Femme Fairest

 “Rock on, ancient queen. Follow those who pale in your shadow.”

 Stevie Nicks, Gold Dust Woman, 1977

Referred to as both Queen of Queens and King of Kings, Tamar is a truly unique character in the realm of queenship and female power. The Georgian ruler is perhaps the most celebrated woman in the nation’s history and collective memory. She ruled over her kingdom as regent, projecting power through her own image rather than through an association with a kingly husband (after the death of her father, who she came to power alongside). 

Tamar has been described as being outside the realm of gender or sex; her power transcends the boundaries of her feminine frame. This has led some historical and contemporary figures to recognize and refer to Tamar as a king, as evident above. However, I cannot help but find clear and evident faults in their logic. 

I posit that Tamar’s ultimate ascension to and enjoyment of power was very highly conditioned by, if not entirely dependent on, her physical beauty. Nearly every reference to Tamar begins with an account of her otherworldly beauty, identifying it as a key aspect of her character. Such appraisals of kingly beauty are nearly absent from the literature. Thus, while Tamar may have been called "king," it is clear that she could not have fully transcended her sex; her very power was, at least in part, dependent on being a beautiful woman. 

I do not mean to imply that all of Tamar’s power derived from her beauty. Rather, I argue that, without the beauty attributed to her, Tamar never would have slipped so easily and unwaveringly into the absolute position she occupies both in an historical context and in the contemporary Zeitgeist. 

Basil Ezosmodzghvari’s The Life of Tamar informs us that Tamar’s “constitution” was perfect; her eyes and skin and face were the most pleasing to the onlooking eye that anyone could think of. Her voice, a physical element in and of itself, was perfect in equal measure. “Seeing the queen…the powerful and the priestly bowed before her and glorified her; she was worthy of the highest praise…”  

The account further notes, “In ancient times, it was said 'whoever was born blind — will leave this world blind,’ meaning anyone who had not been able to see Tamar.” This was Tamar’s relationship with her people. She was more than a symbol of virtue — of which she had many — she was the embodiment of perfection, namely, physical perfection. 

The repetition of these kinds of descriptions of Tamar’s physical beauty cannot be overlooked as mere context. I find that they are most intentional. They establish a key criterion for Tamar’s ascension to power. 

In each of the aforementioned accounts of Tamar, which focus on the time period surrounding her ascension to the Georgian throne (recounted as the result of a unanimous agreement of all Georgians after casting their eyes upon the fair woman), the author denotes that Tamar's stature is a direct result of subjects “seeing” her. Sight is the key, and the through-line in each of these assessments. To live a fulfilling life, one must see Tamar. To see Tamar was to want to give her one's complete and unwavering praise and glory. 

Tamar becomes inhuman in these descriptions, and I take this to be the root of the academic argument regarding her sexual transcendence. But it is indeed her very appearance — that of a perfectly-beautiful woman — that provides for this elevation above the mortal plane. This elevation illuminated her uncontested path to power and allowed her to take on the title of the “second Constantine.” 

After all, did authors spend pages and pages doting over Constantine’s beauty as a precondition to his power? I think not. Thus, the element of beauty as it applies to power seems to be unique to women, to queens; here, to Tamar. 

I have provided you, reader, with but a few examples of the many descriptions of Tamar. But trust: this pattern of beauty recognition persists throughout the literature on the great woman. 

Tamar represents a dynamic character; her power shifts over the course of her life. But her beauty and its importance remain static. Her grace (or face) is ever-necessary. It preconditioned her rulership, and though one may speculate that she may have landed firmly in her all-powerful role as regent regardless of her feminine fairness, I leave readers with this: Had Tamar been plain-faced and unstriking, would we know her name today?