,  2–​6.

44  Ship journal of the Princess Amelie. Unienville dates the “massacre” to Christmas Eve 1753: Unienville, Statistique d’Ile Maurice et ses dépendances, vol. 3, 398. 45  Le Gentil de la Galaisière, Voyage dans les mers de l’Inde, 533–​34; Unienville, Statistique d’Ile Maurice et ses dépendances, vol. 3, 308–​9. 46  Allen, Slaves, Freedmen, and Indentured Laborers,  85–​86.

grant on the island.46 A French vessel carried eight of Béti’s personal slaves from Madagascar to Mauritius in the same year, presumably to work on her property.47 The colonists on Sainte Marie were less fortunate, and the settlement was formally abandoned in 1761. For the next decade the French repeatedly tried to avenge the massacre of the settlers, and many Saint Mariens fled to eastern Madagascar, where the French would later blame them for destabilizing coastal communities.48

Histories of Queen Béti

Despite the short-​lived success of the colony itself, the 1750 treaty would be cited as legal precedent by nineteenth-​ century French officials, who sought to revive Sainte Marie as a base for organizing their commerce with Madagascar. The French had been granted the use of the island “in perpetuity,” they informed their British rivals, and so they had the right to resume their presence on the island in 1818 despite having vacated it more than half a century earlier.49 In their repeated references to the treaty as a legally binding document, many French officials simply acknowledged Béti’s role (or omitted her name altogether) in granting them control over Sainte Marie and provided little analysis as to her motivations in doing so. However, in other accounts her role was transformed only decades after the treaty had been signed. One French official wrote in 1776 of the treaty being signed by Ratsimilaho, not Béti.50 In another version, Béti was described as the sister of Ratsimilaho. This writer emphasized her promiscuity by stating that Ratsimilaho would kill any of his subjects who were “free” with his sister Béti, but considered it an “honour if they or any other white men were familiar with her.”51 This portrayal of licentiousness would be echoed in other late eighteenth-​century writings that described Madagascar mothers and fathers willingly prostituting their young

47  Superior council letter, May 30, 1758, “COL C/​4/​10.”

48  Le Gentil de la Galaisière, Voyage dans les mers de l’Inde, 452, 535–​37.

49  Decary, L’établissement de Sainte-​Marie de Madagascar, 11–​14; Ratsivalaka, Les Malgaches et l’abolition de la traite européenne des esclaves, 124–​25. 50  “Journal,” 1776, “COL C/​5a/​7.”

51  Dalrymple, “Geographical Collections,” f. 18.

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daughters to foreign merchants and hiring them out through “a weekly or monthly contract.”52 Descriptions of Béti’s sexual licence had proliferated by the close of the century. In one source, reportedly written in 1745 but likely penned closer to 1800, a French merchant, M. De Grenville de Forval, described his meeting with the daughter of a king named Adrian Baba.53 This “Princess Betsy” saved Forval from a plot against his life, and, in return, she begged him to marry her. She offered to sacrifice the throne of her father and return with him to the Mascarenes. Forval agreed to her plan, even though her colour was “displeasing to the white people” and she had no education. Despite these flaws, “Betsy” had a fine figure, a noble air, and royal dignity. She was, in his estimation, “a real Amazon.” Later, after her father died, “Princess Betsy” refused to abandon her husband, preferring to remain in Mauritius as his loyal wife rather than rule as a queen in Madagascar. This romantic tale, while supposedly a testament to Béti’s moral character, seems entirely fabricated. The 1745 date precedes any reference to Béti by several years and the story makes no reference to the 1750 treaty, which made it clear that Béti did not abdicate the throne until years later. Furthermore, the only reference to a king named Adrian Baba in French records can be found in reference to a Sakalava king in northwestern Madagascar.54 It seems that Forval (or someone writing under his name) invented this fantasy based on a selected reading of French accounts of Madagascar. In another publication, penned by Guillaume le Gentil de la Galaisière, an eighteenth-​ century French scientist who probably met the former queen on Mauritius, Béti was described as a beauty possessing all the manners of a French woman.55 Both stories present Béti as an idealized female figure, though le Gentil de la Galaisière made no reference to any sexual relationships between her and white men. By the nineteenth century writers not only made heightened claims about Béti’s beauty and moral character but also insisted upon her connections to white men. Most frequently, historians have asserted that Béti was in love 52  MacIntosh, Travels in Europe, Asia, and Africa, 396.

53  M. de Grenville de Forval, letter, December 20, 1745, in Grant, The History of Mauritius, 220–​23. The book was published in 1801. For more on this account, see Vaughan, Creating the Creole Island, 105–​7. 54  Ship journal of the Hirondelle, 1732, “MAR 4JJ/​86.”

55  Le Gentil de la Galaisière, Voyage dans les mers de l’Inde, 514–​17.

Jane Hooper

with a French soldier named La Bigorne (alias Jean Louis-​ Onésime Filet), who persuaded her to give up Sainte Marie.56 La Bigorne was a soldier and interpreter residing in eastern Madagascar during the 1760s but there is little direct evidence to confirm an earlier relationship with Béti.57 When a French writer, Alexis Marie Rochon, interviewed La Bigorne during the 1770s the former soldier made no mention of an intimate relationship between Béti and himself. Instead, Rochon notes that the queen was an independent sovereign and sought to support her rule in eastern Madagascar by giving the French Sainte Marie.58 It is certainly possible that Béti did have a relationship with a Frenchman but neither La Bigorne nor Forval are listed in the actual treaty. The suggestion that Gosse himself had an intimate relationship with Béti seems more plausible, even if there is no indication that he used such a connection to encourage her to sign the treaty.59 The question remains: why has Béti’s role in signing the treaty always been accompanied by speculation about her sexual exploits? For some historians, delving into her relationships with white men has been a way of understanding the concession of Sainte Marie. After all, why would Béti voluntarily sign away the island unless there was an element of coercion? It seems likely, judging by descriptions of commerce in the region, that the small island of Sainte Marie was of little economic importance for the kingdom centred on the east coast of Madagascar. Giving away the island would enable the queen to dominate the shipment of supplies to her French neighbours, who were the primary purveyors of foreign commodities into eastern Madagascar. Indeed, Ratsimilaho appears to have made a similar assessment prior to his death. Béti’s decision to sign away Sainte Marie to the French was probably a considered one, made by a ruler weighing the options, and her (rumoured) sexual experiences had little 56  Decary describes La Bigorne as the spouse of Béti, in L’établissement de Sainte-​Marie de Madagascar, 6. William Ellis argues that she returned with La Bigorne to Sainte Marie: Ellis, History of Madagascar,  56–​60.

57  According to Unienville, “Labigorne” had the affection of the islanders and was hired by the company in 1758: Unienville, Statistique d’Ile Maurice et ses dépendances, vol. 2, 309. See also a letter written by La Bigorne on January 8, 1769, reporting on conditions in eastern Madagascar: “COL C/​4/​25.” 58  Rochon, A Voyage to Madagascar and the East Indies, 193–​221.

59  On the suggestion that she had a relationship with Gosse, see Bialuschewski, “Pirates, Malata, and the Betsimisaraka Confe­ deration,” 192.

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to do with the treaty. It is true that Béti had little difficulty in moving from eastern Madagascar to Mauritius after the massacre on Sainte Marie, suggesting that she was comfortable navigating a European colonial milieu. Perhaps this ease came from her close contacts with Frenchmen or, equally likely, from growing up in the cosmopolitan world of eastern Madagascar, where islanders had considerable knowledge of the Mascarenes and the opportunities that connections with the French could offer.60

Coastal Women in the Nineteenth Century

The transformation of Béti from queen to vulnerable pawn in French colonial accounts was not accidental. This reinvention of her history occurred as French colonial authorities were debating how to properly manage the relationships that were forming between settlers and island women by the 1790s. Women of Madagascar were perceived as either direct threats to French civility and morality or as targets for conversion. As a result, female political power was increasingly downplayed throughout the nineteenth century. In this period Ravahiny was rarely mentioned or discussed in the many British and French books published about the island’s history. By contrast, the growing fascination with Béti’s love life was fuelled by Western concerns over sexual relationships forged in nineteenth-​century eastern Madagascar. In the decades following the 1750 treaty the Betsimisaraka kingdom based at Foulpointe became substantially weaker, even while trade with the Mascarenes increased and more foreign merchants were drawn to Madagascar for slaves.61 Searching for more secure trading partners, merchants now visited the port of Toamasina [Tamatave] to the south of Foulpointe. These Frenchmen now living in and around Toamasina established households with island women, who became known as vadimbazaha (wives of foreign men), and the offspring of their unions were proudly claimed to be zana-​malata (children of mixed descent).62 The zana-​malata who could draw upon elite ancestry within the island as well as foreign paternal roots fought to dominate commerce. These battles were most notably led by Jean René, a ruler in Toamasina whose mother had royal bloodlines in Madagascar and whose father was from the Mascarenes. 60  For more on these connections, see Larson, Ocean of Letters.

61  On the slave trade, see Larson, “The Route of the Slave,” 145–​48.

62  Rantoandro, “Hommes et résaux Malata,” 117–​18; Larson, “Frag­ ments of an Indian Ocean Life,” 377.

Historians have primarily viewed the vadimbazaha as significant for producing the children who transformed the political landscape of eastern Madagascar.63 Yet these “wives” were not passive participants in the creolization process. As in Atlantic Africa, women who formed connections with European men used their relationships to gain power and assert themselves as cross-​cultural brokers.64 Unions between coastal women and foreign men could be politically and economically expedient for both sides. Some women were able to remake local marriage practices by marrying foreigners.65 Among the Betsimisaraka and other eastern Madagascar groups, circumcision rites performed by the father were a means to convey inheritance to his lineage, rather than the mother’s, thus contributing to the patrilineal bias mentioned earlier.66 By avoiding the circumcision of their malata sons, vadimbazaha could maintain their children within their maternal families. Wives also insisted that their alliances with foreign men were only temporary and thus could manoeuvre themselves into new relationships when they no longer saw benefits from the relationship. Elite island women also continued to exercise political authority outside their relationships with foreign men. French colonial documents reveal that the meetings (kabary) French officials held with coastal elites were attended by queens and other female royalty. For example, the 1818 “Act to retake possession of Île Sainte Marie on the coast of Madagascar” was witnessed by a dozen chiefs, among whom was “Siba, malata woman governing all of the southern part of Sainte Marie.”67 In a report written to the French naval ministry a year later, the French commandant noted that Sainte Marie was divided between a leader named “Tsi-​fannin” and his mother, Siba.68 The commandant observed that this family had ruled over the island ever since “Betty” had ceded the 63  See, for example, Sylla, “Les Malata.”

64  See Havik, Silences and Soundbites; and Ipsen, Daughters of the Trade. 65  Rantoandro, “Hommes et résaux Malata,” 110.

66  Sylla, “Les Malata,” 24–​28. On the prestige women gained from these relationships more generally, see Bloch, “Questions historiques concernant la parenté,” 54; and Bois, “Tamatave, la cité des femmes.”

67  “Acte de reprise de possession de l’ile Ste Marie,” October 15, 1818, in Decary, L’établissement de Sainte-​Marie de Madagascar, 122.

68  “Rapport sur l’exploration de la côte orientale,” August 18, 1819, in ibid., 173 (her name is written “Sila” but it is “Siba” elsewhere). Siba is later mentioned in a letter to the governor of Bourbon, November 29, 1820, in ibid., 288.

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island to France in “1752.” The continued presence of women as sovereign actors in these negotiations reveals not only that coastal women were mothers and wives but also that they could assert themselves in political realms. As the nineteenth century continued, female elites and vadimbazaha found themselves stripped of power. Coastal queens exercised less authority after the 1820s following the dramatic expansion of the highland kingdom, later known as the Merina state. Island women may have entered into relationships with white men to gain protection after they lost other forms of community support.69 By the middle of the nineteenth century European men were increasingly exploiting marriages in order to own land and slaves on Madagascar, which would otherwise be illegal. However, French officials judged such cross-​cultural relationships harshly. 70 Christian missionaries expressed a view that coastal women who engaged in relationships with Western men were immoral, even though many of these women and their children received educations in the Mascarenes and converted to Christianity.71 Such views linger even today. Malagasy elsewhere on the island have recently expressed a belief that women from the coasts, the côtiers, are “promiscuous sexual predators.”72 There is a widespread perception that sex workers in coastal tourist centres are actively seeking a vazaha (foreign) husband. The bustling sexual tourism industry in key coastal towns, including on the island of Sainte Marie, now involves older white men paying for sex with young girls. In addition, women engaged in relationships with Frenchmen have been perceived as threats to political authority. In the early twentieth century French colonial leaders expressed concerns that the large métis population in eastern Madagascar could challenge their political control over the island.73 Later, as children of mixed descent became more attached to Réunion and France than to Madagascar, Malagasy nationalists also feared that malata communities held dangerously divided loyalties during the independence period.

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These negative views of coastal women, who were also depicted as promiscuous and immoral, have undoubtedly coloured perceptions of Béti and her reputed affairs, as they have our understandings of the vadimbazaha. Accounts of her close relationships with French men, whether Forval, La Bigorne or Gosse, seem more credible in an environment in which women are perceived as vulnerable to the advances of white men and incapable of independent action. These tales lose their potency only when we return to the original 1750 treaty, in which she was unequivocally identified as the sovereign leader of a kingdom.

Archetypal Queens

71  Bois, “Tamatave, la cité des femmes.” On missionaries and sexuality, see Prevost, The Communion of Women,  71–​73.

Béti’s story is also part of a common trope found in the history of cross-​c ultural relationships forged between Europeans and other communities around the world. In such contact narratives, women such as Pocahontas served as ideal mediators.74 These women voluntarily sacrificed their own status in order to help their white male companions. Béti, as a beautiful light-​skinned woman, could serve as the ideal foil for a powerful French soldier or merchant. Her near-​whiteness made her a suitable companion, as did her previous exposure to Western culture. Her noble status made her appealing, as did her willingness to renounce her own political authority. Her birth proved her to be a woman who, if not on par with a French colonist, was at least closer than the average island woman. Such a woman would be perceived as more ready to enter into European colonial society. The account of the queen mother provides us with another archetypal female ruler: the vindictive widow. The queen mother was as violent as Béti was passive. The French may have been unaware that she gained her potency by calling upon the spirit of her deceased husband, but her ability to raise supporters and viciously attack the settlers was perceived as irrefutable evidence for her abhorrence of Western morals and their civilizing influence. If Béti was the ideal conduit for the expansion of French power into the Indian Ocean world, her mother represented its greatest threat.75 The figure of the aggressive female monarch has been more famously associated with a later queen of Madagascar, Queen Ranavalona I (r. 1828–​1861). While acting as the head of the Merina state, the queen attracted considerable

73  Cole, Sex and Salvation, 26, 100–​102.

75  See Feeley-​Harnik, “Dying Gods and Queen Mothers,” 162–​64.

69  Coppalle, Voyage dans l’intérieur de Madagascar, 49. 70  Cole, Sex and Salvation, 100–​102.

72  Stoebenau, “ ‘Côtier’ Sexual Identity”; Cole, Sex and Salvation, 124–​25.

74  See Scully, “Malintzin, Pocahontas, and Krotoa.”

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criticism from Western governments. In Britain, she was compared unfavourably with Queen Victoria. According to historian Arianne Chernock, Ranavalona I, known for her bloody repression of Christianity, was viewed as “an emblem of savage femininity and a terrifying manifestation of what could happen to polities that allowed women to govern in more than a purely ceremonial capacity.”76 A contrast was made with Victoria, who was a “civilized queen” and acted with “sympathy, morality, and self-​sacrifice.” Although Chernock is comparing Ranavalona I to Victoria, her description of Victoria evokes Béti in her various manifestations. Queen Béti eschewed her lawfully inherited throne, swayed gently to the will of men and saved her future husband’s life à la Pocahontas. Béti may have lived over seventy years before Ranavalona I but the stories told about her life were being written and published during the later queen’s reign. Comparisons, even if not direct, must have been inevitable. What better way to cast Béti and her granting of Sainte

76  Chernock, “Queen Victoria and the ‘Bloody Mary of Mada­gascar,’ ” 427.

Marie as legitimate than to present her as a beautiful, benevolent, and, ultimately, non-​threatening ruler? In conclusion, insinuations that Béti slept with white men should not lead us to disregard her role in mediating relations between the French colonists and state leaders within Madagascar. Few scholars have paid attention to female authority figures in African societies, even when they played important roles as wives, mothers, and sisters.77 Queens such as Béti have become “personages of myth [rather] than of historical record.”78 Archival records clearly demonstrate that, whether she slept with white men or not, Béti exercised independent political authority when she placed an X on the treaty that granted France the possession of Sainte Marie.

77  See Askew’s argument for East Africa, in “Female Circles and Male Lines,”  81–​82.

78  Middleton, The World of the Swahili, 44. By contrast, Askew argues that women frequently took titled positions: Askew, “Female Circles and Male Lines,” 81–​83.

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Ipsen, Pernille. Daughters of the Trade: Atlantic Slavers and Interracial Marriage on the Gold Coast. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014. Larson, Pier M.“Colonies Lost: God, Hunger, and Conflict in Anosy (Madagascar) to 1674.” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 27 (2007): 345–​66. —​—​—​. “Fragments of an Indian Ocean Life: Aristide Corroller between Islands and Empires.” Journal of Social History 45 (2011):  366–​89. —​—​—​. Ocean of Letters: Language and Creolization in an Indian Ocean Diaspora. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. —​—​—​. “The Route of the Slave from Highland Madagascar to the Mascarenes: Commercial Organization, 1770–​1820.” In La route des esclaves: Système servile et traite dans l’est Malgache, edited by Ignace Rakoto, 119–​80. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2000. Middleton, John. The World of the Swahili: An African Mercantile Civilization. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992. Middleton, Karen. “Power and Meaning on the Periphery of a Malagasy Kingdom.” Ethnohistory 48 (2001): 171–​204. Ottino, Paul. “Ancient Malagasy Dynastic Succession: The Merina Example.” History in Africa 10 (1983): 247–​92. Prestholdt, Jeremy. Domesticating the World: African Consumerism and the Genealogies of Globalization. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008. Prevost, Elizabeth E. The Communion of Women: Missions and Gender in Colonial Africa and the British Metropole. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Randrianja, Solofo, and Stephen Ellis. Madagascar: A Short History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009. Rantoandro, G. Andriamiarintsoa. “Hommes et réseaux Malata de la côte orientale de Madagascar à l’époque de Jean René (1773–​1825).” Annuaire des pays de l’Océan Indien 17 (2001): 101–​21. Ratsivalaka, Ranaivo G. Les Malgaches et l’abolition de la traite européenne des esclaves (1810–​1817): Histoire de la formation du Royaume de Madagascar. Antananarivo: Éditions Hery Arivo, 1999. Schiller, Laurence D. “The Royal Women of Buganda.” International Journal of African Historical Studies 23 (1990): 455–​73. Scully, Pamela. “Malintzin, Pocahontas, and Krotoa: Indigenous Women and Myth Models of the Atlantic World.” Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 6 (2005). doi: 10.1353/​cch.2006.0022. Stoebenau, Kirsten. “‘Côtier’ Sexual Identity as Constructed by the Urban Merina of Antananarivo, Madagascar.” Études Océan Indien 45 (2010): 93–​115. Sylla, Yvette. “Les Malata: Cohésion et disparité d’un ‘groupe.’” Omaly sy anio 21/​22 (1985): 19–​32. Thornton, John K. “Elite Women in the Kingdom of Kongo: Historical Perspectives on Women’s Political Power.” Journal of African History 47 (2006): 437–​60. Vaughan, Megan. Creating the Creole Island: Slavery in Eighteenth-​Century Mauritius. Durham: Duke University Press, 2005. Wright, Henry T. “Early State Dynamics as Political Experiment.” Journal of Anthropological Research 62 (2006): 305–​19.

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9 FEMALE RANGATIRA IN AOTEAROA NEW ZEALAND AIDAN NORRIE*

“QUEENSHIP” IS A concept that is applied in a varying array of situations: situations that are as diverse as they are dynamic. A queen consort, a queen regnant, and a queen dowager are all said to be embodying, or expressing, queenship—​but, as history demonstrates, the three distinct and differing roles can be held simultaneously, in succession, or intermittently.1 This problem is, of course, well known in the scholarship, and is reflected in the changing way that the exercise of power by European royal women is becoming increasingly nuanced—​ not to mention subjected to thorough and perceptive gendered analysis—by scholars.2 “Queenship” is also a distinctly *  I thank Jo Oranje, Nicola Cummins, and Robert Norrie for their encouragement during the writing of this chapter, and their helpful comments on various drafts. I would especially like to thank Professor Michael Reilly (Te Tumu, University of Otago) for his advice and comments on a draft of this chapter, and for providing me access to some of his forthcoming work.

1  For example, Mary I of Scotland became queen regnant at the age of six days in 1542; she became queen consort of France when her husband, Francis, succeeded the throne as Francis II in 1559; and was technically queen dowager of France from Francis’s death on December 5, 1560—​all the while remaining the queen of Scotland until her abdication in 1567. Similarly, Catherine II (the Great) of Russia was empress consort to Peter III, until she succeeded him as empress and autocrat after he was overthrown in a coup in 1762. This is not to mention the queens regnant of Navarre, who succeeded and ruled in a great variety of ways; see Woodacre, The Queens Regnant of Navarre.

2  This nuancing is perhaps best exemplified by William Monter’s persuasive argument that women who ruled as queens regnant in Europe should actually be described as “female kings”—​a descriptor Monter sees as accurately reflecting the mindset of Europeans when a woman was on the throne; see his The Rise of Female Kings in Europe. This issue has also been addressed in: Earenfight, “Without the Persona of the Prince”; Beem, The Lioness Roared; and Jordan, “Woman’s Rule in Sixteenth-​Century British Political Thought.”

European concept—​more specifically, a medieval and early modern western European concept—​that cannot be easily translated or transposed to other, extra-​European cultures. The female pharaohs of ancient Egypt, the women who reigned as empresses and autocrats of Russia, and the women who sat on the Chrysanthemum Throne in Japan all exercised what would be termed “queenship” to European eyes; but a closer examination of their countries, their succession, and their reigns reminds us that we cannot simply fit the western European model of queenship onto theirs. 3 This same issue is relevant to the female rangatira in Aotearoa New Zealand: female Māori chiefs who exercised political and social power from the time of Māori settlement in Aotearoa New Zealand. This chapter presents a brief history of female chiefs in Māori society. However, it is important not to describe the female ariki and rangatira of the various iwi and hapū (terms that are explained below) across Aotearoa as “queens” in the European sense of the word. This chapter’s purpose is not to argue the labels that could or should be applied to the exercise of female political and social power in Aotearoa but, rather, to both contextualize the existence of female rangatira against other royal societies across the world, and offer a survey that can bring this subject to a much wider audience.4 Because of my European heritage, I am approaching this chapter both 3  See, respectively, my “Female Pharaohs in Ancient Egypt”; Raleigh, The Emperors and Empresses of Russia; and Shillony, Divinity and Gender.

4  For much more detailed histories of Aotearoa New Zealand, most of which have informed my own writing, see King, The Penguin History of New Zealand; Simpson, Before Hobson; Brookes, A History of New Zealand Women; and the wonderful resource that is Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand (available online at http://teara.govt. nz/​en).

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intending to start breaking down the pedestal that much of medieval and early modern western European history sits on, and as a way of demonstrating that women exercised political agency in the pre-​modern era outside western Europe. The main case study I present in this chapter—​the women who, in 1840, signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi (the Treaty of Waitangi)—​ is primarily intended to spread this significant example of female authority and agency beyond Aotearoa New Zealand. It is also important to think about the ways that historians of medieval and early modern Europe use “queenship,” and the way that using this concept influenced the colonial conquests of various European societies. The history of the discourse surrounding queenship means I will also examine the way that early European colonials described and characterized female Māori chiefs.

Gender and Authority

As I alluded to at the beginning of this chapter, a key issue with the concept of “queenship” is the varying meaning it can have, depending on the context. Based on the gender split one finds in Latin—​rex for king, and the feminine regina for queen—​ Europeans applied the terms in accordance with the gender of the person exercising authority. However, as already identified, while there exist three “types” of queen (or four, if you include a woman ruling as a regent),5 there is only one “type” of king—​which is to say nothing of the practice of the wife of a king being crowned queen, but the husband of a queen regnant usually being relegated to the status of prince consort.6 This ambiguity means that the word “queen” is usually 5  Paulette Lynn Pepin describes María de Molina—​the wife of Sancho IV of Castile, and regent for her son Ferdinand IV—​as a “queen-​ regent”: Pepin, María de Molina, Queen and Regent, 15n50, 78, 88–​91. Similarly, Theresa Earenfight has written an encyclopedia entry on the topic of queen regents and queen lieutenants: Earenfight, Women and Gender in Medieval Europe: An Encyclopedia, s.v. “Regents and Queen-​Lieutenants.” 6  See Beem and Taylor, “Introduction: The Man behind the Queen,” 1: “On April 23, 1702, Queen Anne, the last of the Stuart monarchs of England and Scotland, was crowned with regal solemnity in Westminster Abbey. As a queen regnant, Anne had inherited the office and estate of king, and was crowned in a manner similar to that of her kingly progenitors. There was, however, one important difference. In a clear break with previous English precedent, Anne was crowned alone, even though she had a husband, Prince George of Denmark, who did not become a king of England as did the wives of kings, who enjoy the title of queen. Prince George nonetheless enjoyed

given an adjectival modifier to distinguish its meaning.7 This phenomenon is not universal. There was no feminine form of “pharaoh” in ancient Egypt, and, while Catherine the Great was styled “empress” of the Russians, the title of “autocrat” retained its gender neutrality. Significantly, the gendered language of royal authority that European monarchs grapple with is not one that occurs in Te Reo Māori.8 The head of an iwi—​a Māori tribe—​is the ariki:  the paramount chief. The paramount chief was generally, but not always, a male position, and was usually a position one assumed by birth. In postcolonial times the number of women ariki has declined: ​a direct consequence of colonization, as British colonials did not accept or acknowledge the authority of female chiefs to speak on behalf of their iwi. Nevertheless, the significance of women as ariki and rangatira has continued in spite of this colonial obstruction.9 The rangatira, by contrast, are “the head of the subtribe [hapū] and held a status slightly lower than that of the ariki … being a descendant of the original founding family along the junior line.”10 “Rangatira” is the Te Reo word for “chief.” Its meaning, and application, are gender-​neutral. As a noun, it can mean: “Chief (male or female); wellborn, noble”; as a modifier:  “High ranking, chiefly, noble, esteemed”; or, as a verb: “To be of high rank, become of high rank.”11 In external matters, the rangatira deferred to the ariki; in all other matters, the rangatira was the undisputed leader.12 The rangatira functioned in their hapū as the ariki did in the iwi (an ariki would also be a rangatira of a hapū), and they held their position through a mix of genealogical connection to the tribe’s ancestor and their own personal mana. “Mana” is the noun used to describe the supernaturally present prestige, influence, and authority one can wield. While a person’s mana is often based on his or her birth (the closer, genealogically, to the ariki, the greater the mana), a person’s mana could be increased by demonstrating leadership skills, by performing an action that commanded respect from other members of the hapū, being heroic in precedence over all the other peers of the realm as he watched the ceremony from inside the Abbey.”

7  Earenfight, “Without the Persona of the Prince,” 1.

8  “Te Reo” literally means “the language”—​thus, the language of the Māori. It is useful to use the distinction—​“Māori,” for the people; and “Te Reo,” for the language—​to avoid ambiguity in prose such as this. 9  Te Awekotuku, Mana Wahine Māori, 74.

10  Winiata, “Leadership in Pre-​European Māori Society,” 222. 11  Adams et al., Te Matapunenga, 15.

12  Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society, 43.

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battle, marrying someone of greater mana or—​in the case of women—​giving birth to a son who distinguished himself in battle. It is useful to think of the rangatira as the aristocracy in Māori society—​both in terms of the hierarchy within the class, and the various ways one entered the class.13 The marriage customs of the rangatira would also be familiar to European observers. It was not uncommon for the children of ariki and rangatira to enter into marriages arranged by their parents, and betrothals could even be made for children and infants.14 Similarly, marriages would usually take place between people of equal mana, or status. The need for equality, according to Api Mahuika, was important “not only in terms of personal mana, but also for the perpetuation of the mana of a particular line.”15 At the same time, it was possible for both men and women to increase their mana by marrying someone genealogically closer to the ariki. Nevertheless, it was not uncommon for rangatira—​both men and women—​to choose their own spouses, often with the approval of the iwi elders.16 Like the intermarriage between European royal houses, Māori also engaged in marriages for political purposes. A union between two high-​born rangatira served to strengthen intertribal alliances, and were often representative of the two tribes’ peaceful coexistence.17 As with most European royal marriages, the wife would move and reside with the husband and his whānau (family). However, there are instances of men who married women of higher mana going to live with the wife’s whānau.18

Māori Structure and Leadership

To understand the hierarchical structure of Māori society, and the role of women in the exercise of political and social power, the history of Māori settlement must be considered. As Maharaia Winiata observes, “The manner in which New Zealand was settled influenced the development of the Māori socio-​political system.”19 Māori settled in Aotearoa from a 13  Mahuika, “Leadership: Inherited and Achieved,” 43. In the same way that one can be ennobled as an earl or a duke, one could become a leader “by usurping leadership from a matamua [first born, usually son] or ariki who lacked the ability to lead”: ibid., 44. 14  Pere, “A Celebration of Māori Sacred and Spiritual Wisdom,” 151. 15  Mahuika, “Leadership: Inherited and Achieved,” 45.

16  Pere, “A Celebration of Māori Sacred and Spiritual Wisdom,” 151. 17  Mahuika, “Leadership: Inherited and Achieved,” 45.

18  Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society, 35. 19  Winiata, “Leadership in Pre-​European Māori Society,” 212.

Aidan Norrie

(possibly mythical) homeland in Polynesia called Hawaiki over several generations in the middle of the fourteenth century, with a major settlement event dated to shortly after 1300 CE.20 Māori travelled in waka (canoes)—​sometimes in groups, sometimes as lone voyages—​and these canoes usually carried a family, including both immediate and extended members. Generally, where the canoe landed in Aotearoa the Māori settled. The landing of the canoes gives the name to the largest of Māori social and political groupings: the waka.21 The waka consists of the descendants of a particular family from one of the canoes. However, the waka is not an organized or defined political entity but, rather, a loose collection of tribes, described as “a focus of sentimental regard in the songs and stories of descendants, and [it] did not have any reality as a political or social grouping.”22 These tribes—​iwi—​constituted the largest group “that showed distinct autonomy in its internal organization and in its external relations with other parallel groups.”23 The chief of the iwi is the ariki, and the ariki on whom the most senior genealogical lines converged was recognized as the head of the waka. Iwi were named after either the member of the canoe the iwi descended from, or an important event in the tribe’s history.24 Thus, both men and women are recognized in iwi names. However, an iwi is also made up of smaller tribes, or subtribes, called hapū. The hapū was centred on a village, and was thus where the day-​to-​day life of Māori was focused. Primarily concerned with coordinating work and military planning, the hapū was where female rangatira exercised the most influence.25 At the centre of the hapū village was the marae, and the whare runanga (or the wharenui). The marae (most literally) was the sacred courtyard in front of the wharenui—​m eeting house—​where formal greetings and meetings took place.26 It is also common to use the word “marae” to refer to the entire complex of the wharenui. The wharenui is the meeting house (or large house) where guests were accommodated. 20  Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society, 33. For a detailed history of Māori settlement, see Anderson, Binney, and Harris, Tangata Whenua: A History, esp. chaps. 2 and 3. 21  Winiata, “Leadership in Pre-​European Māori Society,” 212–​13. 22  Reilly, “Whanaungatanga Kinship,” 64.

23  Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society, 34. 24  Winiata, “Leadership in Pre-​European Māori Society,” 214. 25  Ibid., 216–​17.

26  Pere, “A Celebration of Māori Sacred and Spiritual Wisdom,” 147.

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Hapū were formed when individual whānau, under the guidance of a strong rangatira (either male or female), were able to assert their independence, and develop their land to be self-​sustaining.27 Such a strong assertion of independence was usually recognized by the other neighbouring hapū, and by the iwi. The leaders who were responsible for forming the hapū often provided their name to the hapū or iwi. An excellent example of the attested authority of women can be found in the Ngāpuhi iwi, named for three founding and exemplary female ariki: Puhikaiariki, Puhimoanariki, and Puhitaniwharau.28 According to the 2013 census, this iwi is now the largest in Aotearoa. More recent scholarship, however, emphasizes the impact of colonization on these structures. The hierarchical and static structure of waka, iwi, and hapū was entrenched by Europeans, who wished to find (or invent) a convenient hierarchy that could more easily be navigated in order to gain political or economic control.29 Iwi, at least before the eighteenth century, were not seen as a corporate group but, rather, as a conceptual way of linking various hapū to a common ancestor.30 The relationship between these various groupings varied across Aotearoa, and iwi held differing levels of formality, depending on the interdependence between the hapū.31 One final point should be made concerning the status of women in Māori society, and the impact of European colonization. As noted previously, Māori traced their lineage—​ their whakapapa—​back to their iwi’s canoe. The whakapapa included women as well as men, with first-​born daughters taking higher precedence than later sons.32 While tracing lineage through female ancestors was not an entirely foreign concept to Europeans—​the way the Tudors traced their lineage through Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth of York is a clear example33—​its widespread appearance across Māori iwi was disconcerting to the British. Europeans, unfamiliar with the genderless exercise of rangatira, viewed women

almost exclusively through their relationships with men. As Niel Gunson observes:

27  Walker, Ka Whawhai Tonu Matou,  64–​66.

36  For a much more thorough explanation of leadership in Māori society, see Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society; and Wirihana, Ngā pūrākau o ngā wāhine rangatira Māori o Aotearoa.

28  Ngāpuhi iwi, “Ngāpuhi—​Our Origins.”

29  Reilly, “Whanaungatanga Kinship,” 64.

30  For more on this nuanced approach to Māori society, see Ballara, Iwi. 31  Reilly, “Whanaungatanga Kinship,” 65.

32  Brookes, A History of New Zealand Women, 2.

33  See Richards, “Love and a Female Monarch”; and Okerlund, Elizabeth of York.

Although chiefly women were traditionally important as wives and sisters, the wifely role was usually an accidental one. In other words, the wife was important because of who she was herself rather than because of whom she married. It was only after the introduction of Christianity that the wifely role was developed in its own right.34

Because of colonization, female rangatira, who exercised their own mana, became known primarily as the wife, daughter, or mother of a man. Women (according to the British) were expected to care for the household and raise the children, not participate in the running of their hapū, and this misogynistic view has had long-​lasting effects on the status of Māori women to today.35 I would stress that the summary of the Māori socio-​political structure presented here is simplified, rather than exhaustive. Māori culture is not homogeneous across all iwi and hapū, and different tribes have their own customs and structures. In any discussion of Māori social hierarchy, it is important to consider the elders of a tribe, who were revered not only because of their age, but also because of their closer genealogical links to the ariki, and the original ancestor.36 Similarly, the importance and status of women can be traced back to Māori creation stories, and Papatūānuku, Mother Earth. Papatūānuku gave birth to all life: as the world was born from her womb, so humankind is born from women.37

Through European Eyes

The Eurocentrism of queenship and its pervasiveness in Western discussions of monarchical authority are particularly visible in European descriptions of powerful female rangatira. 34  Gunson, “Sacred Women Chiefs and Female ‘Headmen,’ ” 141. 35  Brookes, A History of New Zealand Women, 47.

37  The concept of women’s status deriving from their giving birth is found in many cultures. An excellent example can be found in the first-​century CE Roman biographer Plutarch’s Moralia. Plutarch recounts the following exchange: “When asked by a woman from Attica:  ‘Why are you Spartan women the only ones who can rule men?’ she [Gorgo, the king’s wife] said: ‘Because we are also the only ones who give birth to men.’ ” Plutarch, On Sparta, 184.

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Many of the early colonialists remarked on the similarities between female rangatira and European queens—​most likely because it was the only way they could conceptualize both the power the women exercised, and the expressions of chiefly authority the women enjoyed. An example of this European conception, and its subsequent reassessment in modern times, is found in references to Hinematioro. From 1769, when Captain Cook first visited Aotearoa New Zealand, the people of the East Coast from Whangara to Uawa (Tolaga Bay) held Hinematioro to be a woman of high standing. Her mana derived from her father, Tane-​toko-​rangi, and her choice of husband—​Te Hoatiki, the grandson of her own great-​uncle—​reinforced the position of authority and influence she enjoyed.38 The expressions of her authority—​ particularly the way she was carried around on a litter, and the way that she was assigned special guards to protect her when danger threatened—​were remarked on by early Europeans. Thomas Kendall, a missionary based in the Bay of Islands, wrote to the Church Missionary Society in London in 1815 that Hinematioro was “queen of a large [...] district” on the East Coast.39 Similarly, her fame was so widespread that Reverend Samuel Marsden, who lived in colonial New South Wales, wrote of the many stories he heard of Hinematioro, the “great Queen” who possessed “a large territory and numerous subjects.”40 Hinematioro’s renown has not diminished in the intervening centuries. In 1986, Victoria University of Wellington opened a whare whakairo (meeting house) that featured carvings of important ancestors, one of whom was Hinematioro. In the accompanying handbook, Hinematioro is described as a great chieftainess from the Ngati Porou people. She was a woman of great mana and tapu [sacredness] and is still regarded as a queen of great fame by her people. […] Because of her tapu and mana, Hinematioro was carried everywhere by her people and was attended to with great care and respect. She ate only the best quality foods.41

This biographical entry not only stresses Hinematioro’s genealogical claims to power, but also highlights the way that 38  Ballara, The Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, s.v. “Hinematioro.” 39  Ibid. 40  Ibid.

41  Te Whakatuwheratanga O Te Tumu Herenga Waka, 39.

Aidan Norrie

she perpetuated her authority by engendering respect from her people. The entry also reasserts her identity as a Māori rangatira, rather than as a European royal. Another example, which will be examined further in the women signatories of the Treaty of Waitangi section, is Rangi Topeora. In addition to the authority she wielded (over men) in her own hapū, her authority was generally recognized by British colonials. She was a fierce and independent woman, who had four marriages (in addition to her extramarital relationships), and she is best summed up by a self-​portrait she included in a waiata (traditional song): A notorious one, indeed, am I Because of my heart’s desires, And so utterly consumed with love.42

Topeora was baptized in 1847, and she insisted on taking the name Te Kunini (a Te Reo transliteration of “the queen”). The status of her husband was reflected in the name he was given at his baptism: Arapeta, the Māori rendering of “Albert,” the name of Queen Victoria’s consort. Topeora never relented and wore European clothing, and in her later years both Māori and the British commonly referred to her as “the Queen of the South.”43 As already noted, it is important not to describe female ariki and rangatira as “queens” in the European sense of the word. Nevertheless, it is certainly telling to consider the duality of female authority. On the one hand, the British colonials could conceive of these women, who were clearly exercising power, and often over men, only by equating them with the powerful queens regnant of their own history and experience. Similarly, many of these women believed they had to, or should, assume European expressions of royal authority to sustain the recognition of their authority.

Te Tiriti o Waitangi

Unlike almost every other country in the world, New Zealand does not have a codified constitution. 44 Like the United Kingdom, upon whose example the New Zealand political system is based, certain statutes, letters patent, 42  Sparks and Oliver, The Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, s.v. “Topeora, Rangi Te Kuini.” 43  Ibid.

44  New Zealand is joined only by the United Kingdom, Canada (which also follows the UK model), Israel, and Saudi Arabia in its lack of a complete, codified constitution.

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constitutional conventions, and court decisions make up the body of constitutional law in the country. 45 Nevertheless, there is a broad consensus that the Treaty of Waitangi should be considered the founding document of government in New Zealand. The British Empire was the largest empire to have existed in history. One of the reasons for its immense size was the “discovery,” and subsequent annexation, of lands previously unknown to Europeans. While various trading parties throughout history had visited Australia, the British were the first Westerners to arrive and annex the territory for themselves. The indigenous nations and tribes of Australia were mostly independent of each other, and were not militaristic.46 The British saw this lack of structure and hierarchy as reason for them to declare the entire continent as terra nullius.47 As late as 1971, Justice Richard Blackburn upheld the legal concept, ruling on its validity by stating that Australia, at the time of European annexation, was “desert and uncultivated,” and that “uncivilized inhabitants in a primitive state of society” could not claim exclusive ownership of the land.48 The same legal ruling was not imposed during the British annexation of New Zealand. Not only did Māori cultivate the land in ways that forced the British to acknowledge their ownership of the land, but they were also far more militaristic than most of the indigenous peoples the British had encountered, and Māori successes in battles forced the British to reconsider their position. Māori had also adapted to European trading practices in ways that alarmed the British colonials. Hapū in the north were becoming wealthy supplying merchant ships, and exporting their own goods and produce to Australia.49 In addition, it was not unusual for hapū across Aotearoa to be fenced off, or at least have visibly defined boundaries—​clearly indicating Māori ownership of the land.50 The strategies that had previously allowed the British to establish their colonies over other indigenous peoples would not work in Aotearoa.51 45  Keith, “On the Constitution of New Zealand.” 46  Hunter, Colonialism, s.v. “Australia.” 47  Tilley, “The Uses of Fear,” 38.

48  Milirrpum v Nabalco Pty Ltd (1971), 17 FLR 141 (Supreme Court of the Northern Territory). 49  Alves, The Māori and the Crown, 18.

50  Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society, 34.

51  It is interesting to note that the governor of New Zealand, William Hobson, was ordered by the British government to declare the South

The state of the British Empire in the middle of the nineteenth century is also worth considering. Māori populations living close to Pākehā (European) settlement were often decimated by influenza and measles; and the retreat of Māori further away from Pākehā settlements—​a standard Māori survival tactic—​led to panic at the Colonial Office in London of a great Māori dying-​off. In 1837 the British Resident, James Busby, claimed that “New Zealand would soon be destitute of a single aboriginal inhabitant.”52 At the same time, imperial disquiet was growing in Canada, the Caribbean, and South Africa; and the United States and France were both rumoured to be interested in settling New Zealand for themselves. In a land where Māori inhabitants would not give up their territory—​at least, not without payment or reparation—​and with the legality of Britain’s occupation questionable under the prevailing European legal philosophies, it became clear that the only solution was to establish British sovereignty via the cession of Māori ariki and rangatira through a treaty.53 The first white settlers arrived in Port Nicholson (today, Wellington) in late January 1840. They were ill-​prepared for colonial life, and survived only because of Māori help. Shortly afterwards Captain William Hobson arrived, and declared himself lieutenant governor (New Zealand was then part of the colony of New South Wales) with authority over the British people in New Zealand. Hobson had instructions from the Colonial Office: “Deal fairly with the Māori, appoint a Protector for their interests, guarantee Māori rights to lands, and see that all European land titles derived from a Crown grant.”54 In under a month, the Treaty of Waitangi would have its first signatures. Although Hobson held letters patent, which expanded the colony of New South Wales to include New Zealand, he had no formal instructions on how to have the Māori cede sovereignty to the British, nor did he have either a lawyer present, or any precedent to draw on. With the help of James Freeman, his secretary, and James Busby, the British Resident, Hobson drafted the English version of the treaty in four days. 55 Island of New Zealand terra nullius in order to allow the British to formally annex the land so as to prevent the French, who were rumoured to be planning to colonize the land for themselves, from having a claim. 52  Alves, The Māori and the Crown, 18. 53  Ibid., 19. 54  Ibid., 20.

55  King, The Penguin History of New Zealand, 179.

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Missionaries Henry and Edward Williams were tasked with translating the document into Te Reo, and they did so overnight on February 4.56 On February 5, 1840, both versions of the treaty were presented to the Māori chiefs assembled at Waitangi. After the two versions were read out, the rangatira assembled and debated amongst themselves for five hours. Eventually the chiefs moved down to the river flat, away from Busby’s house, and continued debating into the night, away from Pākehā interference.57 On February 6, forty-​five chiefs arrived at Busby’s house, ready to sign the treaty. Hobson was unprepared for this turn of events (he had thought that February 7 would be the earliest the chiefs would be ready), but was ready for the signing to commence in the afternoon.58 Hōne Heke was the first of the Māori chiefs to sign, and Hobson was the first of the British.59 Meetings continued to be held across (almost exclusively) the North Island to collect signatures until September. While not all iwi and hapū signed, and not all hapū were approached and given the opportunity to sign, Lieutenant-​Governor Hobson proclaimed British sovereignty over the whole country on May 21, 1840.60 On November 16, 1840, New Zealand was constituted as a colony separate from New South Wales.

Women and the Treaty

Before Europeans arrived in New Zealand, Te Reo was an oral language. From 1814, Christian missionaries attempted to match the sounds of the language to the Latin alphabet, and the first orthography of Te Reo was published in 1815. In 1820 Samuel Lee, working at the University of Cambridge with Hongi Hika, a chief of the Ngāpuhi iwi, published what has become the definitive Māori orthography. 61 Literacy spread quickly amongst the Māori, but many of the rangatira—​including most of the women signatories—​signed the treaty with their moko.62 The moko is the traditional Māori tattoo, which was both an important rite of passage and a 56  Orange, An Illustrated History of the Treaty of Waitangi, 24. 57  Ibid.,  27–​31. 58  Ibid.,  31–​34.

59  King, The Penguin History of New Zealand, 187.

60  Orange, An Illustrated History of the Treaty of Waitangi, 39. 61  Bauer, Māori: Descriptive Grammars, x.

62  Robley, Moko: The Art and History of Māori Tattooing,  11–​18.

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symbol of rank.63 The Europeans who travelled the country collecting signatures understood the significance of the moko (despite their revulsion at the “barbaric” practice) and encouraged its use as a mark for those signatories who could not write their name.64 Te Reo as a language is not grammatically gendered.65 This makes it difficult to work out the gender of the signatory, unless some identifying descriptor is added. Thus, of the approximately 530 Māori signatories, only thirteen have been identified as women—​usually by further research.66 I will now chronologically detail the thirteen women who signed or affixed their mark to the Treaty, giving as much detail about their lives and circumstances as is currently known. These details highlight both the important position women held in Māori society, and the way that women exercised their mana independently of the men in their lives. As far as I am aware, this is the first time such a detailed account, combining both the biographical and the signing details of the female signatories, has been given in a single place. The treaty was initially signed at Waitangi on February 6, 1840. Three of the signatories from that day have been identified as women. The first woman to sign the treaty was Takurua, a member of the Ngāti Korokoro and Ngāti Rangi hapū. She signed the treaty with her mark, four signatures below the mark of her husband, Te Tai.67 Takurua has also been identified as the daughter of Te Kēmara, the nineteenth rangatira to sign the treaty. The fact that a woman signed the treaty alongside her father and her husband emphasizes both her mana and the visibility of her authority to the British negotiators. Five signatures after Takurua’s was that of Te Mārama, another female rangatira who also signed with her mark.68 The third and final signatory on that day was Ana Hamu. Ana Hamu was the widow of Te Koki, chief of Te Uri-​ō-​ngongo, and her mark was much more personal than the “X”-​like shapes affixed thus far, and may represent her 63  Ibid., 22–​28,  31–​38.

64  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark,  v–​vi. 65  Bauer, Māori: Descriptive Grammars, 365.

66  Reproductions of the signatures and/​or marks of these women, plotted on a map that corresponds to the location of the treaty signing, can be found online as part of Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand: http://teara.govt.nz/​en/​interactive/​36341/​women-​signatories-​to-​the-​treaty-​of-​waitangi (last accessed July 16, 2018). When debate exists over the date of the signing, I have followed Simpson. 67  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark, 10. 68  Ibid., 11.

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moko.69 She was a patron of the Anglican Church Missionary Society’s mission station at Paihia, and she gifted the land for the station to the Church by her own authority. At her baptism, on October 5, 1834, she took the name “Ana.”70 As a practical measure, and to enhance the treaty’s authority among both Māori and the British, an additional eight copies were produced, which were sent around Aotearoa to gather more signatures. The Waikato-​Manukau copy reached Waikato Heads in late March or early April, where two more women signed it. The first was Hoana Riutoto, of the Ngāti Mahuta hapū.71 She signed with her mark on April 11, and is now most commonly known as the ancestor of Te Puea Hērangi, a leader of the Māori King Movement (see below).72 The signature immediately following hers was of Te Wairākau, the second woman at Waikato Heads to sign. Te Wairākau signed with her mark also, but the arch-​like form of her signature may be representative of the Waitākere Ranges, which were near to her home. The copy of the treaty signed at Waitangi made its way to Kaitāia in April. Most of the signatories here signed their own name (Northland was the home of the Anglican Missions who had first begun implementing the new Māori orthography), including the two women signatories. On April 28 Mārama signed her name on the treaty.73 The second woman was Ereonora (probably a Māori rendering of “Eleanor”), who also signed her own name.74 Ereonora’s mana allowed her to exercise her rangatira independently of her husband (who was the first signatory at Kaitāia), and she used her position to spread Christianity amongst Te Rarawa, her iwi.75 Another copy of the treaty, known variously as the Henry Williams or Cook Strait sheet, was circulated around the east coast of the bottom of the North Island. At Port Nicholson, on April 29, the fourth rangatira to affix their mark to the treaty was Kahe.76 Kahe Te Rau-​o-​te-​rangi was a woman of the Ngāti Toa, whose mana was recognized not only by her iwi, but also by the British negotiators who accompanied the treaty.77 69  Ibid., 15.

70  New Zealand History, “Ana Hamu.”

71  New Zealand History, “Hoana Riutoto.”

72  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark, 121. 73  Ibid., 44. 74  Ibid., 47.

75  New Zealand History, “Ereonora.”

76  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark, 82.

77  Spragg, The Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, s.v. “Te Rau-​o-​te-​rangi,  Kahe.”

The treaty was then taken to Rangitoto (d’Urville Island), where the second mark affixed belonged to Pari.78 Pari’s mark is reminiscent of a kākahu (ceremonial cloak), and Mīria Simpson posits that an extant portrait of three women—​one of whom is labelled “Pari”—​may show the young Pari at or near the date of signing.79 The Cook Strait copy then travelled north, to Kapiti. There, on May 14, Topeora (probably Rangi Te Kuini Topeora) affixed her mark to the treaty.80 Rangi Topeora was a revered and influential woman; she is recorded to have successfully, and on several occasions, overruled the wishes of male rangatira in her hapū. A famous example of her authority took place not long after she had signed the treaty: on Kapiti she overruled her brother (Te Rangihaeata) and uncle (Te Rauparaha) and insisted on allowing William Mayhew, a whaler, to use a piece of Ngāti Toa land. Rangi Topeora’s four marriages highlight female rangatira’s ability not only to intermarry between hapū for political purposes, but also to marry men of their own choosing.81 On May 16, the treaty was taken to Waikanae, just north of Kapiti. The fourth mark affixed to the treaty on this date belonged to Ngāraurēkau. Simpson notes that Ngā-​raurēkau is conventionally a woman’s name.82 Others have used a description of Ngā-​raurēkau as an “old chief” in a letter to the land commissioner to gender Ngā-​raurēkau as male.83 I have counted Ngā-​raurēkau among the thirteen women because Simpson sought out descendants of as many of the signatories as she could locate as part of her research; the gender neutrality of rangatira (and thus “old chief” in the letter) is also not definitively male. On May 19 the treaty returned to Kapiti, and another female rangatira, Te Kehu, affixed her elaborate mark to it.84 Her husband, Rere-​tā-​whangawhanga, had signed the same sheet on May 16, and Te Kehu’s later signature may indicate the status she held within the Te Āti Awa iwi; unlike the male-​centric view of politics that the male Pākehā held, Te Āti Awa did not consider the terms of the treaty binding until Te 78  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark, 95. 79  Ibid., 95; see the plate between pages 66 and 67. 80  New Zealand History, “Rangi Te Kuini Topeora.”

81  Sparks and Oliver, The Dictionary of New Zealand Biography, s.v. “Topeora, Rangi Te Kuini.” 82  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark, 104.

83  [Bell, Browne, and Whitaker], Notes on Sir William Martin’s Pamphlet, 41. 84  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark, 101.

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Kehu had signed.85 The last woman to sign the treaty did so when it was taken to Whanganui on May 23. Rere (Rere-​ō-​ maki) was a member of the Ngāti Ruaka hapū, and she was the fourth person to affix their mark to the treaty that day.86 Her personal mana with the hapū is affirmed by that fact that two of her brothers also signed the treaty.87 Te Anaua (Hōrī Kīngi Te Anaua) was the first to sign that day, and his younger brother, Te Māwae, signed immediately before Rere—​all three siblings exercising rangatira in their hapū.88 While the list of female rangatira who offered their consent to the Treaty of Waitangi is by no means staggering in length, the women who did sign demonstrate the position women held (or could hold) in Māori society. Many of the women signed in addition to their husbands, fathers or brothers, which reinforced their mana within their hapū. For some of these women, their mana was even recognized by the British negotiators. We do not know how the British received this exercise of agency; they may have been uncomfortable with a woman signing such an important document, especially in the absence of a clear male authority figure.89 Nevertheless, these thirteen women—​some of whom were literate and able to write their name—asserted their authority, and ensured that their descendants would have a record of the mana they exercised as rangatira of their hapū. In giving this overview of the treaty, it would be remiss of me not to mention the inherent conflict between the English and Te Reo versions, and the impact this has had on the treaty’s implementation from 1840 until the present day—​especially the impact on the visibility of the female rangatira who signed. The treaty was translated in just one night, and, although the Te Reo version was intended to accurately convey the meaning of the English version, there are substantial and important differences.90 The source of most conflict has been the rendering of the English word “sovereignty” as “kawanatanga,” which in Te Reo means “government” or “governorship.” Thus, some of the rangatira signatories thought they were ceding the government of their lands to the British, while at the same time retaining the undisturbed right to manage their own affairs. Similarly, while the English version

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offered Māori the “undisturbed possession” of all their “properties,” the Te Reo version promised “tino rangatiratanga” (“self-​determination” or “self-​governance”) over all “taonga” (“treasures,” whether they were tangible or intangible). The issue was also complicated by the fact that Māori signatories considered the verbal explanations they were given at the time of signing to be as legally binding as the text they were signing; a legal concept far at odds with British statute law.91 More recently, however, emphasis has been placed on the “spirit” of the treaty, and since 1975 the Waitangi Tribunal has investigated, arbitrated and ruled on breaches of the treaty by the Crown.

Kīngitanga, and Some Conclusions

85  New Zealand History, “Te Kehu (Te Whetu-​o-​te-​ao).”

The impact of European colonialism, and the European political systems that came with it, were deeply felt by Māori. Soon after the treaty was signed, Māori were faced with European settlers who wanted to expand their farms. Without any way of coordinating between iwi, the colonial government offered pitiful deals in exchange for land.92 From about 1853, and in an attempt to stem the proliferation of dubious land deals, Māori began reviving the ancient iwi runanga (councils) to deal with the sales. In May 1854 a meeting was held at Manawapou, which was attended by at least 2,000 rangatira. One of the main outcomes of the meeting was the kotahitanga—​unity movement—​which sought to bring the Māori together in a similar way to how the colonial government was organized. The idea of creating a Māori monarch, who could claim equal status to Queen Victoria, and thus negotiate with the Pākehā on equal terms, was also mooted.93 Candidates were sought for the position of Māori king. In September 1857 Te Wherowhero—​a descendant of Hoturoa, captain of the Tainui canoe and the ariki of the Waikato iwi—​accepted the crown. He was crowned at his marae in Ngaruawahia in June 1858, and adopted the name Pōtatau Te Wherowhero. Whereas Pōtatau saw his job as representing Māori interests in cooperation with the colonial government, not all his followers agreed. Likewise, there were many Māori who saw the Kīngitanga—​Māori King Movement—​as something only for the Waikato iwi. Whatever the status of the Māori king, relations between Māori and the colonial

88  New Zealand History, “Te Māwae.”

91  Ibid., 37.

86  New Zealand History, “Rere-​ō-​maki.”

87  Simpson, Ngā Tohu O Te Tiriti: Making a Mark, 110. 89  Brookes, A History of New Zealand Women, 32.

90  Orange, An Illustrated History of the Treaty of Waitangi, 266.

92  Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society,  72–​73. 93  Ibid., 76.

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government deteriorated, leading to the Taranaki Wars, beginning in March 1860, and the Invasion of the Waikato from July 1863.94 Kīngitanga is an elected monarchy; but on the death of Pōtatau on June 25, 1860, his son, Matutaera Tāwhiao, succeeded him.95 Tāwhiao was chief during the New Zealand Wars—​during which time he spent twenty years in exile—​ and he oversaw the eventual peace process through the 1860s and 1870s.96 When he died, on August 26, 1894, he was succeeded by his eldest son, Mahuta Tāwhiao. Upon Mahuta’s death, on November 9, 1912, he was succeeded by his eldest son, Te Rata. Te Rata reigned until his death, on October 1, 1933, when he was succeeded by his son, Koroki Mahuta. Koroki was a reluctant king, but was the first to host a visit by the reigning British monarch: Queen Elizabeth II visited the Tūrangawaewae Marae as part of her coronation tour in December 1953. Koroki died on May 18, 1966, and was succeeded by his daughter, Te Atairangikaahu. As the daughter of the previous Māori king, and as a descendant of the first Māori king, Te Atairangikaahu is the only woman in all of Māori history who could be described as a “queen” in the European sense, especially in the eyes of the early Pākehā settlers.97 She was a much-​admired figure within both Māori and Pākehā societies. In the New Year Honours for 1970 she became the first Māori to be appointed a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire, with the citation reading: “For outstanding services to the Maori people.”98 The conferral of a British award to the Māori queen reflects both the conciliatory overtures of the British and the status of the Māori King Movement in New Zealand, with the incumbent monarch often acting as a host for visiting state dignitaries.99 After her death, on August 15, 2006, Te Atairangikaahu’s eldest son, Tuheitia Paki, was elected to be her successor as Māori king. Tuheitia Paki emerged as a consensus candidate; his sister, and Te Atairangikaahu’s eldest child, Heeni Katipa, 94  For more on the New Zealand Wars, and their place in New Zealand’s history, see Calman, The New Zealand Wars; and Keenan, Wars without End. 95  Winiata, The Changing Role of the Leader in Māori Society, 78. 96  O’Malley, The Great War for New Zealand, 347–​67.

97  Elected monarchies were fairly common in medieval and early modern Europe. The Holy Roman Emperor was elected by the prince-​ electors of the empire’s Electoral College; indeed, the British Royal family is descended from Sophia, the Electress of Hanover. 98  In Supplement to The London Gazette (January 1, 1970), 42. 99  Mahuta, “The Māori King Movement Today,” 40.

was also a leading contender for the position—​in fact, said to be Te Atairangikaahu’s favoured successor.100 The Māori monarch has no political or constitutional role and, as was outlined earlier, is sometimes seen as having authority only over Waikato Māori. However, Kīngitanga demonstrates the impact of European colonization on Māori culture: Māori believed that copying the British political system was the only way that they would secure an equal footing in negotiations with the Pākehā.101 The impact of colonization is clearly visible in the shifting Māori socio-​political structure, and most evident in the fluctuation of the power of women.102 We must be careful not to overstate the status and position of women in Māori society—​both before and after European colonization. Of the approximately 530 rangatira who signed the treaty, only 13—​or 2.45 per cent—​were women. There were, and still are, hapū who do not allow women to speak on the marae.103 Nevertheless, indigenous women signed no other treaty negotiated by the British Empire; nor could queens in medieval and early modern Europe even dream of the socio-​political legitimation that female ariki and rangatira exercised throughout Māori history. The twenty-​one-​year-​old Queen Victoria in London was some 18,000 kilometres from Waitangi when the treaty was signed—​but, in her name, one of the most important examples of female agency in world history was being carried out. 100  Stokes, “Māoridom Awaits New Leader.” Heeni Katipa was a widow, and did not have any children; the succession issue her election would cause was seen as a deal breaker for some of the electors.

101  For a recent, and wide-​ranging, discussion of Pākehā impact on Māori culture, see O’Malley, The Great War for New Zealand. 102  For an excellent post-​colonialist reading of the effect of British colonization on Māori political systems, see Byrnes, The Waitangi Tribunal and New Zealand History; and Smith and Turner, “Indigenous Inhabitations and the Colonial Present.”

103  Mahuika, “Leadership: Inherited and Achieved,” 48, recounts an infamous interaction between members of hapūs with differing status of women. In 1917 Mihi Kotukutuku Stirling, a rangatira (or even ariki) of Te Whanau-​a-​Apanui, visited the marae at Rotorua. While there, a rangatira named Mita Taupopoki spoke, and asked who would respond. Another rangatira, Timutima Tawhai, replied, “Yonder sits the paramount ariki,” and pointed to Mihi. Mihi stood to speak—​the first time a woman had done so at this marae—​but Mita Taupopoki jumped up before she spoke and demanded that she sit down. Mihi responded, “You have no right to speak to me [she recited her whakapapa which established her as more senior than Mita]. There are my male relatives sitting there, let them speak to me. Your mop of grey hair came from here!” This last sentence was punctuated by pointing to her private parts. Silence greeted this reply, and Mihi was allowed to speak.

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—​—​—​. “Leadership in Pre-​European Māori Society.” Journal of Polynesian Society 65 (1956): 212–​31. Wirihana, Rebecca. “Ngā pūrākau o ngā wāhine rangatira Māori o Aotearoa:  The Stories of Māori Women Leaders in New Zealand.” PhD dissertation, Massey University, 2012. Woodacre, Elena. The Queens Regnant of Navarre:  Succession, Politics, and Partnership, 1274–​1512. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013.

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10 THE SOCIAL–​POLITICAL ROLES OF THE PRINCESS IN KYIVAN RUS’, CA. 945–​1240* TALIA ZAJAC

WRITING TOWARDS THE end of his life, Prince Vladimir Monomakh (d. 1125) of Kyiv (Kiev) gave his sons the following advice in his twelfth-​century Instructions (Pouchenie): “Love your wives, but grant them no power [vlast’] over you.”1 From Old Norse sagas and Latin sources, it is known that Vladimir’s first wife was the Anglo-​Saxon princess Gytha, the daughter of the last Anglo-​Saxon king of England, Harold Godwineson.2 The thirteenth-​century necrology of the monastery of Saint Pantaleon in Cologne commemorates her as “Queen Gytha.”3 Yet her husband’s advice book for his sons never mentions her by name, or acknowledges her role as a patron. The contrast between Gytha’s status as “queen” according to external

*  I wish to thank the following scholars for their comments and reading suggestions: Alexandr Musin, Elena Woodacre, Volodymyr Mezentsev, Ksenya Kiebuzinski, Miriam Shadis, Lucy Pick, Theresa Earenfight, Alexandra Vukovich, Victor Ostapchuk and members of the Ukraine Research Group in the Petro Jacyk Program at the University of Toronto, as well as the anonymous reviewer. Final editing work on the chapter was completed while holding a Eugene and Daymel Shklar Fellowship at the Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute.

1  “Zhenu svoiu liubitē, no ne daitē im nad’ soboiu vlasti,” in Ostrowski, Pověst Vremennykh Lět (hereafter PVL), vol. 3, 1917; see also Polnoe sobranie russikh letopiseĭ (hereafter PSRL), vol. 1, Lavrentevskaia letopis, 246; and The Russian Primary Chronicle (hereafter PC), 210–​11, appendix 1; discussed in McKenzie, “Women’s Image in Russian Medieval Literature,” 18. 2  According to the thirteenth-​century Deeds of the Danes of Saxo Grammaticus, the marriage between Gytha and Vladimir was arranged by King Sven Estridsson of Denmark, who was related to both dynasties through his mother, princess Estrid of Denmark. Following the Battle of Hastings in 1066, Harold Godwineson’s surviving sons and daughter had fled to their cousin in Denmark: Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, vol. 2, 798–​801.

3  “VI. Id. Marc. Palatini et Firmiani confessorum … Gida regina”: Necrologium Sanctis Pantaleonis; as cited in Coens, “Sermon inconnu,” 252; and Nazarenko, Drevniaia Rus’, 596.

sources and her own husband’s dismissal of her position raises the wider question of what social and political roles a princess could hold in Kyivan (Kievan) Rus’, a term first coined by scholars in the nineteenth century to describe the medieval land that included present-​day Belarus’, Ukraine, and Russia.4 This chapter explores the scope of social and political activities available to princesses in Rus’, focusing on the period of Christianization from the reign of Princess Ol’ga (Scandinavian: Helga, d. 969) up to 1240/​41, when Kyiv was incorporated into the Mongol Empire. The year 1240/​41 provides a convenient end point for this study. After 1240/​41 not only did geopolitics change but so, gradually, did the status of elite women, to the point that, beginning in the fourteenth century, Muscovite elite women were strictly secluded in their homes and could emerge in public only if veiled.5 By the eleventh century a vast territory of over 500,000 square miles (800,000 kilometers) in present-​day eastern Europe was ruled by a single clan, known in fifteenth-​century sources onwards as the Riurikid dynasty (the Riurikovichi) after the semi-​legendary ninth-​century Varangian (Viking) 4  The relatively limited historiography on both elite and ordinary women in Kyivan Rus’ is summarized and surveyed in García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” 348–​4 9n2; and Michalowska, “Klostergründungen Russicher Fürstinnen,” 275n1. On the various geographic terms used in Russian and Ukrainian scholarship to describe the medieval land of Rus’ from the nineteenth century onwards, see Voitovych, Kniazha doba na Rusi, 11.

5  Kollmann, “The Seclusion of Elite Muscovite Women,” 170, 174–79; and Clements, A History of Women in Russia, 35–​37. Future research needs to be done on change and continuity in the status of princesses after 1240/​41 in lands outside Muscovy that were once part of Rus’, including Galicia-​Volhynia (which was ruled by a branch of the Riurikid dynasty until its extinction in 1340) and what became the Duchy of Lithuania.

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leader Riurik (Scandinavian: Hrorikr).6 According to the twelfth-​century Primary Chronicle, also known from its opening lines as the Tale of Bygone Years, in 862 various quarrelling East Slavic tribes invited the Varangian Riurik and his two brothers to settle in their territory and rule over them.7 Since the eighteenth century an ongoing debate—​the so-​called “Normanist controversy”—​has raged as to the veracity of this narrative and the Scandinavian origins of the Rus’ people who gave their name to the lands under their control.8 However, today there is broad scholarly consensus, based on onomastics (name studies) and archeological and textual evidence, that the ruling dynasty of Rus’ was originally dominated by Scandinavian members, and also that the ethnonym/​toponym “Rus’ ” (from the Finnish word for Swedes, Ruotsi, related to the English word “rowers”) is Scandinavian in origin.9 At the same time, though, scholars have acknowledged the multi-​ethnic and multicultural nature of early Rus’, which included not only Scandinavian and East Slavic but also Finno-​ Ugric and Turkic peoples.10 In the eighth and ninth centuries the earliest Scandinavian trading settlements in the territory of Rus’ were located in the Baltic littoral basin, in the north of present-​day Russia (including the towns of Riurikovo Gorodishche/​Holmgard and Staraia Ladoga/​Aldeigjuborg).11 However, by around 900 6  On the territorial extent of Rus’, see Christian, A History of Russia, 361. The appearance of the term “Rurikovichi” to describe the ruling clan of this territory and the creation (and invention) of extended royal genealogies in the fifteenth century are described in Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 30, 36. A concise history of the Riurikid dynasty is given in Poppe, Christian Russia in the Making, chap. 1 (“The Rurikid [sic] Dynasty or Seven Hundred Years of Shaping Eastern Europe,”)  1–​25. 7  PVL, vol. 10.1, 103–​4.

8  Pritsak, The Origins of Rus’, 3–​7; Duczko, Viking Rus, 1–​4, 20–​24; Mel’nikova and Petrukhin, Drevniaia Rus’ v srednevekovom mire (hereafter DRSM), s.v. “Normanskaia problema,” 560–​61.

9  Pritsak, The Origins of Rus’, 5, Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 28–​2 9; Duczko, Viking Rus, 23–​2 4, 253–​5 4; Christian, A History of Russia, 334; Duczko, Viking Rus. For the transformation of Rus’ from ethnonym to toponym in the middle of the eleventh century (Rus’, rus’skaia zemlia), see also Pritsak, The Origins of Rus’,  31–​32. 10  Ibid., 32; Christian, A History of Russia, 335.

11  Riurikovo Gorodishche, or “Riurik’s Town,” is a modern name given by archeologists to a ninth-​century Finno-​Ugric, Scandinavian and Slavic settlement excavated near present-​day Novgorod (whose name means, literally, “New Town”). See Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 8–​27, 31–​50; Duczko, Viking Rus, 255–​56; and Christian, A History of Russia, 338.

to 940 changing trading patterns led various Scandinavian settlers to turn southwards and to consolidate their power over Kyiv (Kiev), originally a Khazar/​East Slavic trading emporium.12 The first historically verifiable Rus’ leader and progenitor of the “Riurikid” dynasty to emerge from this cultural context was Oleg (Scandinavian: Helgi; d. 912/​922).13 The social and political roles of the princess in Kyivan Rus’ therefore were shaped by a hybridity of ruling traditions absorbed by the Rus’ from various cultural groups over several centuries of settlement. One result of these cultural encounters was that, during the course of these centuries, Scandinavians adopted some ruling customs of the Turkic Khazars and the East Slavs.14 In historian and linguist Omeljan Pritsak’s memorable turn of phrase, “nomads of the sea” (Vikings) joined with “nomads of the steppe.”15 To give one example of this process of acculturation, until the middle of the eleventh century Riurikid male rulers occasionally used the Khazar Turkic title qağan to designate the symbolic supreme male ruler.16 Another source of Khazar influence on Riurikid practices of rulership was the use of a dynastic emblem on coins and pendants, among other objects, first in the form of a bident and then, from the tenth century onwards, a trident.17 Only male members of the Riurikids seemed to have used the bident or trident emblem to symbolize their authority.18 12  Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 91–​107; Christian, A History of Russia, 343.

13  All sources for Oleg’s life are given in Voitovych, Kniazha doba na Rusi, 203–​10, with extensive further literature. 14  Duczko, Viking Rus,  5–​6.

15  Pritsak, The Origins of Rus’, 16; followed in Christian, A History of Russia, 341. 16  Pritsak, “The System of Government,” 574n5; Isaievych, “On the Titulature of Rulers,” 219–​20; Christian, A History of Russia, 334, 338–​39; Shepard, “Rus’,” 371.

17  The function of such a graphic seems to have been similar to the clan emblems called tamgas (sing. tamga) used by the Khazars and other steppe peoples to symbolize the qağan’s power. See Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 120–​21; Duczko, Viking Rus, 228–​38; DRSM, s.v. “Znaki Riurikikovicheĭ,” 302–​4; and Kovalev, “Grand Princess Olga of Rus’ Shows the Bird,” 471–​72. 18  Although an undated bident found on a bone pendant in Novgorod has sometimes been attributed to Ol’ga, Roman Kovalev argues that there is insufficient evidence to link this find to Ol’ga and that therefore “not one example of a bident–​trident Riurikid emblem used by a princess has thus far been found”: Kovalev, “Grand Princess Olga of Rus’ Shows the Bird,” 483.

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Little is known of the position of the princess before Christianity was adopted in Rus’.19 However, between the 940s and 960s (perhaps in 957) Ol’ga became the first member of the ruling Riurikid dynasty to convert to Christianity.20 Her grandson, Vladimir (Volodimer) Sviatoslavich (d. 1015), after marrying the Byzantine princess Anna (d. ca. 1011) and accepting baptism in 988 or 989, made Orthodox Christianity the official religion of the Rus’.21 Particularly from this time on, Orthodoxy and Byzantine cultural influence therefore were also factors that shaped the agency available to princesses in Rus’, though they were by no means the only cultural forces at play. Martin Dimnik has characterized the role of Riurikid princesses in the post-​Christianization period as, “in the main, ceremonial,” noting their presence at such dynastic rituals as weddings, funerals, church consecrations, and the installation of bishops.22 As this chapter will show, the governance of towns that personally belonged to them and religious patronage were additional important social-​political roles exercised by princesses in Rus’. These roles were in many ways analogous (though not identical) to the roles played by contemporary queens consort in western Europe. Native customs were equally important for shaping the agency available to princesses, especially the lateral succession system practised by the Riurikids, whereby male members 19  Prior to the adoption of Christianity, the Rus’ male elite were polygamous. Ibn Fadlān, an Arab traveller writing in 921/​922, records that the king (malik) of the Rūsiyyah kept numerous concubines. See Montgomery, “Ibn Fadlān and the Rūsiyyah,” 14–​20; and Pritsak, “The System of Government,” 573.

20  PVL, vol. 10.1, 386–​408. The dates of Ol’ga’s conversion are contested, with a range given from the 940s to the 960s. However, the discovery of a palimpsest manuscript folio of the Byzantine contemporary source for Ol’ga’s conversion, the De ceremoniis, includes the note that Ol’ga was baptized during the “first indiction,” which would be between September 1 and 9, 957, probably on her arrival on September 8; see Poppe, Christian Russia in the Making, chap. 7 (“Once Again concerning the Baptism of Olga, Archontissa of Rus’ ”), 278; and Featherstone, “Ol’ga’s Visit to Constantinople.” 21  PVL, vol. 10.1, 817–​953. The name of the Christianizer of Rus’ is somewhat problematic to render in English. The Old East Slavic text of the twelfth-​century Primary Chronicle calls him “Volodimer,” similar to modern Ukrainian usage. The coins minted by the ruler himself call him “Vladimir” in Old Church Slavonic, which is closer to modern Russian. As Simon Franklin notes, either spelling is “correct”: Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus, xi. 22  Dimnik, “The Princesses of Chernigov,” 166.

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of the dynasty established their right to rule over the major settlements of Rus’, as well as the concept described by Anatoliĭ Tolochko as the “collective” or “clan” sovereignty of the dynasty.23 The roles available to princesses in Rus’ were shaped by a fusion of such local notions of rulership merged with ideals of Christian behaviour. In order to examine the range of activities available to princesses in Rus’, the chapter begins by considering the titles held by the princesses in Rus’ and their meaning, before discussing evidence for women’s participation in princely government and their role as patrons of ecclesiastical institutions.

Titles of Princesses in Rus’ and Their Meaning

The Old Slavonic title of k”nęgyni (variant spellings: knęginia, kniaginia) was the female version of the male title of rulership, k”niaz’, which shares a common root with the English word “king.” 24 Reflecting the kingly social and political role of the k”niaz’, Latin sources throughout the Middle Ages translated this title as rex (pl. reges).25 It is notable that all members of the reigning Riurikid dynasty, not just the prince of Kyiv, were termed reges by Latin sources.26 Monarchical rule in Rus’ therefore was not concentrated solely in the prince of Kyiv, who was more like a first among equals.27 Rather, legitimacy lay in the dynasty as a whole—​an important consideration for understanding the place of the princess in Rus’ society.28 Just as kniaz’ was translated in Latin sources by the word rex, so too could k”nęgyni and its variants be rendered in Latin as regina.29 Scandinavian sources also refer to Rus’ princesses 23  On the notion of the “collective sovereignty” (“kolektivny siuzerenitet”) and “clan suzerainty” (“rodovyi siuzerenitet”) of the Riurikids, see Tolochko, Kniaz’ v Drevneĭ Rusi, 9, 23–​35ff. 24  Sreznevskiĭ, Slovar’ drevnerusskogo iazyka, vol. 1.2, 1397.

25  Soloviev, “ ‘Reges’ et ‘Regnum Russiae’ ”; Poppe, “The Rurikid Dynasty,” 2. 26  Soloviev, “ ‘Reges’ et ‘Regnum Russiae,’ ” 162.

27  The argument for the prince of Kyiv as a first among equals is Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 30, 53.

28  Tolochko, “Problems of the Rurikids,” 267; Shepard, “Rus’,” 385; Franklin, “Kievan Rus’,” 74.

29  Examples of texts that call Rus’ princesses by the Latin word for queen, regina, include the tenth-​century Continuator of the Chronicle of Prüm, who calls Princess Ol’ga “regina Russorum”; Regino, Reginonis abbatis prumiensis Chronicon, 170. See also Soloviev, “ ‘Reges’ et ‘Regnum Russiae,’ ” 149.

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by the title of “queen” (dróttning/​drottning).30 The fact that foreign sources viewed the female members of the Riurikid dynasty as queens, daughters of kings or as similar to the status of queens in their own cultures suggests that comparisons can be made between the position and authority available to a queen in medieval Latin Christendom and the social-​political roles exercised by the princess in Kyivan Rus’. For instance, in the Kingdom of Portugal, from the early twelfth century to the reign of Alfonso III (r. 1248–​1279) royal daughters, and not just wives, bore the title of “queen” (regina).31 Moreover, the fact that there existed a separate title—​ k”nęgyni—​to denote the status of female members of the Riurikid dynasty is important, because it suggests that this title also carried with it the weight of some political authority. In Frankish lands, for example, the shift from calling a woman “the king’s wife” to giving her the separate title of “queen” denoted an increase in status and the stabilization of queenship as a separate office.32 The English translation for k”nęgyni, “princess” or, in older sources “duchess” (sometimes “grand duchess”), is therefore somewhat misleading.33 K”nęgyni, princess, should not be understood as signifying a young unmarried woman or a woman of lesser social status than a Latin Christian queen. Although, as we shall see, the functions of a k”nęgyni and a Western queen consort were not equivalent, both occupied the highest social position available to women in their respective medieval realms. Byzantine sources simply refer to female members of the Riurikid dynasty as archontissai (“princesses”/​“noblewomen”) and male members of the dynasty as archontes (“rulers”/​“princes”).34 According to Byzantine political theory, 30  Gytha, the wife of Vladimir Monomakh, is called “queen” in Snorri Sturluson’s thirteenth-​c entury collection of royal sagas: “Gyða [...] drótning.” Sturluson, Heimskringla, ed. Jónsson, 542; English trans. Hollander, 702. 31  Shadis, “The First Queens of Portugal,” 677–​78.

32  Stafford, Queens, Concubines, and Dowagers; Earenfight, Queen­ ship in Medieval Europe, 79–​122.

33  The title “grand prince” (velykyi kniaz’) and “grand princess” (velykaia kniagynia) were mostly used as honorific, rather than political, titles in Kyivan Rus, since “velykyi” had (and has) the same range of meanings as Latin magnus and Greek megas: great, senior, elder, famous, glorious, and so on. It was often used only after a prince’s death in his eulogy. Isaievych, “On the Titulature of Rulers,” 220–​21; Poppe, “Words that Serve the Authority”; Vodoff, “La titulature des princes russes,” 140.

34  Vodoff, “La titulature des princes russes,” 142; Hanak, The Nature and the Image of Princely Power, 99–​100.

there could only be one true empire and one true emperor on earth, the basileus, to whom all other rulers were subject.35 Reflecting this Byzantine political theory, some inscriptions on lead seals in Rus’, discussed further below, refer to Rus’ princesses as archontissai.36 However, this bureaucratic practice of using seals to authenticate documents was introduced into Rus’ by Greek clergy, and thus reflects a Greek point of view on the nomenclature used for the Riurikid princely dynasty.37 Moreover, surviving lead seals that employ the archontissa title largely may have been owned by Byzantine brides who came to Rus’.38 Native Rus’ sources generally did not use Byzantine titulature.39 Although the Riurikids had adopted some Byzantine cultural practices together with Orthodox Christianity, they adopted these cultural norms to local usage. For example, the Rus’ Church, despite being headed by a Greek metropolitan sent to Rus’ from Constantinople, employed Old Church Slavonic rather than Greek in its liturgical and religious texts, and drew on Bulgarian (rather than Greek) exemplars.40 While adopting a Byzantine Church structure as well as some aspects of Byzantine elite culture, the Riurikids also continued to maintain their own traditions of rulership. Of these, the most important for understanding the social and political positions of the Rus’ princess was the dynasty’s lateral succession system and the idea of the collective right of the Riurikid dynasty to rule. 35  Grabar, “God and the ‘Family of Princes’ ”; Angelov and Herrin, “The Christian Imperial Tradition,” 159–​60. 36  Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 17–​19,  24–​25.

37  Franklin, “Literacy and Documentation in Early Medieval Russia,” 26.

38  Valentin Ianin has attributed one seal with the inscription Monomachis to the Greek wife of Vsevolod Iaroslavich, who was a relative of Emperor Constantine IX Monomachos (d. 1055): Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 17–​19. However, this view has been disputed by Alexander Kazhdan, who suggests that it should be interpreted as monache, meaning that the seal belonged to a nun, rather than to Vsevolod’s wife: “Rus–​Byzantine Princely Marriages,” 417. Based on a new exemplar of this seal, Seibt attributes it to the ownership of the Rus’ princess Maria Dobroniega (d. 1087): “War Maria [...]?” Another seal containing the Greek title archontissa has been attributed by Ianin to Theophano Mouzalona, the Byzantine-​born wife of Prince Oleg Sviatoslavich (d. 1115); see Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 24–​25; followed by Dimnik, “The Princesses of Chernigov,” 169. 39  Vodoff, “Remarques sur la valeur du terme ‘tsar.’ ”

40  Franklin, Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus, 12–​13; and “The Reception of Byzantine Culture”; Poppe, Christian Russia in the Making, chap. 9 (“The Christianization and Ecclesiastical Structure of Kievan Rus’ to 1300”), 343–​44.

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The Succession System in Rus’ and Its Effect on Princesses’ Roles in the Dynasty The complex system of succession in Kyivan Rus’, with its emphasis on the transfer of power between men, limited the role that women could play in governing directly. Indeed, the process of succession was so complicated and so often resulted in internecine warfare that some scholars have questioned whether it can be described accurately as a “system” at all.41 The precise nature of the way in which the Riurikid dynasty understood succession in Rus’ and the degree to which this succession system underwent changes over the tenth to thirteenth centuries have been the subject of intense scholarly discussion over the past twenty years.42 Nonetheless, it is readily apparent from the Rus’ chroni­ cles that the Riurikids did not practise exclusive primogeniture. Until the Muscovite period, descent from Riurik was not an important factor in legitimizing princely succession, and this shadowy figure disappears in the Primary Chronicle after 882.43 Instead, rule over the various towns of Rus’ passed not just vertically, from father to son, but also horizontally.44 It was vertical, in that succession, from the eleventh century onwards, became restricted to the descendants of Vladimir Sviatoslavich (d. 1015).45 Furthermore, a prince’s father or grandfather had to have ruled previously in a town in order for a prince to have a recognized claim to rule in that same town. 46 Succession was also horizontal, in that the rule of towns passed from elder brother to younger brother, according to genealogical seniority in the dynasty, before passing back to the children of the genealogically senior brother. This lateral system may well have been influenced by the Riurikids’ contact with steppe societies.47 In the early eleventh century, for instance, Vladimir Sviatoslavich divided his realm among his twelve or thirteen sons. Some of these sons received inheritable land, such as the realm of Polatsk (Polock), taken from newly subjugated 41  Franklin, “Kievan Rus’,” 75; discussed in Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 45.

42  The most critical scholarship on the Riurikids’ succession system from the past twenty years is summarized and discussed by Donald Ostrowski, in ibid., 38–​46. 43  Ibid., 30–​31, 58.

44  Franklin, “Kievan Rus’,” 74–​75. 45  Ibid., 74.

46  Ibid., 31, 58.

47  Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 36–​39, 51–​58.

Talia Zajac

rival dynasties. 48 Others received the rule of towns that passed laterally from brother to brother, so that the death of one brother seems to have triggered a general transfer of territory among the ruling clan.49 Because of this feature, from the sixteenth century onwards the succession system of Rus’ has also been described as a “rota” or “ladder” system, though some scholars have been highly critical of this term.50 Despite Vladimir’s seeming provisions for the future, at his death in 1015 a bloody succession struggle broke out among his sons—​a frequent characteristic of Riurikid rule. For this reason, some scholars have even gone so far as to suggest that the Riurikids practised “blood tanistry,” a term originally used to describe the Scottish clan system, whereby the most capable military male earned the right to rule.51 The ultimate victor of the conflict in 1015, Vladimir’s son Iaroslav the Wise, instituted a lateral succession system at his own death in 1054.52 At the same time as making Kyiv the common patrimony (otchina) of the descendants of his three eldest sons, Iaroslav also gave all his sons cities of Rus’ as inheritable patrimonies that would pass directly to their descendants.53 The hereditary patrimonies of the various branches of the dynasty also passed “laterally”: from elder to younger surviving sons before passing back to the children of the first son.54 The principle of the inheritability of the 48  Pritsak, “The System of Government,” 580–​84. 49  Ibid., 580–​82.

50  Ostrowski notes that the idea of a “ladder” system does not appear in any contemporary early Rus’ source: “Systems of Succession,” 39. Dimnik accepts the general lines of the theory, arguing that the “ladder” system of succession would allow “one or two members in each family of Yaroslavichi [descendants of Iaroslav the Wise] to rule the common patrimony of Kiev in rotation”: Power Politics in Kievan Rus’, 10.

51  “Blood tanistry” as a succession practice is also a characteristic of steppe societies, such as the Chingisids of the Mongol Empire; Christian, A History of Russia, 366; Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 51.

52  PVL, vol. 10.2, 1270–​82; discussed in, for instance, Dimnik, “The ‘Testament’ of Iaroslav ‘the Wise’ ”; and Power Politics in Kievan Rus’, 8–​10; Kollmann, “Collateral Succession in Kievan Rus’,” 379; and Shepard, “Rus’,” 394.

53  Iaroslav’s eldest surviving son, Iziaslav, got the city of Turov; the next eldest, Sviatoslav, got Chernihiv (Chernigov); and the third eldest, Vsevolod, received Pereiaslav. PVL, vol. 10.2, 1274–​75.

54  Franklin, “Kievan Rus’,” 79. The descendants of sons who were not able to sit on the thrones of their father (for instance, if they died before their uncles) became izgoi, or debarred from succession. and were ineligible to rule the otchina; Kollmann, “Collateral Succession in Kievan Rus’,” 381. However, they could rule other cities; Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 50.

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otchina was confirmed at the Congress of Liubech in 1097, attended by the (male) descendants of Iaroslav the Wise.55 Such clan congresses to settle disputes demonstrate the “corporate” nature of Riurikid monarchy: a prince’s right to rule in the Rus’ principalities needed to be recognized by the clan as a whole.56 As the Riurikid clan became increasingly large in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and new regional centres of power emerged, particularly Galicia-​Volhynia in the southwest and Vladimir-​Suzdal’ in the northeast, princely warfare intensified not only for the throne of Kyiv but also for rule over local centres as well.57 Novgorod remained a special case in the succession system. Initially the prince of Kyiv had been able to impose a lieutenant (posadnik) to rule in his name or to nominate one his sons to rule. However, following an uprising against princely rule in 1136, the vĕche (popular assembly) of Novgorod was able to impose a contractual relationship with the prince: in the second half of the twelfth century and in the thirteenth, princes from the different branches of the dynasty were invited to rule at the pleasure of the merchants, bishops, and local noble (boyar) families. If they were not able to defend the city’s interests satisfactorily they were expelled, and others from a different branch of the Riurikid family were invited by the vĕche to take their place.58 In other cities as well, local town assemblies could play decisive role in choosing which princes would rule over them.59 For instance, in 1113 55  PVL, vol. 10.3, 1958–​63.

56  Christian, A History of Russia, 367; Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 48–​50. See also Dimnik, Power Politics in Kievan Rus’, 44. The term “corporate monarchy” is taken from Iberian studies; it is discussed in Woodacre, “Ruling and Relationships,” 169–​70.

57  The complex political rivalries that emerged in Kyivan Rus’ in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries have been treated in numerous works. For a political overview, see, for instance, Fennell, The Crisis of Medieval Russia, 4. The expansion of the Riurikid dynasty in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, in terms of increases in both the number of its family members and their power bases, is one of the reasons why scholars have criticized a “Kievocentric” approach to early Rus’ history; Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, xix.

58  DRSM, s.v. “Kniaz’,”402; Franklin, “Kievan Rus’,” 83. David Christian notes that the twelfth-​century institution of the vĕche may have influenced the Primary Chronicle’s portrayal of the ninth-​ century “Invitation of the Varangians” as “a sort of contract” between Riurik and the Slavic tribes: A History of Russia, 364. 59  Multiple examples of town assemblies having a determining role in succession in the eleventh and twelfth centuries are given in Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 50.

Kyiv’s vĕche invited Prince Vladimir Monomakh to rule over them.60 As Rus’ was highly urbanized compared to other medieval policies, with around 300 separate settlements by 1240/​41, the decisions made at town assemblies could be an important factor in who got to rule which town.61 This complex political context is crucial for understanding both the limits placed on princesses’ power in Kyivan Rus’ and the opportunities for agency available to them. Women played no direct part within this system of lateral succession, nor could they be invited to serve as Novgorod’s military protectors. Because of their inability to inherit the throne of Kyiv or other patrimonies, women are hardly mentioned at all in the most important native narrative source for Kyivan Rus’, the twelfth-​ century Primary Chronicle and its local continuations.62 In this way, a princess’s political authority, even more so than a Western queen’s, came not from her own self-​standing position but, rather, from her position in relation to her male relatives: to her father, husband or son. The fact that a princess’s role in Kyivan Rus’ was understood in relation to her male relatives is most strikingly expressed in the fact that princesses are rarely mentioned by name in the Rus’ chronicles, and instead either are simply called by their title (kniagynia and its variants) or are referred to obliquely as the daughter or wife of Prince X.63 Even more telling is the fact that the birth of children, a crucial role played by royal women in any given dynasty, is often recorded in Rus’ chronicles using a passive construction that eliminates mention of the mother involved. To give one example of the standard formula: “A son was born to Iaroslav and he called him Vladimir,” write the compilers of the Primary Chronicle, omitting mention of the fact that Iaroslav’s wife was the Swedish princess Ingigerd.64 As a result, up until 60  Franklin, “Kievan Rus’,” 83; Dimnik, Power Politics in Kievan Rus’, 53. 61  Christian, A History of Russia, 363.

62  Levin, “Women and Property in Medieval Novgorod”; Dimnik, “The Princesses of Chernigov,” 163; and Power Politics in Kievan Rus’, xx.

63  Raffensperger, Reimaging Europe, 65. The most famous literary work of Kyivan Rus’, The Lay of Igor’s Campaign (Slovo o polku Igorevu), likewise does not give a personal name to its female heroine: Igor Sviatoslavich’s wife is called “Iaroslavna,” in the poem, which merely indicates that she is the daughter of Prince Iaroslav the Eight-​Witted (Osmomysl) of Galicia (d. 1187). Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 295. 64  PVL, vol. 10.2, 1161.

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the middle of the twelfth century there are very few Kyivan Rus’ princesses whose names are even known to us.65 For example, the Kyivan Chronicle, which covers events from 1118 to 1199/​1200, mentions only thirty-​six princesses in total, out of whom only six are called by their personal name.66 However, at the same time, princesses drew some authority from the fact that political legitimacy was based in the Riurikid dynasty collectively.67 They drew both power and prestige from their membership in this ruling family. This value of blood membership in the Riurikid family as a legitimizing factor in rule can be seen in the fact that the only princesses who are mentioned by name in the chronicles are the daughters of Rus’ princes—​those born on Rus’ soil—​rather than brides from outside the dynasty.68 With two important exceptions—​Ol’ga, who was probably born a commoner, and Vladimir Sviatoslavich’s wife, the Byzantine princess Anna—​the foreign wives of Rus’ princes are mentioned in native chronicles solely by their title as “princess” and not by their personal names.69 For example, the frontispiece of the Izbornik (Miscellany) of 1073, made for Prince Sviatoslav Iaroslavich, depicts Sviatoslav with his wife and their sons (fol. 1v) offering the codex to an enthroned Christ on the facing folio (2v).70 All the male princes in the image are carefully labelled in gold: Glěb, Oleg, David, Roman, Iaroslav, and Sviatoslav. Only the woman, probably Sviatoslav’s second wife, the German noblewoman Oda of Stade, is labelled in gold as “the princess” (knęgyni).71 Although the donor portrait here generally follows Byzantine conventions, the 65  From the middle of the twelfth century on, when Rus’ began to fragment politically, internal marriage and military alliances among the various branches of the Riurikid dynasty became more frequent. As women became more important for cementing these alliances between cousins, they are mentioned more often in the chronicles; Litvina and Uspenskii, Vybor imeni u russkikh kniazei, 256–​58, 264. 66  Smorąg-​Różycka, Bizantyńsko-​ruskie miniatury, 24.

67  Tolochko, “Problems of the Rurikids,” 267; Shepard, “Rus’,” 385; Franklin, “Kievan Rus’,” 74. 68  Smorąg-​Różycka, Bizantyńsko-​ruskie miniatury, 24.

69  Ibid., 24–​25. Ol’ga’s origins as a commoner are known only from sixteenth-​century Muscovite sources; Voitovych, Kniazha doba na Rusi, 215. 70  Izbornik Sviatoslava 1073 goda, fols. 1v–​2r.

71  Dimnik, The Dynasty of Chernigov, 1054–​1146, 36–​38; and “The Princesses of Chernigov,” 165; Nazarenko, Drevniaia Rus’, 516–​19. This frontispiece is the oldest manuscript attestation to the title of princess in Rus’; Sreznevskiĭ, Slovar’ drevnerusskogo iazyka, vol. 1.2, 1397.

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anonymity of the princess reflects Riurikid, rather than Byzantine, practice.72 Oda’s anonymity should not be taken as a sign of hostility at this time towards Latin Christians (Catholics). The majority of the Riurikids’ marriages during the eleventh to thirteenth centuries were concluded with their Latin Christian neighbours.73 Princesses from Latin Christendom came to Rus’ to become the wives of Rus’ princes, and, vice versa, princesses born in Rus’ left their homeland to become queens consort in Latin Christendom.74 As Barbara Evans Clements notes, the fact that Riurikid princesses “became the brides of foreign kings […] attests to the fact royalty abroad regarded Rus’ princes as their equals—​and their daughters, therefore, as suitable consorts.”75 In the tenth to thirteenth centuries these intermarriages were largely free of the hostilities that would later emerge between today’s Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism.76 For instance, Latin Christian princesses were not rebaptized when they married into the Riurikid dynasty.77 Only in 1484 did the Council of Constantinople proclaim a standard rite for receiving Catholics into the Orthodox Church, but it did not include rebaptism but, rather, only chrismation with holy oil of the person entering the Orthodox Church.78 Moreover, it is possible that a foreign princess could have been referred to in Rus’ both by her natal name and by the name of a saint venerated in the Orthodox Church calendar (synaxariōn), because the Riurikids practised “double-​naming.” When a prince or princess was born into the Riurikid dynasty, he or she received two names: a dynastic (“secular” or “clan”) name of pagan origin and a Christian baptismal name of a saint or biblical figure.79 The first “dynastic” name linked a princess to the Riurikid dynasty, while the baptismal 72  Preobrazhenskiĭ, Ktitorskie portrety, 97.

73  Zajac, “Women between West and East,” 2.

74  Raffensperger, Reimagining Europe, 47, 71. 75  Clements, A History of Women in Russia, 6.

76  Zajac, “Women between West and East,” 34–​66. 77  Ibid., 67–​107.

78  Heith-​S tade, “Receiving the Non-​O rthodox,” 421, 424–​2 5. Chrismation was added to compensate for the perceived deficiency of Latin baptism, which did not include this conferral of the “ ‘seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit”; Meyendorff, Byzantine Theology, 195.

79  Litvina and Uspenskii, Vybor imeni u russkikh kniazei, 111–​74, 238–​6 4; Uspenskij [= Uspenskii], “The Prince and His Names,” 346–​64.

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name linked her with a particular patron saint who acted as her spiritual protector.80 This practice of double-​naming was not unique to the Riurikids but was shared by other newly Christian dynasties in Hungary, Poland, Bohemia, Scandinavia, and the Balkans.81 As we shall see, a princess’s connection to her namesake patron saint also seems to have been a source of authority for her.

Marriage, Crowning, Clothing, and Installation in Power

Unlike Western queens and unlike Byzantine empresses, princesses in Kyivan Rus’ were not endowed with public authority in a coronation ceremony separate from their marriage. 82 In Rus’, such a separate ceremony did not exist. Consequently, a princess’s marriage ceremony probably also served as her formal installation in power.83 The earliest record for the use of the Byzantine marriage rite in Rus’ is found in the writings of Metropolitan Ioann II (r. ca. 1076/​77–​1089), who noted that the princes and boyars (non-​princely nobles) celebrated marriages in the canonical manner with priestly blessing and crowning. 84 One could speculate that the wedding crown mandated by the Byzantine rite could have served the additional function of endowing a princess with more secular authority as well. This interpretation is suggested by the fact that the same word (Greek: stephanos; Slavonic: věnn’ts) could mean both a bridal crown and the crown of a male or female ruler. 85 However, strictly speaking, the Riurikids did not possess royal regalia in the sense of inheritable semi-​sacred objects essential to the assumption of legitimate power.86

80  Litvina and Uspenskii, Vybor imeni u russkikh kniazei, 455–​60,  551. 81  Uspenskij, “The Prince and His Names,” 2, 17.

82  Stafford, Queens, Concubines, and Dowagers, 127–​32; Fößel, “The Political Traditions of Female Rulership,” 71; Nelson: “Early Medieval Rites of Queen-​Making”; Garland, “ ‘The Eye of the Beholder,’ ” 25–​26; Hill, Imperial Women in Byzantium, 103.

Two splendid examples of trapezoidal diadems composed of linked golden enamelled plaques have survived, which, based on contemporary Byzantine comparanda, were probably worn by Rus’ princesses.87 More numerous are finds of temple pendants also made of cloisonné enamel based on Constantinopolitan fashions (known in Slavic historiography as kolty; sing. kolt), which in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries hung down from crowns worn by both Rus’ princes and princesses in a manner similar to Byzantine jewelled pendants (pendoulia).88 These pendants were hollow on the inside, probably in order to contain perfumed fabric or fragrant oil.89 On the basis of such finds, art historian Olenka Pevny has reconstructed the Rus’ princess’s crown as “a tall headdress surmounted by a gold diadem with enamel inlay and pearls. On both sides of the headdress temple pendants were suspended by ornate gold chains.”90 Together with surviving diadems and temple pendants, manuscript illustrations also provide tangible evidence of the way in which a Riurikid princess’s clothing projected her power and authority. For example, a miniature in the late eleventh-​century prayer book belonging to the Polish-​born princess Gertruda (d. ca. 1108?), the widow of the Rus’ prince Iziaslav Iaroslavich (d. 1078), depicts her in a purple dress, golden patterned cloak, red shoes, and jewelled headdress over a white kerchief.91 Purple was the imperial colour par excellence, though by the end of the twelfth century high Byzantine officials had begun to wear it as well.92 Red shoes

87  One of the surviving diadems depicts a Deisis scene: the Mother of God and John the Baptist pray before Christ, flanked by the archangels Michael and Gabriel, and the apostles Peter and Paul (Saint Petersburg, State Russian Museum, inv. BK 2756). The plaque on the extreme right depicts an unlabelled female figure wearing a crown. The other diadem depicts Alexander the Great ascending to heaven in a chariot pulled by griffins, a scene from the third-​ century Romance of Alexander (Kyiv, Ukrainian Museum of Historical Treasures, inv. DM 1783). Although these crowns could have been belonged to either men or women, a comparison with Byzantine images makes it more likely that these crowns were worn by Rus’ princesses; Durand, Giovannoni and Rapti, Sainte Russie, 114, fig. 8, and 130, cat. item 34.

83  Dimnik, “The Princesses of Chernigov,” 166.

88  Pevny, “Kievan Rus’,” 309–​1 6, cat. items 210–​1 6; Durand, Giovannoni and Rapti, Sainte Russie, 132–​33, cat. items 36–​37.

85  Sreznevskiĭ, Slovar’ drevnerusskogo iazyka, vol. 1.1, 488.

91  Psalterium Egberti: facsimile, fol. 5v; Smorąg-​Różycka, Bizantyńsko-​ ruskie miniatury, 25; Pushkareva, Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 159.

84  Kirchenrechtliche und kulturgeschichtliche Denkmäler Altrusslands, 163. For details on the Byzantine rite of marriage, see, for instance, Stevenson, Nuptial Blessing, 97–​100, 228–​29; Meyendorff, “Christian Marriage in Byzantium.” 86  Ostrowski, “Systems of Succession,” 35.

89  Ibid., 132; Pevny, “Kievan Rus’,” 310.

90  Pevny, “Kievan Rus’,” 313. A visual representation of the princess’s headdress is also found in DRSM, s.v. “Odezhda,” 567, ill. 2. 92  Kazhdan and Wharton Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture, 79.

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were also usually worn only by the Byzantine imperial family, though in Byzantine art they are also worn by the Mother of God and biblical kings to indicate their exalted status.93 The “accuracy” of the miniature is debatable. Cultural contacts between Byzantium and Rus’ could have had an impact on the way in which the Riurikids dressed, but it is equally possible that the Kyivan artist simply copied Byzantine conventions of ruler portraits to produce his image of Gertruda’s costume.94 However, occasional mentions of fabrics in the Rus’ chronicles suggest that Rus’ princesses were indeed richly dressed in furs, in silks imported from Byzantium and in samites—​twilled cloth woven with silver or gold threads.95 Theresa Earenfight has called medieval queens “highly visible” in medieval life, but “often obscured” in the sources.96 Such was also the case with princesses in Kyivan Rus’, who, in actuality, wore striking headdresses that visually emphasized their elite status, setting them apart from women of lower social strata, but who remained nearly invisible in the Rus’ chronicles.

Governance: Administration, Justice, Regency

The ceremony of princely marriage in Rus’ was concluded not only with the Byzantine Christian ceremony of crowning but also with the secular custom of the bestowal of a wedding gift (vĕno) from husband to wife, which, in the case of princesses, was a town that she could rule in her right.97 This land would then support her in her widowhood.98 The Rus’ custom of giving a princess a town as a bridal gift is recorded by both native and foreign sources.99 We first read of it in the Primary Chronicle when Vladimir Sviatoslavich, having seized the Byzantine city of Cherson, gave it back to Emperor Basil II as the bride gift after converting to Christianity and 93  Smorąg-​Różycka, Bizantyńsko-​ruskie miniatury, 29. 94  Pushkareva, Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 159.

95  Smorąg-​Różycka, Bizantyńsko-​ruskie miniatury, 26; Pushkareva, Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 158. 96  Earenfight, “Highly Visible, Often Obscured.”

97  Early Rus’ sources speak about a marriage gift given by the husband to the wife: the vĕno (from vĕniti, “to buy”; compare the Latin vendere). By contrast, the earliest recorded use of the word for dowry, pridano, dates to 1497; Sreznevskiĭ, Slovar’ drevnerusskogo iazyka, vol. 1.1, 487; Pushkareva, Women in Russian History, 44; and Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 105. 98  Dimnik, “The Princesses of Chernigov,” 174.

99  For a list of towns owned by princesses, see also ibid., 173n50.

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marrying the Emperor’s sister, Anna, in 988/​989.100 Later, the thirteenth-​c entury saga of Snorri Sturluson records that in 1019 the Swedish princess Ingigerd demanded the town of Aldeigjuborg as a gift upon her marriage to the Rus’ prince Iaroslav the Wise.101 According to Henrik Birnbaum, Aldeigjuborg should be identified with the early Scandinavian settlement of Staraia Ladoga, which became subsequently “known as Ingigerd’s land (Finnish Ingerin-​maa … Russian Ižera, now Ižora).”102 After her husband’s death a princess was able to maintain control over her bridal gift, and perhaps also over a portion (chast’) of her husband’s estate.103 The right of women to own movable goods and purchase land other than the otchina, which required the agreement of all the family to be sold, was codified in the Expanded Version of the Russkaia Pravda, the twelfth-​century version of the cumulative Rus’ law code first issued by Iaroslav the Wise.104 A number of examples of landownership by princesses are mentioned in the Rus’ chronicles and in surviving graffiti etched into the walls of Kyiv’s Saint Sophia Cathedral. According to the Primary Chronicle, for example, Princess Ol’ga owned the village of Ol’zhichi as well as riverside “fowling preserves” (lovishcha). 105 The twelfth-​century Kyivan Chronicle records that, in 1168, Prince Rostislav Mstislavich died in a village belonging to his sister, Princess Rogneda Mstislavna.106 A Riurikid princess evidently may have exercised public authority not only in her own lands but also in her husband’s city. Simon Franklin and Jonathan Shepard highlight the following example. Between 1100 and 1120 a certain man called Zhiznomir sent a birch bark letter to a man called Mikula in Novgorod: “You bought a slave-​girl in Pskov,” he 100  PVL, vol. 10.2, 904.

101  Heimskringla, ed. Jónsson, 258; trans. Hollander, 342. 102  Birnbaum, “Yaroslav’s Varangian Connection,” 11.

103  “Russkaia Pravda: The Expanded Redaction,” in Kaiser, The Laws of Rus’, 31. The passage is discussed in Levin, “Women and Property in Medieval Novgorod,” 165; Pushkareva, Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 106–​13; and Women in Russian History, 44–​46; Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 298; and Pevny, “Dethroning the Prince,” 75.

104  Weickhardt, “Legal Rights of Women in Russia,” 5; Eck, “La situation juridique de la femme russe”, 407; Pushkareva, Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 104–​13; and Women in Russian History, 45–​47; Levin, “Women and Property in Medieval Novgorod,” 165. 105  PVL, vol. 10.1, 381–​82; English translation in PC, 82.

106  PSRL, vol. 2: Ipatevskaia letopis, sub anno 6676 (1168), 531; Voitovych, Kniazha doba na Rusi, 468.

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wrote with worry. “Now the princess has detained me for that.”107 The rest of the letter suggests that Zhiznomir was preparing to defend himself against the charge of reselling a stolen slave girl. The letter presents the anonymous princess as a public authority with the ability to arrest commoners. The document suggests that the prince’s wife had the power to arrest suspected miscreants directly, without needing first to ask her husband, the ruler of Novgorod.108 Likewise intriguing in terms of the evidence that they suggest for female rulership in Kyivan Rus’ are surviving lead seals whose ownership has been attributed to Rus’ princesses.109 Such lead seals were affixed to documents issued by these princesses.110 Unfortunately, the charters to which the seals would have been affixed have not survived themselves.111 It is therefore not possible to know how a princess’s authority was characterized in the rhetoric of such documents, nor whether they were issued only for settlements under her direct control, or also for settlements under the rule of her son or husband. There are three basic surviving types of seals attributed to the ownership of princesses. One type does not have any written reference to its female owner, but merely identifies the female saint depicted upon it. For example, one lead seal shows on its observe the bust of a crowned and haloed woman. The inscription on the reverse reads in Greek: “+ HĒ A[G]‌IA CHRISTĒNA” (“Saint Christina”).112 The assumption is 107  “Gramota: ōt Zhiznomira k Mikule: kupil esi robu: pl”skovē: a nynē mę: v tom: ęla k”nągyni.” Birch-​bark letter no. 109, Neversky Dig, homestead “D,” in Gramoty, “Birchbark Literacy from Medieval Rus,” www.gramoty.ru. See also Franklin, Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus, plt. 9; and an English translation in Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 290. 108  Birch-​bark letter no. 109, www.gramoty.ru.

109  Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 17–​19, 21–​23, 28, 33, 69, 71, 84, 102, 156, 171, 173, 183–​84, 209–​10, 231–​32, 234. Some of Ianin’s attributions seem questionable. For example, he identifies a seal of one Maria with the wife of Vsevolod Ol’govich. However, the name “Maria” of Vsevolod’s wife is known only from later sources; see Pevny, “Dethroning the Prince,” 67. 110  Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 84; Pushkareva, Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 36–​37; García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” 372–​73.

111  For the use of seals in general as evidence for the princesses’ power in Rus, see Pushkareva, Zhenshchiny drevneĭ Rusi, 9, 37; and Women in Russian History, 17, 51; and Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 300. 112  Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 33, tab. 4, no. 39.

that this seal belonged to Kristin (d. 1122), the Swedish wife of Prince Mstislav Vladimirovich (d. 1132).113 In these seals, a princess’s authority to issue public documents seems to be derived from the authority of her patron saint, whose sacred image was depicted upon the seal. The second type of seal, which first appears in finds dating to the late eleventh century, also includes the image of a female saint on one side and, on the other, a mysterious talismanic Cyrillic inscription “D’NĔSLOVO,” perhaps two words, “dno slovo”: “herein [is] a message.”114 The third type of seal references its female owner directly, either through the formula “Lord, help thy servant X,” found in seals dating from the end of the eleventh century to the early twelfth, or, by referring to its female owner using the title archontissa.115 Consequently, it seems that, in the visual rhetoric of seals, a princess’s authority to issue a document was justified chiefly not by appealing to her relationship with her husband or other male relatives, or even to the land that she ruled (there is no Rus’ equivalent to the Western Dei gratia regina protocol), but, rather, in reference to the authority of her heavenly patron saint and namesake.116 Despite the lack of documentation, the ownership of seals is indicative of possible administrative or judicial roles undertaken by a princess. The period from the 1130s to the 1150s has even been described as the “Polatsk Matriarchate.”117 Valentin Ianin, who first coined this term, based his hypothesis both on seals ascribed to female owners—​Sofia, the wife of Sviatoslav Vsevolodovich and her daughter Predslava, who took the monastic name Euphrosyne (discussed below) —​ and on the fact that the Rus’ chronicles describe a power vacuum at this time that have might allowed these women to take power.118 This power vacuum existed from 1129, when their male kinsmen were exiled to Constantinople by Prince Mstislav Vladimirovich of Kyiv, to the early 1150s.119 However, 113  Ibid., 33.

114  Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 156, 183; Franklin, Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus, 50, 268n47. 115  Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 17, 25, 230–​3 1 Seibt, “War Maria [...]?”.

116  On the use of the dei gratia protocol in western Ottonian charters, see Leyser, “Theophanu divina gratia imperatrix augusta,”  26–​27. 117  Pushkareva, Zhenschiny drevneĭ Rusi, 36–​37; García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” 369–​71. 118  Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 209–​10, 232.

119  Pushkareva, Zhenschiny drevneĭ Rusi, 36–​37; García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” 369–​71.

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beyond surviving administrative seals we have no further details on the rulership of this area by women at this time. Besides such isolated cases of female rulership, Riurikid princesses could play an occasional role in intercession and diplomatic negotiation. Scandinavian sagas portray Ingigerd as counselling her husband Iaroslav the Wise and even brokering the final peace treaty during the succession crisis that followed Vladimir Sviatoslavich’s death in 1015.120 In a frequently commented upon passage in the Primary Chronicle, Ingigerd’s granddaughter, Ianka Vsevolodovna (d. 1112/1113) daughter of Prince Vsevolod Iaroslavich and a Greek princess, also played a diplomatic role. In 1089 her father sent her to Constantinople to bring back to Rus’ the Greek appointee to the head of the Church hierarchy, Metropolitan Ioann III the Eunuch (r. 1089–​1090).121 Ianka was a nun, and her status as a consecrated woman might have played some part in the reason why she was chosen for this ecclesiastical mission. However, her membership both in the Riurikid dynasty, through her father, and the Byzantine imperial house of Monomachos, through her mother, might also have made her an ideal person to serve as an intermediary between the courts of Constantinople and Kyiv.122 Because a princess did not have any claims on the family patrimony, and hence suspect interests of her own, she could be the ideal go-​between to make peace between warring family members.123 However, the occasional ability of a princess to act as intercessor or diplomatic go-​between in Rus’ contrasts greatly with the ceremonial function of a queen’s intercession in western Europe, who played a recognized role at court in tempering the king’s mercy. By the tenth century this intercession was justified in western European texts by the Old Testament model of Queen Esther and by the New Testament model of Mary, believed to intercede for Christians in the heavenly court before her son, Christ’s, stern judgement.124 The Marian model of an intercessor queen, 120  Theodoricus monachus, Historia de Antiquitate regum Norwagien­ sium, 34; Morkinskinna, 89–​90; Vikings in Russia, 46, 85–​89.

121  PVL, vol. 10.3, 1669–​70; discussed in Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 300.

122  Allegedly Ianka had been engaged to Constantine Doukas in 1074, but this view has been convincingly disputed in Kazhdan, “Rus–​Byzantine Princely Marriages,” 418. 123  Raffensperger, Reimaging Europe, 61–​62; Clements, A History of Women in Russia, 6.

124  Huneycutt, “Intercession and the High-​Medieval Queen,” 126–​46; Shepard, “Marriages toward the Millennium,” 17.

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highly developed in western Europe, is strikingly missing in the rhetoric of surviving texts from Kyivan Rus’. Although the monastic compiler of the Primary Chronicle has the Patriarch of Constantinople say to Princess Ol’ga “Blessed art thou among the women of Rus’,” consciously echoing Saint Elizabeth’s greeting to Mary in the Visitation, he uses this Marian motif not to underline any abstract powers of intercession held by Ol’ga but, rather, specifically to praise Ol’ga’s conversion to Christianity.125 Ol’ga is the most famous example of a female regent in Kyivan Rus’, ruling on behalf of her minor son Sviatoslav Igorevich (d. 972) from the death of her husband Igor (Scandinavian: Helgi), in 945, to Sviatoslav’s majority, around 960/​961.126 As she was the first member of the Riurikid family to convert to Christianity, the Primary Chronicle devotes an exceptionally detailed description of her regency.127 Despite some folkloric elements in its narrative, the Primary Chronicle also provides practical descriptions of Ol’ga’s rulership, including how she avenged her husband’s death, and how she travelled around her realm with her minor son and his retinue collecting tribute and judging the people.128 Her status as regent is confirmed by the contemporary Byzantine account of her visit to Constantinople and baptism there, the Book of Ceremonies. As well as calling Ol’ga the “archontissa” (female ruler) of Rus’, the Book of Ceremonies also refers to her by the male title of “hēgemōn,” or “leader, commander.”129 In addition to these written sources, the discovery of a tenth-​century silver trapezoidal pendant in 2008 from the burial of a male royal revenue collector in Pskov seems to confirm Ol’ga’s status as a de facto regent.130 As Roman Kovalev has demonstrated, the 125  “Blagoslovena ty v zhenakh Rus’skykh,” PVL, vol. 10.1, 392; English translation in PC, 82; discussed in Homza, “The Role of Saint Ludmila,” 196. Ol’ga would later be canonized in the thirteenth century; ibid., 194–​95. 126  Poppe, “The Rurikid Dynasty,” 4.

127  McKenzie, “Women’s Image in Russian Medieval Literature,” 23.

128  PVL, vol. 10.1, 379–​83. For comparisons between Ol’ga’s actions and early Germanic and Scandinavian queens, see Butler, “A Woman of Words.” For a comparison between Ol’ga and portrayals of women in Slavic folklore, see McKenzie, “Women’s Image in Russian Medieval Literature,”  22–​23.

129  “tēs hēgemonos kai tēs archontisēs Elgas tōn Rhōs”: Constantine Porphyrogennetos, The Book of Ceremonies, vol. 2, 511; Soloviev, “ ‘Reges’ et ‘Regnum Russiae,’ ” 149; Poppe, “Once Again concerning the Baptism of Olga,” 272. 130  See the detailed argument in Kovalev, “Grand Princess Olga of Rus’ Shows the Bird.”

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pendant depicts on one side a bident, symbolizing the young Prince Sviatoslav’s authority, surmounted by a key, symbolizing Ol’ga’s role as caretaker of the royal household.131 In subsequent centuries following Ol’ga’s reign a princess’s explicit political roles became restricted. Guardianship of a young boy was usually given to an orphaned prince’s uncles, rather than to his mother.132 The system of lateral succession rather than primogeniture meant that there was no lack of heirs, and the mother of a child prince did not have special status.133 Despite this legal limitation on female power, the Rus’ chronicles do record three examples of de facto regency in Rus’, though in two of these three cases female rule was met with male opposition. The first case, as Christian Raffensperger points out, followed the death of Sviatoslav Ol’govich in Chernihiv (Chernigov) in 1164, when his second wife, Katerina, the daughter of the Novgorod posadnik Petrilo, briefly assumed the throne in his stead.134 The phrase the chronicle uses to express Katerina’s rule is that she literally “sat” (“a knęgini sĕdit’”).135 As Inés García de la Puente has proved convincingly, the verb siděti or sěděti, “to sit,” is a synecdoche for “to sit on the throne” —​i.e. to rule.136 The stock phrase “to sit on the throne of one’s father,” or simply “sitting on the throne” (“siděti na stole”), is used both in Rus’ chronicles and on inscriptions on coinage struck by Riurikid rulers to describe the installation of a prince through his ceremonial sitting upon his ancestors’ throne.137 Similar customs of elevating a ruler upon a throne were also followed in Scandinavia.138 131  Ibid., esp. 482. Kovalev’s further argument, that the depiction of a falcon’s head surmounted by a cross on the other side of the pendant represents Ol’ga’s veneration of Freyja/​Mokosh, is intriguing, but does not find direct corroboration in the written sources.

García de la Puente analyzes the use of the phrase “sitting on the throne” in the context of her argument for the remarkable forty-​year reign of a princess by an unknown name (called “Anastasia” in a seventeenth-​century source).139 This princess was the daughter of Prince Iaropolk Iziaslavich (d. 1086/1087), and the widow of Glěb Vseslavich (d. 1119), who came from a cadet branch of the Riurikid dynasty descended from Vladimir Sviatoslavich, and who ruled Minsk (today in Belarus’).140 García de la Puente examined the eulogy on the death of Glĕb’s widow given in the twelfth-​century Kyivan Chronicle, which is unusually detailed for the mention of a woman, and which states: “In that year, the blessed princess of Glĕb Vseslavich, the daughter of Iaropolk Iziaslavich, died having ‘sat’ following her prince for forty years.”141 García de la Puente demonstrates that the verb “having sat” (sĕdĕvshi) in this case meant “sat on the throne,” and that there was precisely a power vacuum in Minsk between Glĕb’s death in 1119 and his son Volodar’s rule in 1159 that could have permitted Glĕb’s widow to take power.142 However, the fact that Glĕb’s widow did have three sons, Rostislav, Volodar, and Vsevolod, who were alive during her reign confirms the custom that a princess could not rule in her own right, but only indirectly on the basis of her blood relationship to her male relations.143 The third example of de facto regency comes from thirteenth-​century Galicia-​Volhynia, two principalities in western Rus’ that, in 1199, were united under the ruler of the powerful prince Roman Mstislavich. Roman’s widow, a Byzantine princess, ruled as regent for her sons Daniil (Danylo) Romanovich (d. 1264) and Vasil’ko Romanovich (d. 1269) from 1205, when her husband was killed in battle, until around 1219, when she entered a female monastery.144 However, even after she had become a nun she seems to have continued to play

132  Litvina and Uspenskii, Vybor imeni u russkikh kniazei, 71–​110, 265, 452–​53. However, the twelfth-​century Expanded Redaction of the Russkaia Pravda did allow a widow who did not remarry to exercise guardianship over her children; see Michalowska, “Klostergründungen Russicher Fürstinnen,” 278n25, with further literature.

139  García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow.” Only the Kyivan Synopsis (Kievskii Sinopis), written in the seventeenth century by the archimandrite of the Kyivan Monastery of the Caves, Innokentii Gizel’, claims that Prince Glĕb Vsevslavich’s widow was called “Anastasia”; ibid., 360.

135  Heinrich, “The Kievan Chronicle,” 266; PSRL, vol. 2, sub anno 6672 (1164), 523.

141  “Tom zhe l[e]‌tĕ prestavis bl[a]zhenaia knęgini Glĕbovaia. Vseslavicha. Dochi Yaropolcha Izęslavicha. Sĕdĕvshi po kn[iaz]i svoem vdovoiu l[e]tĕ 40”; PSRL, vol. 2, sub anno 1158 (6666), 492.

133  Dimnik, “The Princesses of Chernigov,” 172.

134  Ibid., 173–​74; Raffensperger, Ties of Kinship, 163n3.

136  García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” 354–​59.

137  Tolochko, “Problems of the Rurikids,” 263–​64; Poppe, “Words that Serve the Authority,” 190–​91; Vukovich, “Enthronement Rituals of the Princes of Rus’ ”; García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” 355–​56; Ostrowski, “System of Succession,” 31–​32. 138  Shepard, “Rus,” 395; Tolochko, “Problems of the Rurikids,” 267.

140  See the family tree in Raffensperger, Ties of Kinship, 79.

142  García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” esp. 354–​59, 368–​69. 143  Ibid., 362; Clements, A History of Women in Russia, 6.

144  PSRL, vol. 2, sub annis 6710–​6721 (1201–​1213, recte: 1205–​1219), 718–​34; Chronica Galiciano-Voliniana, 7–65; The Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle, 18–​19, 25.

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a role in governance. For example, the late thirteenth-​/​early fourteenth-​century Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle, the main narrative source for this region, describes her as making a peace treaty from still pagan Lithuanians together with her sons Daniil and Vasil’ko sometime after her monastic vows.145 However, speaking once again to the fact that a Rus’ princess’s political authority was always derived from her male relatives is the Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle’s silence on the name. It refers to her simply as “the princess,” “Great Roman’s Princess,” “the princess, Roman’s spouse” or “Roman’s grand princess.” 146 Her name and precisely genealogy have consequently been the subject of scholarly debate: while older works refer to her as “Anna,” Alexander Maiorov has recently made the case, based on Greek and Latin sources, that her secular name was probably Euphrosyne, while her monastic name was either Anna or Maria.147 Although this princess managed to rule on behalf of her sons for several years, her power was constantly contested by the local boyars of Galicia-​Volhynia, who tried to replace her with male princes from a rival branch of the Riurikid dynasty, the Igorevichi.148 In describing one of her expulsions from the town of Halich (Galich) by the boyars, the anonymous compiler of the Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle notes that she went temporarily to the town of Belz, because “she wished to rule herself” (“khotęshcha bo knęzhiti sama”).149 Roman Mstislavich’s widow in the Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle was able to rule only through the military intervention of her allies in the face of local opposition, rather than from the existence of any institutionalized office of regency. 145  PSRL, vol. 2, sub anno 6723 (1215, recte: 1219), 735; Chronica Galiciano-Voliniana, 71; The Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle, 26. The chronology of the Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle is defective and has had to be reconstructed. If the chronology is taken literally, then Roman Mstislavich’s widow received a peace delegation at court two years after her entry into a monastery. If George Perfecky’s modified chronology is followed, then this event occurred the same year as, though subsequent to, her entry into monastic life. 146  “[K]‌nęgini,” “knęgini velikaę Romanovaia,” “velikuiu knęginiu Romanovuiu,” “k velikoi knęgini Romanovĕ”; PSRL, vol. 2, sub annis 6723 (1215, recte: 1219), 718, 726, 727, 735; Chronica Galiciano-Voliniana, 11, 38–39, 42, 71; The Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle, 18, 22, 26. 147  Maiorov, “The Daughter of a Byzantine Emperor.”

148  PSRL, vol. 2, sub annis 6710–​6718 (1202–​1210, recte: 1205–​1212), 718–​29; Chronica Galiciano-Voliniana, 10–48; Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle,  18–​23. 149  PSRL, vol. 2, sub anno 6716 (1208, recte: 1211), 727; Chronica Galiciano-Voliniana, 42; Galician-​Volhynian Chronicle, 22; discussed in Pushkareva, Zhenshschyny drevneĭ Rusi, 38.

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During this time this princess may also have engaged in religious patronage. Polish archeologist Andrzej Buko has reassessed the original function of a thirteenth-​century mortared tower located in Stołpie, near Chełm (formerly Kholm), the capital city of Galicia-​Volhynia under the rule of Daniil Romanovich from the mid-1230s onward.150 While earlier research had assumed that the tower of Stołpie was always part of military fortifications, Buko’s excavations from 2003 to 2005 suggested that, in the 1220s, the tower, with an octagonal-​shaped chapel on its upper floor, originally formed part of a monastery complex.151 Only in the 1280s was its building plan modified with additional fortifications.152 The architectural similarity of this tower complex to contemporary private chapels for Byzantine aristocrats suggests that it may have been founded by Daniil’s mother, the aforementioned Byzantine princess. Her role as founder of this monastery is suggested also by the fact that she took monastic vows near Chełm.153 She would have had the means and knowledge to impart contemporary Byzantine styles to Galicia-​Volhynia.154

Religious Patronage

Religious patronage by the ruling dynasty, its female members included, was essential for the transformation of the land of Rus’ into a Christian realm. Princesses seem to have played this important role even before the “official” Christianization in Rus’. The remains of a mid-​tenth-​century palace in the old citadel of Kyiv and remains outside the citadel possibly identified as a chapel suggest that, following her baptism, Princess Ol’ga could have been responsible for commissioning Byzantine artisans to erect masonry structures based on Constantinopolitan models even prior to 988.155 This role of Christian patronage was continued by her successors. According to the twelfth-​century Primary Chronicle, in 988/​989, when the Byzantine princess Anna was reluctant to marry Ol’ga’s grandson, the still pagan prince Vladimir Sviatoslavich, her brothers urged her to do 150  Buko, “Byzantine Cultural Enclave in Central Europe?”; Maiorov, “The Daughter of a Byzantine Emperor,” 205–​209.

151  Buko, “Byzantine Cultural Enclave in Central Europe?,” esp. 242–​43. 152  Ibid., 243–​44. 153  Ibid., 243.

154  Maiorov, “The Daughter of a Byzantine Emperor,” 208–​9 with further bibliography. 155  Mezentsev, “The Circular Palace of Princess Olha.”

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so, because through her God would turn the Rus’ land to repentance.156 The Primary Chronicle does not provide further details on Anna’s activities after her marriage. However, one of the few surviving contemporary sources from the Byzantine Empire, the chronicle by Yahya of Antioch (an Arab Christian doctor), records that she built many churches upon her arrival in Rus’.157 Indeed, between 989 and 996, in the wake of Anna’s marriage, Greek artisans came to Kyiv to help build a two-​storey stone palace and the adjacent Church of the Mother of God, which became the newly Christianized dynasty’s palatine chapel (Latin: capella regia or palatina).158 Because Vladimir gave a tenth of his treasury income to the maintenance of this palace church, it became known popularly as the Tithe Church.159 The Tithe Church was modelled architecturally on the Byzantine palatine chapel, the Church of the Mother of God of the Pharos, located near the throne room of the imperial palace of Constantinople, which Anna would have known prior to her marriage.160 This church and palace complex served as Anna’s residence in Kyiv during her lifetime, and, after her death, she was buried in a marble sarcophagus at the centre of the church, further underlining her role as promoter of the Christian faith in Rus’.161 The role of Anna in building up Christianity in Rus’ is also suggested by the so-​called “Church Statute” of Vladimir, which established independent ecclesiastical courts, though 156  PVL, vol. 10.2, 850.

157  Ibn Saʿïd, Histoire de Yahya-​ibn-​Saʿïd d’Antioche, 423; discussed in Shepard, “Marriages toward the Millennium,” 25.

158  Poppe, The Rise of Christian Russia, chap. 3 (“The Building of the Church of St. Sophia in Kiev”), 24; Kämpfer, “Eine Residenz für Anna Porphyrogenneta,” 101–​2, 106–​7; Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 165. 159  Poppe, “The Building of the Church of St. Sophia in Kiev,” IV 25, Kämpfer, “Eine Residenz für Anna Porphyrogenneta,” 102; Shepard, “Marriages toward the Millennium,” 25. Only in the eleventh century did tithing begin to be used to support the metropolitan and other bishops; Fennell, A History of the Russian Church, 55. 160  Poppe, “The Building of the Church of St. Sophia in Kiev,” 25; Kämpfer, “Eine Residenz für Anna Porphyrogenneta,” 102; Shepard, “Marriages toward the Millennium,” 25. The Tithe Church was destroyed during the Mongol taking of Kyiv in 1240, but its ruins survive, including fragments of its mosaic floor; Pevny, “Kievan Rus’,” 193.

161  Christian, A History of Russia, 348; Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 165; Shepard, “Marriages toward the Millennium,” 25.

this text survives only in a corrupt version dating to the fourteenth century onwards.162 According to this statute, Vladimir granted the Church privileges “having consulted with my princess Anna and with my children.”163 More certain in dating is a Church statute issued in 1135–​1137 by one Prince Vsevolod (though his identity is unclear), which confirmed the independence of church courts in Novgorod. He made these decisions, similarly, after he had “consulted with the Novgorod archbishop and with my princess, and with my boyars.”164 In both these early privileges for the Orthodox Church, princesses play a key role as patrons and protectors. Vladimir Sviatoslavich’s successor, Iaroslav the Wise, built the new stone Cathedral of Saint Sophia, which was flanked by the monasteries of Saint Irene and George, the patron saints of his wife, the Swedish princess Ingigerd, and himself, respectively.165 While giving a special place to the patron saints of the ruling prince and princess at the centre of the realm, at the same time this urban layout also imitated that of Constantinople.166 This emulation of Byzantine models can also been seen in the donor fresco of Kyiv’s Saint Sophia, painted around 1045/​46 along the west, south, and north walls of the cathedral’s central nave, in which Iaroslav was depicted as leading his sons, and his wife Ingigerd was depicted as leading her daughters, in procession.167 However, since this fresco survives only in a very damaged and fragmentary condition, scholars have suggested several ways in which the princely family originally might have been portrayed in the act of offering the cathedral to an enthroned Christ.168 Nonetheless, scholars agree that it depicts both Ingigerd and 162  Kaiser, The Growth of the Law in Medieval Russia, 50–​51; and “Introduction” in The Laws of Rus’, xlvii.

163  “I sgadav az s svoeiu kniaginoiu Annoiu [emphasis added] i s svoimi dět’mi.”; Kaiser, The Laws of Rus’, 42. 164  “I pogadal esm’ s vladykoiu i s svoeiu kniagyneiu [emphasis added] i s svoimi boliary.”; ibid., 59–​60; discussed in Pushkareva, Women in Russian History, 12. 165  PVL, vol. 10.2, 1198–​1200.

166  Boeck, “Simulating the Hippodrome,” 294; Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 210–​11.

167  Grabar, L’Art du Moyen Age en Europe orientale, 122–​ 2 5, 144; Lazarev, “Regard sur l’art de la Russie prémongle II”; Poppe, “The Building of the Church of St. Sophia in Kiev,” 40–​41; Boeck, “Simulating the Hippodrome,” 283–​84. 168  Three main hypothetic reconstructions of the donor fresco exist. See Smorąg Różycka, Bizantyńsko-​ruskie miniatury, 110–​18 (ills. 79–​80); and Kozak, Obraz i vlada, ill. 16.

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Iaroslav as sharing the imperial virtue of philanthropy, which “indicated the concern of a ruler for his people.”169 The fresco was located just below the princely gallery where Iaroslav, Ingigerd, and their children would actually have stood during the celebration of the Divine Liturgy at the Cathedral.170 Andrzej Poppe has drawn attention, moreover, to the location of the donor fresco opposite to the Eucharist mosaic in the cathedral’s apse that depicts a mystical scene of Christ distributing bread and wine to his Apostles. These two scenes in parallel—​the dedication by twelve members of the Riurikid family of the cathedral to Christ, and Christ distributing the Eucharist to twelve apostles—​stressed the apostolic mission of the entire princely family, women included, in bringing Christianity to the people of Rus’.171 In this way, the donor portrait in the central nave of the cathedral also stressed that the ideal of Christian rulership rested not only in a single male prince but in all the members of Iaroslav’s family, including its women.172 Princesses in Kyivan Rus’ not only acted as co-​patrons with their husbands and other family members but also could be founders in their own right. Endowing the foundation of a new monastery, rather than simply donating to a pre-​existing one, required significant material wealth, and consequently in the Kyivan period was restricted only to the highest social strata.173 It was in their role as monastic or ecclesiastical founders, rather than as wives, mothers or administrators, that princesses were celebrated by the monastic compilers of Rus’ chronicles. In Orthodox Christianity, patronage created a reciprocal relationship between the monks or priests who were dependent upon a princess’s goodwill and generosity towards them.174 A donor/​ benefactor to a church or monastery in Orthodoxy Christianity was especially remembered in the prayers of the recipients of his or her generosity.175 Every Sunday the founders of a church 169  Hill, Imperial Women in Byzantium, 153; Lichačeva, “The Miniatures of a Russian Manuscript,” 232. 170  Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 211. 171  Poppe, “The Rurikid Dynasty,” 9.

172  Kozak, Obraz i vlada, 41; Poppe, “The Rurikid Dynasty,” 9; Shepard, “Rus,” 396.

173  Morris, Monks and Laymen in Byzantium, 138; Michalowska, “Klostergründungen Russicher Fürstinnen,” 276, 280.

174  Compare the remarks of Barbara Hill in Imperial Women in Byzantium, 157, with those of Rosemary Morris in Monks and Laymen in Byzantium, 138–​39. 175  Hill, Imperial Women in Byzantium, 159.

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would be commemorated during the Divine Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom, together with church hierarchs.176 In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries numerous examples appear of princesses who founded their own institutions.177 Pevny, for example, demonstrates the role of the widow of Prince Vsevolod Ol’govich (d. 1146) in founding a monastic church dedicated to Saint Cyril of Alexandria in twelfth-​century Kyiv.178 Once again, we do not know this princess’s name (later seventeenth-​century sources call her Maria), but the Kyivan Chronicle records in the year 1177/​78 that “Vsevolod’s princess died, having accepted the monastic habit, and was laid to rest in St. Cyril’s, which she herself founded.”179 Similarly, in Novgorod in 1199, the wife of Prince Iaroslav Vladimirovich (d. after 1207) founded a monastery dedicated to the Nativity of the Virgin on Mikhailitsa Street (from which it was also known simply as “the Mikhailitsa”), for which the Novgorod Chronicle remembered her.180 Yet another princess who had a prominent role in creating her own religious foundation was Princess Maria Shvarnovna (d. 1205/​1206), the first wife of Prince Vsevolod Iurievich “Big Nest” of Suzdal’ (“Bolshoe Gnezdo,” d. 1212, so called because of his large family).181 In 1200 she founded a monastery dedicated to the Dormition of the Mother of God in the northern Rus’ city of Vladimir-​on-​the-​Kliazma.182 176  “Deacon: Again we pray for the blessed and ever-​memorable holy Orthodox patriarchs; and for the blessed and ever-​memorable founders of this holy house”; John Chrysostom, The Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom, 278. The Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom had already been translated into Old Church Slavonic by the ninth century; ibid., 269.

177  For the thirteenth century, see Michalowska, “Klostergründungen Russicher Fürstinnen.” 178  Pevny, “Dethroning the Prince.”

179  “Togo zhe l[e]‌tĕ prestavisę knęgini Vsevolozhaia. Priēm’shi na sę chernechkoiu skimu i polozhena byst’. V Kiēvĕ u s[vię]togo Kiurila iuzhe bĕ sama sozdala”; PSRL, vol. 2, sub anno 6686 (1177/​1178), 612; translated by Pevny, “Dethroning the Prince,” 64.

180  “In the same year Yaroslav’s Knyaginya put up the church and the monastery of the Birth of the Holy Mother of God in Mikhailitsa Street, and they appointed Posadnik Zavid’s widow [Igumena]”; sub anno 6707 (1199), The Chronicle of Novgorod, 42.

181  Maria Shvarnovna’s family background is debated. Her patronymic indicates that her father had the unusual name of “Shvarn.” Older scholarship has suggested that this was a Czech name, but this view has been disputed recently. See Litvina and Uspenskii, Vybor imeni u russkikh kniazei, 374–​81. 182  PSRL, vol. 1, sub anno 6708 (1200), 415; DRSM, s.v. “Kniaginin Uspeniia Bogoroditysi Monastryr’,” 401–2 at 401; Michalowska, “Klostergründungen Russicher Fürstinnen,” 276–​78.

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A few years later, on March 2, 1206, Maria herself became a nun at her own foundation, after having been ill for a number of years and after having given birth to her eighteenth child.183 Just over two weeks after her entry into the monastery she died, and she was buried in the monastery’s church, where her sister and daughter were already buried.184 The monastery thus became a necropolis for female members of the Vladimir-​Suzdal’ian branch of the Riurikid dynasty, and this commemorative function might have been one reason for its founding. 185 Its significance as an emblem of the princess’s generosity is suggested by the name by which it is more commonly known: the Princess Monastery (Kniaginin monastyr’). However, perhaps the most famous pre-​M ongol princess foundation was the monastery dedicated to the Holy Saviour founded in the twelfth century by Princess Predslava Sviatoslavna of Polatsk, known better by her monastic name of Euphrosyne (Evfrosinia; d. ca. 1173). Hers is the only pre-​Mongol Rus’ female monastery that has survived to this day. 186 However, unfortunately, there are no contemporary sources describing Euphrosyne’s role in establishing this monastic foundation. The earliest source is the sixteenth-​century Book of Degrees of Imperial Pedigree (Stepennaia kniga), a work of imperial Muscovite historiography, though its section on Euphrosyne is probably based on an earlier Life.187 Although the written source on her life survives only in late copies, visual evidence from the twelfth century confirms that Euphrosyne was both patron and administrator. Ianin claimed to have identified a seal belonging to her, which depicts her saintly namesake on one side with

the Cyrillic inscription “Lord, help thy servant named Euphrosyne” on the rim and the Transfiguration of Christ on the other. 188 Moreover, until 1941 Belarus’ possessed an elaborate two-​barred cross of enamelled plaques, gold, silver, saints’ relics, and pearls, whose inscription attests that it was commissioned by Euphrosyne in 1161 for her monastic church. 189 A posthumous thirteenth-​c entury fresco in the side chapel of the monastic church depicts Euphrosyne as a nun and donor holding a model church in her hand.190 Taken together, the seal, fresco, and precious cross confirm Euphrosyne’s importance as patron and administrator. After their deaths, princesses were not necessarily buried at the side of their husband. Rather, like Western queens consort, they were buried either in family necropolises, which became increasingly common as the Riurikid dynasty fragmented into various branches in the late eleventh and twelfth centuries, in female monasteries, in their own foundations or in the monasteries that had benefited from their patronage.191 They continued to be commemorated in the prayers of the monks to whom they had served as benefactors.192 For example, the Sinodik (necrology) of the male monastery of Saint Anthony in Liubech (dissolved in 1786), which dates to the seventeenth century but is based on earlier sources, commemorates 119 princes and forty-​ five princesses of Chernihiv who lived from the eleventh to fourteenth centuries.193 While monks largely passed over in silence the role of princesses in the chronicles they wrote, they kept their memory alive in their prayers.

183  PSRL, vol. 1, sub anno 6714 (1206), 424; Michalowska, “Klostergründungen Russicher Fürstinnen,” 277.

188  “Gospodi, pomozi rabe svoei Evfrosini naritsaemoi”; Aktovye pechati Drevnei Rusi, 231, 234 ill. 121a.

185  Ibid., 277–​78.

190  Preobrazhenskiĭ, Ktitorskie portrety, 134– ​ 3 5; DRSM, s.v. “Evfrosiniia Polotskaia,” 273.

184  PSRL, vol. 1, sub anno 6714 (1206), 424. Maria Shvarnovna’s sister, Evgeniia, was buried at the monastery in 1201, and in 1205 Maria’s daughter Elena was buried there. Later, in 1271, Princess Maria Mikhailovna was laid to rest there; Voitovych, Kniazha doba na Rusi, 419; DRSM, s.v. “Kniaginin,” 402; Michalowska, “Klostergründungen Russicher Fürstinnen,” 277.

186  For the history of the monastery of Saint Saviour, see Senyk, Women’s Monasteries in Ukraine and Belorussia, 39; and Beliaev, “Spasskiĭ Evfrosinievskiĭ Monastyr v Plotske,” in DRSM, s. v. "Spasskiĭ Evfrosinievskiĭ Monastyr v Plotske,” 782–​84.

187  Stepennaia kniga, 433–​47. The Stepennaia kniga was begun in the mid-​1550s and completed either in the 1560s or as late as 1584; Lenhoff and Kleimola, The Book of Royal Degrees; DRSM, s.v. “Evfrosiniia Polotskaia,” 272–​73.

189  Euphrosyne’s cross was removed from the Minsk museum by Nazi soldiers in 1941, and all efforts to locate it have thus far been unsuccessful. See Franklin and Shepard, The Emergence of Rus, 300; Franklin, Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus, 58, 242; Pevny, “Dethroning the Prince,” 76, 102n91; and Pushkareva, Zhenshschyny drevneĭ Rusi, 37.

191  Dimnik, “Dynastic Burials in Kiev,” 79–​80, 95, 99–​100. See also García de la Puente, “Gleb of Minsk’s Widow,” 351, 376–​78 appendix, where a chart of all death notices of princesses in the Kyivan Chronicle is provided. 192  Morris, Monks and Laymen in Byzantium, 133.

193  See O Chernigovskikh kniaziakh, esp. 171, for the summary of findings.

14

Conclusion When the Anglo-​Saxon Gytha arrived as a refugee in Rus’ from the Battle of Hastings of 1066 to marry the Rus’ prince Vladimir Monomakh she would have encountered some elements of queenship that were familiar to her. She was given an official title of rulership, she was crowned during her marriage to a rex and she was dressed in rich clothing that exalted her social status above that of common women. The birth of legitimate children, the patronage of Christian church institutions, and the administration of towns personally belonging to her, as well as possibly some role in counselling her husband, were all “queenly” social and political roles that she would have taken on. She had enough wealth and power at her disposal to send gifts as far away as Cologne, where she was commemorated for her piety in the necrology of the monastery of Saint Pantaleon. Yet her husband warned his sons against giving a woman too much power, and her activities remained unremarked upon in the chronicles of the dynasty. This silence of native Rus’ sources on Riurikid princesses was due to the fact that the princess in Kyivan Rus’ could not rule an otchina, a patrimony belonging to the dynasty as a whole. In the warrior society of Rus’, succession did not pass in the female line, and women’s political power never approached that of queens regnant in Latin Christendom or Byzantine empresses who ruled in their own right. Isolated attempts by women to rule as regents occurred either when male authority was absent, as in the case of Glĕb of Minsk’s widow, or when women were strong enough to defy direct male opposition, as in the rule of Daniil Romanovich’s mother in Galicia-​Volhynia.

Talia Zajac

However, this hostility to direct female rule was somewhat counterbalanced by the notion that all blood members of the Riurikid dynasty shared the right to rule over the land of Rus’. Since political legitimacy was vested in the dynasty as a whole, its female members drew authority and prestige from their belonging to this family. They governed entire towns that belonged exclusively to their power, and possibly could have played a role in administration of their husbands’ cities as well. Moreover, as members of this dynasty, women, like men, played a key role in spreading Christianity. Another major source of authority for princesses was their association with a network of saints, both through their baptismal names, which placed them under the special protection of a heavenly patron, and through their own patronage of monasteries or churches, which associated them to the Mother of God or to whichever saint to whom these churches were dedicated. However, cultural influence from Byzantine Orthodoxy was just one factor in shaping the political and social roles of the princess in Rus’. In fact, the range of possibilities for agency available to her came from the varied traditions of rulership absorbed by the Riurikids in their vast domains, stretching from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea steppe, which incorporated cultural influences from Scandinavians, East Slavs, Khazars, and other Turkic nomadic tribes, as well as from Byzantium. Future research could also consider the cultural impact of Latin Christian traditions of rulership brought to the Riurikids by royal women such as Gytha. In this way, the study of the social-​political roles available to the Rus’ princess sheds light on the hybrid practices of rulership of the Riurikid dynasty as a whole.

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11 IMPRESSIONS OF WELSH QUEENSHIP IN THE TWELFTH AND THIRTEENTH CENTURIES DANNA R. MESSER

SINCE J. E. LLOYD’S seminal two-​volume tome The History of Wales, published in 1912, the thematic concentration for medieval Welsh scholarship has been on conquest, coexistence, and change.1 The interwoven strands of discussion largely centre on the concept of a native Wales and the idea of Welshness, beginning with the wake of the Norman settlements in the south from the twelfth century and stemming beyond the Edwardian Conquest of 1282. Over the course of the twelfth to thirteenth centuries power struggles—​regionally, on the Welsh March, and the increased involvement of the English Crown in Welsh affairs—​transformed Welsh socio-​economic, political, and religious cultures. Certainly, ongoing dialogue about these core issues contributes to a better understanding of medieval Wales in the wider context of British political and social history. Yet, save for the very recent investigations undertaken by Susan Johns, Emma Cavell, and Gwyneth Richards, questions as to where exactly women fit within the master narrative and what their contributions were to the development of medieval Welsh society, across the spectrum, has not yet been explored.2 As women’s history overall has received little attention in Welsh scholarship, it is far from surprising that the important topic of queenship has also been left on the sidelines. Welsh queenship has primarily been considered only in the context of the male experience or codified native 1  Carr, Medieval Wales; Davies, The Age of Conquest; Pryce, “Welsh Rulers and European Change”; Smith and Smith, “Wales.”

2  Cavell, “Aristocratic Widows and the Medieval Welsh Frontier”; and “Intelligence and Intrigue in the March of Wales”; and “Noblewomen in Shropshire”; and “Welsh Princes, English Wives”; Johns, “Beauty and the Feast”; and Gender, Nation and Conquest; and “Nest of Deheubarth”; Richards, Welsh Noblewomen. See also Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle”; and Wilkinson, “Joan, Wife of Llywelyn the Great.”

law, both approaches of which are problematical. The former explicitly denies the female experience.3 The latter poses more of a conceptual problem. The codified tenth-​ century Laws of Hywel Dda were expanded on by lawyers during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and used, for the most part, as a means of teaching. Thus, varied source material was both added to and deliberately omitted from the Hywelian nucleus of the native legal codes.4 As such, the laws cannot be considered examples of “living law” or as accurate portrayals of the state of affairs in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.5 Welsh queenship involves an interplay of a number of thorny issues. For instance, concubinage was practised in Wales to the middle of the thirteenth century, and native laws themselves describe nine different types of marriage. Defining how women, including the queen, were ranked in a system of multiple wives is challenging. This is further complicated by the fact that more than one term was used to refer to “queen” in literary and legal sources, each term indicating different levels of status, while documentary sources and chronicles identify royal woman primarily by their life cycles as wife and daughter, each label indicating social positions. These varying identifiers are 3  Historians generally highlight “outstanding” women whose activities, in isolation, have seemed extraordinary. Carr, Medieval Wales, 56–​59; Davies, The Age of Conquest, 128–​29; Lloyd, A History of Wales, vol. 2, 470, 635, 639, 665, 667, 685–​86n74; Maund, The Welsh Kings, 161, 190–​91, 193, 199–​201; Turvey, Llywelyn, 86, 89–​92; and The Welsh Princes, 61; Walker, Medieval Wales, 107–​8. Kari Maund’s Princess Nest of Wales is set purely within the masculine context. 4  Jenkins, “The Medieval Welsh Idea of Law,” 342–​45; Hywel Dda, The Law of Hywel Dda, xi.

5  For examples, see Pryce, “The Household Priest”; and Stacey, “Clothes Talk from Medieval Wales”; “Divorce, Medieval Welsh Style”; and “King, Queen and Edling.”

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loaded with social and political perceptions and expectations concerning women and gender, and also queenship. The purpose of this chapter is to highlight a range of impressions concerning queenship taken across the genres of Welsh sources largely composed during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. From literary and historical sources to records of practice, essential native perceptions and attitudes concerning female gender roles and queenship can be discerned. An examination of Welsh sources shows that it was in wifehood that women were able to employ singular political, economic, and social agency in native Wales.6 Interweaving the threads of what sources also tell us about the status and roles of royal women, a tapestry of illuminating images appears. The importance of the queen as the supreme female figurehead and the paramount model of wifehood was culturally and socially recognized. Unlike England or France, where monarchies evolved into singular institutions with more centralized governments, Wales in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries failed to establish unification under one leader. This was due to internecine warfare and shifting loyalties that occurred between the Welsh, the English, and the powerful marcher lords who ruled the border. Even amongst the three leading kingdoms, Powys in central Wales was split after 1160 and Deheubarth in the southwest after 1197. Although it had its own problems, which often impeded both individual and collective ambitions towards central unification,7 Gwynedd in the north alone remained relatively unbroken, and the most powerful kingdom until 1282. A ruler’s supremacy within his social group was dependent on a number of factors: individual personality, wealth, ambition, leadership abilities, and the aptitude to exploit relationships.8 The literati of native Wales valued the might of a leader whose authority heavily depended on success in warfare.9 Thus, in a clear warrior-​ruler setting, the categorization of royal—​and specifically married—​women in sources 6  The backbone of this current research stems from a more general line of enquiry concerning the collective status and position of women in Wales during this era, known as the “Age of Princes.” Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle.” 7  See Carr, Medieval Wales, 27–​82; Davies, The Age of Conquest, 1–​16, 213–​51; and Lloyd, A History of Wales, vol. 2, 573–​611.

8  Davies, The Age of Conquest, 64–​65; Davies, Wales in the Early Middle Ages, 121.

9  Davies, The Age of Conquest, 66. See also Kapphahn, “Constructions of Gender,” 6–​29.

highlights their cultural and social statuses as complementary to their husbands’. Of the gendered specific traits associated with the Welsh queen that helped define her overall status, lineage was the most important. In all the sources, women are identified by the life cycles that associate them with the most powerful Welsh rulers. Although “daughter” is commonly used, it is the life cycle of the “wife” that is most definitive.10 In fact, the classification of a royal woman as “wife” supersedes any other type of identifying description. This is not surprising, as defining a woman as “wife” worked to further legitimize the authority of a ruling dynasty. There are standardized attributes found in Welsh sources that suggest perceptions of the Welsh queen were highly romanticized and standardized for a woman of her rank.11 Queens are often identified by physical beauty and wealth. In the Four Branches of the Mabinogi they are described as the most beautiful women in the world, while in the Lives of Welsh Saints they are noted not just for their beauty and noble lineage but also for their chastity, temperance, and empathy.12 A case in point is the name of St. Illtud’s mother, Rieningulid, which “when Latinized … means regina pudica, modest queen.”13 In the twelfth-​century biography of Gruffudd ap Cynan, the ruler of Gwynedd, stereotypical descriptions of both sexes are used to emphasize Gruffudd’s sovereign rule.14 While the king is physically strong and educated, generous towards his soldiers, spirited towards his enemies, and brave in battle,15 his queen, Angharad (d. 1162), is a wise, noble, and modest woman, elegant in habit and speech, kind to friends, and generous to the poor.16 10  For a discussion of examples in the Welsh chronicles, see Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 91–​112. Genealogy was an important component of Welsh culture, used to validate dynastic succession and authority. It is a genre that probably involved the participation of women and is integral to understanding Welsh culture. Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 63–​71. See also Jones, “An Approach to Welsh Genealogy,” 454; Powell, “Genealogical Narratives”; and Thornton, “Kings, Chronicles and Genealogies.”

11  See Huneycutt, “The Idea of the Perfect Princess”; and “Images of Queenship.”

12  See, for example, Thomson, Pwyll Pendeuic Dyuet, 2, 3; The Mabinogion, 4, 5; and Vitae Sanctorum Britanniae, 136–​39, 172–​73, 193–​97, 200–​203, 216–​19. 13  Vitae Sanctorum Britanniae,  194–​95.

14  Johns, “Beauty and the Feast,” 109–​15.

15  Historia Gruffud vab Kenan, 17; Vita Griffini Filii Conani,  72–​73. 16  Historia Gruffud vab Kenan, 22; Vita Griffini Filii Conani,  76–​79.

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Most noteworthy, the earlier Welsh version of the Life of Gruffudd ap Cynan, as opposed to the later Latin translation, describes Angharad as cyngorwreic, or counsel-​woman.17 Her status as Gruffudd’s wife required that she be judicious and resourceful. Interestingly, this is not a singular description of the royal woman as an advisor found the source. Gruffudd receives a prophecy about his future as king from Tangwystyl, his kinswoman and the wife to his chief chamberlain. 18 Tangwystyl has a very powerful and symbolic importance.19 Similar in concept to the female sovereignty figure motif, her prophetic wisdom is assuaged by her royal and wifely duties. Her roles as a charitable woman (sharing information and gifts), a provider (presenting him with knowledge and confidence), and a carer (looking out for his well-​being) are conventional virtues associated with queenship. It is pointedly noted twice over that she is related to Gruffudd, highlighting her association with Welsh power and her own authority thereof. Long associated with Welsh native tradition is Elen Lluyddog (Luyda6c), or Elen of the Hosts, the legendary queen consort of the fourth-​century emperor Maxen Wledig. She appears in both the Welsh Triads and in the tale found in the Mabinogion, “The Dream of the Emperor Maxen.” She is celebrated for uniting Britain as a sovereign and for accompanying her husband and his host on the siege of Rome, advising on matters of polity.20 In the Life of St. Cadog, the chief men of his father’s realm meet with both the king and queen to seek counsel.21 The notion that the queen was to act as a mediator, and likely advisor, is proposed by both Gerald of Wales and the Welsh chronicles, which describe the twelfth-​ century union of Emma of Anjou (fl. 1151–​1212), half-​sister of Henry II, and Dafydd ab Owain of Gwynedd as one that will hold peace through marriage.22 Emma’s international 17  The term “counsel-​woman” is not found in the Latin Life of Gruffudd ap Cynan. 18  Historia Gruffud vab Kenan, 7; Vita Griffini Filii Conani,  60–​61.

19  See Aronstein, “When Arthur Held Court in Caer Llion,” 227–​28; and Doan, “Sovereignty Aspects in the Roles of Women,” 90. 20  Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 81–89nn342–44; The Mabinogion, 108–​9,  250. 21  Vitae Sanctorum Britanniae, 122–​25.

22  Brenhinedd y Saesson, 180–​81; Brut y Tywysogyon, Peniarth MS. 20, 126; Brut y Tywysogyon, Peniarth 20 Ms. Version, 70; Brut y Tywysogion, Red Book of Hergest Version, 164–​6 5; Giraldus Cambrensis, Opera, vol. 6, 134; Gerald of Wales, The Journey through Wales, 193.

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status as a royal woman probably indicates an expectation that she intervene in affairs if called upon to do so. As recent research suggests, the role of the Welsh queen as an advisor, or counsel-​woman, appears to have been not only a principal ideal associated with Welsh queenship but also a very real expectation.23 The nature of the title of “queen” evokes the impression that both the office and the individual were recognized as being exceptional. Yet in Welsh sources there is a versatility in the meanings behind the styles used to describe the king’s wife. This complicates attempts to establish perceptions of her rank and significance. It is imperative here to stress that the use of the term “queen” in a Welsh context has to refer to an office and individual associated with an exceptionally significant ruler. This is particularly important, as in medieval Wales there was more than one word used to denote “queen,” and the meanings of the different terms make assessing status based on this designation difficult. Although brenhines is the most recognized word in relation to the concept of “queen” as we understand it, and of which the highest status conferred is unquestionable, other terms used to indicate queenship are less transparent. Rhiain, for example, is applied on occasion to mean “queen.” Arthur’s queen, Gwenhwyfar, is given the epithet of “chief of the queens of this island” (penn rained yr ynys hon), paralleling Arthur’s status as chief of princes.24 Arawn’s wife in the First Branch of the Mabinogi is referred to as queen (brenhines), while the name Rhiannon itself means “Great Queen.”25 However, definitions of rhiain evolved, so that its principal meaning embraced a more gender specific description—​i.e. “maiden,” “royal lady,” and even “virgin”—​rather than alluding to a designation of status and expectations of agency associated with that status.26 Only the designation of “lady” (dam) is used in documentary and narrative sources in context to two different wives from the kingdom of Gwynedd: Emma of Anjou and Llywelyn ap Iorwerth’s wife, Joan of England (d. February 2, 1237), the illegitimate daughter of King John 23  Messer, “A Model of Welsh Queenship”; and “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 193–​97.

24  Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 1, 161, 209; The Mabinogion, 179, 188; Y Mabinogion,  80–​81.

25  Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 161, 209; The Mabinogion, 5; Thomson, Pwyll Pendeuic Dyuet, 4. 26  See Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 161–​62, 209 nn.

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and Henry III’s half-​sister.27 As such, it is possible that the formal use of “lady” in both instances refers to their status as members of the Angevin dynasty. Diverse titles, such as brenin (rex), arglwydd (dominus), and tywysog (princeps), were carefully adopted by individuals to reflect territorial status and political aspirations. However, the types of power and the nature of the rule associated with these titles remain largely ambiguous. Uses often fluctuated according to individual and political circumstance.28 Titles employed by contemporaries to identify individual rulers often echo the cycle of defining and redefining power, status, and, above all, authority among Welsh leaders.29 The designation of “king” (brenin, rex) and the defined powers associated with it was more or less devalued across Wales by the twelfth century, as a number of petty or lesser rulers used it to define their own authority. The depreciation of both the status and influence associated with the style of “king” led to an increase in the use of the titles of “prince” (tywysog, princeps) or “lord” (arglwydd, dominus) by powerful Welsh magnates and rulers—​most specifically by the rulers of Deheubarth, Powys, and Gwynedd. The use of these particular titles explicitly implied the nature and breadth of individual rule, in context, and also underlined the increased levels of centralized power within these specific kingdoms.30 Asking if a Welsh ruler’s consort was “queen” or “the king’s wife” is a question that is particularly weighted, as medieval Welsh custom recognized different legal levels of marriage, of which the gwriag briodas was a wife of the highest status.31 Similar to the ambiguous meaning of rhiain, gwraig also has different connotations, ranging in meaning from a “female of any age” to a “sexually experienced female” to a “wife” as we understand the definition.32 The latter is important, as Welsh 27  Annales Cambriae, 82–​83; Brenhinedd y Saesson, 230–​33; Brut y Tywysogyon, Peniarth MS. 20, 196; Brut y Tywysogyon, Peniarth 20 Ms. Version, 104; Brut y Tywysogion, Red Book of Hergest Version, 234–​35. 28  For the use of styles and associated power found in Welsh charters, see Insley, “From Rex Wallie to Princeps Wallie”; and Pryce, The Acts of Welsh Rulers,  74–​79.

culture also accepted the legal practice of concubinage,33 and the children were openly acknowledged, their rights to inheritance and succession recognized.34 Thus, the use of gwraig briodas in sources was a form of recognizing the legitimacy of unions. This was especially important given that Wales faced increased calls to adapt to more widespread European practices in order to legitimize Welsh power.35 This meant that defining the person of the queen as “wife” was a means of delineating between the status of “queen” and that of “lesser wife” or “concubine”.36 As such, it is pertinent to ask: if a ruler styled himself, or was identified by others, as a king, can we assume that his consort was automatically recognized as queen? Or was she perceived more as the king’s wife? Evidence to answer these questions is hard to come by. In fact, the problems with Welsh queenship in practice based on style are complicated by the fact that there are minimal references available to identify historical women as Welsh queens in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. There are two, to be precise. The twelfth-​century biographer of the Life of Gruffudd ap Cynan refers to Gruffudd’s wife, Angharad, as a gwraig briod, but, more importantly, as queen (“Angharat vrenhines”; “regina Angharat”). This is a designation complementing Gruffudd’s own as king.37 The second reference is, by far, a less enlightening example. The well-​ travelled cleric Gerald of Wales devotes an entire chapter in his autobiography to a letter he received from the “queen of North Wales” (reginae Norwalliae) in the summer of 1202.38 However, the content of the chapter has not survived, and, neither has the knowledge of the individual to whom Gerald was actually referring. Nevertheless, the reference in itself for “queen” and, more generally, to mean “noblewoman” or “wife.” See Klein, Ruling Women, 8; and Stafford, Queen Emma and Queen Edith, 66. 33  Charles-​Edwards, “Nau Kynywedi Teithiauc,” 36–37; Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 86–​90.

29  See Turvey, The Lord Rhys,  87–​93.

34  A discussion of the queen as “mother” is beyond the scope of this study, though it does appear that the “mother” life cycle was not one that elevated the status and importance of the queen. See Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 177–​82.

31  Charles-​Edwards, “Nau Kynywedi Teithaiac”; Jenkins and Owen, The Welsh Law of Women, 3–​4; Pryce, Native Law and the Church, 108–​112.

36  The laws refer to the king’s successor as edling: someone chosen from the king’s household, but not necessarily a blood son.

30  Crouch, “The Slow Death of Kingship,” 30.

32  See Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 81–​83. Both rhiain and gwraig pose similar problems to those found in assessing queenship in Anglo-​Saxon England, as the term cwen was used as both a title

35  Smith, “Dynastic Succession in Medieval Wales”; Stephenson, The Governance of Gwynedd; Williams, “The Succession to Gwynedd.” 37  Historia Gruffud vab Kenan, 32; Vita Griffini Filii Conani,  88–​91.

38  Giraldus Cambrensis, Opera, vol. 1, 13. See also Pryce, The Acts of Welsh Rulers, 444–​45.

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is interesting. Undoubtedly, for Gerald, his connections with the office of the Welsh queen and its associated status were significantly more important than to the individual woman in the position at that time; if not he would have named her. These examples suggest that, in practice, conferring the title of “queen” was an obvious display of recognition that the king’s wife enjoyed a position of some repute. By the twelfth century there had emerged a more idealized notion of rulership, based on a consolidation of power within individual dynasties. This is most readily exampled in different redactions of the native Welsh laws produced in different kingdoms. Overall, the Laws of the Court specifically underline the structured hierarchy of the court and the importance of the royal llys (court) as the headquarters of power. Principally, the laws emphasize the pre-​ eminent status of the king and queen rather than provide indoctrination on how either should rule.39 Nevertheless, the collection of inferred rights and roles of the queen found in the laws and other native Welsh sources not only highlight the queen’s long-​standing position as a core member of the royal family but also intimate that there were gendered divisions amid expectations set for the queen and king. These divisions worked to reinforce the inclusivity of sovereign power, whereby the queen’s overall role and position as the ruler’s wife helped define, strengthen, and maintain Welsh ideals of rulership.40 Such roles included queens going on their own circuit (rhieingylch), a number of examples of which can be found in the Mabinogion, the Lives of Welsh Saints and proverbs.41 The late twelfth-​century poem Breintiau Gwŷr Powys even warns of “a second tyranny; the oppressive circuit of the queen,”42 alluding to real agency. There are clear illustrations of women ruling territories (jointly and independently), such as in Rhiannon and Pwyll and King Math and Goewin in the First and Fourth Branches of the Mabinogi, the latter of whom declares that upon marriage he will give his wife “authority over my kingdom.”43 In the tale of “Geraint son 39  Jenkins, “The Medieval Welsh Idea of Law,” 333.

40  See Messer, “A Model of Welsh Queenship.” See also Robin Stacey’s literary examination of divorce in Welsh law as a moral lesson against the ending of unions; this is set within a political context. Stacey, “Divorce, Medieval Welsh Style.”

41  The Mabinogion, 16; Red Book of Hergest, f. 241r; Thomson, Pwyll Pendeuic Dyuet, 16; Vitae Sanctorum Britanniae, 198–​201. 42  Charles-​Edwards and Jones, “Breintiau Gwŷr Powys,” 172. 43  Ibid., 15–​16, 52.

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of Erbin,” Queen Gwenhwyfar even has the power to dispense justice.44 The fact that one of the most well-​known and glorified royal women of the “Age of Princes” died leading a battle against the Anglo-​Normans while her husband was away campaigning in the north45 draws attention to the very real types of authority, power, and overall agency that Welsh queens may not only have been expected to practise, but did. Gerald describes the actions of Gwenllian verch Gruffudd ap Cynan (d. 1136) as being of Amazonian proportions, calling her a “Queen of the Amazons and second Penthesilea.”46 References to the physical might of royal women are found in other sources as well. The mnemonic text47 known as the Welsh Triads lists the three Amazons of the island of Britain, indicating that the strength, stamina, and bravery associated with the Welsh warrior ideal were also noteworthy traits to be found in the female sex.48 Elen Lluyddog’s own epithet means “having an army,” “host, mustering,” or “having a host, warlike,”49 and she is described as hosting a large army to help her husband lay siege to the city of Rome.50 That there are also many examples of royal women in the Mabinogion who are in possession of great sovereign wealth, huge retinues, and the best horses and armour in the world51 evokes an image of royal woman who possessed the valued traits attributed to the warrior-​ruler ideal, including being visible and active within the governance of the realm. It is likely she was even expected to be so.52 There are a few enticing entries found in sources that potentially allude to the sovereign rule of the queen. The Welsh Triads maintain that no fewer than three times the lordship of Gwynedd was ruled or “held by the distaff,” or 44  The Mabinogion, 151–​52.

45  Giraldus Cambrensis, Opera, vol. 6, 79; Gerald of Wales, The Journey through Wales, 137. 46  The Latin is ambiguous and the translation is an interpretation. Giraldus Cambrensis, Opera, vol. 6, 79; Gerald of Wales, The Journey through Wales, 137. 47  A text designed for teaching and to aid memory. 48  Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 165–​70.

49  Ibid., 81–89nn342–44; The Mabinogion, 251.

50  Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 81–​90; The Mabinogion, 108–​9.

51  The Mabinogion, 88, 92, 132. See also Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 185.

52  Masculine traits are also associated with other female characters found in the Mabinogion. For examples, see The Mabinogion, 26–​27, 212–​13,  215.

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from the female side of the family.53 The importance of this triad is underlined by the explicit claim that the dynasty of Gwynedd was founded by the maternal line of the renowned fifth-​century king Cunedda Wledig and passed on through descendants.54 Although this triad probably refers to times when male rulership was claimed through the maternal line, it does begin an intriguing debate as to whether or not such a reference actually alludes to a time when Gwynedd was ruled by women, especially as early poets commemorate the kingdom as the land of the Esyllt, a woman’s name.55 The laws of thirteenth-​century Gwynedd suggest a form of recognized female (over-​?)lordship, stating that “[e]‌very female lord (arglwyddes) is entitled to the amobr of her realm,”56 and there are documented examples of historical women being endowed with great powers over lands under their direct control. It cannot necessarily be assumed that the use of the term arglwyddes, significant though it is, implies that the Welsh queen had seignorial powers. However, other types of literary illustrations help support the idea that some women may have had opportunities to function in some form of ruling capacity. Due to the long-​standing oral traditions of the Welsh poets and storytellers, and their venerated status within the courts of Wales, it is critical to understand that the ideals and expectations of gender that permeate the written sources also reflect older, more widespread conventions and attitudes.57 There remained a continued tradition whereby influences of courtly culture, in some ways, ensured that native social expectations of the courtly figures of the queen and king endured. In terms of demarcating expectations of rulership and ideals associated with the figurehead of the queen, the written sources certainly echo those of an earlier society in which it appears a woman was revered not only for her position as the king’s wife but her status as the officeholder of queen. Studies throughout Europe have shown that opportunities provided to medieval queens allowed them to exercise power and authority with great effect, namely through their 53  Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 244–​45. 54  Ibid., 244 nn.

55  Ibid., 244–​45 nn., 351; Lloyd, A History of Wales, vol. 2, 323–​24, and nn. 56  In essence, a fine for the loss of virginity before marriage. Llyfr Iorwerth, 32; Hywel Dda, The Law of Hywel Dda, 60. 57  Roberts, “Oral Tradition and Welsh Literature,” 6; Davies, “Storytelling in Medieval Wales”; and “Written Text as Performance”; Sims-​Williams, “The Uses of Writing in Early Medieval Wales”.

intimate links with the physical body of the king.58 With such a connection they were afforded powers within the royal court and household that others did not have. Many benefited from their unique positions as the wives of kings, allowing them to maintain a high level of power and influence throughout the Middle Ages, both privately and publicly.59 The employment of effective queenly agency in both official and unofficial capacities was often a combination of exploiting their positions within the structure of royal households and the traditional rituals and symbols associated with queenship.60 It appears that the Welsh queen enjoyed considerable levels of responsibilities within her own informal or unofficial realms by being able to employ and even manipulate the rituals and symbols associated with her position.61 In many rituals, namely those related to Welsh ideals of hospitality—​an extremely important aspect of Welsh culture62 (ensuring guests and members of the court were provided for, engaging in informed conversation, and giving the symbolic gift of wine)—​the royal woman is directly located at the centre of courtly life. Many such examples appear in the tales of the Mabinogion, in which the queen or royal wife is often situated in the great hall at the head of the royal table along with her husband.63 In spite of the laws omitting a seat for the queen in the list of seating arrangements within the court, other examples in the laws and literature indicate that her presence in the hall, as opposed to her isolation or separation in the chamber, was both accepted and recognized as being highly important. In fact, there is little evidence either way to suggest that the queen—​or any royal women, for that matter—​was exclusively restricted or separated from the political forum of the Welsh court.64 The indistinct nature of the function between the chamber and the court that appears in Welsh sources—​and especially in the different redactions of the Welsh laws—​seems to have allowed for more freedom of movement for the royal couple than has been previously 58  See Stafford, “Emma,” 10; and Parsons, “Ritual and Symbol,” 60. 59  Laynesmith, The Last Medieval Queens, 4.

60  Howell, Eleanor of Provence; Nelson, “The Queen in Ninth-​Century Wessex”; Parsons, “Family, Sex, and Power”; and “The Queen’s Intercession”; Stafford, “Emma”; “The King’s Wife in Wessex”; and “Sons and Mothers.” 61  Parsons, “Ritual and Symbol,” 69.

62  Smith, “On the Hospitality of the Welsh.” 63  Stacey, “King, Queen and Edling,” 33. 64  Ibid., 61.

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considered.65 The queen was an indispensable member of court whose obligations to political networking within the royal llys meant that her role worked in partnership with the king’s and served to reinforce royal authority.66 In a clear warrior-​ruler context in which the married woman was the feminine complement to her husband’s status and power, such an appreciation may be particularly relevant given the little surviving evidence concerning Welsh queenship in practice. Because the Laws of the Court are arranged in a way that reflects the distinguished status of both the king and queen, it has been argued that the importance accorded to them was done to “strengthen the kingship” rather than to define the rank of royal office.67 It also has been suggested that the most defining element of the figure of the queen in the Welsh Laws of the Court is her apparent absence.68 However, comparison with and reference to the king’s own appearance in the laws show that they are equally reserved in providing information about him or his office. Certainly, it is significant the queen appears at all in medieval Welsh laws.69 As such, it is perhaps more fitting to argue that the most defining element of the Welsh queen is her visible appearance as a figure of honour within the Laws of the Court. The level of the queen’s status in the laws is directly indicated by the types of officers assigned to her and by the fiscal provisions made to her. These are the principal markers of her status,70 which also intimate expectations of office. The thirteenth-​century Iorwerth redaction of the Welsh laws elaborates on the make-​u p of the queen’s household, revealing a marked increase in the number of officers assigned to her. Perhaps the rise in the number of the Welsh queen’s officers is better understood in comparison with similar developments in England in the fourteenth century, when the English queen’s household expanded in size. As a partial reaction to the needs of the queen’s household itself, 65  Ibid., 58. See Messer, “A Model of Welsh Queenship,” for a discussion on chamber versus court. 66  See Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 188–​246.

67  Jenkins, “Prolegomena to the Welsh Laws of Court,” 16.

68  Stacey, “King, Queen and Edling,” 61. For a discussion on the likely authorship and perspective of the Laws of Court, see Pryce, “The Context and Purpose.” 69  Her presence and the status bestowed upon her become especially noteworthy when compared with the queen in the earliest surviving English political tract, known as the “Institutes of Polity, Civil and Ecclesiastical,” written by the early eleventh-​century Archbishop Wulfstan II of York. Stafford, “Emma,” 469. 70  Stacey, “King, Queen and Edling,”  55–​57.

Danna R. Messer

the expansion was also a replication of the changes and advancements made to the king’s own household at this time. Both helped shape the composition of the queen’s domestic establishment, in two crucial ways: first, by defining its existence as an independent unit; and, second, by integrating the queen’s household into the king’s household.71 Although the two households largely mirrored each other, and the queen’s was largely seen as a subsidiary of the king’s, the creation of separate households and offices allowed English queenship to exist as a separate institution. This provided the queen a means to exercise agency similar to that of the king’s or of other great magnates of the realm (whose own households were similar in size to the queen’s).72 With such a comparison in mind, a more nuanced reading of the Laws of the Court through a gendered perspective helps to show that the Welsh queen’s position was one that reflected both her own status and office, while promoting that of the king’s. Further significance in the status of her office is highlighted by both early and later redactions of the Welsh laws, which imply that the queen (not in her capacity as the king’s wife) was legally entitled to a large amount of wealth.73 The twelfth-​ century Cyfnerth version, possibly from Deheubarth,74 says that the “queen has a share of all the profit of the king from his rightful land.”75 Iorwerth states that the queen was to receive one third of the king’s “goods he gets from land and earth,” as well as a third of the booty from his Welsh lands.76 The queen was also given rights to alienate greater portions of land than women of other social classes.77 A queen’s access to land and her ability to administer and hold it was an important facet of strong rulership in many western European societies.78 In Anglo-​Saxon England some queens and noblewomen wielded “the raw material of political power” by having access to and the rights of free disposal of land.79 Charter research for Wales shows that the wives of rulers such as Gwerful (wife of 71  Benz St. John, Three Medieval Queens, 66. 72  Ibid.

73  Carpenter, The Struggle for Mastery, 319.

74  Hywel Dda, The Law of Hywel Dda, xxv; Charles-​Edwards, The Welsh Laws, 18–​19; Pryce, Native Law and the Church, 5–​6, 15n. 75  Owen, “The Laws of the Court from Cyfnerth,” 438–​39.

76  Llyfr Iorwerth, 2, 5; Hywel Dda, The Law of Hywel Dda, 5, 10.

77  Hywel Dda, The Law of Hywel Dda, 5–​6; Owen, “The Laws of the Court from Cynferth,” 438–​39; Cyfreithiau Hywel Dda, 2–​8. 78  Stafford, “The King’s Wife in Wessex,” 12. 79  Ibid.,  21–​22.

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Hywel ap Iorwerth of twelfth-​century Caerleon in southern Wales), Gwenllian (the wife of Lord Rhys of the kingdom of Deheubarth), and Joan (the wife of Llywelyn ap Iorwerth of Gwynedd in the north) all possessed lands, given to them by their husbands and fathers, and were alienators and co-​ consentors to the transfer of the ownership of property rights held by the greater family lordship.80 Access to moveable wealth, including the legal ability to alienate lands, would have been a critical source of agency and income to the Welsh queen. It probably strengthened her own position within the court,81 and, further, may have helped her sustain her status and independent economic, and perhaps even political, activities as a widow. This is certainly suggested by the Life of Gruffudd ap Cynan, which tells us that, on his deathbed, Gruffudd left Queen Angharad “half of his possessions and two portions of land together with the harbour dues of Abermenai.”82 This illustration tells us something not only of Angharad’s status as queen consort but also of the expectations associated with a queen dowager who had been left in possession of vast amounts of wealth, including lands.83 A queen’s control of resources, primarily through her dowered lands,84 was not only administratively profitable to the kingdom but also allowed her opportunities to effectively exercise political and economic power.85 These activities helped to strengthen her individual position and that of her own family by providing the significant resources and finances needed to maintain status and successfully defend borders.86 A number of dowered lands (some which appear to have been passed down through matrilineal lines)87 were areas of great contention between the Welsh-​Welsh and the Welsh-​English. Endowing women with rights to lands that were often embroiled in fierce political disputes certainly indicates an expectation that a Welsh queen, or a woman at the top of the social ladder, was expected to possess enough socio-​political and economic acumen to help ensure that the 80  Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 248–​300. 81  Stafford, “The King’s Wife in Wessex,” 23. 82  Vita Griffini Filii Conani,  88–​89.

83  For a literary example, see the tale of “Peredur,” whose widowed and wise mother controls the hero’s future patrimony. The Mabinogion, 65. 84  For a full discussion of the granting of dower in native Wales, see Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 248–​300. 85  Tanner, “Queenship,” 142.

86  Owens, “Noblewomen and Political Activity,” 216. 87  Messer, “The Uxorial Lifecycle,” 253–​61.

greater family lordship retained territorial authority. The fact that some wives were theoretically granted powers to appoint local officials, such as Angharad, wife of Owain ap Maredudd of Powys, whose dower in 1273 consisted of independent rights to appoint bailiffs, strongly suggests they probably did so.88 That the laws state the queen had her own officers, her own coffers, and her own seal certainly impresses on the historian that the queen probably had the capacity to exercise powerful agency as a function and right of office. Charter evidence verifies the use women’s seals in official capacities.89 Arguably, their public activities helped elevate their royal status, which, in turn, provided them with more opportunities to intervene and influence highly political and contentious situation—​ regardless of whether they did so as queens, as wives or acting under the instructions of their husbands, the kings.90 The subject of Welsh queenship has never been a serious focus of scholarly investigation, even though discourse on rulership in native Wales before 1282 has consistently remained a defining theme of Welsh scholarship. This is a surprising gap in our knowledge, as royal ladies and noblewomen often feature prominently in literary and historical narratives. On close examination, the ideals, roles, and expectations of queens are perennial themes throughout much of the source material. Whether the married woman enjoyed the status of queen in her own right rather than being the ideological, gendered equal of her husband as the king is debatable. This is precisely why the study of queenship in native Wales is an important addition to scholarship. As the king’s wife was viewed as a role model for her contemporaries, the status conferred upon her in sources provides insight into attitudes towards married women whose roles and activities were public and influential. Establishing a firm understanding of the cultural and social expectations of royal women helps in estimating just how far we can apply ideals, which are presented in an abstract form, to the status and agency of actual women who held the office of queen, and those in the upper echelons of Welsh society as well. Including queenship within the master Welsh narrative provides a greater and far more balanced understanding of the hitherto male-​dominated approach to the political and socio-​economic climate of Wales during the most famous “Age of Princes.” As the sources suggest, it is far too important a discussion to be ignored. 88  Pryce, The Acts of the Welsh Rulers, 205.

89  For a thorough discussion on the importance of seals and female agency in Wales, see Johns, “Seals, Women and Identity.” 90  Stephenson, The Governance of Gwynedd, xli.

15

Bibliography

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—​—​—. “Noblewomen in Shropshire and the Adjacent March of Wales, 1150–​1350.” DPhil thesis, Oxford University, 2007. —​—​—. The Welsh Laws. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1989. —​—​—. “Welsh Princes, English Wives: The Politics of Powys Wenwynwyn Revisited.” Welsh History Review 27 (2014): 214–​52. Charles-​Edwards, Thomas. The Welsh Laws. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1990. Charles-​Edwards, Thomas, and Nerys Ann Jones. “Breintiau Gwŷr Powys: The Liberties of the Men of Powys.” In The Welsh King and His Court, edited by Thomas Charles-​Edwards, Morfydd E. Owen, and Paul Russell, 191–​223. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000. Chibnall, Marjorie. The Empress Matilda:  Queen Consort, Queen Mother and Lady of the English. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. Crouch, David. “The Slow Death of Kingship in Glamorgan, 1067–​1158.” Morgannwg 29 (1985): 20–​41. Davies, Rees R. The Age of Conquest: Wales 1063–​1415. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. Davies, Sioned. “Storytelling in Medieval Wales.” Oral Tradition 7 (1992): 231–​57. —​—​—. “Written Text as Performance: The Implications for Middle Welsh Prose Narratives.” In Literacy in Medieval Celtic Societies, edited by Huw A. Pryce, 133–​48. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Davies, Wendy. Wales in the Early Middle Ages. London: Routledge, 1996. Doan, James. “Sovereignty Aspects in the Roles of Women in Medieval Irish and Welsh Society.” In Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 5, edited by Paul Jefferiss and William J. Mahon, 87–​102. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985. Duggan, Anne J. “Introduction.” In Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe: Proceedings of a Conference Held at King’s College London, April 1995, edited by Anne J. Duggan, xv–​xxii. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1997. Fradenberg, Louise. “Introduction: Rethinking Queenship.” In Women and Sovereignty, edited by Louise Fradenburg, 1–​13. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1992. Howell, Margaret. Eleanor of Provence: Queenship in Thirteenth-​Century England. Oxford: Wiley-​Blackwell, 1998. Huneycutt, Lois L. “The Idea of the Perfect Princess: The Life of St. Margaret in the Reign of Matilda II (1100–​1118).” In Anglo-​ Norman Studies XII: Proceedings of the Battle Conference 1989, edited by Marjorie Chibnall, 81–​97. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1989. —​—​—. “Images of Queenship in the High Middle Ages.” Haskins Society Journal: Studies in Medieval History 1 (1989): 61–​71. —​—​—. Matilda of Scotland: A Study in Medieval Queenship. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2003. —​—​—. “Medieval Queenship.” History Today 39 (1989): 16–​22. Insley, Charles. “From Rex Wallie to Princeps Wallie: Charters and State Formation in Thirteenth-​ Century Wales.” In The Medieval State:  Essays Presented to James Campbell, edited by John R. Maddicott and David M. Palliser, 179–​96. London: Bloomsbury, 2000. Jenkins, Dafydd, and Morfydd E. Owen, eds. The Welsh Law of Women. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1980. Jenkins, David. “The Medieval Welsh Idea of Law.” Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis 49 (1981): 323–​48. —​—​—. “Prolegomena to the Welsh Laws of Court.” In The Welsh King and His Court, edited by Thomas Charles-​Edwards, Morfydd E. Owen, and Paul Russell, 15–​28. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000. Johns, Susan M. “Beauty and the Feast: The Cultural Constructions of Female Beauty and Social Interaction in Twelfth-​Century Wales.” Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium 30 (2011): 102–​115. —​—​—. Gender, Nation and Conquest in the High Middle Ages: Nest of Deheubarth. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2013. —​—​—. “Nest of Deheubarth: Reading Female Power in the Historiography of Wales.” In Gender and Historiography: Studies in the History of the Earlier Middle Ages in Honour of Pauline Stafford, edited by Janet L. Nelson, Susan Reynolds, and Susan M. Johns, 91–​100. London: Institute of Historical Research, 2012. —​—​—. “Seals, Gender, Identity, and Social Status in the Late Twelfth and Early Thirteenth Centuries in Wales.” In Medieval Coins and Seals: Constructing Identity, Signifying Power, edited by Susan Solway, 271–​80. Turnhout: Brepols, 2015. —​—​—. “Seals, Women and Identity.” In Seals and Society: Medieval Wales, the Welsh Marches and Their Border Region, edited by Phillipp Schofield, Elizabeth New, and Susan M. Johns, chap. 6. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2015. Jones, Francis. “An Approach to Welsh Genealogy.” Transactions of the Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion 1948 (1949): 303–​466. Kapphahn, Krista R. L. “Constructions of Gender in Medieval Welsh Literature.” MA thesis, Aberystwyth University, 2009. Klein, Stacy S. Ruling Women: Queenship and Gender in Anglo-​Saxon Literature. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2006.

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Lloyd, John E. A History of Wales:  From the Earliest Times to the Edwardian Conquest. 2nd ed. 2 vols. London: Longmans, Green, 1912. Laynesmith, Joanna L. The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1445–​1503. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Maund, Kari. Princess Nest of Wales: Seductress of the English. Stroud: History Press, 2007. —​—​—. The Welsh Kings: Warriors, Warlords and Princes. Stroud: History Press, 2006. Maurer, Helen E. Margaret of Anjou: Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2003. Messer, Danna R. “A Model of Welsh Queenship: Joan of England and the Medieval Court of Gwynedd.” Women’s History Review (forthcoming). —​—​—. “The Uxorial Lifecycle and Female Agency in Wales in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries.” PhD dissertation, Bangor University, 2014. Nelson, Janet L. “Medieval Queenship.” In Women in Medieval Western European Culture, edited by Linda E. Mitchell, 179–​207. New York: Garland, 1999. —​—​—. “The Queen in Ninth-​Century Wessex.” In Anglo-​Saxons: Studies Presented to Cyril Roy Hart, edited by Simon Keynes and Alfred P. Smyth, 69–​77. Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2006. Owen, Morfydd E., ed. and trans. “The Laws of the Court from Cynferth.” In The Welsh King and His Court, edited by Thomas Charles-​Edwards, Morfydd E. Owen, and Paul Russell, 435–​77. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000 Owens, Christine. “Noblewomen and Political Activity.” In Women in Medieval Western European Culture, edited by Linda E. Mitchell, 209–​19. New York: Garland, 1999. Parsons, John Carmi. “Introduction: Family, Sex, and Power: The Rhythms of Medieval Queenship.” In Medieval Queenship, edited by John Carmi Parsons, 1–​11. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993. —​—​—. “The Queen’s Intercession in Thirteenth-​Century England.” In Power of the Weak: Studies on Medieval Women, edited by Jennifer Carpenter and Sally-​Beth MacLean, 147–​77. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1995. —​—​—. “Ritual and Symbol in the English Medieval Queenship to 1500.” In Women and Sovereignty, edited by Louise Fradenburg, 60–​77. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1992. Powell, Nia M. W. “Genealogical Narratives and Kingship in Medieval Wales.” In Broken Lines: Genealogical Literature in Late-​ Medieval and France, edited by Raluca L. Radulescu and Edward D. Kennedy, 175–​204. Turnhout: Brepols, 2008. Pryce, Huw A. ed. The Acts of Welsh Rulers: 1120–​1283. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2005. —​—​—. “The Context and Purpose of the Earliest Welsh Lawbooks.” Cambrian Medieval Celtic Studies 39 (2000): 39–​63. —​—​—. “The Household Priest (Offeiriad Teulu).” In The Welsh King and His Court, edited by Thomas Charles-​Edwards, Morfydd E. Owen, and Paul Russell, 82–​93. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000. —​—​— Native Law and the Church in Medieval Wales. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993. —​—​—. “Welsh Rulers and European Change, c.1100–​1282.” In Power and Identity in the Middle Ages: Essays in Memory of Rees Davies, edited by Huw A. Pryce and John Watts, 37–​51. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Richards, Gwyneth. Welsh Noblewomen in the Thirteenth Century: An Historical Study of Medieval Welsh Law and Gender Roles. Lewiston: Mellen, 2009. Roberts, Brynley F. “Oral Tradition and Welsh Literature: A Description and Survey.” Oral Tradition 3 (1998): 61–​87. Sims-​Williams, Patrick. “The Uses of Writing in Early Medieval Wales.” In Literacy in Medieval Celtic Societies, edited by Huw A. Price, 15–​38. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998 Smith, J. Beverley. “Dynastic Succession in Medieval Wales.” Bulletin of the Board of Celtic Studies 33 (1986): 199–​232. Smith, J. Beverley, and Llinos Beverley Smith. “Wales: Politics, Government and Law.” In The Companion to Britain in the Later Middle Ages, edited by Stephen H. Rigby, 309–​34. Malden: Blackwell, 2003. Smith, Llinos Beverley. “On the Hospitality of the Welsh: A Comparative View.” In Power and Identity in the Middle Ages: Essays in Memory of Rees Davies, edited by Huw A. Pryce and John Watts, 181–​94. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Stacey, Robin Chapman. “Clothes Talk from Medieval Wales.” In The Welsh King and His Court, edited by Thomas Charles-​ Edwards, Morfydd E. Owen, and Paul Russell, 338–​46. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000. —​—​—. “Divorce, Medieval Welsh Style.” Speculum 77 (2002): 1107–​27. —​—​—. “King, Queen and Edling in the Laws of Court.” In The Welsh King and His Court, edited by Thomas Charles-​Edwards, Morfydd E. Owen, and Paul Russell, 29–​62. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000.

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Stafford, Pauline. “Emma: The Powers of the Queen in the Eleventh Century.” In Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe:  Proceedings of a Conference Held at King’s College London, April 1995, edited by Anne J. Duggan, 3–​ 26. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1997. —​—​—. “The King’s Wife in Wessex, 800–​1066.” Past and Present 91 (1981): 3–​27. —​—​—. Queen Emma and Queen Edith: Queenship and Women’s Power in Eleventh-​Century England. Oxford: Wiley-​Blackwell, 1997. —​—​—. “Sons and Mothers: Family Politics in the Early Middle Ages.” In Medieval Women: Dedicated and Presented to Professor Rosalind M. T. Hill on the Occasion of Her Seventieth Birthday, edited by Derek Baker, 79–​100. Oxford: Blackwell, 1978. Stephenson, David. The Governance of Gwynedd. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1984. Tanner, Heather J. “Queenship: Office, Custom, or Ad Hoc? The Case of Queen Matilda III of England (1135–​1152).” In Eleanor of Aquitaine: Lord and Lady, edited by Bonnie Wheeler and John Carmi Parsons, 133–​58. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002. Thomson, Robert L., ed. Pwyll Pendeuic Dyuet:  The First of the Four Branches of the Mabinogi. Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1957. Thornton, David E. “Kings, Chronicles and Genealogies: Reconstructing Celtic Dynasties.” In Family Trees and the Roots of Politics: The Prosopography of Britain and France from the Early Tenth to the Twelfth Century, edited by Katharine S. B. Keats-​ Rohan, 23–​40. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1997. Turvey, Roger. Llywelyn the Great. Llandysul: Gwasg Gomer, 2007. —​—​—. The Lord Rhys: Prince of Deheubarth. Llandysul: Gwasg Gomer, 1997. —​—​—. The Welsh Princes: The Native Rulers of Wales, 1063–​1283. London: Longman, 2002. Walker, David. Medieval Wales. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Wilkinson, Louise J. “Joan, Wife of Llywelyn the Great.” In Thirteenth Century England X: Proceedings of the Durham Conference 2003, edited by Michael Prestwich, Richard Britnell, and Robin Frame, 81–​93. Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2005. Williams, Gwyn A. “The Succession to Gwynedd, 1238–​47.” Bulletin of the Board of Celtic Studies 20 (1962): 393–​413.

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12 QUEEN ZAYNAB AL-​NAFZAWIYYA AND THE BUILDING OF A MEDITERRANEAN EMPIRE IN THE ELEVENTH-​CENTURY MAGHREB INÊS LOURINHO

ABU BAKR IBN Umar, the emir of the Saharan Lamtuna tribe, was focused on building a city, the future capital of a forthcoming Maghrebi and Andalusian empire, when he was called away from this project to help his own people, who were being attacked by their neighbours in the desert. According to Ibn Idari, one of the main Muslim sources for this period, emissaries reported that men were being killed and property was being stolen.1 Given the seriousness of this situation, Abu Bakr could not leave his own people to their fate, but he could not abandon the building of the city that would be called Marrakesh either. According to the same source, he asked for divine inspiration in order to find a substitute while he was away, and this consultation revealed the name of his cousin Yusuf ibn Tashfin.2 Ibn Idari says that this event took place in the Hijrah year of 463, which occurred between October 9, 1070, and September 28, 1071.3 However, al-​Bakri’s information may be more accurate, since this Muslim scholar was a contemporary of the events, and we can infer from his work that they took place at least five years earlier, around 1065 or 1066.4 This pivotal moment would mark the beginning of Yusuf ibn Tashfin’s career as a political leader, who would eventually conquer and unify both the Maghreb and the al-​Andalus—​Muslim Hispania. But he did not do it all by himself. On his way to power he greatly benefited from the support of Zaynab bint Ishaq al-​Nafzawwiyya, the then wife of Abu Bakr ibn Umar. When leaving for the desert, to help his fellow tribesmen, Abu Bakr divorced his wife and suggested that Yusuf marry her, and this may have changed the course

The Almoravids were a political group of tribes hailing from the Sahara Desert, founded roughly two decades earlier by an imam named Abd Allah ibn Yasin. The sources diverge when it comes to establishing the circumstances and the dates of the arrival and permanence of Ibn Yasin among the desert tribes. Some, such as Ibn Idari, say that it happened in the 1130s,5 but others, such as the anonymous al-​Hulal al-​Mawsiyya, claim that Ibn Yasin arrived in the desert a decade later.6 However, it is safe to say that he was invited by the emir of the Guddala tribe, Yahia ibn Ibrahim, to teach his barely Islamized people. But Ibn Yasin’s demands to his disciples were too strict. There were rules that limited the number of wives, rules for praying, rules for behaving, rules for paying taxes, sometimes even rules that contradicted with his own behaviour, and after the emir Yahia ibn Ibrahim’s death he was expelled by the Guddala.7 Once again, the circumstances of these events are not certain, but we know that he spent some time away and then returned to the desert and was welcomed by another tribe: the Lamtuna.8 With military help from this group he unveiled his political agenda, and started an expansionist

1  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 42.

5  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan,  11–​12.

2  Ibid., 43. 3  Ibid., 42.

4  Al-​Bakri, Kitab al-​Masalik, 320.

of the Almoravids’ growing empire. This chapter charts the life of Zaynab bint Ishaq al-​Nafzawwiyya, highlighting her crucial role in the rise of the Almoravid Empire and in the complicated politics of its court.

A Brief History of the Almoravids and the Rise of Abu Bakr

6  Al-​Hulal, 26.

7  Al-​Bakri, Kitab al-​Masalik, 319–​20. 8  Ibid., 313–​15.

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campaign to subdue the desert tribes. Under the ideology of jihad, Ibn Yasin gathered an army with iron discipline and unified unify tribes known for their permanent conflicts.9 In this period his general was the emir of the Lamtuna tribe, Yahia ibn Umar, but this chieftain’s death in war would prompt the emergency of a new military leader: the latter’s brother, Abu Bakr, who would become the first Almoravid major political player, and, as previously discussed, the founder of Marrakesh and the second husband of Zaynab. In 1055 the Almoravid movement was able to conquer some key cities—​such as Sijilmassa, in modern Morocco, and Awdaghust, now in Mauritania—​that linked the Mediterranean trade platforms to the dangerous latitudes where the gold was extracted, beyond the rivers Senegal and Niger.10 Around two years later the Almoravids set a new goal, Aghmat, which they conquered after a fierce siege11 and converted into their capital. The governor of the city, Laqut ibn Yusuf ibn Ali, who had been Zaynab’s first husband, was chased down and killed. Abd Allah ibn Yasin also died in the war, shortly after the conquest of Aghmat, and Abu Bakr ibn Umar became the sole leader of a movement that longed to be an empire. Despite coming from a nomadic group of tribes, Abu Bakr established a fixed capital at Aghmat, minted coins in his name from the gold he was now in control of, paid tribute to the Abbasid caliph of Baghdad, thereby seeking acknowledgement of the legitimacy of his power, gathered support from the jurists and secured a vast region under his command, from the mountains to the fringes of the desert. In short, he was someone “whom the country obeyed,”12 and Zaynab soon became the wife of this powerful man.

The Obscure Origins of Zaynab, the So-​Called “Sorceress”

Zaynab, a beautiful, wealthy, intelligent, and ambitious woman, was the daughter of Ishaq, according to Ibn Abi Zar, a merchant from Kairouan, one of the most vibrant trading cities in the western Mediterranean.13 Her nisba, the Arabic 9  Al-​Wansarisi, Kitab al-​Miyar, 175–​76, 418.

10  Al-​ B akri, Kitab al-​M asalik, 283–​8 4, 290–​3 00, 315–​1 7; Ibn Hawqal, Kitab Surat, 47; al-​Idrisi, Nuzhat al-​Mushtaq, 70; Abu l-​Fida, Taqwim al-​Buldan, vol. 2, 189; al-​Umari, Masalik al-​Absar, 200. 11  Ibn Abi Zar, Rawd al-​Qirtas, 131. 12  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 35.

13  Ibn Abi Zar, Rawd al-​Qirtas, 136.

word that indicates a person’s origin, tribal affiliation or ancestry, was “al-​Nafzawiyya,” meaning “the woman from the Nafza,” a Berber tribe that had spread from the Maghreb, nowadays Morocco, into Ifrikiyya, modern Tunisia. The same Ibn Abi Zar states that “she was very determined, intelligent, discreet and knowledgeable in business, so that she was called the sorceress.”14 Ibn Idari has a similar description of Zaynab: “Some say that the genies [jinn] spoke to her, others that she was a sorceress and a fortune teller.”15 A quick analysis of her personal connections is all it takes to confirm this woman’s refined political skills. But one should also acknowledge that she was the victim of reversals of fortune before she actually accomplished her goals: the war separated her from her master and husbands three times. However, the war also gave her the opportunity that made her one of the most demonstrably powerful women in the eleventh-​century Maghreb and that procured her a particular influence over the Almoravid Empire. Zaynab is first mentioned by the sources as the concubine of Yusuf ibn Ali ibn Abd al-​Rahman ibn Watas, the sheikh of the Urika, Hazarja, and Hilana tribes, who dwelled in the Atlas Mountains area to the south of the future city of Marrakesh.16 After this region had been conquered by a rival political group, the Banu Ifran, Zaynab married Laqut ibn Yusuf ibn Ali, the new lord of Aghmat.17 No one knows what happened to her master, who could have been killed, but this marriage with Laqut proves that she was able to place herself on the right side of power regardless of who might be its holder. Fate decided that she would become a widow in the aftermath of the Almoravid conquest of the city. By this time her fame had already spread throughout the mountain tribes, and many chieftains were interested in marrying her.18 However, sources claim that Zaynab stated that she would marry only the man who would rule the whole Maghreb.19 It is unclear if Zaynab really made this statement or if the sources just embellished her speech—​adding to her fame of being a fortune teller. Zaynab took Abu Bakr ibn Umar, the new lord of Aghmat, as her new husband; although he did not become the ruler of the whole Maghreb, she surely believed that he might, 14  Ibid.

15  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 36.

16  Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-​Ibar, vol. 2, 74. 17  Ibid.

18  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 36. 19  Ibid.

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since he was already in control of a vast territory. Ibn Idari explains that, after the Almoravids had conquered the city of Aghmat, Abu Bakr heard about Zaynab’s beauty, got to know her, and married her. Right after this statement the author declares that she placed a large sum of money at his disposal. And then she introduced him, blindfolded, into an underground chamber. Then, she took his blindfold off, he opened his eyes and saw in the chamber much gold, silver, pearls and rubies. Abu Bakr ibn Umar was astonished with the treasures of gold and silver that he saw, and his wife, Zaynab, said: “All this is your money and your property, which Allah gives to you through my hand and now I deliver it to you.” She showed it [the treasure] to him in the light of a candle, and then she took him away from that place, blindfolded, the same way she had introduced him, without him knowing from where he had entered or left.20

This is very interesting information, in many respects. First, it suggests that perhaps it was Zaynab who approached Abu Bakr, offering him a considerable fortune to persuade him to take her in marriage. This was contrary to common practice in the Berber world and in al-​Andalus, where the groom had to provide the bride and her family with a dowry, as we can see through several fatawa (legal advises issued by muftun, or experts in law) collected by the scholar al-​Wansarisi. It seems that it was Zaynab who provided her fortune to Abu Bakr, as if she was paying for her own wedding. Marriage was a written contract negotiated before the ceremony took place, and it was expected that the groom would pay a compensation to the bride and her relatives, part at the wedding and the rest deferred, though the future wife would also bring a trousseau to the household.21 But traditions could vary according to the region. For instance, in fourteenth-​century Egypt, although the groom had to deliver a gift to the bride, her trousseau was much more valuable.22 Zaynab’s situation seems therefore to be unusual, and this points to a woman determined to decide her own fate. We may even wonder whether she might have behaved the same way regarding Laqut, who she married after being the concubine of Yusuf ibn Ali, both lords of Aghmat. Did she offer him gifts in order to entice him into marriage? 20  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan,  36–​37.

21  Al-​Wansarisi, Kitab al-​Miyar, 75–​110.

22  Rapoport, Marriage, Money and Divorce,  12–​13.

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Next, one could speculate about the origin of Zaynab’s wealth. She was most certainly offered valuable presents while she was married to Laqut, but one cannot dismiss the possibility of her having also amassed a great deal of property during her concubinage period. In fact, concubines were allowed to have a personal patrimony, and many were even trained in singing, music, poetry, and literature. The level of education of these women was also proof of their master’s political power, as we can observe in the petty kingdoms (taifas) of eleventh-​c entury Andalusia, such as Seville, Granada and Badajoz. But their position was still fragile, since they could be sold or even abandoned—​a situation that would change if the concubine or the slave bore her master a child, especially a son. She would then be known as umm al-​walad, meaning the “mother of a child,” and could fight for her infant’s rights as an heir. Even the conquerors recognized this status, as we can clearly see in the aftermath of the fall of Seville into Almoravid hands in 1091, during the campaign that made Yusuf ibn Tashfin, Zaynab’s last husband, the lord of al-​Andalus: all the concubines and slaves from both sexes were sold, except for the females who had borne children to their master, al-​Mutamid Ibn Abbad; these women were treated as the fallen king’s family.23 We can also observe that concubinage did not involve a social stigma; Laqut did not have any problem marrying Zaynab despite her having been a member of a previous emir’s harem. Nevertheless, concubinage was normally reserved for non-​Muslim girls, captured during military campaigns and included in the booty. As a rule, that could not have been the case with Zaynab, since she came from a Muslim Berber tribe. Although we do not know the precise circumstances in which she ended up in this harem, we can discuss some possibilities. Zaynab might have been enslaved if the tribe she came from had been perceived as not genuinely Muslim, and that mainly depended on the political interests of its rivals. For instance, in the 1120s, when the Almohads, a Berber confederation of tribes based in the Atlas Mountains, started to defy the Almoravid regime, which adhered to a rigidly orthodox brand of Islam, they issued a declaration in order to get round the prohibition on war between Muslims. The accusations made to the Almoravids included apostasy, oppression of the people, falsehoods, lies, and the practice of injustice and evil—​a clearly broad-​spectrum construction to cloak their appetite for power. Abd al-​Wahid al-​Marrakushi, 23  Abd Allah, Al-​Tibyan, 337–​38.

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an Almohad source, even uses the matriarchal tradition among the desert tribes—​such as the ones that supported the Almoravid movement—​as proof of the Marrakesh emir’s inability to rule. He states that women were in charge of state affairs, surrounding themselves with “perverse and evil advisors, thieves, drunk and licentious,” while the emir preferred to collect taxes and to practise asceticism.24 The Almoravids should therefore pay with their lives for these crimes against God, and the Almohads were the executioners of the divine will. Another example can be seen in the initial period of the Almoravid movement, when Abd Allah ibn Yasin, its founder, considered the Zanata and other tribes to be heretics, because they professed Kharijism.25 The origin of this sect goes back to the wars related to the succession of the third caliph who ruled the Muslims after Muhammad had passed away, Uthman ibn Affan, who died in 656. The Kharijites held that any good Muslim could be elected as a caliph, regardless of race, position, or being a descendant of the Prophet. In the eighth century the Zanata and other Berbers in North Africa, struggling under a great fiscal burden, embraced these ideas, and rebelled against the Umayyad power in Damas. On the pretext of these tribes being heretics, Ibn Yasin waged war upon them, but his purpose was actually to conquer the rich trade networks that these groups controlled, in order to dominate the commerce in sub-​Saharan gold. If we follow Ibn Khaldun’s work, which relates the history of the Berber tribes, we conclude that the Nafza, Zaynab’s branch, professed a trend within Kharijism: Ibadism.26 This could have been reason enough for a political rival to justify a war against the Nafza and the stealing of their property and women. This could also have been the explanation for a Muslim girl such as Zaynab ending up in a Muslim lord’s harem. In a third line of reasoning, we could perhaps relate Zaynab’s fate to the devastation in her homeland caused by the Banu Hilal, which was sponsored by the Fatimids from the middle of the eleventh century onwards. These tribes with an Arab origin were encouraged by the Cairo-​based caliphate to plunder the lands controlled by the lords of Mahdia, which included Kairouan, the city of Zaynab’s family, to punish them for proclaiming their loyalty to the Abbasid caliph of Baghdad instead. In this case, not just a tribe but a whole territory could

have been seen as not truly Muslim. Ibn Khaldun thoroughly describes the chaos provoked by the Banu Hilal and states that this region’s wealth was profoundly affected by looting, abuse, slaughter, land stealing, and conflicts.27 At the beginning of the 1140s a Jewish merchant complained that his city of Mahdia was dead because of the damage caused by “the enemy.”28 In the context of the Banu Hilal invasion, whose effects lasted for decades in the territories that are today part of Tunisia and Algeria, the capture and sale of a girl to a faraway harem could certainly have been not only possible but highly probable. Even so, there are no certainties about what really happened to Zaynab. The only thing we do know is that her master was removed from power and that she was able to marry the new lord of Aghmat. According to Évariste Lévi-​P rovençal, while Zaynab was married to Laqut she was able to assemble a literary entourage, benefiting from the presence of many scholars and jurists from Cordova, in Muslim Hispania, and Kairouan, modern Tunisia, who flocked to the city in the twenty-​five years prior to the Almoravid conquest. The Algerian-​French orientalist suggests that Zaynab’s father could have been one of these newcomers,29 but his proposal does not explain how a daughter of a merchant Muslim man was made a concubine of the local emir. According to al-​Ghazali’s Ihya Ulum ad-​Din (The Revival of the Religious Sciences), specifically the part related to the etiquette of marriage, the bride of a Muslim man could not be a slave; neither could she be an apostate or a heretic.30 This places us therefore in a dead end concerning Zaynab’s period of concubinage. On the one hand, if she was the daughter of a wealthy Muslim man, at least in theory, she could not be enslaved nor made a concubine. On the other hand, if she turned out to be a concubine because of a hypothetical problem related to the heresy of Kharijism, Laqut would not have been able to marry her. The heresy could be a real problem. In al-​Wansarisi’s collection of jurisprudence, there is a piece of legal advice issued by a jurist of Kairouan in 1067 talking about the case of an orthodox Sunni Muslim who discovered that her husband was a Kharijite. She demanded a divorce, and her right was recognized in the event of her husband not repenting from his heresy.31

24  Abd al-​Wahid al-​Marrakushi, Kitab al-​Muyib, 135.

29  Lévi-​Provençal, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Aghmat,” 251.

25  Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-​Ibar, vol. 1, 289. 26  Ibid., 228–​29.

27  Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-​Ibar, vol. 1, 28–​29.

28  Gil, “Institutions and Events of the Eleventh Century,” 180. 30  Al-​Ghazali, Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, 81. 31  Al-​Wansarisi, Kitab al-​Miyar, 80.

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But one thing is certain: matrimony made Zaynab a free woman. Marriage involved several rights. One can read in­ al-​Ghazali’s work that the advantages of matrimony were seen as ensuring procreation, satisfying the sexual desire of both man and woman, having an organized household, receiving companionship, and disciplining the self to be mindful, faithful, loyal, and respectful of each other’s rights.32 Despite being a wealthy and intelligent woman, only marriage would assure Zaynab a solid social status. No wonder that, after Laqut was killed by the Almoravids, the Nafzawiyya placed her bet on a new marriage: after marrying Abu Bakr ibn Umar she was back in the political game. Aghmat was now the capital of the Almoravid Empire, but this city would quickly prove too small for its growing population, and Abu Bakr had to build another one: Marrakesh. As related at the outset of this chapter, Abu Bakr had to leave the developing city to protect his people, who were being attacked by neighbouring tribes. He delegated authority to Yusuf ibn Tashfin to carry on the construction of Marrakesh, and divorced Zaynab, since he could not be sure if he would survive this campaign.33 Some authors suggest that this was also a means to protect Zaynab’s wealth, because if Abu Bakr died in the war his relatives could claim her property.34 If concubinage was not associated with social stigma, neither was divorce. For instance, al-​Bakri tells us that Ibn Yasin, the founder of the Almoravid movement, was so attracted by women that every month he would marry and divorce several times. If he became aware of a beautiful woman he would ask to marry her, and, needing to respect the maximum of four wives, he would have to divorce another wife, giving the repudiated woman four gold coins as compensation.35 Ibn Yasin’s actions were unusual, as the repudiation of a wife for no good reason was not considered proper behaviour. Furthermore, divorce involved financial costs, such as paying any last portion of the dowry that had not been paid yet or any debts that may have been incurred during the course of marriage. Sometimes judges could also recognize the women the right to receive compensation,36 or even a regular amount of money if there was a baby who needed to be breastfed.37 32  Al-​Ghazali, Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, 53, 67–​68. 33  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan,  44–​45.

34  Robinson, Matriarchy, Patriarchy, and Imperial Security in Africa,  77–​83. 35  Al-​Bakri, Kitab al-​Masalik, 318.

36  Rapoport, Marriage, Money and Divorce,  70–​71. 37  Al-​Wansarisi, Kitab al-​Miyar, 93.

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Repudiation was more often used as a threat against a disobedient wife, especially if she had a strained relationship with her mother-​in-​law.38 For women, the potential to ask for a divorce was more limited, but it was possible if the husband did not respect her rights, as we can observe in al-​Wansarisi’s jurisprudence collection. For instance, in 1141 the wife of a corsair in the service of the sultan of Mahdia (modern Tunisia) complained to a judge that her husband had the habit of leaving her several months in a row without the means to survive. She asked to be granted a divorce if he repeated this behaviour, and the judge recognized her request.39 But sometimes, in order to be given a divorce, the woman also had to pay compensation to her husband.40 Some voices claim that it was Zaynab who asked for the divorce.41 Did she also compensate Abu Bakr? It is a very plausible hypothesis, since a simple life in the desert, far away from court life and with the risk of becoming a widow again, would not have been in her best interest. It was also as a measure of protection that Abu Bakr suggested to Yusuf ibn Tashfin that he should marry Zaynab; as mentioned above, despite her wealth and political influence, only by marriage could she acquire a solid position in society. And so he did.

Leaving the Mountains: A New Capital on the Plains

When Abu Bakr left Marrakesh, heading for the desert, Yusuf proceeded with the building of the city, which at first was no more than a nomad’s camp. Meanwhile, Yusuf erected walls, opened doors, and, according to Ibn Idari, maintained a correspondence with his cousin informing him about the progress with the works. The same source explains that in May 1071 he married Zaynab, and that in the following year he established a mint facility, where he produced silver and gold coins with the name of Abu Bakr. He also set up the chancery (diwan), organized the army, and, without telling his cousin, called upon a large number of relatives to help him, promising them wealth and fortune. Briefly, he strengthened his position and created a support group. During Abu Bakr’s absence Yusuf still had the time to wage war upon the tribes 38  Rapoport, Marriage, Money and Divorce, 71. 39  Al-​Wansarisi, Kitab al-​Miyar, 85. 40  Ibid., 93, 109.

41  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 45.

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from the regions of Taza and the river Muluya, northeast of present-​day Moroccan territory.42 But, as seen through al-​ Bakri’s work, these dates in Ibn Idari may not be correct. If Yusuf married Zaynab shortly after Abu Bakr’s departure from Marrakesh, we must conclude that the ceremony took place around 1065 or 1066. On the one hand, Yusuf tried to placate Abu Bakr by exchanging letters with him and minting coins with his name, but, on the other hand, it was already clear that he was paving the way to keep power for himself. In fact, both Ibn Khaldun and Ibn Abi Zar contribute to this idea by explaining that, after the military campaigns organized during Abu Bakr’s absence, Yusuf offered the government of the Maghrebi cities to people he trusted.43 While Abu Bakr was in the desert, another important event took place: Zaynab acquired the special status of a mother by giving birth to a son, who received the laqab of al-​Mu’izz billah, a prestigious cognomen meaning “the one who bestows honour by the intercession of God.” As Ibn Idari explains, the power of the couple became stronger.44 However, this source places the birth of Zaynab’s firstborn in 1072, a date that, again, does not make sense if we consider that, according to the anonymous Kitab Mafakhir al-​Barbar, he would play a prominent role during the campaign that led to the conquest of Ceuta by his father, in the summer of 1083.45 If we do accept that date, al-​Mu’izz would have been only eleven years old then, too young to head a major campaign. Perhaps we must go back five years in the date indicated by Ibn Idari for his birth, to around 1067, following the clues in al-​Bakri’s work. Regardless of the controversy over the chronology, one thing appears to be significant: only after one master and three husbands did Zaynab achieve motherhood, at least according to the available sources. Of course, that may be explained by natural causes, but it is possible to explore other possibilities, if we take into account that contraception and birth control were seen as medicinal in nature in medieval Islam. The Qanun fi l-​Tibb, or The Canon of Medicine, the major work by the Persian scholar Ibn Sina, known in the Christian world as Avicena, included explanations of several methods to 42  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 45–​48; Al-​Hulal, 37–​38; Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-​Ibar, vol. 2, 75; Ibn Abi Zar, Rawd al-​Qirtas, 144; Kitab Mafakhir al-​Barbar, 53.

43  Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-​I bar, vol. 2, 75; Ibn Abi Zar, Rawd al-​Qirtas, 145. 44  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan,  47–​48.

45  Kitab Mafakhir al-​Barbar, 56.

prevent pregnancy and to procure an abortion. Reasons such as avoiding a high number of dependents, protecting property, ensuring the education of other children, and maintaining the health and beauty of a woman were believed to justify these measures.46 Al-​Ghazali also held that coitus interruptus (azl in Arabic) was acceptable with concubines, in order to avert the loss of property.47 Having a baby, especially a male, gave the concubine the status of umm al-​walad, and another child meant that the patrimony of the father would be divided between a larger number of offspring. But there was controversy when the azl involved a married woman. According to some medieval Muslim scholars, the azl should be authorized by the wife, and only if she had children could the husband perform it without her consent.48 The same al-​Ghazali also acknowledges that the burying of female babies at birth was common among Arabs as a measure of birth control, a practice that he criticized.49 This scholar warned that a father “should not be overjoyed with the birth of a male child, nor should he be excessively dejected over the birth of a female child, for he does not know in which of the two his blessings are.”50 One cannot possibly know for sure what the reasons were for Zaynab not having a child sooner. Maybe her master had other children and was not interested. Maybe her first two marriages did not last long enough. Or maybe the sources failed to mention other children. But this first male infant that Yusuf gave her may have changed the course of the Almoravid Empire.

Zaynab and the Legitimacy of Yusuf ’s Power

Abu Bakr came back from the desert two years later, not only because he had resolved the conflicts related with the tribes but also because he had become aware of Yusuf’s growing power, namely after several conquests in the Maghreb, and he was determined to remove him.51 The sources are very eager to avoid giving Yusuf the image of a usurper and unanimously state that it was Zaynab who counselled her husband not to hand over power when Abu Bakr arrived. According 46  Robinson, The Cambridge Illustrated History of the Islamic World, 206. 47  Al-​Ghazali, Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, 111. 48  Al-​Wansarisi, Kitab al-​Miyar, 81.

49  Al-​Ghazali, Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, 111. 50  Ibid., 113.

51  Ibn al-​Khatib, Kitab Amal al-​Alam, 141.

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to Ibn Idari and Ibn Abi Zar, Zaynab told Yusuf to offer his cousin an immense treasure in exchange for Marrakesh and the government of the conquered territories.52 It is not difficult to accept that the strategy for dealing with Abu Bakr was actually engineered by Zaynab, but it is also clear that Yusuf had become very fond of power during those two years. Even the sources betray themselves. Ibn Idari, for instance, states that Yusuf was delighted by the government and that he was attracted by the honour given by power.53 Ibn Abi Zar explains that Yusuf received Abu Bakr on horseback, surrounded by an army, determined to defend his position against whoever might oppose him.54 This information is confirmed by Ibn al-​Khatib, who says that Yusuf met Abu Bakr on horseback, as a sign that he considered himself an equal and not a subject.55 And, according to Ibn Khaldun, Yusuf was not willing to recognize his cousin’s authority.56 Even if Abu Bakr was a pious man, disgusted with the prospect of spilling Muslim blood, as the sources state, it is strange that he might have been pleased with this deal: an empire that controlled the gold from the sub-​Saharan regions in return for the reward of a simple treasure. Al-​Nasiri, another source, even claims that Abu Bakr decided to enthrone Yusuf by his own free will, giving him full powers over the Maghreb and returning peacefully to the desert,57 in what appears to have been a clean transition. Nonetheless, Abu Bakr was someone who had an idea of empire, someone who struck coins with his name, someone who had the support of the jurists, and someone who the country obeyed. Was this individual willing to give up power of his own free will? Or, considering what seems to be the formation of a strong army by Yusuf, did Abu Bakr conclude that he did not have the capacity to defeat him? Ibn Idari states that he died shortly afterwards, in 468, and Ibn al-​Khatib and al-​Nasiri claim that he disappeared in 480.58 However, there were gold coins struck by Abu Bakr in Sijilmassa until 478,59 a fact that demolishes all these conjectures, since 52  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 49–​53; Ibn Abi Zar, Rawd al-​Qirtas, 137–​38. 53  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan,  50–​51.

54  Ibn Abi Zar, Rawd al-​Qirtas, 137.

55  Ibn al-​Khatib, Kitab Amal al-​Alam, 142. 56  Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-​Ibar, vol. 2, 72. 57  Al-​Nasiri, Kitab al-​Istiqsa, 140.

58  Year of 468: August 16, 1075, to August 4, 1076; year of 480: April 8, 1087, to March 27, 1088; Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 55; Ibn al-​Khatib, Kitab Amal al-​Alam, 142; al-​Nasiri, Kitab al-​Istiqsa, 140. 59  Year of 478: April 29, 1085, to April 18, 1086; Vives y Escudero, Monedas de las dinastías, 237.

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there is no possibility of coins being minted with the name of a dead sovereign. This leads to two conclusions and one strong possibility: Abu Bakr retained control over the city of Sijilmassa and the gold trade, and there was some sort of agreement between him and Yusuf. The latter may have kept Marrakesh and all the territories that he could conquer further north, but he would hardly survive without the merchandise coming from the south. Abu Bakr may have lost Aghmat and Marrakesh, but he retained Sijilmassa and access to the gold, which meant that he could control Yusuf and even force him into paying a tribute. That is not an absurd proposal if we consider Ibn Idari’s words—​“The emir Yusuf kept on sending him presents until the Negroes have killed him”60—​something that can obviously be seen as a form of tribute. And, if Abu Bakr was minting gold coins roughly until 1086—​when he probably died—​the first coins with Yusuf ’s name date from only two years later,61 a strong clue suggesting that the true suzerain was the first one. More proof that there was no clean and swift transition in Marrakesh is given by an episode that occurred one year after Abu Bakr’s death. According to Ibn Idari, his son Ibrahim went to Marrakesh to claim the kingdom of his father, which, he said, Yusuf had illegally deprived him of.62 If we consider that Abu Bakr’s death probably took place in 478—​when he stopped minting coins —​these events occurred in 479,63 when Yusuf, after conquering the whole Maghreb, was in al-​Andalus, Muslim Hispania, involved with the petty kingdom’s problems and preparing his troops to fight a victorious battle against the Christians. The famous battle of Zallaqa, against Alfonso VI of Castile and his allies, took place near the city of Badajoz in October 1086. Maybe Ibrahim considered Yusuf’s absence as an opportunity to recover Marrakesh, but the latter’s trusted men sent him away to Sijilmassa with valuable presents. Curiously, the first gold coins with Yusuf’s name were minted precisely in Sijilmassa, after the campaign of Zallaqa, which most probably means that he was able to evict Ibrahim and take possession of the trade in this metal. All these arguments prompt a conclusion: that Abu Bakr was not a humble and pious man who exchanged an empire for a reward, unlike the claims of historiography; he was most likely Yusuf ’s suzerain until the day he died fighting 60  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 55.

61  Vives y Escudero, Monedas de las dinastías, 239. 62  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 62.

63  Year of 479: April 18, 1086, to April 7, 1087.

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against the sub-​Saharan tribes. And, for some twenty years, there must have been two competing powers: an “empire of the desert,” controlled by Abu Bakr from Sijilmassa, and a potential “Mediterranean empire,” controlled by Yusuf from Marrakesh; and only after the Battle of Zallaqa was the second empire able to absorb the first and to move towards the conquest of al-​Andalus. It is safe to say that Zaynab was instrumental in helping Yusuf at that crucial moment when Abu Bakr came from the desert to claim power. But to ascribe to her the sole responsibility for giving Yusuf the idea, as the sources do, appears to be an overstatement, since he already had that strong desire for power. However, if Zaynab placed her fortune at Abu Bakr’s disposal, we can assume that she made the same offer to Yusuf—​ something that would have been essential for organizing the army and paying for the loyalty of his support group, which are two key elements when a sovereign wants to retain power, as Ibn Khaldun observes in his major work Muqaddimah.64 As far as Zaynab’s motives for helping Yusuf are concerned, we must take into account the fact that, unlike Abu Bakr, he had given her a son, a potential heir of an empire. Ibn Idari states that no other woman had more power over Yusuf, an influence that would have certainly grown stronger, when three years after al-​Mu’izz billah, another boy was born: al-​Fadl (“the bounty”).65 But still this was not enough to make Zaynab the mother of a king.

The Failed Matriarch of an Empire

Yusuf ibn Tashfin died in 1106, after two years of agony and disease. He would not live long enough to see another of Zaynab’s sons, Abu l-​Tahir Tamim,66 returning victorious from a major battle against the Christian forces in al-​Andalus. In 1108, in the fields of Uclés, along with thousands of Christian warriors, Sancho was also killed, the only son and heir of the old emperor, Alfonso VI of Castile, who was himself the offspring of a Muslim woman. At that time, presumably, neither al-​Mu’izz billah nor al-​Fadl, Yusuf’s first sons with Zaynab, were alive, since they cease to be mentioned by the sources. Neither was their mother among the living. In fact, she seems to be forgotten by the texts after those initial moments of Yusuf’s career as a political player. Ibn Abi Zar places her 64  Ibn Khaldun, Muqaddimah, 246. 65  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan,  64–​65.

66  Lévi-​Provençal, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Ali b. Yusuf,” 389.

death in 464,67 a date that is not consistent with the information conveyed by Ibn Idari, who says that her son al-​Fadl was born later, but we have seen that the chronology in this source is not quite accurate, despite the undeniable value of its contents. Ibn Abi Zar is not the most precise of the sources when it comes to dates either. Lévi-​Provençal, for his part, claims that Zaynab predeceased her husband by ten years, meaning that she died in 1096.68 If this date is correct then she lived long enough to see the Almoravid Empire with its newly extended frontiers, since her husband, after the conquest of al-​Andalus, was in control of territories that stretched from the basins of the rivers Senegal and Niger to the banks of the river Tagus, in the Iberian Peninsula. And Zaynab was in control of Yusuf; none of his other wives had the same power over him. Even so, fate decreed that none of Zaynab’s sons would be the heir of the empire. Lévi-​Provençal explains that in the Almoravid regime the fraternal relationship on the father’s side was less important than uterine kinship and that most of the legitimate princes were known by the name of their mother, such as Ibn Aisha (“son of Aisha”) or Ibn Gannuna (“son of Gannuna”). The conflicts over heritage and precedence were therefore mainly propelled by the royal mothers with the help of their relatives—​true armies—​in favour of their sons. To avoid disputes that could endanger the empire, in 1103, not long before the two-​year illness that culminated with his death, Yusuf chose Ali, his son with a former Christian slave, as his heir, expecting this to be a neutral option.69 Nevertheless, Abu l-​Tahir Tamim, who was probably by then Zaynab’s eldest son, was given the privileges of a king’s son, and made the governor of several cities both in the Maghreb and al-​Andalus. He was even the general governor of Muslim Hispania, ruling his realms from Granada until he died in 1126.70 Given the potential danger of conflicts induced by the royal wives, maybe we can propose that, if Zaynab was alive in 1103, Ali’s appointment might not have happened. It is difficult to admit that a woman who struggled so hard to acquire power would accept that the Almoravid heir was not one of her own sons. And, paradoxically, in the long term, this strategy of keeping candidates of Berber origin away from the throne, designed to save the empire, would prove 67  Year of 464: September 29, 1071, to August 16, 1072; Ibn Abi Zar, Rawd al-​Qirtas, 37. 68  Lévi-​Provençal, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Ali b. Yusuf,” 389. 69  Ibid.

70  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 169; Al-​Hulal, 116.

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to be one of the reasons for its demise. In January 1143, after ruling for thirty-​seven years, Ali ibn Yusuf, who was chosen instead of Zaynab’s son, drew his last breath amidst a cruel war against the Almohads, the Berbers from the Atlas Mountains who were trying to overthrow him. With the chaos provoked by armies on the move, crops either stolen or destroyed, severe famine and unbearable taxes to finance the military campaigns, the population was suffering greatly, and they withdrew support from the Almoravid regime and transferred their allegiance to the Almohads.71 The once all-​powerful empire that dominated the gold trade was now unable even to pay its own army. This extremely difficult situation became even worse with the war between the Lamtuna and the Massufa, the two main tribes that formed the Almoravid confederation, motivated by the defection of the latter to the Almohad movement.72 At the origin of these conflicts was the rise of Tashfin as the new emir of the failing empire. The Massufa were not pleased with Yusuf’s choice of successor in 1103 falling on the son of a Christian slave, and in 1138, after the death of Ali’s appointed heir, Sir, the emir nominated Tashfin, another son of a Christian slave. This new heir had been the general governor of al-​Andalus between 1130 and 1138 and a successful military leader against the Christians. Tashfin was probably the last hope of his father to defend the empire against the Almohads. In fact, he would be the Almoravid general and military strategist between 1139 and his death, in 1145, during a war that did not end until 1147, with the fall of Marrakesh. But the process of his appointment, not surprisingly, was tainted with conspiracy, since the mother of the deceased Sir, Qamar (“moon”), tried to manipulate the emir, Ali, to designate his son Ishaq instead, a young boy whose mother had died and who she was responsible for raising. Was Qamar a Massufa woman too? Was it her ambition that sparked this tribe’s rage against the nomination of Tashfin? The sources do not clarify these questions, but, according to Ibn Idari, she did not achieve her objectives, because Ali’s shaikhs, who were consulted in the main mosque of Marrakesh, preferred Tashfin over Ishaq.73 However, after some military defeats against the Almohads, his father considered the option of actually replacing him with Ishaq.74 Although we do not know why 71  Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-​Ibar, vol. 2, 175. 72  Ibn Idari, Al-​Bayan, 250. 73  Ibid., 222–​24. 74  Ibid., 228–​29.

Inês Lourinho

the substitution never happened, it appears that Qamar, even though she was not pleased with the setback imposed by the shaikhs, continued with her backstage influence over the emir, albeit unsuccessfully. In 1143, when Ali ibn Yusuf died, the empire was on the verge of dying with him. When Tashfin succeeded his father he was able to control the dissatisfaction regarding his appointment, but he clearly lacked the asabiyya, the clan spirit, the ties of solidarity that guaranteed the unity of the Berber groups, and after his own death in battle a couple of years later the way to Marrakesh was easier for the Almohads, who were able to conquer all the main Maghrebi cities. In a siege that lasted for several months the Lamtuna tribesmen had to defend alone the walls that Abu Bakr had started to build, Yusuf finished with Zaynab’s support and Ali consolidated. On March 23, 1147, the Almohads finally entered the city as the new lords of the Maghreb. Zaynab was not among the living when the succession crisis and the fall of the empire took place, but Qamar’s behaviour can provide us with some clues regarding the influence she had had on her own husband Yusuf ibn Tashfin, the conqueror of the Maghreb and al-​Andalus. When Qamar lost her son, Sir, whose appointment as the heir must have been secured by her political skills, she tried to manipulate the Almoravid sovereign to indicate another individual of her choice, a young boy who she could also control. We can easily conceive that Zaynab was capable of a similar strategy. Zaynab predeceased the Almoravid Empire by more than fifty years. In this half-​century the Marrakesh-​based political movement evolved to be a potent force in the Mediterranean world, a much different situation from the days when she had helped her husband Yusuf establish himself as a Maghrebi sovereign. Her wealth, intelligence, and wit procured her a position of dominance within Yusuf ’s court, not only as his wife but also as his counsellor. Perhaps the matriarchal tradition among the Saharan tribes also played a role in the elevated status that she was able to achieve, which brought her to prominence in the written sources. In a most competitive environment, in which women could not rule in a direct way, the only possible strategy for achieving power was, first, to find the right marriage; then to become the sovereign’s favourite and give birth to male offspring; and, finally, to transform these sons into kings. Yet this final element of queenship was something that neither Zaynab nor Qamar, despite their political skills, were successful at achieving.

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Bibliography

Primary Sources Abd al-​Wahid al-​Marrakushi. Kitab al-​Muyib fi Taljis Ajbar al-​Magrib. Translated by Ambrosio Huici Miranda as Lo admirable en el resumen de las noticias del Magrib. Tétouan: Editora Marroquí, 1955. Abd Allah ibn Buluggin. Al-​Tibyan an al-​Haditha al-​Kaina bi-​Dawlat Bani Ziri fi Gharnata. Translated by Évariste Lévi-​Provençal and Emilio García Gómez as El Siglo XI en 1.ª persona: Las memorias de ‘Abd Allah, último rey Zirí de Grenada destronado por los Almorávides (1090). Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 2010. Abu l-​Fida. Taqwim al-​Buldan. Translated by Joseph-​Toussaint Reinaud as La Géographie d’Aboufelda. 2 vols. Paris: Imprimerie National, 1848. Al-​Bakri. Kitab al-​Masalik wa-​l-​Mamalik. Translated by William Mac Guckin de Slane as Description de l’Afrique Septentrionale par El-​Bekri. Algiers: Typographie Adolphe Jourdan, 1913. Al-​Ghazali. “Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, Being the Second Book of the Section on Customs in the Book The Revival of the Religious Sciences.” In Marriage and Sexuality in Islam: A Translation of Al-​Ghazali’s Book on the Etiquette of Marriage from the Ihya, translated by Madelain Farah, 45–​167. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1984. Al-​Idrisi. Nuzhat al-​Mushtaq fi Ikhtiraq al-​Afaq. Translated by Reinhart P. A. Dozy and Michael Goeje as Description de l’Afrique et de l’Espagne par Edrisi. Leiden: Brill, 1866. Al-​Nasiri. Kitab al-​Istiqsa li-​Akhbar Duwwal al-​Maghrib al-​Aqsa. Translated by A. Graulle and G. S. Collin in Archives Marocaines XXI. Paris: Librairie Orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1925. Al-​Umari. Masalik al-​Absar fi Mamalik al-​Amsar. Translated partially by Maurice Gaudefroy-​Demombynes as L’Afrique moins l’Égypte. Paris: Librairie Orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1927. Al-​Wansarisi. Kitab al-​Miyar al-​Mugrib wa-​l-​Gami al-​Murib an Fatawa Ahl Ifriqiya wa-​l-​Andalus wa-​l-​Magrib. Translated partially by Vincent Lagardère as ​Histoire et société en Occident musulman au Moyen Âge:  Analyse du Miyar d’al-​Wansarisi. Madrid: Casa de Velásquez, 1995. Anon. Kitab Mafakhir al-​Barbar. Edited by Évariste Lévi-​Provençal. Rabat: Éditions Félix Moncho, 1934. Anon. Al-​Hulal al-​Mawsiyya. Translated by Ambrosio Huici Miranda as Crónica árabe de las dinastías almorávide, almohade y benimerim. Tétouan: Editora Marroquí, 1951. Ibn Abi Zar. Rawd al-​Qirtas. Translated by Ambrosio Huici Miranda as El cartás: Noticias de los reyes del Mogreb e historia de la ciudad de Fez por Aben Abi Zara. Valencia: Imprenta Hijos de F. Vives Mora, 1918. Ibn al-​Khatib. Kitab Amal al-​Alam. Translated partially by Rafaela Castrillo Márquez. Madrid: Instituto Hispano-​Árabe de Cultura, 1983. Ibn Hawqal. Kitab Surat al-​Ard. Translated partially by Nehemia Levtzion and J. F. P. Hopkins. In Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for Western African History, 43–​52. Princeton: Wiener, 2010. Ibn Idari al-​Marrakushi. Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib. Translated partially by Ambroiso Huici Miranda as Nuevos fragmentos almorávides y almohades. Valencia: Textos Medievales, 1963. Ibn Khaldun. Kitab al-​Ibar. Translated partially by William Mac Guckin de Slane as Histoire des Berbères et des dynasties musulmanes de l’Afrique septentrionale. 4 vols. Algiers: Imprimerie du Gouvernement, 1852. —​—​—. The Muqaddimah. Translated by Franz Rosenthal as An Introduction to History. Abridged ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005. Secondary Sources Gil, Moshe. “Institutions and Events of the Eleventh Century Mirrored in Geniza Letters (Part II),” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 67 (2004): 168–​84. Lévi-​Provençal, Évariste. “Aghmat.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam. 2nd ed. Edited by Hamilton A. R. Gibb, vol. 1, 250–​51. Leiden: Brill, 1986. —​—​—. “Ali b. Yusuf.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam. 2nd ed. Edited by Hamilton A. R. Gibb, vol, 1, 389–​90. Leiden: Brill, 1986.

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Lourinho, Inês. “1147: Uma conjuntura vista a partir das fontes muçulmanas.” Master’s diss., University of Lisbon, 2010. http://​ repositorio.ul.pt/​handle/​10451/​1776. Monés, Hussain. “Les Almoravides: Esquisse Historique.” Revista del Instituto Egípcio de Estudios Islámicos en Madrid 14 (1967):  49–​112. Rapoport, Yossef. Marriage, Money and Divorce in Medieval Islamic Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Robinson, Francis. The Cambridge Illustrated History of the Islamic World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Robinson, Marsha. Matriarchy, Patriarchy, and Imperial Security in Africa:  Explaining Riots in Europe and Violence in Africa. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2012. Vives y Escudero, Antonio. Monedas de las dinastías Arábigo-​Españolas. Madrid: Establecimiento Tipográfico de Fortanet, 1893.

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13 AL-​DALFA’ AND THE POLITICAL ROLE OF THE UMM AL-​WALAD IN THE LATE UMAYYAD CALIPHATE OF AL-​ANDALUS ANA MIRANDA

Introduction IN EARLY ELEVENTH-​CENTURY al-​Andalus, al-​Dalfa’, one of the concubines of the hajib1 and de facto ruler Ibn Abi ‘Amir, known as al-​Mansur, was involved in the events that led to the civil war—​f itna—​t hat preceded the downfall of the Umayyad Caliphate in Iberia. As a slave, al-​Dalfa’ had borne her master a child, ‘Abd al-​Malik, granting her the status of umm al-​walad—​literally, the “mother of a child”—​which legally improved her condition from the common form of concubinage. In 1002 al-​Mansur died and ‘Abd al-​Malik, who would be later known as al-​Muzaffar, followed his father’s footsteps in the hijaba, whereas Caliph Hisham II was left with a merely symbolic role as figurehead of the caliphate. During ‘Abd al-​Malik’s rule al-​Dalfa’ influenced some of his decisions, and after his death, in controversial circumstances, she plotted to overthrow and kill ‘Abd al-​Rahman Sanchuelo, al-​Muzaffar’s half-​brother, who had taken ‘Abd al-​Malik’s position, as Sanchuelo was suspected of having orchestrated ‘Abd al-​Malik’s death.2 Thus, al-​Dalfa’ endorsed the opponents of the Amirids in their endeavours to eradicate Sanchuelo, removing Hisham II, who had proved to be unfit for rule, and reinstalling a 1  Hajib refers to the person responsible for guarding access to the ruler. However, he often appears as a superintendent of the palace and a participant in government tasks. In al-​Andalus, the hajib assisted the prince in the tasks of administration and government and controlled the royal residence, the chancery and finance. During the reign of ‘Abd al-​Rahman III the hijaba remained vacant and was filled again by his son al-​Hakam II. Sourdel, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Hadjib: i –​the Caliphate; ii –​Spain.”

2  Considering the aforementioned particularities of the hijaba, the term “queen mother” is used in this chapter only as an analogy with the royal context, and so it will appear within quotation marks.

strong caliphate, according to the model of ‘Abd al-​Rahman [III] al-​N asir, the founder of the Umayyad Caliphate of al-​Andalus.3 The uprising was headed by a descendant of al-​N asir, Muhammad b. Hisham, whose father had been put to death a few years beforehand by al-​Muzaffar, under al-​D alfa’s counsel. After a four-​m onth period in office Sanchuelo was executed and Hisham II was dethroned. Al-​ Dalfa’ had attained her goal. However, the collapse of the Amirid regime and the absence of a strong and consensual leadership led to civil war and, ultimately, to the end of the Umayyad Caliphate, in 1031. Considering that female interference in public affairs was discouraged in al-​Andalus, as well as throughout the Muslim world, al-​Dalfa’s intervention looks surprising. A hadith spread by Aisha’s adversaries in Islam’s early days states: “A population which had put a woman in charge of its affairs shall not prosper.”4 Such distancing between women and politics rested in the concept that the domestic world was assigned to women, while men were in charge of the public dominion.5 A woman’s life outdoors was framed by a set of rules, such as the prohibition of travelling alone or in the company of anyone other than her husband or a relative she was not permitted to marry.6 3  The supporters of the late founder of the caliphate of al-​Andalus, ‘Abd al-​Rahman [III] al-​N asir, and his descendants were called “Nasrids”. They are not to be confused with the last major Muslim dynasty in the Iberian Peninsula, which ruled in Granada from the thirteenth century to the fifteenth. 4  Fierro Bello, “La mujer y el trabajo,” 44. A hadith is a traditional saying attributed to the Prophet Muhammad; Aisha was one of his wives. 5  Ibid., 35. 6  Ibid., 37.

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Despite the restrictions, it was possible for a woman to have a public life, especially when unusual situations allowed new precedents to take place. Such was the case with Sitt al-​ Mulk, daughter of the Fatimid caliph al-​’Aziz and half-​sister of al-​Hakim. Al-​Hakim’s unexpected death in 1021 cleared the path for Sitt’s regency. For two years she held power while her nephew was too young to rule, though she was never installed as caliph. During her regency she counted on the help of servants and eunuchs, starting with the slave woman Tarrakub, “who became her confidante and served her as a spy.”7 In the competitive milieu of the palace, having a network of intimate and loyal relationships was one of the highest assets a woman could hold—​something that al-​Dalfa’ was aware of too, as will be explained below. Bearing in mind that most Andalusi sources were produced under the rulers’ patronage, such sentiments regarding feminine engagement in politics explain why women are scarcely found in the political arena. Nonetheless, although authors inherited a “hierarchic concept of society, presided by men, in which women, like children and slaves, were considered fragile beings in need of protection and guidance,” at the same time they did not perform what Manuela Marín refers to as a “systematic occultation of their presence in society.”8 In fact Marín argues that “[t]‌he real veil, physical, which covered many Andalusi women—​mostly, the ones from a good family—​does not have a metaphorical equivalent in historiography.”9 Chronicles, for example, allude to female characters in their connection to the men—​ mostly rulers and high dignitaries—​who they are close to, as mothers, wives or daughters.10 Women at court “were expected to limit themselves to a decorative or strategic role within the entourage of the king or other important person in question, officially accompanying him in wars or celebrations, and doing so in an ostentatious way.”11 They were not supposed to meddle in any political activity. Those who dared to do so “were invariably portrayed as ambitious schemers, who used their feminine wiles to feather their own nests or those of their kin.”12 The actions of al-​Dalfa’ exceeded this expectation of passiveness, and the 7  Halm, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Sitt al-​Mulk.” 8  Marín, Vidas de mujeres andalusíes, 14. 9  Ibid.

10  Viguera Molins, “Asluhu li ‘l-​Ma’uli,” 716–​17. 11  Ibid., 718.

12  Barton, Conquerors, Brides, and Concubines, 37.

fact that she was involved in politics during the inception of a turbulent period in Andalusi history raises some questions regarding her degree of responsibility in it. Therefore, this chapter focuses on the importance of al-​ Dalfa’ during the late period of the Umayyad Caliphate in al-​ Andalus. We will try to trace her steps from when she was a common Amirid slave in the 970s until she retired from court life, in 1009. The topic question is how her personal agenda intersected with the interests of those who challenged the Amirid regime and longed for the reinstatement of a solid caliphate. Such a theme draws us also to the role of the harem13—​as the main space in which al-​Dalfa’ moved—​in the outbreak of the fitna.

The Slave Woman

Little is known regarding al-​Dalfa’s background and her life prior to motherhood. Her name, meaning something along the lines of “the one who has a small and thin nose,” reveals that she might have been a slave of European origin, considering that, in the opinion of María Rubiera Mata, such a depiction is not consistent with the countenance of an Arab or Berber woman.14 Like any other slave of Christian origin, she may have been captured in one of the frequent raids perpetrated by the Muslim armies into Christian lands, with the purpose of burning crops, destroying villages, and imprisoning its population. The taking of female prisoners was part of a strategy that comprised “the sexual use of Christian female captives or even freeborn wives” and intended “to destroy solidarity among Christian families and communities, inflicting shame not only on the women themselves, but also on their male coreligionists … who had failed to protect them.”15 In Christian Iberia, “[i]‌naccessibility … was the foundation upon which a woman’s honour and reputation rested,” as stated by Jarbel Rodriguez.16 Yet this “inaccessible condition” was ultimately lost, whether these women’s destiny was enslavement or a legitimate marriage, bargained away under 13  The word “harem” refers “to those parts of a house to which access is forbidden, and hence more particularly to the women’s quarters,” more common among the wealthier classes. There, they “maintained elaborate gynaecea, in which, besides their legal quota of wives, there were establishments of concubines, attendants, eunuchs and guards.” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Harīm.” 14  Rubiera Mata, “El príncipe hastiado,” 74.

15  Barton, Conquerors, Brides, and Concubines, 40. 16  Rodriguez, Captives and Their Saviors, 50.

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the scope of a peace treaty between Muslim and Christian parties, as in the case of the matrimonies of Ibn Abi ‘Amir with ‘Abda, daughter of Sancho Garcés II of Navarre, and with Teresa, daughter of Bermudo II of Galicia and León.17 Besides inflicting trauma on the Christian societies, the systematic capture of females had the purpose of reducing their reproductive capacity. Their displacement towards al-​Andalus “was seemingly designed to encourage a process of assimilation which would hinder procreation among the Christians of the North and ensure a shift in cultural and ethnic loyalties in the future.”18 As al-​Dalfa’ arrived in al-​Andalus, her first stop might have been a customs house, “where the local ruler received his share of the booty, human and otherwise, taken during the raids.”19 She might have been carried to some nobleman’s house or, perhaps, sold at a slave market. Sources attest that women of uncommon beauty and skills could be found there.20 Afterwards, she may have been trained in a number of arts and skills, making her more desirable to the aristocrats and royalty. The refined education these slaves received gave them access to “a world of male sociability,” encompassing banquets and literary sessions, which were prohibited to the legitimate wives.21 Such social gatherings served as pretexts for the caliph and important noblemen to display the beautiful and skilled women of their entourage. Therefore, it is assumed that al-​Dalfa’ was a woman with enough physical and intellectual attributes to have been included in this “elite” and to have entered the service of a nobleman with such a promising career as Ibn Abi ‘Amir. There is no evidence regarding the moment she was introduced to his harem, but, considering that according to al-Nuwayri, she gave birth to ‘Abd al-​Malik in 973,22 she 17  Dozy, Recherches sur l’histoire et la littérature de l’Espagne, vol. 1, 184–​9 2. ‘Abd al-​Rahman, the son of ‘Abda and al-​M ansur, was nicknamed Sanchuelo—​Sanjul—​as a reference to his grandfather, Sancho Garcés II. Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 43n221. 18  Barton, Conquerors, Brides, and Concubines,  40–​41. 19  Rodriguez, Captives and Their Saviors, 40.

20  Such is the case with the report known as La venta de la esclava en el Mercado (The Selling of the Slave at the Market) authored by the thirteenth-​century poet Abu al-​Baqa’ of Ronda, in which he describes profusely “a girl with the colour of gold,” who was for sale, with whom he fell in love at first sight. Unfortunately, she was too expensive for his purse. Granja Santamaría, Estudios de historia de Al-​Andalus,  57–​58. 21  Marín, Vidas de mujeres andalusíes, 116; Guichard, Structures sociales,  78–​79. 22  Al-​Nuwayri, Historia de los Musulmanes, 62.

Ana Miranda

probably had been living there for nearly a year, long before Ibn Abi ‘Amir ‘s three weddings.23 Islam granted men the right to have up to four wives and an indefinite number of concubines. In his Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, al-​Ghazali declares that “[h]‌aving numerous wives is not [indicative of love] of the world because ‘Ali was the most ascetic of the companions of the Prophet and yet he had four wives and seventeen concubines.”24 This number is close to the one estimated for the Umayyad caliphs of al-​Andalus, which according to Marín, oscillated between ten and twenty concubines for each prince.25 As a jariya (slave), al-​Dalfa’ witnessed her master’s early ascension in court, particularly from the moment he was chosen by Subh, al-​Hakam’s concubine, to manage her belongings, a move that paved the way for his promotion to treasurer and curator of successions, to judge of Seville and Niebla, and to military chief, a field in which he achieved the greatest honours and the title of “al-​Mansur” (“the Victorious”).26 Given that Ibn Abi ‘Amir al-​Mansur began systematically leading military campaigns in Iberia from 977 onwards,27 al-​ Dalfa’ might have been acquired by him or offered to him as compensation for his military services, like the mother of his firstborn son, ‘Abd Allah.28 From the moment al-​Dalfa’ gave a child to her master, al-​Mansur,29 her life changed in many aspects, as motherhood elevated her to the category of umm al-​walad. An Arab proverb affirming that “the slave who is pregnant has found her way”30 synthesizes the main idea behind this concept. Umm al-​walad “denotes in classical Islamic law a slave-​girl who has borne her master a child,” implying that she became free on the death of her master.31 This legal precept is rooted in the seventh century, in a tradition attributed to Caliph 23  Besides the aforementioned ‘Abda and Teresa, al-​Mansur had first married Asma’, the daughter of a nobleman, Ghalib, with whom he had established a political agreement by the time of his second campaign, in 977. Ibn Idhari, Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib, 442–​43. 24  Al-​Ghazali, Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, 51.

25  Marín, “Las mujeres de las clases sociales superiores”, 120. 26  Ibn Idhari, Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib, 415–​16. 27  Ibid., 439. 28  Ibid., 474.

29  From now on, only the title “al-​Mansur” will be used to refer to Ibn Abi ‘Amir. 30  Lachiri, “Andalusi Proverbs on Women,” 42.

31  Schacht, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s. v. “Umm al- Walad.”

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Umar: “A woman, who had been sold in the pre-​I slamic period by her uncle as a slave, had borne her master a son, and now, on the death of her master, was to be sold again to pay his debts, lamented her sad lot to the Prophet; the latter ordered the administrator of the estate to manumit the woman and gave him a slave in compensation.”32 Her child and all children to whom she gave birth after becoming pregnant by her master were free, as well.33 In the event of having an abortion, the slave woman could also be considered umm al-​walad.34 Cristina de la Puente alerts us to the similarities between the legal status of the “slave-​mother” and that of a wife. For example, her master had to pay compensation in case she wounded anyone, as he would do for his legitimate wife.35 Regarding children, they possessed “absolutely the same rights [as] the children of a free woman and, consequently, while protecting the slave-​mother, it is also protected the honour of one’s descendants.”36 This status put the woman in an intermediate stage between that of a slave and that of a free woman until her master’s death. For example, although she was not free, she could not be sold nor given as a guarantee by her master, neither to his creditors. Also, her master was not allowed to rent her services to others without her consent, as long as he lived, which represented an improvement in her general situation.37 Some studies address al-​Dalfa’ as the “wife” or “widow”38 of al-​Mansur. However, there is no evidence in the sources that such a wedding actually had occurred, or even that she had been manumitted during al-​Mansur’s lifetime. Al-​Ghazali 32  Ibid. 33  Ibid.

34  A late fatwa from Granada states: “A slave woman who affirms that she had an abortion after her master had made her pregnant, argues that her master wants to sell her. He claims that he could not have impregnated her because he always avoided ejaculating inside her. Two midwives testified that this slave woman aborted at his master’s house, and a third one that she saw the foetus without having assisted at the abortion.” The response to this petition was favourable to her: “She will be considered as slave-​mother (umm al-​w alad).” Al-​Wansarisi, Histoire et société en Occident musulman, 424.

warns that the woman cannot be “totally or partially a slave of the marrier,”39 meaning that the slave’s previous emancipation was mandatory. The fact that al-​Dalfa’ is portrayed in sources as “the mother of the hajib ‘Abd al-​Malik” and “concubine”40 suggests that she remained umm al-​walad, that neither manumission nor marriage were undertaken and that only after al-​Mansur’s death did she become, as the law predetermined, a free woman.

The Spectatress

Caliph al-​Hakam II died in 366/​976, and Hisham, regardless of being roughly eleven years old, succeeded him in the caliphate. 41 Possibly aware of the perils surrounding her inexperienced son, Subh looked around for allies, and started by promoting the vizier al-​Mushafi to hajib.42 Over the next few years al-​Mansur devoted himself to her service and increased his influence, which raised suspicions regarding the nature of their relationship. 43 Al-​M ansur acted as the single linkage between Subh and the viziers,44 so it did not take long for Subh to become ill-​a ffected towards al-​Mushafi and to replace him with her new Amirid protégé.45 The new chamberlain began by building a citadel for himself on the outskirts of Cordoba, in which he settled viziers, secretaries, servants, and his personal guard, while imprisoning the young caliph in the citadel of Cordoba, where he was permanently escorted by doormen, guards, and spies.46 Meanwhile, he undermined caliphal prerogatives, such as by using his own seal on official documents instead of the caliph’s seal and by the transfer of the royal treasure to al-​Zahira,47 leaving Hisham “nothing else rather than the nominal power, the invocation in the mosques and his name 39  Al-​Ghazali, Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, 81.

40  Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 35, 38, 57, 65; Ibn al-​Khatib, Kitab A’mal al-​A’lam, 229 (with a brief acknowledgement to André Oliveira Leitão, MA, for helping me with the German translation). 41  Ibn Idhari, Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib, 418–​19.

42  Una descripción anónima de al-​Andalus, 185.

35  Puente, “Mujeres cautivas en ‘la tierra del Islam,’ ” 26.

43  Ibn Idhari, Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib, 417.

38  Rubiera Mata, “El príncipe hastiado,” 74; Marín, “Las mujeres de las clases sociales superiores,” 117.

46  Ibid., 192.

36  Ibid., 29.

37  Santillana, Istituzioni di diritto musulmano malichita, 156–​57.

44  Una descripción anónima de al-​Andalus, 189. 45  Ibid., 185. 47  Ibid., 195.

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inscribed in the products of tiraz48 and in coins, for al-​Mansur was the real owner of the kingdom.”49 Moreover, al-​Mansur continued with imports of Slavs50 from Christian Europe to serve either as soldiers or as bureaucrats, and he brought from North Africa whole tribes of Berbers to serve in his armies. These contingents were tied to him by bonds of personal clientele, “while their loyalty to the caliph and the caliphal institution, such as it was, received expression in a general loyalty to the regime headed by al-​ Mansur as the caliph’s representative.”51 His successful military policy, with more than fifty raids undertaken into Christian territory52, provided loot twice a year and maintained a cohesive and focused army, under his governance. In the meanwhile, in the newly built palace of al-​Zahira, al-​Dalfa’ was raising her son, surrounded by a multitude of people. Considering that, on the death of Caliph al-​Nasir, more than 6,000 women, including relatives, concubines, and servants, lived in the aulic compound of Madinat al-​Zahra and that, by the end of the tenth century, al-​Zahira housed most of the government staff, besides the Amirid family itself, the number of women in the Amirid household may have been, at least, quite similar. Side by side with wives there were the jawari, the slave women, most of them khadim, domestic servants. According to Ibn Idhari, there were 3,750 slave eunuchs serving in Madinat al-​Zahra, in order to guard it and coordinate logistics.53 It is likely that numbers would not have 48  Tiraz is a Persian loan word originally meaning “embroidery” or “decorative work” (‘alam) on a garment or piece of fabric. It later came to mean a khil’a, a robe of honour, richly adorned with elaborate embroidery, especially in the form of embroidered bands with writing upon them. Rabbat, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Tiraz,” 534.

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differed much at al-​Zahira. In fact, considering the systematic imports of Slavs and the capture of Christians undertaken by al-​Mansur, such numbers may have even increased. Therefore, a vast number of subordinates, who were in charge of vestures or food, were supervised by other slaves, men or women, who answered to the fata54 al-​Mayurqi, who managed al-​Mansur’s household and harem.55 The functioning of the palace implied that a large number of people commuted between it and the city—​a growing tendency as the palatine structure became heavier as a result of the Amirid policy of centralization. However, despite being surrounded by female competition, al-​Dalfa’ and her son benefited from advantageous circumstances. Even though al-​Mansur already had a son, ‘Abd Allah, born from a slave woman, he was not certain regarding his paternity, as the istibra’,56 or period of abstinence that followed the transfer of a female slave, had not been observed. In fact, al-​Mansur had always shown more affection towards ‘Abd al-​Malik than towards his firstborn, which made ‘Abd Allah a resentful young man and led him to rebel by joining some of his father’s enemies; al-​Mansur could not let this attitude go unpunished, and thus he ordered his killing.57 Whether al-​Mansur’s doubts regarding his parenthood were reasonable or just an excuse in order to absolve him from public judgement, it is impossible to know. Either way, ‘Abd Allah’s demise cleared the path for ‘Abd al-​Malik’s ascent and, subsequently, favoured al-​Dalfa’s position. Regardless of al-​M ansur’s fondness towards ‘Abd al-​ Malik, there might have been a more pragmatic reason for his choice: if Sanchuelo, who had royal lineage from the side of his mother, ‘Abda,58 fulfilled the hijaba, the Navarrese could potentially gain influence on him due to his blood ties to their dynasty. Thus, the handing over of public affairs to the son of

49  Una descripción anónima de al-​Andalus, 191.

50  These were known as saqaliba. One of their functions was the guarding of the royal harem. For such purposes, those who were chosen for this employment were castrated as children. Others were educated for administrative duties, while others were trained as an elite caliphal bodyguard. Many of them took surnames with military significance, such as Mujahid (warrior) or Muqatil (fighter), as opposed to the saqaliba of the palace administration, who took names meaning amber (Anbar), radiant (Zuhayr), blessing (Khayran), trustworthy (Wathiq) or pearl (Jumn). Scales, The Fall of the Caliphate of Cordoba, 134. 51  Wasserstein, The Rise and Fall of the Party-​Kings, 42.

52  The Dikr informs that al-​Mansur headed fifty-​six raids:  Una descripción anónima de al-​Andalus, 196. 53  Ibn Idhari, Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib, 383.

54  While, in the East, fata means a man-​ or maidservant, in al-​ Andalus, during the caliphate, it referred to a slave or freedman, castrated or not. Among slaves, they occupied the highest position in the palatine hierarchy, and frequently were sent to the provinces as military chiefs or governors. Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 17n34. 55  Marín, “Las mujeres de las clases sociales superiores,” 123

56  Istibra’ refers to “the period of sexual abstinence imposed on an unmarried female slave whenever she changed hands or her master set her free or gave her in marriage”; this normally lasted three months. See Linant de Bellefonds, The Encyclopaedia of Islam, s.v. “Istibra’,” 252. 57  Ibn Idhari, Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib, 470–​75. 58  See note 13.

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a former slave woman of unknown origin presented a lesser risk in endangering Andalusi authority. In 1002 al-​Mansur fell ill, and he prepared his succession. One of his tasks was to entrust al-​Dalfa’ with his son’s heritage: “The money that your mother keeps is the sustenance of your power and the ammunition towards any contingency.”59 ‘Abd al-​Malik’s libertine behaviour and excessive spending in his early life, similar to that of his half-​brother Sanchuelo,60 might have discouraged his father from giving him his legacy directly. Additionally, with ‘Abd al-​Malik his appointed beneficiary, it was expected that al-​Dalfa’, as his mother, would work in his best interests. However, at that moment, al-​ Mansur could not guess how far she would go in the pursuit of that goal.

The Advisor

During al-​Mansur’s rule al-​Dalfa’ seems to have conducted herself discreetly, raising her son behind the walls of al-​ Zahira. However, that would change after Al-​Mansur’s death in 1002 and her son ‘Abd al-​M alik’s elevation to power. Soon afterwards ‘Abd al-​Malik, who later took the title of “al-​Muzaffar” (“the Victorious”), after his victory in his fifth campaign, in 1006/​7, in which he defeated Sancho García of Castile,61 followed his father in the hijaba for six years and four months.62 All through this period he carried on al-​Mansur’s policy according to his instructions:63 “[H]‌is authority was avowed and no one amid his inhabitants refused to submit him.”64 Ibn Idhari underlines that the new chamberlain safeguarded his mother’s position and held her in the highest esteem.65 The first half of al-​Muzaffar’s tenure was rather stable, but soon some challenges emerged. In 1005/​6, while returning from an expedition in the direction of Pamplona, an uprising took place in Cordoba, starred by the ‘amma, the common people, “[b]‌ecause no young captives had been brought, with whom they could delight themselves according to custom”—​ something that displeased some popular groups, especially 59  Granja Santamaría, Estudios de historia de Al-​Andalus, 119.

slave traders.66 As al-​Muzaffar suppressed the turmoil, he raised antipathy towards him and the Amirids. Such events may have encouraged al-​Dalfa’ to tighten surveillance over her family, now that it was clear that her son’s rule was not consensual among the Cordovans. Around this time we find al-​Dalfa’ at the core of a plot with the aim of discrediting vizier Isa b. Sa’id Ibn al-​Qatta’. According to Ibn Bassam, al-​Muzaffar had fallen in love with the daughter of the vizier’s gardener. Isa b. Sa’id had helped them in their romance, and the hajib ended up marrying her, which enraged al-​Dalfa’. It is possible that she had been so fond of her daughter-​in-​law, Jaylal, who already had borne al-​ Muzaffar a son, that she took his new marriage as an insult. However, it is more likely that she feared Isa’s influence over al-​Muzaffar through his new wife.67 In fact, Isa b. Sa’id had steadily become a powerful figure at court, gathering support among the army, collecting wealth through underhand ways and taking advantage of the confidence ‘Abd al-​Malik al-​Muzaffar had bestowed in him. In return, the “intimate of ‘Abd al-​Malik confabulated against Isa and showed him open hostility,” disseminating “falsehoods and backbiting in an open and surreptitious way” and “using the harem and the domestic staff”68 with such purpose. Isa was already persona non grata in the harem “due to the antipathy and few courtesies, for which he had become hateful to a lot of them, especially to al-​Dalfa’.”69 Trapped in a dead end, Isa would join efforts with Hisham b. ‘Abd al-​Jabbar, grandson of the late caliph al-​Nasir, in order to overthrow the Amirids and put this Nasrid descendent in the place of Hisham II, whose frail character was unsuited to ruling.70 Another version refers to “a man who aspired to be alfaqui [an expert in law]” informing al-​Dalfa’ about a conspiracy organized by Isa: “[The man] who enjoyed the total confidence of al-​Dalfa’, mother of ‘Abd al-​Malik, spoke to her from the other side of a curtain—​thus she listened to his sincere opinion concerning the government of his son and [he] brought to her the aspirations of the people regarding his affairs.”71 It would not take long until she “entered [the room] where her son was, convinced him of the truth of the

60  Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 11.

66  Ibid., 20.

63  Granja Santamaría, Estudios de historia de Al-​Andalus, 117–​20.

69  Ibid., 35

61  Ibid., 21.

62  Una descripción anónima de al-​Andalus, 185–​86. 64  Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 11. 65  Ibid.,  11–​12.

67  Rubiera Mata, “El príncipe hastiado,” 74.

68  Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 35. 70  Ibid.,  35–​36. 71  Ibid., 38.

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accusation against Isa and urged him to decree his death.”72 A third account claims that this alfaqui “had a virtuous mother, known as Comadrona [the Midwife], who enjoyed al-​ Dalfa’s kind esteem,” who was aware of Isa’s alleged intentions in overthrowing al-​Muzaffar and prevented her.73 Isa was executed and, a few days later, Hisham b. ‘Abd al-​Jabbar was imprisoned and never seen again74—​and al-​Dalfa’ had played a decisive role in sealing the destiny of these two men. However, as al-​Muzaffar was about to leave for a winter campaign in 1008 against Castile, a chest illness from which he had been suffering grew worse, and he died.75 It was suggested that his brother, ‘Abd al-​Rahman Sanchuelo, had orchestrated his death.76 Some chroniclers even describe the method employed: “[P]‌oisoning him with an apple, cut in two with a knife, infected on one of its surfaces.”77 Peter Scales considers this is a possibility, once al-​Muzaffar’s promotion (and, subsequently, his mother’s) had downgraded the position of Sanchuelo and ‘Abda. Thus, according to the author, it is possible that there may have been Navarrese initiative—​or, at least, interest—​in the replacement of ‘Abd al-​Malik by Sanchuelo.78 Although Sanchuelo’s interference in his brother’s death may be unclear, he rapidly took al-​Malik’s position, though he lasted a mere four months in office.79 His ineptitude regarding public affairs soon raised controversy. One of the accusations that hung over him was the overly familiar approach he had towards the caliph. While his ancestors had “honoured the caliph’s majesty, keeping themselves away from him, spacing the meetings,” Sanchuelo “hurried himself, in his passion, to the side which one should stay away from, and affirmed his familiarity with Hisham.”80 The caliph himself was not free 72  Ibid.

73  Ibid., 39.

74  Ibid.,  40–​41. 75  Ibid., 42.

76  “The chronicler said: the people, from the beginning of ‘Abd al-​ Malik’s death, because it befell suddenly and so rapidly, was sure to tell that a poisonous potion had been cunningly acquired and surreptitiously administrated to him on behalf of his brother Abd al-​Rahman, by the hand of one of the servants of Abd al-​Malik al-​ Muzaffar, on the consequence of which he died; though there are discrepancies regarding on how it was given to drink. God knows.” Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 43. 77  Ibn al-​Athir, Annales du Maghreb et de l’Espagne, 384. 78  Scales, The Fall of the Caliphate of Cordoba, 40. 79  Una descripción anónima de al-​Andalus, 186.

80  Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 45.

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from criticism. The people “disapproved their caliph’s benevolence towards him [Sanchuelo] and considered it foolishness and insolence.”81 Simultaneously, Sanchuelo adopted a repressive stance towards his—​real or imaginary—​ opponents. Therefore, he “pursued many men and reached his hand against them, depriving them from their property, assigning them false sayings and doings, in a way that the people was alarmed with it.”82 Tension grew once Hisham had consented to the hajib being named “presumptive heir of the kingdom of the Muslims,”83 after Sanchuelo had appealed to a vague common kinship bond (their mothers were both Basques, which was enough, in his perspective, to validate his ambitions).84 On November 6, 1008, Sanchuelo took the caliphate with the support of the army.85 The hajib was now caliph. The next morning the new Prince of the Believers received the most important noblemen of al-​Andalus, who entered the room in accordance with their rank and pledged him allegiance. During the same ceremony ‘Abd al-​Aziz, son of Sanchuelo, was nominated hajib. Finally, the Amirids had full control of the institutions of power. Sanchuelo supported his newly attained position by buying the loyalty of the troops, both Berber and Andalusi. At the same time, he forbade the noblemen and everyone who served the caliphate from wearing their traditional hoods. Instead, they would have to wear turbans, like the Berbers, under the threat of punishment,86 with the purpose of humiliating the Umayyad supporters. The Nasrids concluded that it was crucial to suppress Sanchuelo and, bearing in mind how Hisham’s frail character had contributed to this outcome, to choose another Umayyad to rule al-​Andalus. Tension was rising both inside and outside al-​Zahira, and al-​Dalfa’ spotted the perfect opportunity to take vengeance for her son’s death.

The Avenger

In the previous decades al-​M ansur had persecuted the Nasrids, executing many of them. Al-​Muzaffar acted in the same way, in order to uphold his power. Al-​Dalfa’ had partaken 81  Ibid., 47. 82  Ibid., 44. 83  Ibid.

84  Ibid., 47. 85  Ibid., 48.

86  Ibid.,  51–​52.

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in the death sentence inflicted upon two alleged plotters, the aforementioned Isa b. Sa’id and Hisham b. ‘Abd al-​Jabbar. ‘Abd al-​Rahman Sanchuelo’s behaviour, simultaneously licentious and violent, ignited what was already a precarious situation. The Nasrid faction found a committed aspirant to the caliphate in Muhammad b. Hisham b. ‘Abd al-​Jabbar, whose father had been incarcerated and sentenced to death by al-​Muzaffar. An unlikely ally would be al-​Dalfa’, due to the “deadly hatred”87 she held against Sanchuelo. For this reason, she “looked for his ruin, though ‘Abd al-​Rahman treated her fairly, increased her position and left her the son of his brother, ‘Abd al-​Malik, his son; as well as her harem and property, without failing her in whatever was suitable to her condition.”88 Nevertheless, these benefits did not appease her thirst for revenge. Al-​Dalfa’ therefore aligned with her former enemies, the Nasrids, and encouraged them to rebel against Sanchuelo. She started by reaching out to Bushra, an Amirid slave who had belonged to the Banu Marwan,89 and to whom he was still loyal.90 Through him, she invited the Marwanids to rebel, while promising financial aid. In the words of Ibn al-​Khatib: “The Marwanids forwarded him [Bushra] towards a wrathful representative of their house [Muhammad], to a gang of daredevils and adventurers, rebels, imprudent and turbulent, of thieves and bandits, Muhammad of his name, later known as al-​Mahdi [the Well-​Guided].”91 Muhammad embraced al-​ Dalfa’s initiative and gathered the support of the masses in Cordoba. His partisans spread rumours about an upcoming rebellion being prepared and emphasized the Amirids’ flaws in such a way that the Cordovans’ loathing towards the hajib and his relatives was impossible to restrain.92 The moment had arrived to dethrone Sanchuelo. Accordingly, Ibn Idhari talks about Muhammad al-​Mahdi as “the door to sedition [fitna] and the cause of division and duplicity.”93 While Sanchuelo was absent, heading north on a military campaign, revolution erupted in Cordoba. Sanchuelo was near Toledo when he received reports about the destruction 87  Ibid., 57. 88  Ibid.

89  The branch of the Umayyad family who ruled al-​Andalus. 90  Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 57. 91  Ibn al-​Khatib, Kitab A’mal al-​A’lam, 229.

92  Ibn Idhari, La caída del califato de Córdoba, 58. 93  Ibid., 56.

of al-​Zahira came. He tried to keep the military under his influence by handing over benefits to them in profusion, “to the point that there was a complete lack of parchment and several types of skin were used instead of sheets.”94 However, this was a worthless tactic, as the pillage of al-​Zahira left his soldiers with no hope of being paid, and soon they left him.95 He was found and executed by the new hajib, Ibn Dura, freedman of al-​Hakam II, sent by the new Prince of the Believers to kill him.96 In Cordoba, while the mob rejoiced while displaying Sanchuelo’s corpse, there were those who became apprehensive over the latest events, which were perceived as an inversion of everything that had constituted the known order up till then. The city of Cordoba had been taken and the city of al-​Zahira destroyed; a caliph with a long-​term rule, who was Hisham b. al-​ Hakam, was deposed and proclaimed a caliph who had no previous right and unelected, who was Muhammad b.  Hisham b.  ‘Abd al-​Jabbar; the family of ‘Amir disappeared and the Banu Umayyad returned to power; the creation of popular troops, joined to replace the stiff and trained ones of the sovereign and at last the fall of the great viziers and the elevation of their contraries, the ones the eyes despised due to their lowness and villainy. And all this happened by the hand of about ten of the vilest men of the people: bleeders, shoemakers, breeders and scavengers who dared to do so. Fate has guaranteed its accomplishment and has been materialised, something that the human reason could not have foreseen.97

As for al-​Dalfa’, while pursuing her vindictive goal, she put herself at the epicentre of the outbreak of civil and military turmoil. The new caliph protected her and her grandson, allowing her to move into her own house, in which “she remained surrounded by her possessions, in liberty to dispose of her own property,” for the reason that, before the turmoil, she had—​wisely—​removed her possessions from al-​Zahira and put them in a secure place.98 Her grandson, Muhammad b. ‘Abd al-​Malik, collected his family treasure, and 94  Ibid.,  70–​71. 95  Ibid., 55.

96  Ibid.,  72–​73. 97  Ibid., 74. 98  Ibid., 66.

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later, as an adult, he would get involved in the fitna, as sovereign of Orihuela and Murcia.99

Conclusion: Assessing al-​Dalfa’s Agency

From alleged Christian descent, al-​D alfa’ might have integrated into the selective group of beautiful and educated slave women who were destined to serve in the harems. Some were chosen by their masters to share their chambers. Such was the case with al-​Dalfa’, who, in 973, gave birth to ‘Abd al-​ Malik al-​Muzaffar, al-​Mansur’s successor in the hijaba. Her pregnancy granted her the status of umm al-​walad, a position that allowed her to become a free woman on the death of her master. Following al-​Mansur’s demise her political role would become visible, as mother of the de facto ruler of al-​ Andalus—​in practice, the equivalent of a “queen mother”. Al-​Dalfa’ was present at al-​Muzaffar’s most controversial decision, namely the execution of the so-​called traitors Sa’id b. Qatta’ and Hisham b. ‘Abd al-​Jabbar. Moreover, she was among the main instigators of a coup that overthrew Sanchuelo and ignited a civil war that would last more than twenty years, after which the Umayyad Caliphate of al-​Andalus collapsed. Considering the physical confinement and seclusion from public affairs under which Muslim women lived, especially those from the upper socio-​e conomic groups, al-​D alfa’ manoeuvres were beyond what was expected and possible to foresee. Although plotting in the harem in order to gain the favour of the royal spouse had always taken place in Andalusi history, such intrigues “consisted in some mother questing for sovereign succession for a child of her own.”100 During the Amirid period such a pattern seems to have given rise to a more assertive female role in Andalusi politics. At the end of the tenth century Subh tried to regain control of the state for her son, Caliph Hisham II, with the help of her brother, the fata Ra’iq, but she did not succeed in doing so.101 Being a contemporary of Subh, is likely that al-​Dalfa’ saw in her a role model on how a “queen mother” should act in order to defend the interests of her offspring. However, there were some circumstances during the Amirid administration that 99  More details regarding his life can be found in Rubiera Mata, “El príncipe hastiado”.

100  Viguera Molins, “Reflejos cronísticos de mujeres andalusíes y magrebíes,” 837. 101  Scales, The Fall of the Caliphate of Cordoba,  40–​41.

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permitted al-​Dalfa’s actions to have a range of consequences that transcended the walls of al-​Zahira. Al-​Mansur, needing to establish new foundations for his authority, intensified the recruitment of exogenous elements of Berber, Christian, and Slavic origin for both army and administration. He ascribed positions to them at the palace and put in place a loyal clientele. The Amirid party was thus reinforced against those officials and servants who stood by the Nasrids and still dreamt of restoring the caliphate to the image of the glorious days of al-​Nasir. The palace was the platform where these different sensitivities interacted, the friction they created echoed through the walls of the harem, and al-​Dalfa’ sensed it. Furthermore, outside information reached her through her acquaintances, people she was allowed to receive as guests, such as the midwife who allegedly warned her about a conspiracy targeting her son. Later, al-​Dalfa’ engaged herself in a conspiracy with the same faction that had previously wanted to overthrow her son and that she had unmasked. For that purpose, she sought the cooperation of Bushra, the slave, in order to reach those who could depose her son’s alleged murderer. In both situations, she used a network of people with enough freedom to move between the palace and the city, establishing a connection between her and the world beyond the curtain that she was not allowed to transgress. By the time al-​Dalfa’ reached the status of umm al-​walad she had already dealt with courtly life long enough to understand the milieu and how to survive in it. Analyzing her acuity while she planned the aftermath of the uprising, we may ask ourselves whether her involvement aimed, above all, to ensure her preservation from the devastating effects of an insurrection that was likely to happen. Al-​Dalfa’ was aware of the different political sensitivities both in the harem and outside the walls of al-​Zahira. Therefore, her survival instinct might have led her to change to the side of the rebels, because, from the moment Muhammad al-​Mahdi and his militias stepped into al-​Zahira, it was unlikely that she and her grandson would survive. Her share of the responsibility in the collapse of the Amirids is assessed in the financial support she bestowed upon a faction that, apparently, did not have the resources to do so, once most of the wealth had been transferred to al-​Zahira during al-​Mansur’s governance. Other attempts to remove the Amirids had germinated before within the palace, and one had even been detected by her. A change in the regime was possible only if it started from the inside.

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Al-Dalfa’

Ultimately, it was al-​Mansur’s money kept by al-​Dalfa’ that financed the end of his dynasty. The harem, whose raison d’être had been to extol its master’s resources and to provide him his most intimate circle in which to seek refuge, was, during the late tenth and early eleventh centuries, the ground in which disruptive forces grew. Al-​Dalfa’ and her actions were the product of

al-​Mansur’s political choices, as he handed over public affairs to a hierarchically organized battery of slaves and mercenaries, held together through a mixture of loyalty, fear, and money. Al-​Mansur did not predict that blood bonds, personal inclinations, and a mother’s fierce desire for revenge could use the structure and resources of a regime he had created with the purpose of putting an end to it.

18

Bibliography

Ana Miranda

Primary Sources Anon. Una descripción anónima de al-​Andalus (Dikr bilad al-​Andalus). Translated by Luis Molina. 2 vols. Madrid: Instituto Miguel Asín, Spanish National Research Council, 1983. Al-​Ghazali. “Book on the Etiquette of Marriage, Being the Second Book of the Section on Customs in the Book The Revival of the Religious Sciences.” In Marriage and Sexuality in Islam: A Translation of Al-​Ghazali’s Book on the Etiquette of Marriage from the Ihya, translated by Madelain Farah, 45–​167. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1984. Al-​Nuwayri. Historia de los Musulmanes de España y África. Translated by M. Gaspar Remiro. Granada:  Tipográfico de El Defensor, 1917. Al-​Wansarisi. Histoire et société en Occident musulman au Moyen Âge: Analyse du Mi’yar d’al-​Wansharisi. Translated by Vincent Lagardère. Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 1995. Ibn al-​Athir. Annales du Maghreb et de l’Espagne. Edited and translated by Edmond Fagnan. Algiers: Typographie Adolphe Jourdan, 1898. Ibn Idhari. Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib:  Histoire de l’Afrique et de l’Espagne. Edited and translated by Edmond Fagnan. 2 vols. Algiers: Gouvernement Général d’Algérie, 1904. —​—​—. La caída del califato de Córdoba y los reyes de Taifas (Al-​Bayan al-​Mugrib). Translated by Felipe Maíllo Salgado. Salamanca: University of Salamanca Press, 1993. Ibn al-​Khatib. Kitab A’mal al-​A’lam:  Islamische Geschichte Spaniens. Translated [into German] by Wilhelm Hoenerbach. Zurich: Artemis, 1970. Secondary Sources Anon. “Harīm.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, edited by Joseph Schacht, Bernard Lewis, Charles Pellat, and Victor L. Ménage, vol. 3, 209. Leiden: Brill, 1986. Barton, Simon. Conquerors, Brides, and Concubines:  Interfaith Relations and Social Power in Medieval Iberia. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015. Brownmiller, Susan. Against Our Will: Men, Women, and Rape. New York: Ballantine Books, 1993. Dozy, Reinhart P. A. Recherches sur l’histoire et la littérature de l’Espagne pendant le Moyen Age. 2 vols. Paris: Maisonneuve, 1881. Fierro Bello, María Isabel. “La mujer y el trabajo en el Corán y el hadiz.” In La mujer en Al-​Andalus: Reflejos históricos de su actividad y categorías sociales, edited by María J. Viguera, 35–​51. Madrid: Autonomous University of Madrid, 1989. Granja Santamaría, Fernando de la. Estudios de historia de Al-​Andalus. Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1999. Guichard, Pierre. Structures sociales “orientales” et “occidentales” dans l’Espagne musulmane. Paris: Mouton, 1977. Halm, Heinz. “Sitt al-​Mulk.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, edited by Gérard Lecomte, Emericus J. van Donzel, Wolfhart P. Heinrichs, and C. Edmund Bosworth, vol. 9, 685–​86. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Lachiri, Nadia. “Andalusi Proverbs on Women.” In Writing the Feminine: Women in Arab Sources, edited by Manuela Marín and Randi Deguilhem, 41–​48. London: I B Tauris, 2002. Linant de Bellefonds, Yvon. “Istibra’.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, edited by Bernard Lewis, Charles Pellat, and Emericus J. van Donzel, vol. 4, 252–​54. Leiden: Brill, 1998. Marín, Manuela. “Las mujeres de las clases sociales superiores:  Al-​Andalus, desde la conquista hasta finales del califato de Córdoba.” In La mujer en Al-​Andalus:  Reflejos históricos de su actividad y categorías sociales, edited by María J. Viguera, 105–​27. Madrid: Autonomous University of Madrid, 1989. —​—​—. Vidas de mujeres andalusíes. Malaga: Editorial Sarriá, 2006. Puente, Cristina de la. “Mujeres cautivas en ‘la tierra del Islam.’” Al-​Andalus—​Magreb 14 (2007): 19–​37. Rabbat, Nasser. “Tiraz.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, edited by Peri J. Bearman, Thierry Bianquis, C. Edmund Bosworth, Emericus J. van Donzel, and Wolfhart P. Heinrichs, vol. 10, 534–​38. Leiden: Brill, 2000. Rodriguez, Jarbel. Captives and Their Saviors in the Medieval Crown of Aragon. Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2007.

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Rubiera Mata, María J. “El príncipe hastiado, Muhammad ibn ‘Abdalmalik ibn ‘Abi Amir, efímero soberano de Orihuela y Murcia.” Sharq Al-​Andalus 4 (1987): 73–​81. Santillana, David. Istituzioni di diritto musulmano malichita con riguardo anche al sistema sciafiita. 2 vols. Rome: Istituto per l’Oriente, 1925. Scales, Peter. The Fall of the Caliphate of Cordoba. Leiden: Brill, 1994. Schacht, Joseph. “Umm al-​Walad.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, edited by Peri J. Bearman, Thierry Bianquis, C. Edmund Bosworth, Emericus J. van Donzel, and Wolfhart P. Heinrichs, vol. 10, 857–​59. Leiden: Brill, 2000. Sourdel, Dominique. “Hadjib: i –​the Caliphate; ii –​Spain.” In The Encyclopaedia of Islam, edited by Joseph Schacht, Bernard Lewis, Charles Pellat, and Victor L. Ménage, vol. 3, 44–​45. Leiden: Brill, 1986. Viguera Molins, María J. “Asluhu li ‘l-​Ma’uli: On the Social Status of Andalusi Women.” In The Legacy of Muslim Spain, edited by Salma Khadra Jayyusi, vol. 2, 709–​24. Leiden: Brill, 1994. —​—​—. “Reflejos cronísticos de mujeres andalusíes y magrebíes.” Anaquel de Estudios Árabes 12 (2001): 829–​41. Wasserstein, David. The Rise and Fall of the Party-​Kings: Politics and Society in Islamic Spain, 1002–​1086. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985.

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14 THE KHITAN EMPRESS DOWAGERS YINGTIAN AND CHENGTIAN IN LIAO CHINA, 907–​1125* HANG LIN

The Liao lived on horseback. Both empresses and imperial concubines were good at shooting and riding. They always followed [the emperors] in military affairs and hunting. […] These customs are unprecedented.1

This sentence concludes the biographies of imperial women in the Liao dynastic history compiled in the fourteenth century, the Liaoshi 遼史 (History of the Liao). Founded by the nomadic Khitan (Chinese: Qidan 契丹) tribesmen from the eastern Mongolian steppe, the Liao 遼 (907–​1125) dynasty is characterized by a series of powerful empresses and empress dowagers, all determined and ambitious, who played a predominant role in Liao court politics, and even in military affairs, in a conspicuous manner. Despite the traditional Chinese view that imperial women should retreat from state affairs and never concern themselves with anything but the domestic events of the inner quarter, involving women in state politics, or even to rule as female regents on behalf of their progeny, was a time-​honoured Chinese institution.2 In total, the 2,000 years *  I am grateful to Naomi Standen and Zheng Yangwen for their invaluable inputs on the topic of Khitan imperial women and the detailed comments by the editor of this volume. While a general study of Khitan regents and imperial women is provided in the chapter “Nomadic Mothers as Rulers in China: Female Regents of the Khitan Liao (907–​1125),” in Royal Mothers and Their Ruling Children: Wielding Political Authority from Antiquity to the Early Modern Era, edited by Ellie Woodacre and Carey Fleiner (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), this chapter focuses more intensively on Empress Dowagers Yingtian and Chengtian. The research is funded by the Hangzhou Young Talents in Social Sciences programme (2018RCZX11). 1  Tuotuo, Liaoshi (hereafter LS), 71: 1207.

2  For a discussion of the warnings against female rule in early China, see McMahon, “Women Rulers in Imperial China,” 216; and Women Shall Not Rule,  15–​17.

of Chinese imperial history have witnessed some thirty empress dowagers who served as regents of their dynasties and reigned as actual rulers.3 Compared to many native Chinese dynasties, including the Northern Song 北宋 dynasty (960–​1127), the contemporary of the Liao, which produced five female regents in only 166 years of existence, it seems that the Liao imperial women may not have been as unusual as the Liaoshi claims.4 However, in native Chinese dynasties, imperial consorts were normally given restricted access to power under the circumstances of national emergency, such as the illness or sudden death of the reigning emperor when no mature heirs were available. The Liao empresses, on the other hand, did not have to wait for the development of such conditions to exert their influence. Many of them had already been powerful and shared the authority of ruling with their husbands during the lifetime of the latter. Moreover, noble Khitan women were indeed unusual in terms of their martial activities. Many Khitan imperial women were capable administrators and, at the same time, vigorous military leaders as well. Although Confucian concepts of womanly ideals, such as learning, presenting loyalty, and giving sage advice to their imperial husbands, were not absent in biographies of Liao imperial women, they were also good at hunting, martial skills, and military leadership, which traditional Chinese standards for virtuous behaviour of exemplary women certainly do not condone.5 These qualities of Liao imperial women become particularly unusual at a time when, in Song China, the sexes 3  Yang, “Female Rulers in Imperial China.”

4  On the Song female regents, see Chung, Palace Women in the Northern Sung. 5  See Zhao, Zhongguo funü, 111. For an English summary of Zhao’s arguments, see Yang, “Female Rulers in Imperial China,” 50–​51.

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were separated from childhood and women were increasingly becoming sequestered inside their homes, as Patricia Buckley Ebrey has argued in her classic work The Inner Quarters.6 Although to Confucian historians such activities were absolutely unusual and unfeminine, especially from the Song dynasties onwards, it is interesting to note that the Inner Asian neighbours of the Khitan, including the Xianbei 鮮卑, Tanguts, and Mongols, shared much in common in terms of the particular roles of women in military and politics. Women of nomadic regimes, as cogently argued by Karl Wittfogel and Feng Chia-​sheng, Jennifer Holmgren, and Keith McMahon, were allowed considerably greater participation in political and military decisions than were their Han Chinese counterparts.7 The stories of powerful empresses and dowagers of the Northern Wei 北魏 (386–​589) of the Xianbei and the Turko-​Mongolian regimes of Inner Asia, vigorously participating in military and political activities, are well illustrated in extensive studies.8 The Liao imperial consorts, combining political assertiveness and martial skills as both warrior women and female regents, were certainly not inferior and truly unprecedented. Focusing on the two particular qualities of Liao empresses and empress dowagers, the emphasis of this chapter is centred on the two most exceptional Liao imperial women, Empress Dowagers Yingtian 應天 (878–​953) and Chengtian 承天 (953–​1 109), who, despite the existence of their husbands and sons, ruled the vast Liao Empire as regents with full authority. After outlining the historical context, including a brief introduction of the Khitan people, their Liao dynasty, and the exceptional pattern of imperial intermarriage, the core of the enquiry is devoted to an investigation of the lives and political careers of Yingtian and Chengtian, in particular how they proved themselves as competent warriors and the strategies they employed to administer the empire. Through these two case studies I demonstrate that these warrior women regents, exercising leadership and exhibiting personal bravery, drew their strength from their Inner Asian steppe traditions, which were in many respects different 6  Ebrey, The Inner Quarters.

7  See Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao; Holmgren, “Marriage, Kinship and Succession”; “Observations on Marriage and Inheritance Practices”; “Imperial Marriage in the Native Chinese and Non-​Han State”; McMahon, “Women Rulers in Imperial China.” 8  See Holmgren, “Women and Political Power in the T’o-​pa Elite”; “The Harem in Northern Wei Politics”; and Weatherford, The Secret History of the Mongol Queens.

from those of sedentary, agricultural Chinese society. Largely shaped by the specific socio-​economic conditions of pastoral nomads, the political dynamics of Khitan imperial women thus presents another type of female rulership in China’s history.

The Khitan Empire of the Liao

When the once dominant Tang Empire finally crumbled in 907, the Khitan, distant descendants of the Xianbei, took their historical chance to arise from the Siramuren 西拉木 伦 Valley and establish their dynasty in northern China. The Khitan soon controlled a broad swathe of grasslands in North Asia. Yelü Abaoji 耶律阿保機 (872–​926, r. as Emperor Taizu 916–​926) assumed the title of “emperor” in a formal ceremony in Chinese fashion in 916.9 At the time of their victorious attacks in the region around modern Beijing in 938, the Khitan, now under the rule of Abaoji’s son, built up a hybrid multi-​ethnic empire.10 In 947 the Khitan caused the fall of the Later Jin 后晋 (936–​947) and finally gave their budding empire the name of Liao 遼, the Chinese name of the most important watercourse (the Siramuren) in their homeland. For the following century and a half the Khitan Liao and the Qara-​Kitai khanate (“Black Khitan”; Chinese: Xi Liao 西遼, 1124–​1218) dominated a large territory stretching from Central Asia to Manchuria, forcing the Chinese Song dynasty in the south to recognize their suzerainty. The Khitan engaged actively in trade with their neighbours and built a vast commercial network that extended across Asia. The economy of trade in the Liao was also enriched by tribute goods from the Uyghurs, Mongols, Koreans, and Jurchens.11 The special relations established across the whole Inner Asian steppe 9  The chronology of the Khitan before 930 is somehow contradictory. On their early history, see Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society:  Liao. See also Twitchett and Tietze, “The Liao,” 43–​57; and Marsone, La steppe et l’empire, for the pre-​dynastic and early dynastic history of the Liao.

10  The founding ruler of the Later Jin 後晉 (936–​947) offered the so-​called “Sixteen Prefectures” (Yan-​Yun shiliu zhou 燕雲十六州), the region stretching from present Beijing to modern Datong in Shanxi province, to the Khitan in exchange for the military support of the Khitan. See Twitchett and Tietze, “The Liao,” 70; and Mote, Imperial China, 63–​65, for the cession of the region.

11  On the commercial activities of the Khitan Liao, see Shiba, “Sung Foreign Trade,” 97–​98; and Hansen, “International Gifting and the Kitan World.”

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zone, even before the Mongol expansion, no doubt explain why the name “Khitan” became, in the form “Khitai” or “Kitai,” the word for “China” in Persian, West Turkish, and East Slavonic languages. In their effort to rule a multi-​e thnic empire, which consisted of peoples of Khitan, Xi, Mongol, Jurchen, Bohai, and Chinese origin, the Khitan created a new system of dual administration: the northern one was a nomadic military state ruled as a khanate, consisting of its nomadic, pastoral, and mostly Khitan subjects, while the southern one was agricultural and sedentary, equipped with a civil government ruling largely Chinese subjects according to the model of Chinese empire. 12 Unlike the Xianbei people of the Northern Wei, who experienced a dramatic process of assimilation to the Chinese, the Khitan had adopted some of the administrative practices of the Chinese, but they still consciously made an effort to maintain their own traditions distinct from those of China’s. For instance, large palace grounds were constructed in all five Liao capitals in the Chinese manner, but throughout the year the Liao emperors, together with the central government, moved periodically along a circuit that followed seasonal hunting sites, known as nabo 捺鉢. 13 Unlike their Chinese counterparts, the Khitan emperors and nobles continued their nomadic practice of touring their territory, living in yurts, and meeting their ministers in the tent much more than offering an audience in the palace.

An Eternal Marital Link between the Two Clans:  The Yelü–​Xiao Intermarriage

To protect the privileged status of the ruling elite in the government and society and to keep a clear demarcation between the conquerors and the conquered subjects, the Liao practised exclusive endogamy, in which the Xiao 蕭 clan supplied all consorts to the imperial Yelü 耶律 clan.14 12  See Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 52–​58, for the demographic data of the Liao.

13  The word nabo is the Chinese transliteration of a Khitan word meaning “moving residence.” On the nabo, see Tuotuo, LS, 31: 361; Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society:  Liao, 436; and Fu, Liaoshi congkao,  90–​92.

14  To be more precise, two branches of the Xiao clan, derived from the brothers of the first Liao empress, supplied almost all subsequent Liao empresses, as well as the vast majority of spouses for the imperial princesses, throughout the dynastic era.

Hang Lin

Abaoji 阿保機 (872–​926), the first Liao emperor, who was later commemorated as Taizu 太祖 or “Grand Progenitor” (r. 907–​926), married a woman who later became Empress Chunqin 淳欽, better known as Empress Dowager Yingtian, and who, it is noted in the Liaoshi, was descended from the Uyghurs. 15 The second emperor, Deguang 德光, later Emperor Taizong 太宗 (r. 927–​9 47), married Yingtian’s niece.16 At some point in the second or third reign of the Liao dynasty the Xiao clan name was created, and after that the Xiao successfully secured an exclusive and permanent lien on providing principal wives for the imperial clansmen, including emperors. Out of a total of twenty empresses listed in the biographies on empresses and consorts in the Liaoshi, only one was not a Xiao. She was the Chinese empress of Emperor Shizong 世宗 (r. 947–​9 51), named Lady Zhen 甄. 17 The Yelü–​X iao intermarriage that started with the dynasty founder was firmly institutionalized with the marriage of the fifth emperor, Jingzong 景宗 (r. 969–​982), to Xiao Chuo 蕭綽 (also called Xiao Yanyan 蕭燕燕, and better known as Empress Dowager Chengtian 承天; 953–​1009), who was the granddaughter of Yingtian’s paternal uncle.18 Thereafter, the policy of Yelü–​Xiao intermarriage was applied to all imperial spouses, and it continued unabated until the end of the dynasty. In fact, except for Emperor Muzong’s 穆宗 (r. 951–​969) empress, whose genealogical position is unknown because of lack of data,19 all the Liao empresses were descendants of either Xiao Dilu 蕭敵魯 (d. 918) or Xiao Aguzhi 蕭阿古只, two half-​brothers of the first empress. 15  Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1199.

16  However, Daniel Kane points out that no Khitan-​language equivalent for the Chinese character corresponding to the name “Xiao” has been identified in inscriptions. Instead, the names of individual clans appear, including Shulü, which were “apparently merged during the course of the dynasty” to create the Xiao-​surname clan; see Kane, The Kitan Language and Script, 5. For a detailed study of the formation of the Xiao clan, see Cha, “The Lives of the Liao (907–​1125) Aristocratic Women,”  53–​69. 17  Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1197–​1208; Ye, Qidan guozhi (hereafter QDGZ), 13: 141. 18  Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1201–​1202.

19  Although a very brief biography on Muzong’s empress is provided in the chapter on empresses and consorts (Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1201), it is devoid of specific information except her father’s personal name. Neither her childhood name nor her posthumous official title is recorded in her biography, unlike the rest of the empresses.

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An Empress Severs Her Hand and Affirms Her Power to Rule The Yikun prefecture … was originally the territory of the Khitan Right Big Tribe. The prefecture was built by Empress Yingtian. An Uyghur man named Nuosi lived there. His four-​generation grandson was Rongwo Meili. He begat Empress Yingtian, the Shulü, who was married to Emperor Taizu.20

This entry in Liaoshi, which accounts for the only information about Yingtian’s genealogy, clearly indicates that Abaoji’s wife had a consanguineous relation with the Uyghur. Nuosi, the empress’s ancestor and a man of Uyghur origin, had lived in the territory of a Khitan tribe as early as five generations before Abaoji.21 Her Uyghur heritage is reiterated in another Liaoshi record, which describes that Yingtian’s Uyghur ancestors had become part of the Khitan confederation a few generations earlier and her father, like many of Yingtian’s uncles, had served for the Khitan.22 Abaoji, determined to unite the Khitan confederation, made use of his marriage with Yingtian to secure the support of her Uyghur relatives, whose backing was crucial to Abaoji’s success in establishing an imperial institution of primogeniture, in which eldest sons succeed their fathers. In the traditional Khitan practice of succession, also widely shared by many peoples of the North Asian steppes, a khan selected by a council of elders served a three-​year term, after which a new khan would be selected, an office to which Abaoji’s brothers all felt entitled.23 In this system, the principle of patrilineal succession did not yet play a significant role in the process of selecting the next leader, on either tribal or confederation levels. Instead, all the direct and collateral descendants of the chieftain were considered equally legitimate and qualified candidates, as demonstrated in the pattern of leadership transfer before Abaoji.24 To offset the ambitions of his

male relatives, Abaoji integrated Yingtian’s family relatives, including her brothers and uncles, into the Liao state administration and granted them leading offices and massive military powers.25 Yingtian’s career as a brave warrior woman began with her protection of Abaoji during this time of transition. When her husband ascended to the khanship, Yingtian is said to have helped him with the removal of his political rivals within and outside his tribe in order to secure his position. When other chieftains of the Khitan confederation were brewing a plot to deprive Abaoji of his power, the future emperor sought his wife’s advice in strategy. Following Yingtian’s suggestions, Abaoji set a trap for his enemies, inviting them to a conference at a salt lake to discuss salt revenues. At the end of the banquet, and “when the wine began to take effect, hidden soldiers came forth and killed all the tribe chieftains.”26 In doing so, Abaoji succeeded in eliminating the opposition and in securing his hold on the khanship. Yingtian gained a reputation for having a sharp mind and planning strategically when she accompanied Abaoji during his military campaigns. She participated in the campaigns herself and frequently offered criticism and advice during them. When Abaoji was making ready to lead the army into battle, as Liaoshi records, “the empress always planned together with him in preparations.”27 Moreover, Yingtian was responsible for a military force of her own by sustaining her own ordo, a military administrative domain of certain districts and tribes, with 13,000 households attached, which consisted of both the tribal and Chinese populations and generated 5,000 mounted horsemen directly under her command.28 In addition, she maintained another special cavalry force, consisting

20  Tuotuo, LS, 37: 446. “Meili” was the title of an official post of the Uyghur; see Xu, “Historical Development of the Pre-​Dynastic Khitan,” 203.

grandsons, died in 696 the title of “khan” was claimed by his cousin, Li Shihuo 李失活, who was succeeded by his younger brother, Suogu 娑固, from 716 to 730. It was probably according to the same principle that Abaoji assumed the position in 901. On these successions, see Tuotuo, LS, 63: 952–​55; Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 399–​400; and Holmgren, “Observations on Marriage and Inheritance Practices,” 37–​55.

22  Ibid.; Xu, “Historical Development of the Pre-​Dynastic Khitan,” 203.

26  Tuotuo, LS, 1: 6; Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 142.

21  See also Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1199, for similar records.

23  Holmgren, “Marriage, Kinship and Succession,” 47–​48; Wright, “The Political and Military Power of Kitan Empress Dowagers,” 326.

24  For instance, the first leader of the Khitan confederation, Mohui 摩會, active in the 630s, seems to have had no relationship to his successor, Kuge 窟哥. When Li Jinzhong 李盡忠, one of Kuge’s

25  On Yingtian’s relatives who served in the Liao administration, see Holmgren, “Marriage, Kinship and Succession,” 45–​49. 27  Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1199.

28  The name of her ordo is “Prolonged Peace Camp” (Changning gong 長寧宮); see Tuotuo, LS, 31: 365; 35: 402–​403; and Franke, “Women under the Dynasties of Conquest,” 25.

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of as many as 200,000 soldiers selected from Khitan tribes and Chinese and Bohai captives.29 These armies were likely to have been mobilized when she was in charge of defending the empire in an event of a foreign attack or a domestic crisis when her husband was engaged in other military actions abroad. When Abaoji was away from the capital pacifying Tangut tribes in 916, for instance, some of the Khitan tribes took advantage of his absence and rebelled. However, they underestimated the ability of the empress, who had been left with responsibility for defence. Yingtian predicted their attack and was fully prepared. When the enemy struck, she led out her personal army and successfully put down the rebellion.30 Through a series of similar victories, Yingtian managed to used her familial connections and her military command to secure her husband’s claim to the throne. Yingtian’s exceptional military qualities were celebrated in the Liao, and she also participated in court audiences in an open manner by receiving foreign envoys together with her husband and advising him on imminent political and military issues. Her authority in the Liao court was recognized in an open and visible manner, unlike that of her counterparts in the native Chinese Song dynasty, where an imperial consort or an empress dowager would sometimes have to attend court audiences behind a screen. Whether the curtain was used or not, in general a Han Chinese emperor would not meet a foreign envoy with his empress sitting beside him.31 Thus, when an envoy of the Later Tang 後唐 (923–​936) visited the Liao in 926, he encountered Abaoji and Yingtian sitting on facing couches—​something that would have been impossible for her Chinese counterparts.32 In addition to direct presence at court, Yingtian was also good at discovering talented men, both Khitan and Chinese, and recommending them for higher offices in the administration. It was she, for example, who first recognized the quality 29  Tuotuo, LS, 46:738; Hansen, “International Gifting and the Kitan World,” 280. The army was named “Shushan” 屬珊 because it was as “precious as coral.” Wittfogel and Feng consider this figure from the Liaoshi too large to be true, and suggest only 20,000 to 30,000; see Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 521n217. 30  Tuotuo, LS, 35: 401; Twitchett and Tietze, “The Liao,” 68.

31  For a discussion of the use of a curtain or screen in court, see McMahon, “Women Rulers in Imperial China,” 195–​97; and Celestial Women,  11–​13.

32  Mote, Imperial China, 45; Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 538.

Hang Lin

and integrity of Han Yanhui 韓延徽 (d. 959), later one of the most important Chinese administrators in the Cabinet of Abaoji. Originally sent to the Khitan court as an envoy, Han was detained because he refused to make an obeisance to Abaoji, which angered the emperor. Observing Han closely, Yingtian remonstrated with Abaoji, explaining that Han’s loyalty was a quality in a sage that was worth being praised and rewarded. She further advised him to treat Han with respect and to employ him, which Abaoji heeded.33 Her judgement and recommendation turned out to be very helpful. Han, together with other Chinese officials who joined the Khitan government, developed an effective and appropriate administration system in order to govern the enlarged territory, which was populated by various conquered peoples, particularly a large number of Chinese farmers. He also devised a programme offering various incentives so as to encourage people to settle in the uncultivated frontier regions, thus greatly increasing the population and revenue.34 Yingtian’s most spectacular moment came when Abaoji died suddenly in 926 on the way back to the capital after conquering the kingdom of Bohai 渤海 (698–​926). This was at a time when the idea of lineal transmission of the leadership based upon the principle of primogeniture had not been widely accepted by Khitan aristocrats. Almost all Abaoji’s younger brothers were still alive, and, according to nomadic traditions, they were also entitled to ascend the throne. The new dynasty that Yingtian and her husband had fought hard to consolidate was faced with serious risks of another internal crisis. Under these circumstances, she was determined to protect the claims of her own children to the throne from the potential challenges from the fraternal and collateral relatives of Abaoji. After collecting the armies and personally escorting the funeral procession back to the mausoleum, she refused to be buried with Abaoji, as Khitan custom demanded. Instead, she cut off her right hand and placed it in the coffin of her deceased husband.35 After that she immediately took over the conduct of the government and the military, and ruled as de facto leader until the succession dispute was settled. Although the eldest son of Abaoji, Bei 倍 (900–​937), had officially been appointed as heir apparent as early as 916, the empress had no desire to honour her deceased husband’s 33  Tuotuo, LS, 74: 1231.

34  Ibid.; Twitchett and Tietze, “The Liao,” 63–​64.

35  Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1200; Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 543.

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wish. In what later historians have called an outrageous manner, she meddled in the imperial succession and claimed the authority to pick a successor herself. Against Abaoji’s original will to establish their first son, Yingtian favoured her younger son Deguang, later Emperor Taizong, and wanted him to become the next emperor. With the imperial succession delayed by disputes for almost a year after Abaoji’s death, it appears that Yingtian carried out a purge on a large scale to eliminate Bei’s supporters at court, often under the pretext of “sending messengers to the deceased emperor.”36 In this context, it is certainly suspicious that all three of Abaoji’s younger brothers died around the time of his death in the autumn of 926, though historical records do not offer any clear clue as to how they died. After standing opposite his mother for months after the death of his father, Bei probably recognized that he was left with little option but to comply with his mother’s will, knowing that his military power was no match for hers, especially after having lost most of his strong supporters. He finally gave in to the pressure at the end of 926, declaring that he would voluntarily give up his claims in favour of his younger brother, since “the qualification of the latter was superior to that of his own.” 37 Deguang became the new emperor, who then honoured his mother with the new title of empress dowager. After the abdication, Bei retained his title and authority as prince of Dongdan 東丹王, until he fled to the Later Tang in 930. Throughout Deguang’s reign Yingtian acted as the most important figure in state affairs. Deguang, although officially the emperor, was particularly obedient to his mother in both his political conduct and domestic affairs: important policy decisions were never made without Yingtian’s approval; when Yingtian became ill, Deguang refused to eat and waited personally on his mother by her bedside; a commemorative stele was erected to honour Yingtian’s merit and her birthday was announced as a national holiday, for which a large state celebration was organized.38 When Deguang died suddenly on his way home from a military campaign in 947, Ruan 阮 (918–​951), the eldest son of Bei, who had accompanied his uncle, was immediately established as emperor by a number of imperial clansmen and generals in front of Deguang’s deathbed in the military 36  Ye, QDGZ, 13: 141–​42.

37  Tuotuo, LS, 3: 28; 72: 1220. 38  Ibid., 3: 29.

camp. 39 However, when Ruan returned to the capital he encountered strong opposition from his grandmother, Yingtian. Outraged at the news of his accession to the throne without her consent, she refused to approve him as the legitimate successor. When the army led by her youngest son, Lihu 李胡 (911–​960), was defeated, Yingtian, now in her late sixties, personally led her own army and camped by the riverbank across from which Ruan and his army were stationed. After several months of confrontation a peaceful settlement was finally reached, thanks to the mediation of Yelü Wuzhi 耶律屋質 (916–​972), the new emperor’s kinsman and his most trusted advisor.40 Facing fierce opposition from the majority of the imperial clan, Yingtian had no choice but to acknowledge Ruan, now Emperor Shizong (r. 947–​951), as the new legitimate ruler, while the emperor promised that no retribution would be carried out. Although Yingtian did not manage to manipulate the imperial succession for the second time, and she died in exile in 953 at the age of seventy-​five, her assertive courage and military competence were truly unprecedented. The compilers of Liaoshi thus made the remark in her biography, half complimentarily and half critically, that she was “austere and imposing, resolute and decisive, and a brave strategist.”41

An Empress Leads an Army to Defeat the Song

The political competence and military skills the first Liao empress dowager exhibited were followed by other Liao imperial women. The empress to Deguang, Yingtian’s niece, also headed civil and military branches of government with equal confidence and authority.42 But few would dispute that the second most assertive imperial woman of the Liao was Empress Ruizhi 睿智, better known as Empress Dowager Chengtian. She came from the illustrious branch of the consort clan that had earlier produced Xiao Dilu, the half-​brother of Yingtian. Appointed by Emperor Jingzong, her father, Xiao Siwen 簫思溫 (d. 970), was both the northern prime minister and northern chancellor, two of the most influential posts in the Liao administration. She was elevated to empress 39  Ibid., 5: 63; Cha, “The Lives of the Liao (907–​1125) Aristocratic Women,”  94–​95. 40  For biographies of Yelü Wuzhi and Lihu, see Tuotuo, LS, 77: 1255–​56; and 72: 1213–​14, respectively. 41  Ibid., 71: 1199.

42  Ibid., 71: 1200; Johnson, Women of the Conquest Dynasties, 126.

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shortly after her father’s appointment, and she gave birth to six of Jingzong’s eight children, including the future Emperor Shengzong 圣宗 (r. 982–​1031). Already, during Jingzong’s reign, Chengtian was aiding the emperor in managing government affairs, accompanying him to the front on occasions, and she was in charge of affairs of state during his many absences. The latter half of Jingzong’s reign was marked by a series of hostile battles along the border, and the emperor was frequently ill. Often officials and generals would go to Chengtian first to discuss important issues, and once a decision had been made they would then inform the emperor so that the policies could be promulgated in his name.43 When Jingzong was unable to direct sporadic warfare, it was Chengtian who, “as the actual ruler of the Khitan, made all the decisions and sent out signals [to the generals].”44 As Jingzong’s ailment took a turn for the worse on a hunting trip in early 982, Chengtian followed the advice of her most trusted Chinese minister, Han Derang 韓德讓 (941–​1101), to employ various protective measures, such as sending back numerous princes to their original residences, stripping them of their military commands and detaining their wives and children in the palace as hostages.45 In doing so, she successfully destroyed “the coalition of paternal uncles, cousins and other relatives.”46 Prior to his death Jingzong even issued an edict allowing her to use the first-​person singular pronoun zhen 朕, which was normally exclusively used by emperors.47 In accordance with the posthumous edict left by Jingzong, the eleven-​year-​old Shengzong was declared emperor and his mother, Chengtian, was named as regent. When Chengtian took the reins of the Liao Empire she had just turned thirty years old. However, she was already well versed in the affairs of government, since she had been attending court audiences and issuing policies on behalf of her husband during the last few years of his reign. In order to establish her authority as regent, Chengtian performed several successive “rebirth ceremonies” (zaisheng yi 再生儀) for herself. Normally the “rebirth ceremony,” which involved the burning of a special building that the ruler entered in order to be reborn, was a rite limited to emperors when assuming the 43  Ye, QDGZ, 6: 59–​60. 44  Ibid.

45  Holmgren, “Marriage, Kinship and Succession,” 79.

46  Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 403. 47  McMahon, Women Shall Not Rule, 261.

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throne. But extant records show that Chengtian took part in at least three such ceremonies between 984 and 986.48 Chengtian knew that participation in mythical ceremonies was not enough to consolidate her regency. Shengzong was the first Liao emperor to ascend the throne well before reaching adulthood and to have a regent, so Chengtian was particularly concerned about her young son’s future. Following Abaoji’s strategies, she pushed the long-​stagnating reform of tribal administration by employing both lower-​ranking members of the Yelü clan and Chinese officials for high offices. To further firm up imperial authority and curb the power of Khitan aristocrats, she implemented a series of measures to change the tribal administration system by bringing semi-​ independent tribal nobles under direct state control. For instance, many Khitan tribes were reorganized by being incorporated into local administrative units, and the tribal titles of their chieftains, lingwen 令穩, were renamed as prefectural commanders (jiedushi 節度使), and thus subjected to the direct supervision of the central government.49 During the last decade of the tenth century Chengtian issued new policies to liberate Xi tribesmen from their bondsmen status and allowed them to live separately.50 Many of them chose to reside among the Khitan, so the Xi very quickly became thoroughly assimilated. As the population of Xi tribesmen declined, the Xi chieftains lost their semi-​ autonomous status and gradually gave up their tribal leadership in exchange for Liao administrative offices.51 To the Liao, who at that time were striving to promote Khitan tribal unity, the incorporation of the Xi was of particular importance, as it was in this way that the Xi tribes, which had often resented the Khitan conquest and revolted during the first Liao reigns, were pacified and became integrated into the Khitan. With tribal matters settled, the Liao could concentrate more on the wars with its neighbours, the Song in the south and the Koryo in the north. Throughout Chengtian’s regency a number of tax-​related edicts were issued to improve efficiency and accuracy in collecting taxes. Until the late 990s the sedentary Chinese living around modern Beijing bore the responsibility of 48  Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 259. On the “rebirth” ceremony, see also Tuotuo, LS, 53: 879–​80. 49  Ibid., 13: 148; 33: 388–​93.

50  For the Khitan policies on the Xi tribes and the development of their relationship, see Liu, “Xizu yanjiu,” chap. 4. 51  Tuotuo, LS, 33: 388; Twitchett and Tietze, “The Liao,” 97–​98.

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generating almost the entire Liao revenue, including corvée labour. Hoping to alleviate this burden on the masses and avoid unnecessary exploitation, Chengtian ordered an equitable taxation law to be established in 994.52 Chengtian frequently encouraged agriculture, and on a number of occasions she exempted or reduced the taxes and duties on famine-​struck regions.53 She also abolished the practice of making the common people pay for the wages of government officials; instead, they were to be paid directly from the state treasury.54 By placing them on the direct payroll of the government, not only could she prevent some greedy local officials from abusing their subjects but she could also enhance the authority of the central government. In tandem with her efforts to improve state revenues and to centralize power, attention was given to the legal system too. Since the beginning of the dynasty the Liao had followed the principle of a dual legal system, in a similar pattern to their dual administration system, which was aimed at different populations, nomadic and sedentary. The Khitan were subjected to tribal customary law while the Tang code (Tanglü 唐律) was applied to Chinese and other sedentary populations. Disputes between Khitan and sedentary subjects were invariably ruled in favour of the Khitan.55 However, in 994 Chengtian ordered that any Khitan who had committed one of the “Ten Abominable Offences” (shi’e 十惡), cited in the Tang code, were now to be published according to Chinese law.56 Although the move was still considerably limited, it was the first formal declaration of legal equalization in the Liao. Throughout Chengtian’s regency she was eager to listen to her Chinese advisors at court to better understand the needs of her sedentary and agrarian subjects, who formed 52  Tuotuo, LS, 13: 145. However, it is not clearly understood what “equitable tax law” (junshuifa 均稅法) means in Liaoshi. Whether its purpose was to obtain equalization of the taxes levied on different classes of population or to make the taxes more equitable for the common people, eventually the attempt was a failure. When the Jin conquered the Liao, a decree was issued to equalize the Liao taxes, for they “were levied unequally”. See also Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 339n42.

the overwhelming majority of the entire Liao population. It is even asserted, with little evidence, that Han Derang, a Chinese official, became the most powerful figure in the empire next to the emperor because of his illicit relationship with the empress dowager.57 Despite her active measures towards Chinese-​s tyle institutions and policies, she remained a traditional Khitan ruler by reserving the key military offices to Khitan aristocrats from the two ruling clans. She also reused the time-​honoured strategies, introduced by the first Liao empress, to secure her absolute authority by promoting members of her natal family to dominant posts. Her brother Xiao Jixian 蕭繼先 (d. 1010), who had hereditary claims on the office through his father, was appointed the northern prime minister in 986. Chengtian arranged the marriage between her brother and her eldest daughter, Princess Guanyinnü 觀音女. In 1001 she also proclaimed her own niece, daughter of her younger brother, as empress of Shengzong.58 During her regency Chengtian proved herself as a capable administrator, but her most celebrated capacity was as the military commander who defeated the Song army, for which she can “claim a unique position in Chinese history.”59 Like Yingtian, she held her own ordo, which could provide a cavalry force of 10,000 horsemen.60 Four years after Shengzong’s ascendance to the throne, in 986, the Song emperor and his generals launched a large-​scale invasion of Liao territory. Trying to take advantage of the fifteen-​year-​old Liao emperor, the Song expected an easy victory. The young mother, now aged thirty-​four, steered chariots and rode personally with the Liao army and utterly defeated the Chinese. The dowager captured about 100 boys, whom she ordered to be castrated, adding to the group of Liao eunuchs.61 Her most glorious act came in the summer of 1004, when the Liao launched a full-​scale attack on the Song. Emperor Shengzong commanded the campaign personally, yet few would doubt that it was Chengtian, now over fifty, who was the person in charge of the Liao cavalrymen, fighting “the

53  Ibid., 338–​39.

57  For the alleged affair, see Ye, QDGZ, 13: 130–​32; Luo, “Liao Chengtian hou yu Han Derang”; and Johnson, Women of the Conquest Dynasties, 154–​62.

55  Franke, “Chinese Law in a Multinational Society,” 118–​20. On the Liao legal system, see Takigawa and Shimada, Ryōritsu no kenkyū.

59  McMahon, Women Shall Not Rule, 261.

54  Tuotuo, LS, 14: 153.

56  Tuotuo, LS, 61: 939; Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 231n30. For a detailed study of the “Ten Abominable Offences,” see The T’ang Code, 17–​18,  61–​83.

58  Tuotuo, LS, 14: 156; 71: 1202; Cha, “The Lives of the Liao (907–​1125) Aristocratic Women,” 106.

60  Tuotuo, LS, 35: 404; Franke, “Women under the Dynasties of Conquest,”  25–​26. 61  Johnson, Women of the Conquest Dynasties, 129.

19

bloodiest battle of the entire war.”62 Encamped about 150 kilometres north of the Song capital of Kaifeng, the Liao troops stopped on the northern side of the Yellow River. Reluctantly the Song emperor, Zhenzong真宗 (r. 997–​1022), marched northward to meet the Liao at Chanyuan, the first large city across from the Yellow River. Zhenzong wanted to stop the bloodshed, and the Khitan had stretched so far from their home base that they risked having their supply lines cut off. Fearing an escalation of the war on both sides, the emperors of the Liao and Song finally reached a peace treaty in January 1005. To end the war, the Song agreed to accept that the Liao be given a superior position over the Song, since the Treaty of Chanyuan stated that Chengtian was ritually recognized as the junior aunt of the Song emperor. In addition, an annual indemnity payment was offered to the Liao, termed a military compensation, which amounted to 200,000 bolts of tabby weave silk and 100,000 ounces of silver (ca. 3,730 kilograms). Because of the successful treaty, a large portion of the cost of constructing the Liao central capital was covered by the hefty payment received from the Song.63 It seems safe to presume that the negotiations were finally sealed by Chengtian, though no source notes that she was personally involved. The importance of Chengtian in the Liao court was also recognized by the Song, as the first Song tributary envoy, in 1006, was officially commissioned to congratulate the empress dowager, not the emperor. For almost three decades, until her death in 1009, the Liao Empire was ruled by Chengtian, and the Khitan horsemen served under her command. The dynastic history of the Liao, Liaoshi, praises her as “an enlightened ruler who understood the art of governance and was always willing to listen to advice, and thus won the deep loyalty of officials.”64 But, to her son, she was a strict and autocratic mother. When her emperor son committed some mistake, she would berate him in front of his ministers, even though he was a grown man. Denis Twitchett and Klaus-​Peter Tietze come to the conclusion that, “while Chengtian was alive, there was no question of who was ultimately in control.”65 The reign of Shengzong, 62  Quoted from Wright, From War to Diplomatic Parity, 68. On this battle, see Ye, QDGZ, 13: 143–​44.

63  On the progress of the war and the provisions of the treaty, see Schwarz-​Schilling, Der Friede von Shan-​Yüan; and Lau, “Waging War for Peace?,” esp. 213. 64  Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1202.

65  Twitchett and Tietze, “The Liao,” 90.

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from 982 to 1031, was not only the longest of all the Liao emperors but also a period in which the Liao reached its political, cultural, and military peak. The success of Shengzong’s reign is attributable to the combination of his openness to advice and the relatively peaceful environment created by the Treaty of Chanyuan, but there is little doubt that Chengtian was the main source of power.

Khitan Female Regents and the Pattern of Queenship

Chengtian began her career as a warrior woman under the tutelage of Jingzong. However, as the empress dowager, she became by all measures one of the most successful of all the Liao female warrior regents, next to Yingtian. This is reflected in the fact that, throughout the Liao, except for the emperors only four other extraordinarily powerful individuals from the imperial household established their personal ordo. Among them, Yingtian and Chengtian were the only two women, and their ordos were maintained separately and independently from those of their husbands and sons. However, the story of Khitan women actively involved in political and military affairs did not end with Chengtian. For instance, one of Chengtian’s elder sisters, Hunian 胡辇, who was married to the prince of Qiguo, was a fine horsewoman. After her husband died she pledged to be remarried to a foreign slave named Talanabo 挞览阿钵. Together with Talanabo, she personally commanded an army of 300,000 soldiers to defend the western frontier, and won many victories.66 The political skills and military vigour of Liao imperial women are also to be observed in Empress Renyi 仁懿 (d. 1058), wife of Shengzong and mother of Emperor Xingzong 興宗 (r. 1031–​1055). On one occasion she discovered a rebellious conspiracy and informed the emperor. When the rebellion broke out, she supervised the guards herself and defeated the rebels.67 When the Song army surrounded the Liao southern capital, today’s Beijing, in 1123 the last Liao empress dowager, known as Consort De 德, commanded as regent the remaining Liao army against the Song forces.68 66  Ye, QDGZ, 13: 142–​4 3; Luo, “Liao Chengtian hou yu Han Derang,” 162. 67  Tuotuo, LS, 71: 1204.

68  Ibid., 30: 352–​5 3; Wittfogel and Feng, History of Chinese Society: Liao, 427.

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From these cases, we may draw a general pattern for the Liao imperial women. While motherhood and family background were undoubtedly key factors for women’s advancement to power in all dynasties, Chinese or non-​Chinese, the most extraordinary characteristic that set Liao imperial women far apart from their Chinese counterparts is their possession of martial qualities. Khitan elite women were not confined to their quarters and expected to pursue purely sedentary activities. In fact, many of them, like their husbands and sons, were excellent archers, hunters, and horse riders. For instance, Xingzong once organized a large feast to congratulate Empress Qin’ai for hunting a bear.69 In 1066 Emperor Daozong’s 道 宗 (r. 1055–​1101) mother also killed a bear on her hunting expedition. To honour her feat, Daozong distributed a great amount of money to his officials. Later in the same year she went hunting again, this time killing a tiger. Excited about his mother’s hunting skill, Daozong invited the officials to a large feast and asked them to write poems to celebrate the event.70 The time when the Khitan warrior women gained power also witnessed a series of forceful women in power and active in military affairs in many Eurasian realms. Empress Dowager Liang 梁 (d. 1099) of the Tangut Xi Xia 西夏 kingdom (1038–​ 1227), for example, ruled as regent for her three-​year-​old son and personally led troops in the battle against Song armies. Throughout the 1090s many Mongol empress dowagers assisted their husbands and sons in military affairs and commanded armies. It is well known that Sorghaghtani Beki (d. 1252), Khubilai Khan’s mother, even fought vigorously for her sons against their rivals.71 In twelfth-​century Georgia, the sonless King Giorgi III (r. 1156–​1184) solved the problem of succession by crowning his daughter, Tamar (r. 1184–​1213). Commanding troops herself, she prevailed against rebels and religious patriarchs.72 The Christian Melisende (r. 1131–​1161) ruled as queen of Jerusalem between the death of her father in 1131 and her death in 1161, reportedly defeating her husband’s attempt to obtain power and, when her son came of age, refusing to yield him.73 In Mughal India, Radiyya Bint

Iltutmish (1205–​1240), who ruled as sultan of Delhi from 1236 to 1240, was said to have “discarded her female attire, emerged from purdah, and allowed herself to be seen in public riding on an elephant.”74 It seems reasonable to argue that the period from the eleventh century to the thirteenth marks a peak of powerful female regents in Eurasia, a time when the pastoral nomads from the Central Asian steppe rose to power in various parts of the vast Eurasian continent. The activities of the Khitan imperial women thus represent another pattern of queenship, different from that of the agricultural sedentary societies. To the Chinese, the activities of the aforementioned nomadic Khitan women and their non-​Chinese neighbours, riding astride horses and leading armies on battlefields, would hardly qualify them as paragons of virtue in any Confucian sense of the term. From the perspective of the Chinese, hunting and the military constituted a strictly male domain. But, for nomadic peoples such as Khitan, these were deeply rooted in their tradition. In pastoral nomadic societies, men were the absolute masters, but when they were away at war the women would take responsibility for the home, herds and flocks. It thus seems a natural requirement for women to possess certain skills in terms of riding, hunting, and fighting. When they became members of the ruling class, they were then not confined to domestic affairs but involved themselves actively in state politics and warfare when needed, as the cases of the strong regents Yingtian and Chengtian have amply demonstrated.

69  Tuotuo, LS, 19: 226. 70  Ibid., 22: 264–​65.

71  Mote, Imperial China, 189; McMahon, “Women Rulers in Imperial China,” 211.

72  Rayfield, Edge of Empires, 103–​17. See also Lois Huneycutt’s chapter on Tamar of Georgia in this volume.

73  McMahon, Celestial Women, xxxi, quoting Huneycutt, “Female Succession and the Language of Power.” On the Queens of Jerusalem, see also Hayley Bassett’s chapter in this volume.

74  McMahon, Celestial Women, xxxiii n. 22; Jackson, “Sultan Raḍiyya bin Iltutmish,” 189. See also Jyoti Phulera’s chapter in this volume on Razia Sultan.

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Schwarz-​Schilling, Christian. Der Friede von Shan-​Yüan (1005 n. Chr.): Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der chinesischen Diplomatie. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1959. Shiba Yoshinobu, “Sung Foreign Trade: Its Scope and Organization.” In China among Equals:  The Middle Kingdom and Its Neighbors, 10th–​14th Centuries, edited by Morris Rossabi, 89–​115. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. Takigawa Masajirō 瀧川政次郎 and Shimada Masao 島田正郎. Ryōritsu no kenkyū 遼律の研究 [A Study on Liao Code]. Tokyo: Osaka yogō shoten, 1943. Twitchett, Denis C., and Klaus-​Peter Tietze. “The Liao.” In The Cambridge History of China, vol. 6: Alien Regimes and Border States, 907–​1368, edited by Herbert Franke and Denis C. Twitchett, 43–​153. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Weatherford, Jack. The Secret History of the Mongol Queens:  How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire. New York: Crown, 2010. Wittfogel, Karl A., and Feng Chia-​sheng. History of Chinese Society:  Liao (907–​1125). Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1949. Wright, David Curtis. From War to Diplomatic Parity in Eleventh-​Century China:  Sung’s Foreign Relations with Khitan Liao. Leiden: Brill, 2005. —​—​—. “The Political and Military Power of Kitan Empress Dowagers.” In The Role of Women in the Altaic World, edited by Veronika Veit, 325–​37. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007. Xu, Elina-​Qian. “Historical Development of the Pre-​Dynastic Khitan.” PhD dissertation, University of Helsinki, 2005. Yang, Lien-​sheng. “Female Rulers in Imperial China.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 23 (1960): 47–​61. Zhao Fengjie 趙鳳喈. Zhongguo funü zai falüshang zhi diwei 中國婦女在法律上之地位 [Women’s Position in Chinese Law]. Taipei: Daoxiang chubanshe, 1993 [originally published in 1927].

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15 DOWAGER QUEENS AND ROYAL SUCCESSION IN PREMODERN KOREA SEOKYUNG HAN

WHEN THE EIGHTH king, Yejong (r. 1468–​1 469), of the Chosŏn dynasty of Korea (1392–​1910) unexpectedly passed away, Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi (1418–​1483) was with him in the king’s quarter, or Kangnyŏng chŏn (Hall of Health and Peace). The queen dowager was his biological mother, who was the first wife and the first queen of the seventh Chosŏn king, Sejo (r. 1455–​1468).1 She called the highest-​ranked ministers into the Kangnyŏng chŏn and, at the same time, convened a meeting of the other civil officials at the king’s office, or Sajŏng chŏn (Hall of Thinking and Governing). The officials in the Kangnyŏng Hall asked her to “determine the chief mourner of the late king,” though in fact the aim was to select a Crown prince and set him on the throne. Her orders and the ministers’ responses, seemingly written down, were passed back and forth several times between both buildings.2 According to the Chosŏn wangjo sillok 朝鮮王朝實錄 (Annals 1  Her husband, the second son of the fourth king Sejong (r. 1418–​1450), orchestrated a military coup (1453) and crowned himself as the seventh king Sejo. King Sejo was the first king who ended the lineage of the first king T’aejo (r. 1392–​1398), or the founder of the Chosŏn, accepted as the primary bloodline. He started his own lineage, which was accepted as a royal lineage, but of a subordinate bloodline to King T’aejo’s; in due course during the Chosŏn dynasty, five more kings claimed and reclaimed royal lineages.

2  The Chosŏn queens issued executive orders verbally as well as in the form of official documents, believed to be written in the Korean script or Han’gŭl (invented in 1444; promulgated in 1446): in Chosŏn, Classical Chinese was accepted as the official writing system, and the male intellectual elites, including civil officials, preferred to use Classical Chinese. The Han’gŭl documents, known to have been written by the queens, illuminate how the new writing system served as an official communication system, how the queens—​indeed, the palace ladies—​played a significant role in disseminating and socializing this writing system and how the scribing culture and tradition was enriched through association with the popular use of Han’gŭl.

of the Chosŏn Dynasty, 1392–​1863: hereafter the Sillok), she continued to discuss with the officials in the Kangnyŏng chŏn who should be “selected (to serve) as the chief mourner” but the officials kept demanding her decision. Finally, she desig­ nated as the “chief mourner” Prince Chaŭlsan (1457–​1495), third in line to the throne, and proclaimed him as the ninth king, Sŏngjong (r. 1469–​1 494). 3 Although Chaŭlsan was never made Crown prince, the queen dowager’s decision and announcement legitimized his succession and established his authority fully. Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi was the first queen dowager and the first queen regent of Chosŏn. She was not proclaimed as Crown princess but two consecutive administrations, of her son, King Yejong, and her grandson, King Sŏngjong, honoured her with the official titles of queen mother and queen dowager respectively. Her family members, or the affinal (male) family members of King Sejo and the maternal (male) family members of King Yejong, had little involvement in politics. Instead, she appears to have actively interacted with the civil 3  When the late King Yejong succeeded to the throne, his first son, Chean (1466–​1525), was immediately proclaimed as the Crown prince. Prince Wŏlsan (1454–​1 488), the eldest son of Prince Ŭigyŏng (1438–​1457), was also accepted as the second in the line of succession. The deceased Prince Ŭigyŏng was the first son of Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi and thus the elder brother of King Yejong. However, the queen dowager designated as the successor Prince Chaŭlsan, the younger brother of Prince Wŏlsan and, more pointedly, the second son of her first son. She argued, “[The] Crown prince [was] still covered with a baby blanket and Prince Wŏlsan [had] a medical condition. Although Prince Chaŭlsan [was] young, King Sejo [praised] his perseverance and broad-​mindedness all the time, even comparing him to King T’aejo (the great-​father of King Sejo or the founder of the Chosŏn). How about making him to serve as the chief mourner?” See the Sillok: Yejong sillok 8: 24a–​b (the seventh month of 1469); Sŏngjong sillok 8: 1a–​2b (the seventh month of 1469).

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officials as a ruler. As the Chosŏn source materials show, her political engagement consolidated the foundation of the authority of the Chosŏn queen. 4 Thus, this chapter traces how the authority of the Chosŏn queen dowager was developed and how the role of the paternal grandmother of the current or succeeding king came to be emphasized therein. According to the Sillok, in the morning (between 7.00 and 9.00 a.m.) of the twenty-​e ighth day of the eleventh month of 1469 King Yejong died, and Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi immediately proclaimed Prince Chaŭlsan as the succeeding king. Then the (highest-​ranked) civil officials started to persuade her to “jointly listen to the affairs of state”—​that is, to serve as regent.5 She declined the proposal at first and instead recommended that Queen Sohye (1437–​1504), the biological mother of Prince Chaŭlsan, should be suitable for the post because of the queen’s proficiency in “interpreting the [government] documents and discerning principles of politics.”6 The 4  Various and varied documents of the Chosŏn court, related to the funeral and memorial ceremonies for the kings and the queens, serve as good source material for tracing the achievements of the queens. Those documents appear, especially, in the (re-​)compilations and (re-​)productions of the royal family genealogies, specifically the Sǒnwǒn pogam 璿源寶鑑 (the Precious Models of [the Documentations of] the Origins of Jade), the Yǒlsǒng chijang t’onggi 列聖誌狀通紀 (the Chronological Compilation of Records and Documents of and about the Kings [and Queens]) and the queen-​focused Yǒlsǒng wangbi sebo 列聖王妃世譜 (the Compilation of the Genealogies of [the Kings and] the Queens).

5  The Sŏngjong sillok 1: 1a–​2 b (the eleventh month of 1469). Historically, in East Asia, the Classical Chinese phrase of “listening to the affairs of state” is understood as meaning that the ruler should listen to the proposals that government officers develop for managing matters of state. The ruler is mostly represented and assumed to be the male monarch, but the phrase is used for the queen regnant and regent as well. However, while discussing affairs of state, a piece of screen or curtain is expected or required to be placed between the queen and the male officers. Although the origin of this practice is still under examination, the Korean source materials have corroborated that the practice was supposed to be ritualized and observed, especially in the late Chosŏn. 6  Queen Sohye (昭惠, 1437–​1504) was one of the most outstanding female intellectuals of the Chosŏn. She was the first wife of Prince Ŭigyŏng (懿敬, 1438–​1457; posthumous recognition as King Tŏkjong (德宗)), the first son of the seventh King Sejo (世祖, r. 1455–​1468) and Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi (1418–​1483), and the biological mother of the ninth king Sŏngjong (r. 1469–​1494) as well. After being proclaimed as queen mother she wrote her best-​k nown work, Naehun 內訓 (Instructions for Women, 1475), and argued how the queens and consorts of the kings should cultivate themselves

queen dowager continued to turn down the offer, and the civil officials accordingly presented her with an official document that requested her to accept the post.7 She eventually took the position of regent, and ordered preparations for the funeral of the deceased king. During the latter part of the funeral ceremony Chŏnghŭi, now as queen regent, announced the succession of Prince Chaŭlsan. Then, in the late afternoon (3.00 to 5.00 p.m.) of the same day, the twelve-​year-​old prince was crowned as the ninth king, Sŏngjong (r. 1469–​1494). Although the Sillok includes little details, she would have ordered the preparation of the new king’s coronation ceremony as well. During the coronation she issued an edict to proclaim his accession to the throne one more time. These records reveal salient aspects of how, as queen regent, Chŏnghŭi marshalled the court’s performances of two ceremonies, one for the previous king and the other for the new king. Most remarkably, she legitimized Prince Chaŭlsan’s leading role in the actual performances of the ceremonies. She authorized him therefore to manifest the rise of his own status from prince, through “chief mourner” and Crown prince, to king. Engaging in ceremonies also enabled him to publicize his authority as a royal descendent, the primary son of the previous king and the legitimized successor, and, evidently, to report the change in his status and authority to the deceased king as well as to the royal ancestors and Heaven. In her first announcement, during the funeral, she upheld his interaction with his predecessor and royal ancestors, and during the coronation she publicly confirmed that to advance the harmony and prosperity of the royal family. As the work’s title literally meant instructions for the “inside” (內, nae, in Korean) of the palace, she emphasized how the “inside” should play a role as foundation and factor for flourishing and destroying the “outside” of the above palace—​apparently the Chosŏn dynasty. She thus reconfirmed (neo-​)Confucian ideas and ideals. She observed the literary or textual practice of her days, specifically by interpolating the female biographies into the chapters of her Naehun. Remarkably, she selected the historically renowned queens consort and queen mothers (or queen dowagers) for two chapters, “Husband and Wife” and “Motherly Models,” and explained how and why the palace women should give the kings (husband or son) wise advice in a careful and sincere manner. 7  Her responses suggest that literacy in Classical Chinese and (neo-​) Confucianism should be essential requisites for becoming the ruler. The procedure to proclaim her queen regent also upholds the view that she should be able to read and write both Classical Chinese and the Han’gŭl texts, and that her ability to articulate and practise affairs of state, following the (neo-​)Confucian classics and other literature, should be conceded. See note 2.

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King Sŏngjong had received transcendental approval of his accession to the throne. Even so, Chŏnghŭi’s role is quite suggestive in many ways. As is well known, the early Chosŏn court endeavoured to respect (neo-​)Confucianism and, notably, to establish royal succession along the lines of (neo-​)Confucian male primogeniture. Yet the seventh king Sejo, her husband, was the second son of the fourth king Sejong; King Yejong was her second son; and King Sŏngjong was the second son of her deceased first son, Prince Ŭigyŏng (1438–​1457; recognized posthumously as King Tŏkjong). Thus, King Sŏngjong’s accession to the throne, as nephew of the previous king, might have received only a cautious welcome, which could have dented his sovereignty seriously. Yet the queen regent appears to have been instrumental in directing the court’s attention to how both King Yejong and King Sŏngjong were related to her, and gave secondary importance to how the new king was related to the previous one. Focusing on the relationship between the two kings and the queen regent means considering three generations of the royal family, which made the three of them act and be accepted as the representatives of the grandparental, parental, and children’s generations respectively. As the grandmother of the reigning King Sŏngjong, she thus represented her (grandparental) generation, or the generation of her husband, King Sejo, not the (children’s) generation of her son, King Yejong, as the starting point of the royal succession. As the Sillok record shows, and as we have seen, when she proclaimed Prince Chaŭlsan’s succession to the throne she mentioned that “King Sejo [praised] [Prince Chaŭlsan’s] perseverance and broad-​mindedness all the time,” and specified that her decision came from King Sejo, the grandfather of King Sŏngjong.8 Likewise, she played a decisive role in emphasizing the three-​generation uninterrupted succession, rather than the father–​son succession, and legitimizing King Sŏngjong’s accession to the throne. For the next eight years (1469–​1476), while acting as regent, the queen dowager even engineered several adoption processes. Prince Wŏlsan, the second in the line of succession and the elder brother of the king, was immediately pointed to as the “chief mourner” for his—​and, indeed, the king’s—​ father, Prince Ŭigyŏng (1469).9 Prince Chean, the first son of King Yejong and the first in the line of succession as Crown 8  See note 3.

9  The Sŏngjong sillok 1: 14b (the twelfth month of 1469).

SeoKyung Han

prince, was also selected as “chief mourner,” yet for one of his paternal uncles, who died young without an heir (1474).10 As mentioned earlier, when King Sŏngjong was crowned (1469), he was selected to be the “chief mourner” of King Yejong; King Sŏngjong was adopted as the elder brother of Prince Chean. In other words, the queen dowager organized it such that Prince Chean, Prince Wŏlsan, and King Sŏngjong all “left [their] own family” and started to maintain the male line of their adopted family. In the case of King Sŏngjong, more official processes were included. First, Queen Ansun (1445–​1499), originally the biological mother of Prince Chean, was recognized as the queen mother or the legal mother of King Sŏngjong. Second, the deceased Prince Ŭigyŏng, or the father of King Sŏngjong, received posthumous recognition as King Tŏkjong, and Queen Sohye, the king’s biological mother, was recognized as queen consort of King Tŏkjong.11 King Sŏngjong accordingly became the first son of the previous sovereign, King Yejong, which supported his legitimacy. The adoption processes during the reign of Queen Regent Chŏnghŭi represent how the authority and role of the queen dowager, or, more pointedly, the paternal grandmother of the succeeding king, should be understood in Chosŏn. No physical ceremonies to celebrate Chŏnghŭi were performed but she had a unique authority to establish the royal succession, even before she was granted the regency. Yet the Chosŏn court appreciated the queen dowager’s standing in the family tree of the king, as the paternal grandmother of the (succeeding) king, and applied her family or personal status to the political decisions systematically. The relevant source materials suggest that recognition of the role and authority of queen dowagers had been developed during the previous dynasty, the Koryŏ (918–​1392). My research demonstrates that Koryŏ queens played a role in re-​establishing the royal lineage of the Koryŏ court from 10  The Sŏngjong sillok 48: 13b (the tenth month of 1474).

11  Following the enthronement of her son, King Sŏngjong, Queen Sohye (1437–​1504) started to reside in the palace. Yet her residence raised the problem of how the official titles of her and Queen Ansun—​in fact, the hierarchy between the two—​should be rendered. Her husband, Ŭigyŏng, passed away as Crown prince and she was never enthroned as queen. Moreover, officially, King Sŏngjong was Queen Ansun’s son, but not hers. Eventually the court decided to consider the fact that she was higher up in the family tree than Queen Ansun, as her late husband was the elder brother of King Yejong. Her official title became higher than that of Queen Ansun in the end.

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the middle of the fourteenth century onwards, especially when the Koryŏ court achieved independence from the Yuan Mongols (1271–​1368), and the Yuan princesses (or Mongol royal and elite ladies) stopped marrying the Koryŏ kings and serving as the queens of the Koryŏ court. Moreover, the late Koryŏ queens (or court ladies) appear to have been instrumental in establishing the legitimacy of the new Chosŏn court. The role of Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi, as discussed above, shows that she engaged in politics as fully as the late Koryŏ queens did.

The Line of Succession, Marital Alliances, and the Context of the Koryŏ

The historical development of the role of the Chosŏn queen dowager was motivated not only through political conjunctures of the fourteenth century. As the Koryŏ and Chosŏn sources corroborate, the development was further mobilized through reassessments, reinterpretations, and discoursing of the (neo-​)Confucian texts of the late Koryŏ. While accommodating both inter-​dynastic and domestic political changes, the late Koryŏ court promoted official adoption of the Chinese (neo-​)Confucianism. The Koryŏ scholars seem to have adapted the new discourse sufficiently to apply it to founding the new dynasty of the Chosŏn, in addition to laying the foundations for the characterization of Chosŏn (neo-​) Confucianism. Scholarly debates in the last quarter of the fourteenth century revolved around the significance of the right succession, and, remarkably, started with and focused on how the role of women and their status in society and family should be arranged in order to maintain the continuity of the family lineage and prosperity.12 The Koryŏ queens and their families were, as we know, consistently influential in politics. But the sources of and about Koryŏ indicate that direct engagement by the queen in establishing the royal succession, such as selecting the royal heir and promulgating his accession to the throne, does not appear until the fourteenth ​century in late Koryŏ. The records of the Koryŏsa (History of Koryŏ) reveal the first relevant information of when the thirty-​second Koryŏ king Wu (r. 1374–​1388), “[led] the funeral” of his father, the 12  My research demonstrates that the change from groom-​served matrilocal practice to bride-​served patrilocal practice is associated not only with an emphasis on the role of the son and his wife, or daughter-​ in-​law, but also with a de-​emphasis on the role of the (unmarried) daughter. See Han, “Re-​Claiming the Ideals of the Yŏllyŏ.”

thirty-​first king Kongmin (r. 1351–​1374).13 It was his paternal grandmother, Queen Dowager Kongwŏn (1298–​1380), who “[clothed] [King Wu] in mourning dress” and ordered him to “[lead] the funeral”; as further discussed below, the queen dowager was the fourth queen, after three Mongol queens, of the twenty-​seventh Koryŏ king Ch’ungsuk (r. 1313–​1330, 1332–​1339).14 Evidently, her role shared similarities with the role that the aforementioned first Chosŏn queen dowager, Chŏnghŭi, played in making Prince Chaŭlsan first “chief mourner,” and eventually King Sŏngjong; Chŏnghŭi’s case serves as the first Chosŏn example. In the later 1380s, when Yi Sŏnggye (1335–​1408), the Koryŏ military commander, who was eventually crowned as the first Chosŏn king T’aejo (r. 1392–​1398), seized control of the Koryŏ court in a military coup, more debates on how the (neo-​)Confucian principles should be practised took place. The then Koryŏ court paid special attention to how the (neo-​) Confucian family rituals of cappings, weddings, funerals, and ancestral rites should be performed. It appeared necessary to discuss how to perform the (neo-​)Confucian rituals since the rituals were formulated on the basis of the (ancient) Chinese tradition and culture of patrilocality. Koryŏ appears to have practised matrilocality and, intriguingly, engendered a strong Confucian culture, including the regular practice of the Confucian rituals. But, when Chosŏn was founded (1392), the court immediately decided to change over to patrilocality, believing it to be the first step to realize (neo-​)Confucian ideas and ideals correctly. The Chosŏn court emphasized that the family rituals should be performed and completed in the place where the groom’s family or his parents lived, which contributed to consolidating and advancing the authority of the groom and his family. The court’s emphasis on patrilocality supported further the idea and ideal of how the first son or “chief mourner” should fulfil the family rituals. Yet the debate on the role of the first son was widened to address the question of who should be the first son, and the primary requirement was argued to be that his mother should have the position of the (first) wife, not the concubine. The attention to the position of the wife appears immediately associated with the principle that the mother should transmit her husband’s paternal line to (his) son; more precisely, the mother should be biologically unrelated to his father and able to maintain the pureness of the patrilineage of her affinal family. 13  Koryŏsa, vol. 45 (the fourth month, 1390).

14  Koryŏsa, vol. 134, the Biographies 47 (the tenth month, 1379).

19

The Chosŏn queens clearly show their achievement in maintaining the paternal line of their husband, or the king, and thereby securing the royal lineage. Comparably, the Koryŏ queens reveal how they played a role, which was both expected and required, in purifying the patrilineage of the king’s family, starting from the eleventh century. The fourteenth-​century late Koryŏ queens add how they protected the patrilineage of the king and thus the Koryŏ royal lineage. More specifically, ten queens, out of thirty-​four, were honoured as queen dowager during the reigns of eleven kings (see Table 15.1). Two of the queen dowagers were related to the reigning kings as great-​grandmother; six as grandmother; four as mother (three legal mothers).15 Twenty-​three queens were honored as queen mother during the reigns of twenty-​ two kings: five queen mothers were honoured for two reigns consecutively. Comparably, ten queen mothers appear as the wives of former kings (see Table 15.2). Five of them were the wives of the (elder) brothers of the current king; three were the wives of the (elder) brothers of previous kings; two were the wives of nephews of the current king. Yet seven queen mothers were related to the current king as biological mother, seven as legal mother, and two as grandmother. More pointedly, the queen mothers, half of the fourteen, adopted the sons of their late husbands, from either the first queen (then deceased) or the consorts. A slightly lower number of queen mothers, twelve versus fourteen, were related to previous kings rather than to the current king. The statistics of the two tables suggest that the queen consort (and probably the Crown princess as well) were expected to bear sons. The Chosŏn kings (twenty-​seven in all) had only one queen at a time, though they were allowed to have multiple consorts. If the queen passed away, the king was required to remarry to have another queen.16 Only one 15  The sixth queen dowager Changyŏl (莊烈, 1624–​1688), was originally the second queen of the sixteenth king Injo (仁祖, r. 1623–​1649), and became the queen mother (stepmother) of the seventeenth king, Hyojong (孝宗, r. 1649–​1659), and the queen dowager of the eighteenth king Hyŏnjong (顯宗, r. 1659–​1674), as grandmother, and the nineteenth king Sukjong (肅宗, r. 1674–​1720), as great-​grandmother. Then the ninth queen dowager Sunwŏn (純元, r. 1789–​1857), was the first queen of the twenty-​third king Sunjo (純祖, r. 1800–​1834), and became the queen dowager of the twenty-​fourth king Hŏnjong (憲宗, r. 1834–​1849), as grandmother, and the twenty-​fifth king Ch’ŏljong (哲宗, r. 1849–​1864), but as mother (legal mother).

16  Nine kings had more than one queen. Whereas King Yejong and King Sŏngjong both promoted one of their consorts, the seven other kings remarried.

SeoKyung Han

son of the queen, however many the queen might bear, was allowed and expected to succeed to the throne. Only her (first) son should be proclaimed as Crown prince, even if other royal consorts had given birth to sons before the queen did. As illustrated above, the queen was authorized, if necessary, to adopt a son, make him her first or primary son, and proclaim him royal heir. Her adopted son was normally related to the king paternally, and was drawn from the sons of the royal consorts (more often the higher-​ranked rather than the lower), or sometimes those of the king’s male siblings (more often the younger in the ranking rather than the elder); the adoption was supposed to be based on the court’s discussion and decision.17 It was also the case that the queen consort should be recognized as the queen mother only after she had secured her son’s accession to the throne. The mothers of the Chosŏn kings were the first queen of the previous king and, generally, the first wife of the current king’s father; in addition, the grandsons of those of the first queens appear to have succeeded to the throne consecutively.18 However, in the Koryŏ period, especially during its earlier era, the queens were not expected or required to be the first wife. More specifically, the three sons of the first king, T’aejo (r. 918–​943), succeeded to the throne consecutively and the mothers of the next four kings were the daughters and grand­ daugh­ters of King Taejo.19 The rest of the Koryŏ kings are the descendants of the eighth king, Hyŏnjong (r. 1009–​1031), who carried two to three consecutive generations of both paternal and maternal bloodlines of King Taejo. Starting 17  The Sillok records hardly suggest that the Chosŏn court should perform a ceremony for the royal adoption. Instead, the documents reveal that the kings described or defined their legal mother as a real mother in their official writings, in particular specifying the official titles and posthumous names of the queens.

18  Both the second and third kings, Chŏngjong and T’aejong, were the sons of Queen Sinŭi (r. 1337–​1391), the first wife and first queen of King T’aejo; the fourth king, Sejong, was the son of Queen Wŏnkyŏng (1365–​1 420), the first wife and first queen of King T’aejong; the fifth and seventh kings, Munjong and Sejo, were the sons of Queen Sohŏn (r. 1395–​1446), the first wife and first queen of King Sejong. The sixth king Tanjong, was the son of Queen Hyŏntŏk (1418–​1441), the third wife yet first queen of King Munjong. When King Munjong was Crown prince, two of his wives, two Crown princesses, were expelled from the palace, because of their misconduct. His third wife was proclaimed queen when he was crowned. 19  The Koryŏ T’aejo (太祖, r. 918–​943) came from the Wang family of the Kaesŏng area (the current city of Kaesŏng, in North Hwanghae province, North Korea), and the royal lineage of the Koryŏ court indicated the Wang family.

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Proclaimer

Relationship to proclaimer

Queen dowager

Husband

9. Sŏngjong (성종, 成宗) (1457–​1495)

Grandmother [regent 1469–​1476: 9. Sŏngjong]

7–​1. Chŏnghŭi (정희, 貞熹) (1418–​1483)

7. Sejo (세조, 世祖) (1417–​1468)

Grandmother/​legal

8–​2. Ansun (안순, 安順) (1445–​1499)

Mother/​legal [regent 1567–​1568: 14. Sŏnjo]

13–​1. Insun (인순, 仁順) (1532–​1575)

Grandmother/​legal

16–​2. Changyŏl (장열, 莊烈) (1624–​1688)

Mother/​legal

19–​3. Inwŏn (인원, 仁元) (1687–​1757)

Grandmother [regent 1834–​1841: 24. Hŏnjong]

23–​1. Sunwŏn (순원, 純元) (1789–​1857)

Wife of previous king

Sinchŏng (신정, 神貞) (1809–​1890)

10. Yŏnsan’gun (연산군, 燕山君) (1476–​1506) 13. Myŏngjong (명종, 明宗) (1534–​1567)

14. Sŏnjo (선조, 宣祖) (1552–​1608)

16. Injo (인조, 仁祖) (1595–​1649)

18. Hyŏnjong (현종, 顯宗) (1641–​1674)

19. Sukjong (숙종, 肅宗) (1661–​1720) 21. Yŏngjo (영조, 英祖) (1694–​1776) 23. Sunjo (순조, 純祖) (1790–​1834) 24. Hŏnjong (헌종, 憲宗) (1827–​1849)

25. Ch’ŏljong (철종, 哲宗) (1831–​1864) 26. Kojong (고종, 高宗) (1852–​1919)

Grandmother

Sohye (소혜, 昭惠) (1437–​1504)

Mother [regent 1545–​1553: 13. Munjong]

11–​3. Munchŏng (문정, 文定) (1501–​1565)

Grandmother/​legal

14–​2. Inmok (인목, 仁穆) (1584–​1632)

Great-​grandmother/​legal

Great-​grandmother/​legal [regent 1800–​1803: 23. Sunjo]

Mother/​legal [regent 1849–​1852: 25. Chŏljong] Mother/​legal [regent 1863–​1864: 26. Kojong]

21–​2. Chŏngsun (정순, 貞純) (1745–​1805)

Tŏkjong (덕종, 德宗) (1438–​ 1457) [posthumous: 7 + 7-​1] 8. Yejong (예종, 睿宗) (1450–​1469)

11. Chungjong (중종, 中宗) (1488–​1544)

13. Myŏngjong (명종, 明宗) (1534–​1567)

14. Sŏnjo (선조, 宣祖) (1552–​1608)

16. Injo (인조, 仁祖) (1595–​1649)

19. Sukjong (숙종, 肅宗) (1661–​1720) 21. Yŏngjo (영조, 英祖) (1694–​1776) 23. Sunjo (순조, 純祖) (1790–​1834) Ikjong (익종, 翼宗) (1809–​1830) [posthumous: biological father of 24. Hŏnjong]

newgenrtpdf

Table 15.1 Queen dowagers of the Chosŏn (1392–​1910).

201

Table 15.2 Queen mothers of the Chosŏn (1392–​1910). Proclaimer

Relation to proclaimer Queen mother

Husband

3. T’aejong (태종, 太宗) (1367–​1422)

Wife of previous king (elder brother)

2–​1. Chŏngan (정안, 定安) (1355–​1412)

2. Chŏngjong (정종, 定宗) (1357–​1419)

7. Sejo (세조, 世祖) (1417–​1468)

Wife of previous king (nephew)

6–​1. Chŏngsun (정순, 定順) (1440–​1521)

6. Tanjong (단종, 端宗) (1441–​1457)

4. Sejong (세종, 世宗) (1397–​1450)

8. Yejong (예종, 睿宗) (1450–​1469) 9. Sŏngjong (성종, 成宗)

10. Yŏnsan’gun (연산군, 燕山君) (1476–​1506)

11. Chungjong (중종, 中宗) (1488–​1544)

12. Injong (인종, 仁宗) (1515–​1545)

13. Myŏngjong (명종, 明宗) (1534–​1567) 14. Sŏnjo (선조, 宣祖) (1552–​1608)

15. Kwanghaegun (광해군, 光海君) (1575–​1641) 16. Injo (인조, 仁祖) (1595–​1649)

Mother

Mother

3–​1. Wŏnkyŏng (원경, 元敬) (1365–​1420)

7–​1. Chŏnghŭi (정희, 貞熹) (1418–​1483)

Mother

Sohye (소혜, 昭惠) (1437–​1504)

Mother/​legal

9–​3. Chŏnghyŏn (정현, 貞顯) (1462–​1530)

Wife of previous king (uncle) Mother

Mother/​legal

Wife of previous king (elder brother) Wife of previous king (uncle) Mother/​legal Mother/​legal

Grandmother/​legal

8–​2. Ansun (안순, 安順) (1445–​1499)

3. T’aejong (태종, 太宗) (1367–​1422)

7. Sejo (세조, 世祖) (1417–​1468)

Tŏkjong (덕종, 德宗) (1438–​1457)

8. Yejong (예종, 睿宗) (1450–​1469) 9. Sŏngjong (성종, 成宗)

11–​3. Munchŏng (문정, 文定) (1501–​1565)

11. Chungjong (중종, 中宗) (1488–​1544)

13–​1. Insun (인순, 仁順) (1532–​1575)

13. Myŏngjong (명종, 明宗) (1534–​1567)

12–​1. Insŏng (인성, 仁聖) (1514–​1578)

14–​2. Inmok (인목, 仁穆) (1584–​1632)

12. Injong (인종, 仁宗) (1515–​1545)

14. Sŏnjo (선조, 宣祖) (1552–​1608) (Continued)

20

Table 15.2 Queen mothers of the Chosŏn (1392–​1910) (Continued). Proclaimer

Relation to proclaimer Queen mother

Husband

17. Hyojong (효종, 孝宗) (1619–​1659)

Mother/​legal

16–​2. Changyŏl (장열, 莊烈) (1624–​1688)

16. Injo (인조, 仁祖) (1595–​1649)

19. Sukjong (숙종, 肅宗) (1661–​1720)

Mother

18–​1. Myŏngsŏng (명성, 明聖) (1642–​1684)

18. Hyŏnjong (현종, 顯宗) (1641–​1674)

18. Hyŏnjong (현종, 顯宗) (1641–​1674) 20. Kyŏngjong (경종, 景宗) (1688–​1724) 21. Yŏngjo (영조, 英祖) (1694–​1776)

22. Chŏngjo (정조, 正祖) (1752–​1800) 23. Sunjo (순조, 純祖) (1790–​1834)

24. Hŏnjong (헌종, 憲宗) (1827–​1849) 25. Ch’ŏljong (철종, 哲宗) (1831–​1864)

26. Kojong (고종, 高宗) (1852–​1919)

n/​a

Mother

Mother/​legal

Wife of previous king (elder brother) Grandmother/​legal Mother/​legal

Grandmother

17–​1. Insŏn (인선, 仁宣) (1619–​1674) 19–​3. Inwŏn (인원, 仁元) (1687–​1757) 20–​2. Sŏnŭi (선의, 宣懿) (1705–​1730) 21–​2. Chŏngsun (정순, 貞純) (1745–​1805)

22–​1. Hyoŭi (효의, 孝懿) (1754–​1821)

23–​1. Sunwŏn (순원, 純元) (1789–​1857)

17. Hyojong (효종, 孝宗) (1619–​1659) 19. Sukjong (숙종, 肅宗) (1661–​1720) 20. Kyŏngjong (경종, 景宗) (1688–​1724)

21. Yŏngjo (영조, 英祖) (1694–​1776)

22. Chŏngjo (정조, 正祖) (1752–​1800) 23. Sunjo (순조, 純祖) (1790–​1834)

Mother

Sinchŏng (신정, 神貞) (1809–​1890)

Wife of previous king (nephew)/​legal

24–​2. Hyochŏng (효정, 孝定) (1831–​1904)

24. Hŏnjong (헌종, 憲宗) (1827–​1849)

Wife of previous king (uncle)/​legal

25–​1. Chŏrin (철인, 哲仁) (1837–​1878)

25. Chŏljong (철종, 哲宗) (1831–​1864)

Wife of previous king (elder brother) Wife of previous king (elder brother)/​legal Wife of previous king (elder brother)

27–​2. Sunchŏng (순정, 純貞) (1894–​1966)

Ikjong (익종, 翼宗) (1809–​1830)

27. Sunjong (순종, 純宗) (1874–​1926)

203

from King Hyŏnjong, the daughters (and granddaughters) of the powerful families of the individual reigns became the queens and the mothers of the succeeding kings. Likewise, until the early thirteenth century the Koryŏ throne was frequently passed from brother to brother, and the mothers of the enthroned kings were not always the first wives of the kings’ fathers.20 Then the sons of the seventeenth king Injong (r. 1122–​1146) were crowned successively as the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth kings and they all married the daughters of Wang On (?–​1146) (see Figure 15.1).21 Both Wang On and King Injong were, remarkably, in the same generation—​both grandsons of the eleventh king Munjong (r. 1046–​1083), who received the royal lineage of the first king T’aejo as emphasized before, only from his father. Wang On’s mother, maternal grandparents, and paternal grandmother (Consort Hyŏn [dates unknown] of King Munjong), as well as his wife’s family, the maternal grandparents of the three successive queens mentioned above, appear to have been related to the Koryŏ kings only by marriage, not biologically. Thus, it is significant that Wang On’s third daughter, Queen Sŏnjŏng (?–​1222), was the first wife and first queen of the twentieth king Sinjong (r. 1197–​1204). Their son, the twenty-​ first king Hŭijong (r. 1204–​1211) as well as their nephew, the twenty-​second king Kangjong (r. 1211–​1213) married the daughters of the descendants of the eighth king, Hyŏnjong. For two kings to choose to marry female descendants of King T’aejo illustrates how important the expectation was for the twenty-​third king Kojong (r. 1213–​1 259) the son of King Kangjong, to possess the direct or pure lineage of King T’aejo both paternally and maternally. The Koryŏ court’s selection of Wang On’s daughter demonstrates that queens were expected to have the lineage of King T’aejo only through her father, thereby providing blood proximity and securing the purity of the Wang royal lineage. Apparently, 20  Three sons of the founder and first king T’aejo (r. 918–​943), one from the second queen and two from his third queen, succeeded to the throne the next three times consecutively; three sons of the eighth king Hyŏnjong (r. 1009–​1031), the other brother-kings were two from the third queen and one from the fourth; three sons of the eleventh Munjong (r. 1046–​1083), all from the second queen; and three sons of the seventeenth Injong (r. 1122–​1146), all from the first queen. 21  His family name was originally Yi, yet it was changed to Wang. According to his genealogy, Wang On was the only agnate who appears to belong to the eldest or highest generation in the royal family tree, closest to the origin of King T’aejo, yet whose maternal lineage appears clearly unrelated to the royal lineage.

SeoKyung Han

the genealogical or biological position of Queen Sŏnjŏng was emphasized again during the succession of the thirty-​fourth king, Kongyang (r. 1389–​1392), the last king of the Koryŏ.

Royal Women as Arbiters during Moments of Political Turmoil

Seven Koryŏ kings, from the twenty-​fifth to the thirty-​first, had to marry the daughters of the first emperor Shizu (r. 1260–​1294) or the emperor’s brothers of the Yuan Mongol rulers following the political subjugation in 1258. The Yuan court accordingly intervened in the order of the Koryŏ succession, and only the sons of the Mongol queen/​princess (and consorts) were allowed to be crowned.22 The Koryŏ kings were allowed to marry both Koryŏ and Mongol women, primarily from the elite classes. Yet only Mongol women could be crowned as queen of the Koryŏ.23 The mothers of the twenty-​sixth, twenty-​seventh, and twenty-​ninth kings came from the Yuan Mongol dynasty (see Figure 15.1). The twenty-​seventh king Ch’ungsuk (r. 1313–​1330, 1332–​1339) had three Mongol queens, but they had no children. Instead, his first Koryŏ consort, later recognized as Queen Kongwŏn (1298–​1380), bore two sons, and her first son was crowned as

22  It is noteworthy that the Mongol queens were recognized with two official titles, given by the Yuan and the Koryŏ courts, while alive—​and, indeed, after their deaths. It is significant that the Mongol title emphasized their natal status—​that is, as a princess descended from the Yuan emperors, which appeared the same as the official titles of the daughters of the Koryŏ kings. Their Koryŏ titles instead specified that they were either the queen consort or the queen mother of the Koryŏ kings. The Yuan princesses and consorts seem be honoured with the official title of “queen,” representing the wife of the Koryŏ king. Thus, this chapter mentions the significance of both titles for Mongol queens/​princesses.

23  In 1260, when the twenty-​fifth king Ch’ungyŏl (r. 1274–​1298, 1299–​1 308) was proclaimed as Crown prince, he married the daughter of Wang In (王絪, ?–​1275), the grandson of the twentieth Koryŏ king Sinjong (神宗, r. 1197–​1204). But in 1274 he married again, to the princess of the Yuan emperor Shizu, while he stayed in the Yuan court—​in fact, while detained as a hostage. In the same year, when his father, the twenty-​fourth king Wŏnjong (元宗, r. 1259–​1274) passed away, he came back to Koryŏ and succeeded to the throne. After the royal funeral had been performed the Mongol princess moved into the Koryŏ capital, Kaekyŏng (the current city of Kaesŏng). Accordingly, his first or original Koryŏ queen was forced to cede the rank of royal consort—​who appears to then lose the official post of Crown princess, simply being called by her last name, Lady Wang (?–​1319)—​and the king gave her the official title Kungchu (宮主) instead. See the Koryŏsa, vol. 25 (the eleventh month, 1260); vol. 27 (the sixth month, 1274); and vol. 28 (the eleventh month, 1274).

203

204

204

Dowager Queens and Royal Succession [Father] 1.T’aejo (r.918–943)

[Son] 8. Hyŏnjong--[Daughter] [F] (r. 1009–1031) [S] 11. Munjong----------------Granddaughter [F] (r. 1046–1083) [S] 15. Sukjong [F] (r. 1095–1105) [S] 16. Yejong [F] (r. 1105–1122) [S] 17. Injong --- (daughter of the Yim family) [F] (r. 1122–1146)

Wang Sŏng--[D] [S]18. Ŭijong---[D][S]19. Myŏngjong-[D] (?–1220) (r. 1146–1170) [F] (r. 1170–1197)

[D] -----------------------------------

Wang On (?–1146) -----(unknown)

[S] 20. Sinjong---[D]Queen Sŏnjŏng Wang Chin (?–?) [F] (r. 1197–1204) (?–1222) ---- (unknown)

[S] 22. Kangjong [F] (r. 1211–1213)

[S] 21. Hŭijong -------------------------- [D] (r. 1204–1211) [S] Wang Sŏ(?–?)---(unknown)

[S] 23. Kojong-------------[D] [F] (r. 1213–1259) [S] 24. Wŏnjong–(daughter of the Kim family) [F] (r. 1259–1274) Mongol queen/princess ------------------------ [S] 25.Ch’ungyŏl----------------------- Lady Wang (a) (1259–1297) [F] (r.1274–1298 / 1299–1308) (?–1319) Mongol consort ------------ [S] 26. Ch’ungsŏn (?–1315) [F] (r. 1298, 1308–1313)

[S] Wang Cha (?–1308)------ (unknown)

[S] 27. Ch’ungsuk--------------------------------- Queen Kongwŏn [F] (r. 1313–1330, 1332–1339) (1298–1380)

Mongol queen/princess ------ [S] 28. Ch’unghye ---- Koryŏ Consort Tŏngnyŏng(?–1375) [F] (r. 1330–1332 (?–1380) 1339–1344) [S] 29. Ch’ungmok (r. 1344–1348)

[S] 30. Ch’ungchŏng (r. 1348–1351)

[S] 31. Kongmin Lady Wang(b) ---- Wang Kyun (?–?) [F] (r. 1351–1374) (?–?) **Consort Chŏng (?–1428)

(daughter of the Yi family) ---------

[S] 32. Wu [F] (r. 1374–1388)

[S] 33. Ch’ang (r. 1388–1389)

34. Kongyang (r. 1389–1392)

Figure 15.1 The queens and kings of the Koryŏ (918–​1392).

the twenty-​eighth king Ch’unghye (r. 1330–​1332, 1339–​1344) and, later, her second son was crowned as the thirty-​first king Kongmin (r. 1351–​1374). In the meantime, two sons of the twenty-​eighth king, one from the Mongol queen/​princess Tŏngnyŏng (?–​1375),24 the other from the Koryŏ consort, succeeded to the throne as the twenty-​ninth and thirtieth

kings—​though both died at an early age without appropriate heirs.25 During the reigns of both these kings, who were enthroned at the age of eight (1344) and eleven (1348) respectively, the Mongol queen/​p rincess Tŏngnyŏng appears to have participated in administration consistently. But the Koryŏ

24  The Koryŏ sources indicate that Queen/​Princess Tŏngnyŏng was consistently involved in politics during both reigns: King Ch’ungmok (r. 1344–​1348) and King Ch’ungchŏng (r. 1348–​1351). She “[took] care of all of the office work” for King Ch’ungmok. See the Koryŏsa, vol. 89, the Bibliographies 2; Koryŏsa, vol. 37 (the tenth month, 1348).

25  When the twenty-​ninth king Ch’ungmok died, it was the Yuan court that selected the thirtieth king Ch’ungchŏng, the king’s brother, for the next reign. It was also the Yuan court that decided to replace King Ch’ungchŏng with the thirty-​first king Kongmin, the king’s uncle and the brother of the previous king.

205

source materials do not indicate how, or even whether, her mother-​in-​law, Queen Kongwŏn, the paternal grandmother of both kings, participated in politics as well during this time. Considering the political condition of those days, the Mongol queens and consorts must have been quite influential in the Koryŏ court—​though it is unclear whether another Mongol queen/​p rincess of the previous Koryŏ kings, instead of Queen/​Princess Tŏngnyŏng, could serve as regent, or if any of them would still be alive during these two reigns.26 However, during the reign of King Kongmin, when the Koryŏ court resumed the royal succession of the Wang lineage, Queen Kongwŏn entered politics and, remarkably, played a direct role in (re-​)establishing the line of succession to the throne as a queen dowager. When King Kongmin was assassinated during the political turmoil of 1374, Queen Dowager Kongwŏn “[wanted] to select a royal heir to succeed to the throne,”27 and the Koryŏ civil officials crowned King Kongmin’s only son, Monino (1365–​1389), at the age of ten, as King Wu (r. 1374–​1388). Although it is unclear whether the queen dowager “wanted” or selected Monino, about one month after the death of King Kongmin she made his grandson play the role of the “chief mourner”;28 presumably she served as regent in the early part of the reign of King Wu, though the specific records have not found. Yet it is evident that Consort Chŏng (Lady An, ?–​1428), the queen dowager’s daughter-​in-​law, was involved with the royal succession much more deeply. She was the fourth consort of King Kongmin, after one Mongol queen/​princess and three Koryŏ consorts. The administration of King Kongmin approved and accepted her as royal consort or concubine, but not queen or wife of the king. Even so, she was involved with the process of the succession to the throne of the next three kings, and issued edicts proclaiming two of the last Koryŏ kings, and even the first Chosŏn king. By 1388, when the administration of King Wu was supposed to proclaim the next king following the success of Yi Sŏnggye’s military coup, the queens of King Kongmin, both 26  This question appears related to the Koryŏ tradition of whether and how political participation by the queens of previous kings, standing higher in the family tree than the reigning king, would occur—​and, similarly, in the Yuan Mongol, whether and how the empresses of previous emperors would participate in politics. Both traditions have been under investigation. 27  Koryŏsa, vol. 89 (the ninth month, 1374). 28  See footnotes 13 and 14.

SeoKyung Han

the Mongol Queen/Princess Noguk Taejang (?–​1365; posthumously recognized as Queen Indŏk by the Koryŏ court) and the Koryŏ Queen Sunchŏng (?–​1 376, posthumously recognized as the legal mother of King Wu), had passed away; Panya (the potential birth mother of King Wu) had also passed away and received no official recognition;29 two of the royal consorts had become Buddhist nuns, and the other consort gave birth after having been raped.30 Thus, given this unusual situation, with no clear queen or birth mother to intercede, the administration appears to have authorized Consort Chŏng to play a direct role in crowning King Wu’s nine-​year-​old son as the thirty-​third Koryŏ king Ch’ang (r. 1388–​1389).31 Her role supports the view that the court needed approval for the royal succession from the queens of previous kings, probably following the precedent of Queen Dowager Kongwŏn. Given that Consort Chŏng was originally not given the authority of the queen, her relationship to King Kongmin seems to have

29  King Kongmin officially had two queens and four royal consorts. After his first queen, the Mongol Queen/​Princess Noguk Taejang, had died in childbirth, five of his Koryŏ consorts appear to have produced no children. Then Panya (般若, ?–​1376), a female slave who served Sin Ton (辛旽, 1322–​1371), a Buddhist monk and notorious official of King Kongmin, gave birth to his son Monino (1365–​1389), who later became the thirty-​second king Wu. Yet King Kongmin announced one of his deceased consorts, coming from the Han family, as Monino’s birth mother, and gave her the posthumous recognition of Queen Sunchŏng (順靜, dates unknown) (1374). Monino, as King Wu, also reconfirmed the honour of Queen Sunchŏng. But Panya claimed that she was the real mother of King Wu, and, eventually, she and her family were executed (1376). Later her claim came to serve as a reason for Yi Sŏnggye and his allies, the founders of the Chosŏn, to claim that her master Sin Ton, not King Kongmin, was the real father of King Wu; that both King Wu and his son, King Ch’ang, did not carry the lineage of the Koryŏ court, and therefore the throne should go to a replacement dynasty.

30  It appears that King Kongmin established the Chajewi (Committee on Younger Generation Protection) and recruited “young and handsome” men, including Hong Ryun (?–​1374). To gain a son, the king “[forced] his consorts [to be disgraced]” and made the men rape his consorts. When the king heard that Hong Ryun had impregnated Consort Ik (dates unknown) he was pleased, yet he planned to execute Hong. However, Hong and his colleagues assassinated the king beforehand (1374), though, later, he and his family, as well as other collaborators and their families, were executed or severely punished (1376). Consort Ik gave birth to a daughter (dates unknown), and her daughter was executed during the reign of King Wu (1376). Yet the consort appears to have lived and raised the daughter of the last Koryŏ king, Kongyang (r. 1389–1392). See the Koryŏsa, vol. 43 (the tenth month, 1372); vol. 44 (the first month, 1373); vol. 64 (the tenth month, 1374); vol. 89, the Biographies 2; and vol. 131, the Biographies 44. 31  Ibid., vol. 137, the Biographies 50 (the sixth month, 1388).

205

206

206

Dowager Queens and Royal Succession

been an important reason why she was accepted as the legal mother of King Wu, and thus the legal grandmother of King Ch’ang. When King Ch’ang was crowned his administration honoured his biological mother, Queen Kŭn (dates unknown), the first queen of King Wu, and promoted her to the status of queen mother.32 Then the Koryŏ court decided to expel all consorts of King Wu from the palace and stop providing official offerings and salaries to them. Several months later the court even decided to stop providing official offerings and salaries to all consorts of King Kongmin, including Consort Chŏng, because they were not the “right (or authorized) wife” of the king, following the precedent of the expulsion of the consorts of King Ch’unghye, the elder brother of King Kongmin.33 Then, in 1389, when King Wu was exiled and King Ch’ang dethroned,34 Consort Chŏng nevertheless decreed the replacement of King Ch’ang with the thirty-​fourth and last Koryŏ king Kongyang (r. 1389–​1392); this time she even handed over the royal seal directly to the new king.35 Her participation in proclaiming King Ch’ang’s successor indicates that the reigns of both the previous king and the new king should respect or observe her role in decreeing the succession. Her role also illuminates how she was regarded as the (legal) grandmother of King Ch’ang and allowed to authorize the enthroning and dethroning of both King Ch’ang and King Kongyang, who belonged to the generation of her (legal) grandson. After King Kongyang had been crowned his administration recognized Consort Chŏng as Queen Yuhye, and her additional title, wang taepi, appears to represent the wife of the previous king (King Kongmin) or the mother of the current king (King Kongyang) (1389).36 However, with this title and authority she issued an edict to dethrone King Kongyang and confirm the enthronement of Yi Sŏnggye as the first Chosŏn king T’aejo in 1392.37 The early Chosŏn court changed her official title, probably downgrading it 32  Ibid.

33  Ibid. (the twelfth month, 1388).

34  Yi and his (neo-​)Confucian scholar allies succeeded with their military coup (in the fifth month of 1389). But an attempt to assassinate Yi, orchestrated by King Wu, resulted in failure. See the Koryŏsa, vol. 137, the Biographies 50 (the eleventh month, 1389). 35  Ibid., vol. 45 (the eleventh month, 1388).

36  Ibid., vol. 89, the Biographies 2 (the eleventh month, 1389).

37  T’aejo sillok 1: 37a–​38b ([the twelfth through] the seventeenth day of the seventh month of 1392).

following the dethronement of King Kongyang (her legal or adopted son) and, indeed, the downfall of the Koryŏ, though the court continued to respect her as the authorized queen of King Kongmin.38 Her official title of “consort” was changed, but the fact that she had married King Kongmin and received an honorary title of “royal consort” from the king, and been approved and accepted as the king’s consort by the Koryŏ court, was considered very important at that time.39 Even so, the accession of the thirty-​fourth king Kongyang to the throne adds another example of how the maternal line of the heir was appreciated in the late Koryŏ, and, seemingly, how the appreciation was developed as well. King Kongyang was not the son of King Ch’ang. His father was the direct descendant of the twentieth king Sinjong (r. 1197–​1204), as mentioned earlier, whose first wife and queen was Queen Sinchŏng (?–​1222). His mother, known as Lady Wang (dates unknown; see “Lady Wang (b)” in Figure 15.1), was the great-​ granddaughter of the twenty-​fifth king Ch’ungyŏl, whose first wife, Lady Wang (“Lady Wang (a)”), was also the great-​granddaughter of King Sinjong. King Ch’ungyŏl was, moreover, the great-​grandson of King Sinjong and the great-​grandfather of King Kongmin as well. According to the family tree, the parents of King Kongyang belonged to the same generation as King Kongmin, and thus King Kongyang could be accepted as a son of King Kongmin. The legal relationship between the two kings made it possible for Consort Chŏng to serve as the legal mother of King Kongyang. Yet her relationships to both kings represent and reconfirm the invalidity of the previous successions of both King Wu and King Ch’ang, and therefore undermined the legitimacy of King Kongmin himself. The greater stress on the maternal line of the heir can be traced back to the early Koryŏ. The early Koryŏ queens, as the daughters and granddaughters of the first king T’aejo were regarded as handing down—​or, perhaps more accurately, adding—​the pure lineage of King T’aejo to the next heir. Then, 38  In early Chosŏn, Consort Chŏng received another title, that of Kungchu, which Lady Wang (a) (see Table 15.3) (?–​1319), of the twenty-​fifth king Ch’ungyŏl had received when her official title of “queen” was changed—​or, rather, downgraded—​in accordance with the enthronement of the Mongol queen/​princess. But the Chosŏn court performed her funeral and memorial services in the same way that they were performed for the queen or the authorized wife of the king. See the T’aejo sillok 1: 51a (the eighth month, 1392); the T’aejong sillok 29: 35a (the fifth month, 1415); and the Sejong sillok 40: 35a (the fifth month, 1428); and 40: 18a (the fifth month, 1428).

39  Koryŏsa, vol. 41 (the tenth month, 1366); (the twelfth month, 1366).

207

as illustrated by Queen Sŏnjŏng (?–​1222), the queens from the elite families were expected or required to minimize their biological relatedness to the royal lineage and thereby secure the proximity and purity of the heir’s lineage: the lineage of the queen’ father became crucial to minimize their biological relation to the origin of the royal lineage. The respect for the heir’s maternal lineage seems to thus appreciate the role of a mother and, later, the role of a wife. Similarly, Queen Dowager Kongwŏn (1298–​1380) originally came from the Hong family, and Consort Chŏng (?–​1428) from the An family. The families of their husbands (the previous and current kings) and the maternal families of their sons (the current and next kings) were the powerful elite of the period, but biologically unrelated to the Wang family of the Koryŏ royal lineage. However, both queens established their authority as the queen dowager, especially in terms of the prerogative of affirming or deciding the royal succession. Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi (1418–​1483) of early Chosŏn was expected and required to fulfil the duties of the queen dowager in the same way as Queen Dowager Kongwŏn and Consort Chŏng of the late Koryŏ were. Yet her proclamation of the “chief mourner” indicates that the ideas and ideals of the mother of the “chief mourner” had been integrated into the succession of the Chosŏn throne. She proved that her roles as the first wife (the queen consort of King Sejo), and, indeed, as the first queen (the queen mother of King Yejong), had been recognized by the Chosŏn court. She also showed how she, the paternal grandmother of the royal heir (King Sŏngjong), was expected and required to confirm that the royal heir should be related biologically to the earlier kings and carry the pure lineage for two generations.

SeoKyung Han

The participation of Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi in the royal succession reveals, moreover, how she legitimized the succession of the ruling king while also promoting the legitimacy of the previous kings. She upheld the idea of how close the lineage of the heir should be to the progenitor of the royal lineage. This idea or ideal, as illustrated by the Koryŏ succession, seems to emphasize the relationship of the individual descendants of each king to the progenitor or the founder of the dynasty. Yet Chŏnghŭi made it possible to refocus on how the heir should carry the royal lineage, or who should enable the heir to carry the lineage. Although her husband, King Sejo, usurped the throne, she played a significant role in emphasizing that King Sŏngjong (her grandson) came to inherit the lineage of the first Chosŏn king T’aejo from King Yejong (her son) and, more fundamentally, from King Sejo. In summary, the cases described in this chapter demonstrate the important and varied roles that the queens from late Koryŏ through early Chosŏn Korea played in determining the succession to the throne—​both by producing biological heirs of pure and suitably royal lineage and by stepping in to confirm or even determine the next heir. In particular, as exemplified by the cases of Consort Chŏng and Queen Dowager Chŏnghŭi, the queen dowagers were key links between the three generations of grandparent, parent, and child, more than two generations of parents and children, occupying a crucial position in terms of dynastic continuity and ensuring a smooth transition to the Korean throne. Finally, this study has demonstrated how the political agency of the royal women can be seen extending beyond producing and appointing the next king, as regents for young rulers and a guiding influence in court politics.

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Bibliography

Primary Sources Anon. Chosŏn wangjo sillok 朝鮮王朝實錄 [Annals of the Chosŏn Dynasty]. 1392–​1863. Accessed March 26, 2018. http://​sillok. history.go.kr/​main/​main.do; www.koreanhistory.or.kr/​joseonPeriod.do. Anon. Koryŏsa 高麗史 [History of Koryŏ]. 918–​1392; recompiled 1392–​1451. Accessed April 5, 2018. http://​db.history.go.kr/​ KOREA. Anon. Sŏnwŏn pogam 璿源寶鑑 [Precious Models of [Documentations of] the Origins of Jade]. Edited by Tongsu Yi. 3 vols. Seoul: Kyemyŏngsa, 1931. Reprint, 1989. Anon. Yŏlsŏng chijang t’onggi 列聖誌狀通紀 [Chronological Compilation of Records and Documents of and about the Kings [and Queens]] (eighteenth century). 5 vols. Sŏngnam-​si: Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwŏn, 2003–​4. Anon. Yŏlsŏng wangbi sebo 列聖王妃世譜 [Compilation of the Genealogies of [the Kings and] the Queens] (1681, 1757, 1827–​32, 1863–​65, 1890–​96). 5 vols. Sŏngnam-​si: Han’guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn’guwŏn, 2008. Secondary Sources Han, SeoKyung. “Re-​Claiming the Ideals of the Yŏllyŏ:  Women in and with Books in Early Chosŏn Korea.” PhD dissertation, Binghamton University, 2016. Im, Chung-​ung. Chosŏn wangjo sillok e ŭihan saeropke kkumin wangbi yŏlchŏn 조선 왕조 실록 에 의한 새롭게 꾸민 왕비 열전. Seoul: Sǒnyǒngsa, 2003. Kang, Mun-​sik, Myǒng-​gi Han, and Pyǒng-​ju Sin. Wang kwa adŭl: Chosŏn sidae wangwi kyesŭngsa 왕 과 아들: 조선 시대 왕위 계 승사. Seoul: Ch’aek kwa Hamkke, 2014. Kim, Chʻang-​gyǒm, Sǒn-​ju Kim, and Sun-​hyǒng Kwǒn. Han’guk wangsil yŏsŏng inmul sajŏn 한국 왕실 여성 인물 사전. Sǒngnam, Korea: Han’gukhak Chungang Yǒn’guwǒn Ch’ulp’anbu, 2015. Kim, Su-​ji. Taebi, wang wi ŭi yŏja: Wangkwŏn ŭl twihŭndŭn Chosŏn ch’oego ŭi yŏsŏng kwŏllyŏkcha 4-​in ŭl mal hada 대비, 왕 위 의 여자: 왕권 을 뒤흔든 조선 최고 의 여성 권력자 4인 을 말 하다. Seoul: Inmun Sǒwǒn, 2014. Kim, Yong-​suk. Chosŏn-​jo Kungjung p’ungsok yon’gu 조선조 궁중풍속연구. Seoul: Ilchisa, 1987. —​—​—. Han’guk yŏsoksa 한국 女俗史. Seoul: Minŭmsa, 1989. Sim, Chae-​u. Chosŏn ŭi wangbi ro sara kagi 조선 의 왕비 로 살아 가기. P’aju, Korea: Tolbegae, 2012 Sin, Myǒng-​ho. Chosŏn wangbi sillok:  Sumgyŏjin chŏlban ŭi yŏksa 조선 왕비 실록:  숨겨진 절반 의 역사. Seoul:  Yǒksa ŭi Ach’im, 2007. Yun, Chǒng-​nan. Wangbi ro ponŭn Chosŏn wangjo 왕비 로 보는 조선 왕조. Seoul: Iga Ch’ulp’ansa, 2015.

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16 THE AMBIGUITIES OF FEMALE RULE IN NAYAKA SOUTH INDIA, SEVENTEENTH TO EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES* LENNART BES

[Madurai’s prince] Vijayaranga Chokkanatha Nayaka being a child, his grandmother ruled the kingdom for some time, with him in her lap. Maduraittala varalāṟu (a history of Madurai town, ca. 1800 CE)1

Since South Asia’s modern states became independent around the middle of the twentieth century, women have played an important role in the region’s politics. Indeed, a recent study comparing countries worldwide for the number of years under female leadership from 1966 onwards found that South Asia holds the world’s top position in this respect.2 India and its neighbours have witnessed several cases of women serving as prime ministers and leaders of political parties, many of them widows or daughters of former prominent—​usually male—​politicians. In contrast, the Indian subcontinent’s earlier history saw very few instances of formal female rule. Surveys of Indian dynasties throughout the ages suggest that not even 1 per cent of the monarchs were women.3 An overview published two decades ago of about 500 female rulers in world history lists only twenty-​five *  I wish to thank Amita Kanekar, Amol Bankar, Anna Seastrand, Caleb Simmons, David Shulman, Elizabeth Bridges, Ellie Woodacre, George Michell, Herman Tieken, Jeroen Duindam, John Fritz, Jos Gommans, Kim Ragetli, Leslie Orr, Liesbeth Geevers, Nikhil Bellarykar, Pamela Price, R. K. K. Rajarajan, Shivshanker Cheral and Tom the mapmaker, who all somehow helped me in writing this chapter but are obviously not responsible for any of the findings presented here. Parts of the chapter are based on my dissertation about court politics in the Vijayanagara successor states (forthcoming in 2018), chaps. 3–​4, 6, Epilogue. 1  Cited in Sathyanatha Aiyar, History of the Nayaks of Madura, 377–​78. 2  The Economist, “Gender Inequality Goes Right to the Top.”

3  See, for example, Philips, Handbook of Oriental History, 82–​94; and Bhattacherje, Encyclopaedia of Indian Events and Dates, C7–​C51.

South Asians (a mere 5 per cent), with nearly one-​third of them belonging to the twentieth century.4 A handful of the women on Indian thrones are relatively well known, but even these queens are usually mentioned just in passing in general surveys of India’s past. Examples from this varied group are Jalalat al-​Din Razya (r. 1236–​1240), Delhi’s only reigning sultana in over half a millennium, being chosen by her father as his successor, and popular as “Razia Sultan” in modern Indian cinema; the Maratha queen regent Tarabai Bhonsle (r. 1700–​1708), celebrated adversary of the Mughal emperors; and Rānī (Queen) Lakshmibai of Jhansi, who, widowed and pensioned off by the British, famously fought against them during the “Mutiny” of 1857–​1859.5 The small number of female rulers in south India—​the regional focus of this chapter—​are probably even less widely known. Again showing a great diversity, these women include the martial “female king” Rudramadevi (r. 1263–​1289) of the Kakatiya state on the Deccan plateau, to whom I shall briefly return at the end of this chapter; the easily approachable and allegedly semi-​naked queen of the Ullal (or Olala) kingdom on the southwest Kanara coast, vividly described by the Italian traveler Pietro Della Valle in the 1620s, when she had grown estranged from her husband (the ruler of another kingdom); and even an entirely matriarchal dynasty of female rulers, governing the tiny, semi-​autonomous principality of Attingal in the far southwestern Malabar region between the fourteenth and eighteenth centuries.6 4  Jackson, Women Rulers throughout the Ages, xv–​xxix.

5  For Jalalat al-​Din Razya, see the chapter in the present volume by Jyoti Phulera.

6  For the queen of Ullal, see Della Valle, The Travels, vol. 2, 303–​43; Rubiés, Travel and Ethnology in the Renaissance, 363–​66; and Shastry, Goa–​Kanara Portuguese Relations. For Attingal, see Jayagopan Nair

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The question is whether such women were generally regarded as full-​fledged monarchs—​that is, formally ruling queens—​or merely as temporary regents. For female reigns were not only uncommon but were usually deemed undesirable too, at least by a range of political thinkers who over the millennia wrote about the matter.7 For example, the ancient Indian Mahābhārata epic (fifth century BCE to fourth century CE?, ascribed to the sage Vyasa) warns that countries ruled by women will inevitably sink like stone boats in a river.8 Later Sanskrit political treatises—​such as the south Indian Nītivākyāmṛta (tenth century, by the Jain monk Somadevasuri) and the Śukranīti (nineteenth century, by Shukracharya)—​simply ignore women in their surveys of eligible candidates for the throne and just refer to various male members of the royal family.9 Slightly less antagonistic to female rulers is India’s classical discourse on statecraft, the Arthaśāstra (fourth century BCE to third century CE?, generally attributed to the Maurya Empire’s chief minister, Kautilya).10 It recommends that a king be succeeded by a capable prince, but if this proves impossible a princess or a pregnant queen can be chosen. However, this is deemed acceptable only as a temporary solution, until a suitable male relative becomes available again. Underlying all these writings, as several scholars argue, was the general notion that political leadership was not safe in the hands of women. Females were traditionally believed to be prone to unmanageable emotional and sexual behaviour. Therefore, women with political ambitions could endanger political harmony and stability, which compelled men to keep them under control. Only then could female powers be channelled to useful effect and serve to uphold male honour. Furthermore, one of the king’s main functions—​his duty as warrior to extend and protect his kingdom—​was considered to be unfit for women. In fact, and Sivasankaran Nair, “Attingal”; s’Jacob, De Nederlanders in Kerala; and de Lannoy, The Kulasekhara Perumals of Travancore. 7  For general overviews of succession principles and practices in India, see Scharfe, The State in Indian Tradition, 55–​66, 118–​26; Ali, Courtly Culture and Political Life, 53–​55; and Mahalingam, South Indian Polity, 31–​38, 92–​102. 8  Vyasa, The Mahābhārata, vol. 3, bk. 5, The Book of the Effort, 279; see also vol. 7, bk. 12 (pt. 1), The Book of Peace, 322, 367–​68.

9  Ali, Courtly Culture and Political Life, 53, 277; Shukracharya, The Śukranītiḥ, 115; see also 93, 116–​25. 10  Kautiliya, The Kauṭilīya Arthaśāstra, pt. 2, 359–​63, 453–​54; Ali, Courtly Culture and Political Life, 71–​72n11.

their alleged unpredictably was a threat to the realm’s integrity. Consequently, although in many instances women did actually gain practical power, formal political authority was reserved for men.11 However, despite those long-​standing and widespread negative views on female rulership, several women did end up on Indian thrones, forced by or taking advantage of exceptional political developments. Research into the status and power of such queens has been somewhat limited so far, especially with regard to the period and region discussed in the present study. However, the few women’s reigns in India deserve our attention, because they inform us about notions on Indian kingship and the role of women in politics. Important issues in this respect include the following. What circumstances allowed queens to ascend the throne? In what ways were their reigns legitimized and perceived by contemporaries? What terms were used to indicate the position of queens? How were these women judged and associated with either dynastic continuity or dynastic demise by later commentators? And how did all this relate to their gender? With these matters in mind, the present study considers four south Indian “Hindu” queens, active during various periods between the 1670s and 1760s, of whom two each reigned over the kingdoms of Ikkeri and Madurai respectively. Ikkeri was located in south India’s northwest, the region where Kannada was spoken, while Madurai lay in the peninsula’s far south, part of the Tamil-​speaking area, although its main court language was Telugu (see Figure 16.1). Both states were ruled by so-​called Nayaka houses, whose founders had served as military commanders, or nāyakas, at the court of the south Indian Vijayanagara Empire in the early sixteenth century. When Vijayanagara started disintegrating late that century, a handful of its vassal families grew into autonomous dynasties governing sizeable kingdoms, including Ikkeri (also known as Keladi) and Madurai.12 Deriving much 11  See, for instance, Price, “The State and Representations of Femaleness,” 589, 595–​97; Talbot, “Rudrama-​devi, the Female King,” 391–​94; Verma, “Women Administrators in Epigraphic Sources,” 1–​5, 8–​10; and Spencer, “When Queens Bore Gifts,” 364–​65. Such texts and ideas were not unique to India, of course. For a global overview of notions and practices of early modern queenship, see Duindam, Dynasties, 89–​108. 12  For general (somewhat outdated) histories of the Nayakas of Ikkeri and Madurai, see, for instance, Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri; Chitnis, “Keḷadi Polity”; Sathyanatha Aiyar, History of the Nayaks

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court chronicles, and folk traditions—​and also at records of the Dutch East India Company (or Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie: VOC), which maintained close relations with the Ikkeri and Madurai courts and extensively reported about their queens. Additionally, visual materials comprise temple murals and sculptures, which depict these women in a context that was not just religious but also had a political dimension. The use of internal as well as external sources allows for examination of both royal representation and actual events at courts, which combination may lead to more nuanced conclusions about female rule. This chapter is structured as follows. It begins with basic dynastic information about the four queens (discussed in chronological order), whose careers have hitherto been only partly reconstructed by historians. Next it analyzes which factors seemingly played a role in these women’s acquisition and consolidation of their positions, how their rulership manifested itself in comparison to that of their male counterparts, and how this was experienced by others. The chapter then considers the place of each queen in the history and historiography of the two Nayaka houses, after which some general conclusions are drawn.

Four Ambitious Widow  Queens

Chennammaji of Ikkeri (r. ca. 1673–​1697) Figure 16.1 Geographical locations in early modern south India mentioned in the main text or footnotes.

of their court culture, legitimacy, and political organization from their parental empire, these states flourished in the seventeenth century, and some of them lasted well into the eighteenth century. As elsewhere in India, female monarchs were a rare phenomenon in Vijayanagara and its successor states: only Ikkeri and Madurai had women rulers, and no more than two each. This research is based on both historical and art-​historical sources. It looks at indigenous texts—​such as inscriptions, of Madura; Rangachari, “The History of the Naik Kingdom of Madura”; and Bes, The Heirs of Vijayanagara, W chaps. 2–​3, Epilogue. For a more recent and broader discussion of the Nayaka states in the Tamil region, see Narayana Rao, Shulman and Subrahmanyam, Symbols of Substance.

In the 1660s and early 1670s the Ikkeri kingdom went through a series of brutal succession struggles. One of these led to the enthronement of Somashekara Nayaka I (r. 1664–​1671), a minor eight or nine years old.13 After some time this young king married a woman called Chennammaji (see Figure 16.2). One of Ikkeri’s dynastic chronicles, the Kannada Keḷadi arasara vaṁśāvaḷi, suggests that she was the daughter of a 13  For these successions, see, for example, Nationaal Archief, The Hague (hereafter NA); Archives of the Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie (hereafter VOC), no. 1240, fols. 532–​33, 584–​87, 602–​3; no. 1246, fols. 1619–​20: letters from Vengurla to Batavia, May and December 1662; report on Vengurla, July 1664; Coolhaas and Van Goor, Generale Missiven, vol. 3, 434–​35; British Library (Asian and African Studies), London (hereafter BL/​AAS), Mackenzie General collection (hereafter MG), no. 6, pt. 11: “Historical account of Beedoonoor or Caladee Samstanum,” fols. 77v, 79, 80; Krishnaswami Aiyangar, Sources of Vijayanagar History, 347–​48; Krishnamurthy, Sivatattva Ratnākara of Keladi Basavaraja, 111–​13; Ferroli, The Jesuits in Mysore, 56; Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri, 104–​5, 108–​9; Chitnis, Keḷadi Polity, 20, 39, 46, 48; and Shastry, Goa–​Kanara Portuguese Relations, 209–​10.

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Mannappa Chetti

SHIVAPPA I r. ca. 1644–1660

X BHADRAPPA r. 1661–1664

Mariyappa Chetti X

Siddappa Sali

SOMASHEKARA I X CHENNAMMAJI r. 1664–1671 r. ca. 1673–1697

BASAVAPPA I r. 1697–1713 SOMASHEKARA II

Puttanna Chetti

r. 1713–1739 BASAVAPPA II r. 1739–1754

X

VIRAMMAJI r. 1757–1763

CHENNA BASAVAPPA r. 1754–1757

SOMASHEKARA III co-r. 1757–1763

certain Siddappa Sali.14 He probably belonged to the mercantile Chetti community, members of which married into Ikkeri’s royal family on other occasions too. Local and foreign sources agree that King Somashekara I went mad during his reign, and the VOC reported that others actually governed the kingdom.15 When Somashekara I was murdered by courtiers in December 1671 a year of even more intense violence ensued, involving at least five pretenders to the throne and their respective supporters. Around early 1672 another boy, Shivappa Nayaka II, served as Ikkeri’s king for a few months, which period witnessed the assassination of all close relatives of the former ruler Somashekara I. According to the Dutch, the subsequent months saw ongoing clashes between various court factions, and, while the throne seems to have remained vacant for some time, a general named Timmanna now emerged as the court’s most powerful figure. By early 1673 he had killed or expelled all his opponents and installed as Ikkeri’s new monarch Queen Chennammaji, the widow of Somashekara I.16 14  BL/​AAS, MG, no. 6, pt. 11: “Historical account of Beedoonoor,” fol. 80. This text is thought to be a translation of the Keḷadi arasara vaṁśāvaḷi (itself possibly an abridged version of the Kannada chronicle Keḷadinṛpa vijayam). Chennammaji’s father is mentioned here as “Calapoorda-​Seedapasaly,” which may refer to a man named Siddappa Sali—​the latter term a variation of the caste name Chetti—​who originated from a place called Kalapur, perhaps denoting the port of Kundapur. I thank Caleb Simmons for discussing all this with me. 15  NA, VOC, no. 1288, fol. 635: letter from Cochin to Batavia and Gentlemen XVII, July 1672.

16  For the period 1671–​73, see, for instance: NA, VOC, no. 1288, fols. 635–​38v; no. 1291, fols. 586v-​87v; no. 1295, fols. 264v-​66; no. 1299, fol. 484; no. 1463, fols. 438–​38v; no. 1474, fols. 329–​29v; no. 1593, fol.

Figure 16.2 Genealogical chart of the Nayakas of Ikkeri showing the (probable) family relations of Queens Chennammaji and Virammaji, with rulers in capitals and dotted lines indicating adoptions.

Although most control lay in the hands of General Timmanna, Queen Chennammaji appears to have held political ambitions of her own. In a report written shortly after her death, in 1697, the Dutch explain how she had strengthened her position by what they called a “very political trick” (seer politijcque streek).17 Upon the murder of her husband in 1671, Chennammaji was supposed to commit satī and die with him on his funeral pyre. However, she pretended to be pregnant, and thus giving people hope she would give birth to a son and heir to the throne, she managed to postpone her death. Meanwhile, she forged ties with parties at the court that were so strong that, once her pregnancy proved to be false, nobody could remove her from her ruling position anymore and force her to perform satī. Initially, her most important ally was undoubtedly General Timmanna, her “kingmaker.” But he seems to have harboured royal aspirations for himself too, having himself addressed as the Nayaka of Ikkeri, and so the queen and the general gradually turned into 876v: letters from Cochin to Batavia and Gentlemen XVII, July 1672, April, November 1673, November 1674; letter from “Sadaasjiwe Neijke king of Carnatica” at Vengurla to the Dutch commissioner-​general, February 1689; report on Vengurla and “Canara,” March 1689; diary of Commissioner Zwaardekroon’s tour in Malabar, September 1697; BL/​AAS, MG, no. 6, pt. 11: “Historical account of Beedoonoor,” fols. 80–​80v; Krishnaswami Aiyangar, Sources of Vijayanagar History, 349; Krishnamurthy, Sivatattva Ratnākara of Keladi Basavaraja, 114; Bes, “Toddlers, Widows, and Bastards Enthroned,” 127–​28; Shastry, Goa–​Kanara Portuguese Relations, 216; Chitnis, Keḷadi Polity, 20, 48–​49; Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri, 115–​18; Mahalingam, Mackenzie Manuscripts, vol. 2, 418. 17  NA, VOC, no. 1593, fols. 876–​7 6v: diary of Commissioner Zwaardekroon’s tour in Malabar, September 1697.

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rivals, which even led to some military confrontations. But Chennammaji remained seated on the throne and grew increasingly powerful, especially after Timmanna’s death, around mid-​1676.18 Because Chennammaji and her deceased husband Somashekara I had no children, she adopted a boy named Basavappa Nayaka, who was destined to become her successor. The Kannada text Keḷadinṛpa vijayam, another dynastic chronicle, declares that Basavappa belonged to the royal family through his mother—​a sister of the wife of the former king, Bhadrappa Nayaka (r. 1661–​1 664)—​ and that his father was Mariyappa Chetti, whose second name suggests he was a merchant.19 VOC records add that the adopted Basavappa was also the nephew of a certain Mannappa Chetti, probably a brother of Mariyappa Chetti.20 According to the Dutch, Mannappa Chetti was a very wealthy and influential courtier, who, having managed to place his nephew Basavappa on the Ikkeri throne, became the kingdom’s most powerful man. It seems that, not long after Chennammaji’s installation as queen, the young Basavappa was inaugurated as king. Perhaps born around 1670, he was already regularly referred to as the king or “the Nayaka” in VOC documents from the late 1670s and early 1680s. However, regardless of what his formal status may have been, Chennammaji appears to have remained Ikkeri’s most prominent figure until her passing in early 1697, when Basavappa became the sole monarch (r. 1697–​1713).21 In the end, Chennammaji was one of Ikkeri’s longest-​reigning rulers, presiding over a 18  NA, VOC, no. 1291, fol. 587; no. 1308, fols. 642v–​43; no. 1315, fol. 740; no. 1321, fol. 953; no. 1329, fols. 1331–​31v: letters from Cochin to Gentlemen XVII and Batavia, November 1673, April 1675, June 1676, February–​March 1677; Coolhaas and Van Goor, Generale Missiven, vol. 4, 119–​20; Shastry, Goa–​Kanara Portuguese Relations, 216–​18; Fryer, A New Account of East-​India, 162. 19  Chitnis, Keḷadi Polity, 57n93.

20  See, for instance, NA, VOC, no. 1593, fols. 7–​7v; no. 1606, fol. 98v: and letters from Cochin to Batavia, December 1697, December 1698. See also the references to no. 1593 in the next footnote.

21  NA, VOC, no. 1406, fols. 913, 920v, 923v, 931v; no. 1593, fols. 864, 872v, 876v, 901, 928; no. 1607, fol. 90v: report of mission to Ikkeri, April–​May 1684, diary of Commissioner Zwaardekroon’s tour in Malabar, August–​October 1697, instructions of Zwaardekroon to Cochin, May 1698; s’Jacob, De Nederlanders in Kerala, 192; Chitnis, Keḷadi Polity, 21, 40, 45–​47; Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri, 118, 124–​26; Fryer, A New Account of East-​India, 57–​58, 162; Shastry, Goa–​ Kanara Portuguese Relations, 222.

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quarter-​century of dynastic stability that followed a decade of three regicides, two mutilated pretenders, and the enthronement of two minors. Mangammal of Madurai (r. 1691–​1707)

The initial period of female rulership in the kingdom of Madurai, southeast of Ikkeri, partly overlapped with Queen Chennammaji’s reign. Compared to the latter’s origins, a fair amount is known about the background of Madurai’s first women ruler, Mangammal. She belonged to the mighty Tubaki clan, a family of mobile military entrepreneurs (see Figure 16.3). Around 1660 one of its members, Tubaki Lingama (or Lingappa) Nayaka, offered his services to the Nayaka dynasty of Madurai. There, Lingama soon acquired the office of daḷavāy (general) and came to hold great power at the court during much of the following decade, while Madurai’s throne was occupied by the young Chokkanatha Nayaka (r. 1660–​1 677, 1680–​1 682). Furthermore, in 1665 this king married Lingama’s daughter Mangammal, who was thought to wield great influence on her husband through her legendary charms. A local chronicle describes Queen Mangammal’s beauty as “angelic,” while a Dutch report of 1668 declares she was “of wondrousness” (van wonderschoonht). 22 Additionally, Mangammal’s brother Tubaki Anandappa (or Antappa) Nayaka—​now the brother-​ in-​law of the ruler—​became a prominent courtier too, later occupying the office of daḷavāy like his father Lingama before him.23 22  For these qualifications, see, respectively, BL/​AAS, MG, no. 4, pt. 4: “Mootiah’s chronological & historical account of the modern kings of Madura,” fol. 66; and Vink, Mission to Madurai, 204, 258.

23  See, for example, NA, VOC, no. 1233, fol. 43v; no. 1492, fols. 250–​51v; no. 8921, fols. 163–​64; no. 11306, fol. 40: letters from Pulicat and Tuticorin to Batavia, July 1660, May 1691; final report by chief Nicolaas Welter of Tuticorin, October 1705; description of the Nayakas of Madurai by G. F. Holst, 1762; Vink, Mission to Madurai, 58–​59, 63–​64, 150n100, 157n111, 163n124, 166n128, 176n157, 177, 474n237; Taylor, Oriental Historical Manuscripts, vol. 1, 39; vol. 2, 119, 216–​17; BL/​AAS, MG, no. 4, pt. 4: “Mootiah’s chronological & historical account,” fols. 69–​70; Mackenzie Translations collection (hereafter MT), class III, no. 25: “History of the former Gentoo Rajahs who ruled over the Pandyan Mandalom,” fols. 32v–​33; Lockman, Travels of the Jesuits, vol. 1, 460–​61; Saulier, “Madurai and Tanjore,” 778–​83; Sathyanatha Aiyar, History of the Nayaks of Madura, 155–​56, 192, 203–​4, 377–​78; Rangachari, “The History of the Naik Kingdom of Madura,” 41–​42, 124, 156; and Nelson, The Madura Country, pt. 3, 214–​16.

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214

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The Ambiguities of Female Rule TIRUMALAI r. ca. 1623–1659

Tubaki Lingama

X CHOKKANATHA r. 1660–1677, 1680–1682

MANGAMMAL r. 1691–1707

Tubaki Anandappa

several

MUTTU VIRAPPA III r. 1682–1691

VIJAYARANGA CHOKKANATHA r. 1707–1732

X

MINAKSHI r. ca. 1732–1739

generations

BANGARU TIRUMALAI r. ca. 1739?

VIJAYAKUMARA r. ca. 1750–1751, 1753–1754

Upon King Chokkanatha Nayaka’s passing in 1682, his son born of Mangammal, the twelve-​year-​old Muttu Virappa Nayaka III (r. 1682–​1691), succeeded him under the regency of his mother’s brother, Anandappa. Mangammal herself managed to escape death on her husband’s funeral pyre (satī) by claiming there was nobody but her to raise the young new king. When, in March 1691, this ruler also died, Magammal reportedly objected against the instalment of yet another king, and instead, with the help of some courtiers, she took control of the government. She now was to rule Madurai until the recently born son of the deceased Muttu Virappa III, named Vijayaranga Chokkanatha Nayaka, would reach maturity.24 According to some sources, including a Jesuit letter of 1700 and a few local chronicles from around 1800, this child did actually accede to the throne when he was three months old, while his grandmother, Mangammal, served as his guardian.25 24  NA, VOC, no. 1373, fol. 91; no. 11306, fols. 39–​40: letter from Colombo to Gentlemen XVII, January 1683, description of the Nayakas of Madurai by Holst, 1762; Vink, “Encounters on the Opposite Coast,” 374–​77; and Mission to Madurai, 63, 157n111, 181n170, 399n69, 470n226; Taylor, Oriental Historical Manuscripts, vol. 1, 39; vol. 2, 35, 119, 217; BL/​AAS, MG, no. 4, pt. 4: “Mootiah’s chronological & historical account,” fols. 66–​68; Sathyanatha Aiyar, History of the Nayaks of Madura, 190–​93, 295.

25  Sathyanatha Aiyar, History of the Nayaks of Madura, 308; BL/​AAS, MG, no. 4, pt. 4: “Mootiah’s chronological & historical account,” fol. 70; MT, class III, no. 25: “History of the former Gentoo Rajahs,” fols. 32v–​33.

Figure 16.3 Genealogical chart of the Nayakas of Madurai showing the (probable) family relations of Queens Mangammal and Minakshi, with rulers in capitals and dotted lines indicating adoptions.

In the course of her reign Queen Mangammal seems to have shared much of her power with courtiers and representatives around the kingdom—​or, at least, that is the complaint found in VOC documents and Jesuit letters dating from the last phase of her rule. In February 1707 the Dutch wrote that the young prince, Vijayaranga Chokkanatha, had reached the age to assume the government, and that many wished him to immediately ascend the throne.26 But it was thought that he refused to do so before a daḷavāy imprisoned by Mangammal was released. By late July the queen—​ apparently reluctant to abdicate and facing opposition—​had finally been dethroned and replaced with her grandson, Vijayaranga Chokkanatha (r. 1707–​1732). After a few more months the VOC received news that Mangammal had presumably been killed by order of the new king and the now freed daḷavāy, a story echoed in local traditions.27 However, this may have been only a rumour, since some years later it was reported by the Dutch that the queen had fled from Madurai to the adjacent Tanjavur kingdom, hoping to find shelter at 26  NA, VOC, no. 8595, fol. 129: letter from Colombo to Batavia, February 1707.

27  NA, VOC, no. 1756, fol. 1193; no. 8922, fols. 71, 249; no. 8923, fols. 314–​1 5: letters from Tuticorin to Colombo and from Colombo to Batavia and Gentlemen XVII, August, November 1707, January–​February 1708; Coolhaas and Van Goor, Generale Missiven, vol. 6, 555; BL/​AAS, MG, no. 4, pt. 4: “Mootiah’s chronological & historical account,” fol. 71; Taylor, Oriental Historical Manuscripts, vol. 2, 226.

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the VOC settlement in Nagapattinam.28 Yet Dutch documents from that port do not seem to mention her appearance there, and so Mangammal’s fate is somewhat uncertain. Minakshi of Madurai (r. ca. 1732–​1739) The reign of Queen Mangammal’s grandson, Vijayaranga Chokkanatha Nayaka, over Madurai came to an end when he passed away in February 1732. As Dutch records explain, his son and heir apparent had already died in 1721, and therefore he was succeeded by his queen, Minakshi (see Figure 16.3). Little seems to be known about her origins, but, given the fact that her brother used the title “nayaka,” she is likely to have belonged to a family with a military background, like Queen Mangammal.29 Minakshi was spared from committing satī because she was—​or pretended to be—​seven months pregnant. Although her unborn child was destined to become Madurai’s king if it turned out to be a male, Minakshi herself was apparently recognized as queen by the courtiers and the common people. However, as various sources mention, her rule was contested by her distant cousin, Bangaru Tirumalai, scion of a line of secondary rulers established in Madurai around 1660.30 Perhaps to appease him, Queen Minakshi is thought to have adopted Bangaru Tirumalai’s son, Vijayakumara, as her future successor, and she may even have anointed this minor boy as king under her regency. Even so, Bangaru Tirumalai himself made several attempts to dislodge the queen, claiming the throne as he belonged to the collateral branch of the dynasty. Some local texts have it that he came to exercise all practical control over the kingdom and enjoyed the support of many courtiers, whereas Madurai’s 28  Coolhaas and Van Goor, Generale Missiven, vol. 6, 821.

29  Indeed, one local text suggests that Minakshi, like Mangammal, belonged to the Tubaki clan, mentioning her as the daughter of “Toopaukela Ramalingama.” See BL/​AAS, MG, no. 4, pt. 4: “Mootiah’s chronological & historical account,” fols. 71–​72.

30  NA, VOC, no. 2318, fols. 2646–​47; no. 8958, fols. 672–​73, 701; no. 11306, fols. 47–​48, 53–​54: letters from Tuticorin to Colombo and from Nagapattinam to Batavia, March, October 1732, September 1734, description of the Nayakas of Madurai by Holst, 1762; Coolhaas and Van Goor, Generale Missiven, vol. 7, 567; vol. 9, 393; Beknopte historie, 89; Taylor, Oriental Historical Manuscripts, vol. 1, 40; BL/​AAS, MT, class III, no. 82: “Account of the Rajas who held the government of Madura,” fols. 109v–​12; Sathyanatha Aiyar, History of the Nayaks of Madura, 230–​34, 378; Rangachari, “The History of the Naik Kingdom of Madura,” 189, 213–​17; Nelson, The Madura Country, vol. 3, 251–​56.

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regalia and treasure were in the possession of Minakshi, perhaps signifying a mostly ceremonial position.31 While the Madurai kingdom thus suffered from political instability, it was invaded by troops of the nearby state of Arcot, possibly by invitation of either one of the rivals, Minakshi and Bangaru Tirumalai. In April 1736 the capital, Tiruchirappalli, was conquered, Bangaru Tirumalai expelled, and Minakshi detained. Although Arcot seems to have reinstalled the queen in early 1737, it reportedly more or less annexed the kingdom in September, leasing its various parts to revenue collectors and providing Minakshi with an annual grant. She appears to have remained Madurai’s formal queen for a few more years—​or, at least, a Dutch report of September 1738 and an inscription of February 1739 recording a land grant still refer to her as such.32 But, whatever power Minakshi was allowed to hold under Arcot’s supervision, this had come to an end by mid–​1739, when it was rumoured that her rival, Bangaru Tirumalai, was going to be installed as the new king of Madurai. According to indigenous texts, Minakshi then poisoned herself, betrayed as she felt by one of Arcot’s commanders, Chanda Sahib, who had not kept his promise to safeguard her interests.33 If Bangaru Tirumalai actually sat on the throne, it was a short-​ lived affair. In 1740 Madurai was invaded once more, now by Maratha troops from west India, which brought Nayaka rule to an end, except for a brief reign by the aforementioned Vijayakumara in the early 1750s.34 Thus, Queen Minakshi 31  Taylor, Oriental Historical Manuscripts, vol. 2, 37, 232–​33; BL/​ AAS, MT, class III, no. 25: “History of the former Gentoo Rajahs,” fols. 33v–​34. 32  NA, VOC, no. 2443, fol. 2682: final report by Governor Elias Guillot of Coromandel, September 1738; Mahalingam, Readings in South Indian History, 184–​85.

33  Taylor, Oriental Historical Manuscripts, vol. 2, 235; BL/​AAS, MG, no. 4, pt. 4: “Mootiah’s chronological & historical account,” fol. 74; MT, class III, no. 82: “Account of the Rajas,” fol. 113v. Another tradition, recorded by the Dutch, has it that Chanda Sahib imprisoned Minakshi in Tiruchirappalli in a temple “built on a steep height” (probably the Rock Temple or one of the nearby shrines), where she died of misery. See NA, VOC, no. 11306, fols. 53–​54 (note): description of the Nayakas of Madurai by Holst, 1762.

34  NA, VOC, no. 2386, fols. 35–​35v, 1027–​28, 1221–​22; no. 2387, fols. 93–​94; no. 2403, fols. 1937–​37v, 1939v-​43v, 1946–​47, 1965–​65v; no. 2412, fols. 60, 1540–​41, 1982, 2137 (2nd numeration); no. 2431, fols. 1932–​37, 1939–​40v; no. 2443, fols. 362–​63 (2nd numeration); no. 2445, fols. 1618–​19; no. 2457, fols. 1017–​18, 1027v–​28; no. 2459, fols. 1566v, 1599v, 1601; no. 2470, fol. 71; no. 2473, fols. 99–​100; no. 2492, fols. 1472v, 1475; no. 2523, fols. 1399–​1413v; no. 11306,

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216

216

The Ambiguities of Female Rule

turned out to have been the last member of the dynasty who ruled for any length of time. Virammaji of Ikkeri (r. ca. 1757–​1763) Meanwhile, in the Ikkeri kingdom, the Nayaka throne was occupied by Basavappa Nayaka II (r. 1739–​1754), who was a grandson of Basavappa Nayaka I—​the boy adopted by Queen Chennammaji as her successor. Basavappa II having no biological sons, he adopted a minor, Chenna Basavappa Nayaka (r. 1754–​1757), who succeeded him upon his passing, while Basavappa II’s widow, Virammaji, acted as the new king’s regent (see Figure 16.2). Indigenous chronicles declare that, when the young Chenna Basavappa in turn died in July 1757, Virammaji consulted with the principal courtiers and adopted another minor.35 This was a son of a maternal uncle of hers, who was named Puttanna Chetti, indicating that Virammaji belonged to the same mercantile Chetti community as Queen Chennammaji probably did. The boy was installed as Somashekara Nayaka III, again under Virammaji’s regency. One of the local accounts states that from now on the queen actually reigned in her own name, which suggests that Somashekara III was adopted only as a future successor.36 Dutch records also say that, because of the king’s minority, Virammaji continued to be the main ruler, assisted by courtiers.37 Further, according to both indigenous and British fols. 48–​55: (secret) letters from Nagapattinam to Batavia, Tuticorin to Colombo, and from Kilakkarai to Tuticorin, February–​March, July, September, December 1736, March, May–​October 1737, January, March–​April, July, October–​December 1738, May, July–​August 1739, February–​August 1741, proceedings of Colombo, September 1739, letters from Ramnad to Tuticorin, August 1739, February, November 1740, description of the Nayakas of Madurai by Holst, 1762; Coolhaas and Van Goor, Generale Missiven, vol. 10, 528, 886–​87; Taylor, Oriental Historical Manuscripts, vol. 1, 40, 206; vol. 2, 37–​43, 232–​35, 245–​48; Sathyanatha Aiyar, History of the Nayaks of Madura, 232–​34; Rajayyan, History of Madurai, 62–​81, 143–​44; Mahalingam, Readings in South Indian History, 175–​77, 182–​85; Rangachari, “The History of the Naik Kingdom of Madura,” 217–​19, 237–​43, 272–​73; Nelson, The Madura Country, vol. 3, 256–​64; BL/​AAS, MT, class III, no. 25: “History of the former Gentoo Rajahs,” fols. 34v–​36v. 35  BL/​AAS, MG, no. 6, pt. 11: “Historical account of Beedoonoor,” fols. 83–​83v; Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri, 149–​51; Chitnis, Keḷadi Polity, 22–​23, 40. 36  Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri, 152.

37  NA, VOC, no. 2857, fol. 36; no. 2928, fol. 93; no. 2929, fol. 248: (secret) letters from Cochin to Batavia, March 1755, April 1758,

sources, the queen had ordered the killing of the former king, Chenna Basavappa.38 While it thus seems that Virammaji’s consecutive regencies were just a pretext to remain in power, these political strategies also led to her fall—​and that of her dynasty. In the early 1760s the ruler of the neighbouring kingdom of Mysore, Haidar Ali, was visited by a young man who purported to be Ikkeri’s erstwhile king, Chenna Basavappa. Supposedly, he had somehow survived the plot to assassinate him and he now reclaimed his throne. Whether Haidar Ali believed this story or not, he offered to help the pretender and dispatched an army to Ikkeri’s capital, Bednur, which was taken in January 1763. However, the person professing to be Chenna Basavappa spent little or no time on the throne, as Ikkeri was soon permanently annexed by Mysore. Queen Virammaji, her adopted son King Somashekara III, and the alleged Chenna Basavappa were presumably all imprisoned by Haidar Ali. Maratha forces are thought to have liberated them in 1767 to bring them to their capital, Pune, but Virammaji is said to have died on the way there.39

Monarchs or Regents?

Looking at the careers of the four female Nayaka rulers, we notice that they had several things in common. To begin with, each of these women made a transition from queen consort to queen widow, and also, sooner or later, to queen mother or—​in Mangammal’s case—​queen grandmother. None of them was a daughter, sister, niece or other close blood relative of a previous king. They were all widows who came to reign after their ruling husband had died, in Minakshi’s case immediately, but in most instances after the intermediate reigns of others, whether long or brief. Apparently, on all but one occasion these women were not considered eligible to rule directly upon the deaths of their spouses. It was often proceedings of Cochin, June 1758; Galletti, Van der Burg, and Groot, The Dutch in Malabar, 151. 38  BL/​A AS, MG, no. 25, pt. 27: “Memoir of Barkoor,” fol. 209; Mahalingam, Mackenzie Manuscripts, vol. 2, 405, 431; Buchanan, A Journey from Madras, vol. 3, 128; Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri, 151; Chitnis, Keḷadi Polity, 23, 49, 238.

39  Hayavadana Rao, History of Mysore, vol. 2, 427–​52, 460–​61, 792–​804; Nair, “Eighteenth-​Century Passages,” 80–​85; NA, VOC, no. 3086, fols. 178–​83v, 266–​66v: letters from Cochin to Batavia, March, May 1763; Groot, Historical Account of Nawab Hyder Ali Khan, 1–​2; Swaminathan, The Nāyakas of Ikkēri, 156–​61; Chitnis, Keḷadi Polity, 23.

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only later that certain exceptional circumstances allowed them to be considered acceptable as female ruler. Further, in three cases these queens managed to evade the duty of satī (dying with their husband) only through claims—​true or false—​of being pregnant or having to raise the new, minor king. Additionally, all four women adopted or otherwise took care of a young, male heir apparent during their reigns and usually appointed him as some kind of co-​ ruler. Childbearing, parenting, and thereby re-​establishing male rule were, obviously, essential elements of dynastic continuity, and these apparently helped the queens to acquire and maintain their reigning position, at least for some time. It is perhaps not surprising that only some of these women died a natural death, as if they could be discarded once their role in safeguarding the royal family had been fulfilled. This may also explain why they were all spouses rather than biological relatives of former rulers: because of their external backgrounds (belonging to mercantile or military families), it might have been less objectionable to remove them when no longer needed than women related to the dynasty by blood.40 All in all, we are reminded of the aforementioned Arthaśāstra’s advice that female rulership be permitted only as an impermanent solution, to bridge a gap between suitable male rulers. We may therefore wonder whether these four women were actually regarded by their contemporaries as full-​fledged monarchs or, rather, as regents whose rule would be merely temporary.41 It seems that modern historical research assigns to these female rulers a status somewhat similar to that of their male counterparts. Such works, often arranged per individual reign, devote separate chapters to these queens—​according to their regnal periods—​instead of the minor kings whose regents they were. Thus, this literature suggests that the queens either functioned as official ruling monarchs or else were so powerful that their regencies justify a place in historiography on par with the kings of these dynasties. However, the exact nature of the status and power enjoyed by these women is hard to determine. Even so, by combining different sources one may get some impression of the position they held. Starting with records and visual materials produced by or in the name of the queens themselves, during their lifetime, 40  See also Talbot, “Rudrama-​devi, the Female King,” 404–​8, 413–​14. 41  See also Price, Kingship and Political Practice in Colonial India,  70–​72.

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