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Article Excerpt
As the child of a monarch, Elizabeth had a childhood that was in most regards particular. Taken from her mother's care at a most tender age, Elizabeth was sent to her own household in Hatfield where her humanist education began under the care of Catherine (Kate) Champernon and William Grindal. Mastery of various languages was essential to Elizabeth's curriculum. Her command of Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and Spanish was of such high caliber that she composed and conversed freely in each language. She also, of course, read texts in these languages with great ease, and was a skilled translator of Latin and Greek literature. (1) Out of her interactions with these works Queen Elizabeth I gleaned inspiration for her carefully crafted identity. Four stereotypes, domina, virgin, mater, and meretrix, constitute the skeleton of Queen Elizabeth's persona. These stereotypes offer a glimpse of Elizabeth's manipulation of classical iconography, and laid the foundation upon which she crafted her controversial, yet convincing identity. Like a paper doll, upon which one may layer a single identity one after another, the queen took various pieces of four stereotypes found in classical texts, domina-virgin-mater-meretrix, and wrapped them one upon the other to fashion her own particular voice. As both monarch and woman, Elizabeth pushed the boundaries of these stereotypes beyond the limits constructed for them in earlier texts.
Elizabeth recognized the importance of the arts and was a valiant supporter of dramatic art, literature, and fine arts. Cognizant of the influence the arts wielded over the general public, she strove to steadily maintain control of them while allowing space for creative expression. According to Sheila Ffolliott, one area in which she craved complete control was royal portraiture (166-67). She took a personal interest "in how she was represented, insisting upon the trappings and appearance of majesty taking precedence over any attempt at realism" (Weir 238). The queen had to be presented as otherworldly and never-changing; her motto after all was Semper Eadem (always the same). Traces of the domina-virgin-mater-meretrix stereotypes may be found in the three portraits to be examined in this essay: the 1569 painting attributed to The Monogrammist Hans Eworth, Elizabeth I and the Three Goddesses; the 1579 portrait by George Gower, The Plimpton "Sieve" Portrait of Queen Elizabeth I; and a parchment from 1603 titled Elizabethan Conceit. These works, produced over the course of Elizabeth's reign, are symptomatic of the ever-changing position of woman in the Symbolic (the dominant system of rules and codes) that traditionally suppresses the marginalized feminine voice. (2)
The theoretical foundation of this work rests upon that of Jacques Lacan, specifically his conception of the Real, Imaginary, and Symbolic as they stem from the mirror stage. The texts of Julia Kristeva, pupil of Lacan and practicing analyst, also inform the arguments which follow. Simply stated, the Imaginary is a moment in life absent from desire, absent from lack. The introduction of language draws the individual into the Symbolic order which governs all measures of subjectivity. The Real is that which can not be expressed through manipulation of the Symbolic's rules. It envelops all and is ever-present. The Symbolic is not static and may be changed, but only from within. In Revolution in Poetic Language, Kristeva discusses the semiotic and its relationship to the Symbolic. Here she calls their relationship a dialectic. The term dialectic implies a battle of sorts. The semiotic represents physical drives imprinted upon the subject, while the Symbolic names the more abstract use of language. It is important to move beyond a discussion of these in terms of a binary opposition. Kristeva stands upon the edge of this but never fills in the gap. I propose that in order to push the Symbolic toward change, the semiotic and Symbolic are part of a triangulum; the third position in this structure is [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] (chora). (3) Chora is the space in which something rests, and according to Plato it is a space that is not determined by categories; it may be filled with various sorts of things (22e, 23b, 52a-d, 53a, 57b, 58a, 79d, 82a, 83a). For example, woman may fill the space in the Symbolic through different means of representation while still maintaining her essential womaness. (4) The relationship is less about the struggle between semiotic/Symbolic and more about their negotiation in an attempt to fill the gaps [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] contained within the bubble-of-being. This bubble is enveloped by the Real, but the reoccurrence of [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] inside the bubble signals the drive for change. Ultimately this triangulum becomes a quadralateral. This evolution occurs at the introduction of the thetic phase. The thetic marks the moment of signification and serves as a boundary between the semiotic and Symbolic. It is the instant in which the Symbolic folds back upon itself, thereby creating a space in which a new struggle of representation may occur.
In her discussion of Kristeva's theory of subject formation, Shari Benstock repeatedly uses the term "semiotic chora," (23-46). However, I consider the chora a function of the semiotic, not one in the same. The structure that results from the interaction of the Symbolic/semiotic/thetic/chora is not linear, because the Real hovers above all interactions. The result is a pyramid (Fig.A):
These positions are interdependent; they are not fixed. As a result, various pyramids unite to form a "bubble of subjectivity" that is in constant motion (Fig. B). It is impossible for these positions to exist apart from one another (Benstock 32; Kristeva 43-45, 68-71). The equation of subject formation requires their existence. Subject identity can never be reduced to simple dialectical encounters, but consists of simultaneous struggles, negotiations, and ruptures. (6) The Symbolic always re-creates the essential conditions for these struggles, but real action takes place along the edge of the bubble of subjectivity. The bubble may momentarily burst, but the Symbolic will envelope the foreign, often naming it something familiar in order to stabilize the system (domina-virgin-mater-meretrix). Woman stands along the border of subjectivity; she, the imperishable other, simultaneously accepts many labels.
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The complexities of identity hinge upon the happenings within the chora, and the ever-changing composition within the chora fosters multiple faces of subjectivity. The domina-virgin-mater-meretrix labels persist across genres and literatures because they are assiduously recycled in order to fill the spaces left blank along the borders of subject formation. Each member of this group fashions a part of the multiple manifestations of woman. These spaces may be filled for a moment, but the Symbolic will change the rules and craft a new other, thereby creating new gaps. The cycle is endless, but the marginalized voice persists; without it, subjectivity's negotiation ends. This essay argues that Elizabeth I represents an embodiment of the ever-changing bubble of subjectivity. Just as the queen's persona has never been chiseled into a single image, these works of art display the various faces of woman that Elizabeth wore throughout her reign. The domina-virgin-mater-meretrix stereotypes, rooted in ancient Greek and Latin literature, infuse these portraits; they offer proof that Elizabeth's persona did not depend upon a single body of work.
The domina refers to a woman who rules her household and all others around her with unyielding force. She is not easily, if ever, swayed from her own opinion. The domina was literally the "woman of the house or domus, the matrona who ruled its domestic slaves," (Miller Latin Erotic Elegy, 4 n7). The Roman erotic elegists (Catullus, Propertius, Tibullus, Ovid), (7) use this label and the power associated with it in order to establish the unbalanced nature of their love affairs. (8) Only approachable when the time is right for her, the domina may change her mind endlessly and drive men mad. For example, in poem 1.8a Propertius's domina, Cynthia, toys with the lover by proposing a holiday alone. This sort of scene is typical.
Tune igitur demens, nec te mea cura moratur? an tibi sum gelida vilior Illyria? et tibi iam tanti, quicumque est, iste videtur, ut sine me vento quolibet ire velis? So, are you insane, does my care not delay you; Or, am I worth less to you than frigid Illyria? And, at this point, does that guy, whoever he is, seem of such worth to you that you desire to go, in any sort of wind, without me? (1-4)
The poet-lover is desperate to keep the mistress with him; nevertheless, he does not open with praise or suppliant language. He calls the mistress demens (mad). A visit to gelida Illyria (frigid/icy Illyria) does not seem like a romantic holiday. Additionally, the placement of gelida beneath demens may signal Propertius's subtle hint that Cynthia, like Illyria, is frigid and unbending. In lines 3 and 4 readers learn that the mistress is threatening to abandon Propertius in favor of a new man. One would expect the poet's resentment to build, but as the carmen unfolds, his position of servitude beneath an obstinate mistress is clear.
sed quocumque modo de me, periura, mereris, sit Galatea tuae non aliena viae: [...........................................] nam me non ullae poterunt corrumpere, de te quin ego, vita, tuo limine vera querar; nec me deficiet nautas rogitare citatos "Dicite, quo portu clausa puella mea est?" et dicam "Licet Atraciis considat in oris, et licet Hylaeis, illa futura mea est." But whatever you deserve from me, liar, may Galatea not be a stranger on your journey: [.............................................] For, other girls will not be able to break me away from you; moreover, [my] life, I will lament truths at your door. This will not dissuade me from asking swift sailors, "Say, in which port is my girl cloistered?" and I shall say, "Although she resides on Thessalian shores, and although she settles with the Hylaeians, that woman will be mine." (17-18; 21-26)
The domina of Roman elegy comes and goes as she pleases; the poet-lover remains faithful at all costs and continues to pursue the mistress through verse. Cynthia is...
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