THE VIRGIN QUEEN
Love life of Elizabeth I
LONDON Elizabeth l has been known throughout history as the Virgin Queen. But was she — really? That question tantalized Alison Weir, Britain’s top-selling female historian, when she began work on her latest novel, The Marriage Game.
The book, a lively account of the Tudor ruler’s continuing defiance of efforts by her counsellors to marry her off and produce an heir, has now been published in Canada by Doubleday. And it is, in many respects, an eye-opener — particularly when chronicling her scandalous relationship with her court favourite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.
So did Elizabeth lose her virginity to Leicester? Weir says no.
“I believe as an historian that Elizabeth I was the virgin queen she claimed to be,” Weir says firmly.
On the other hand, we mustn’t assume Elizabeth never experienced sexual pleasure. Weir’s novel is forthright in depicting the erotic nature of the boudoir dalliances between the queen and her handsome lover. Elizabeth and Leicester may have not gone all the way, but …
The 64-year-old novelist wants to offer a nuanced view of Elizabeth’s sex life, based on her own exhaustive research. So she’s no fan of the two recent movies in which Cate Blanchett’s queen embarks on torrid onscreen affairs. “I’d better not speak about them,” she says diplomatically.
She also makes clear that, as a popular historian, she often dislikes the way popular culture deals with historical events. The Blanchett films are one example. The hit television series The Tudors is another.
“I don’t regard The Tudors as history,” she says tartly, “but what worries me is that other people do.”
So what did happen privately between Elizabeth and Leicester? Weir’s considered view is that there were no boundaries to their sexual practices — except for the final act of intercourse.
“I think there is evidence that the scenario I draw in the book is probably about right. Possibly, I’ve used a little licence, but I’ve talked to other historians about this and they think too that probably I’m right.”
It was an often turbulent relationship — so intense that at one point it sparked gossip that Elizabeth had borne Leicester’s child and later rumours of foul play in the death of his wife, Amy Robsart.
The love affair between Elizabeth and Leicester was conducted against a background of political tension, and for Weir it serves a larger purpose — which is to cast light on the complex psychology of a crafty and often exasperating queen who spent decades resisting marriage, playing off one foreign suitor against another to safeguard her own throne and the greater needs of the state.
Weir says it isn’t easy for today’s reader to understand the implications of marriage for a 16th-century female monarch. For a start, there was a culture that held that any wife, even a reigning queen, must be subject to the authority of whomever she marries. But there were also dire political implications.
“Had she married a foreign prince, that would have brought a foreign influence into England,” Weir says. “And if there were children, England could end up a satellite of a foreign power.”
As for going higher up the ladder by marrying a reigning European monarch, Elizabeth was bitterly aware of the potential danger in such a move: Her late sister, Mary Tudor, had made an unpopular marriage to Philip of Spain, with catastrophic consequences for England’s foreign policy and for the country itself.
There’s also the irrefutable evidence that Elizabeth enjoyed exercising power and would do nothing to diminish it.
“Absolutely,” Weir says. “And had she married one of her own subjects, one of her noblemen, that would have caused problems within the court and among the nobility. It would have led to tensions.”
That consideration would exclude Leicester, no matter how close to him Elizabeth felt.
What emerges amid all the dangerous intrigues of the day is a love story that was never permitted to reach complete fulfilment.
Some historians have been less than kind to Leicester — portraying him as an ambitious opportunist. But more recent research suggests a more positive image.
“I think there is more to admire in him than to deplore,” Weir says. Yes, Leicester could be bombastic, manipulative and distrusted by the Queen’s counsellors. “But they came to work with him and respect and admire him.”
Weir’s non- fiction historical books continue to outnumber her novels — her Six Wives Of Henry Vlll, for example, was an international bestseller.