Author: sophie
The Second Coronation of Henry the Third of England
On this day in history . . .
On May 17, 1220 Henry III of England was crowned for the SECOND TIME with a coronation at West Minster Abbey. His first coronation—in 1216 at Gloucester Cathedral—was a hasty one and took place amidst civil war and the loss of the original crown. His second at Westminster Abbey ceremony served to formally cement Henry’s succession under peaceful conditions.
Often associated solely with the Baron’s Rebellion, there was much more to Henry and to his reign. I think of him as the visionary who rebuilt Westminster Abbey. Most of what stands today was his creation with only two significant renovations/additions after his death and outside his plan. To say Henry spared no expense on the Abbey renovation might be an understatement he spent more than £45,000 at the time which would be more than £15 million in the present day.
I also think of Henry as a marvelous husband to his wife Eleanor of Provence—daughter of Raymond Berenger V, Count of Provence whom he married on the 14th of January 1236 and one of two heroines in my novel The Sister Queens. He was also a devoted husband to their children. I am talking about the kind of dad who’d get top marks today even though he lived in the 13th century. He grieved so deeply over the death of his youngest daughter, Katherine, at age three that the Royal Court feared for his life. And he paid to have a mass said for her everyday by the same priest until that priest too was dead.
For more about Henry and his visionary role in the renovation of Westminster Abbey, start with a visit the Westminster site here.
UK Readers, Meet Me at the Roman Festival in York
On the 23d and 24th, a collection of authors–myself included–will be occupying (not in an armed sense) tents in the Museum Garden. I am talking historical writers like my good friend Simon James Atkinson Turney, Simon Elliott (also an archaeologist) and Alex Gough. . .you get the idea. So historical fiction lovers in Yorkshire please stop by to chat, and pick up a book or two.
Shopping for Mother’s Day
You think shopping for Mother’s Day is tough? Imagine if your mom was Queen Catherine de Médicis. I’ve made you a little video contemplating just that . . . .
It’s only ten days from the annual celebration of mom’s of all types–including historical fiction fan fan moms–so maybe a novel for mom this year? My novel Médicis Daughter is about the fraught mother/daughter relationship between Queen Catherine de Médicis and her youngest daughter, Marguerite de Valois. I promise there’s plenty of drama, intrigue and some very bloody history.
A Reformation Rap that Never Gets Old
On April 17, 1521 Martin Luther appeared before the Diet of Worms to defend his ideas on church reform. – . . . .
This gem was pulled together by some Yale Students more than a decade ago, but stands the test of time. I mean how do you work Philip I, Landgrave of Hesse into a rap alongside the the Augsburg Confession? They did that and so much more–in style.
Happy 507th Birthday to Catherine de Médicis
Catherine de Médicis—a key character in my novel, Médicis Daughter and chief antagonist of it’s main character, Princess Marguerite—is remembered for her fierce political influence over each of her three sons who reigned in turn as King of France. But, as we celebrated her 507th birthday, it’s important to remember Catherine did not begin her life with power or, for that matter, with much to celebrate.
Although Catherine had illustrious parents—her mother was a French princess of royal blood and her father was Lorenzo de’ Medici—both were dead within a MONTH of her birth (and that was, incidentally, only about a year after their marriage). After they were gone, and because of her mother’s connection to the French crown, King Francis I claimed the right to raise the orphaned Catherine. But Pope Leo told the French King to pound salt. His Holiness didn’t real care about the infant Catherine—he just viewed her, Lorenzo’s legitimate heiress, as a useful pawn. Later in life, Catherine would remark that her eventual father-in-law, Francis I, was more of a father to her than His Holiness had ever been.
In the fall of 1533 when Catherine (they aged 14) was at last shipped off to France—to marry the future Henri II—her new husband was not even Dauphin. He was merely a second son. And he was already in love with his established Mistress Diane de Poitier. Diane was more sophisticated and far better looking than Henri’s new bride, and he showed very little interest in his wife. Catherine’s new country wasn’t impressed with her either. A report from one of the Venetian ambassadors declared that “all of France” disapproved of the marriage. So, Catherine’s experiences of being marginalized and rejected, begun in childhood, continued.
Yet from these inauspicious beginnings Catherine rose to be one of the 16th century’s true female power-players. A Queen who, left widowed with a large family, managed to keep her husband’s line securely on the throne during a time of nearly continual war. A woman who “managed” a series of boy kings—although arguably to their detriment and France’s.
Historians may disagree strongly on both the content and efficacy of Catherine’s policies with respect to the Wars of Religion—and just about everything else—but no one would disagree that she was a key influence in the post-Henri II Valois era. As such she deserves as much credit for what went right in that period as she does blame for what went wrong.
My Favorite Day of Holy Week [of course I have one]
The Thursday before Easter is known as Maundy Thursday in the Roman Catholic church. Less famous than Good Friday, I think it deserves more attention. In fact I will be so bold as to declare it my favorite day of Holy Week.
The word “Maundy” comes from Latin for “command” and refers to Christ’s commandment to his disciples to “love one another as I have loved you, and Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper and the establishment of the Holy Eucharist. Historically Maundy Thursday is associated with powerful figures washing the feet of the marginalized, as Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. Evidence of the rite of Pedilavium (the Church’s term for this ceremonial foot washing) goes back to very ancient times and is considered a joyous rather than a solemn ceremony.
I cannot say why exactly I became fixated on this particular religious observance, but I know when—while I was writing my debut novel, The Sister Queens. King Louis IX, husband of the elder of my two sisters, Marguerite of Provence, was obsessed with penitence. He not only frequently washed the feet of the less fortunate but liked to eat the leftovers of meals consumed by his favorite leper (yes, he had a favorite leper). Louis also was obsessed with wearing hairshirts, but that’s for another time.
Maudy Thursday also appears inthe pages of Médicis Daughter. Given my fixation, I just had to work it in. In Médicis Daughter my protagonist, Marguerite de Valois, watches her brother King Charles IX and her mother Queen Catherine de Médicis observe the Lenten foot-washing tradition rather than participating in it herself.
Would you humble yourself to wash someone else’s feet?
The Anniversary of the Death of King Charles IX
Today’s post features a Valois historical event closely linked to my novel Medicis Daughter. Four-hundred-and-fifty-two years ago today, Marguerite de Valois’ second oldest brother, King Charles IX of France passed away in his twenties.
Charles the IX was the second son of Henry II and Catherine de Médicis. He became king upon the death of his brother Francis II, with his mother acting as his regent. Even after he was proclaimed of age on August 17, 1563, he remained under his mother’s domination (was there anyone Catherine couldn’t dominate?).
In 1571 Charles began to take his own path, after meeting and befriending the Protestant leader Gaspard de Coligny. Already jealous of the victories of his brother, the Duc d’Anjou (later King Henry III), over the Huguenots at Jarnac and Moncontour in 1569, Charles decided to favor a Huguenot plan for French intervention against the Spanish in the Netherlands. He sanctioned a defensive alliance with England and Huguenot aid to the Dutch.
Unfortunately for the King, his mother disliked his new policy and more than that was alarmed by Admiral Coligny’s ascendancy at Court and in her son’s inner circle. After an attempt on Coligny’s life (doubtless organized by Catherine) the Queen Mother persuaded Charles to order the massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Day. The resulting bloodshed was apocalyptic. Bodies littered the streets of Paris and were so thick in the Seine that witnesses testified one could walk across the river without wetting their feet.
The massacre haunted Charles the short life he had left. His health deteriorated, and he became increasingly melancholy. He died before his twenty-fourth birthday
Both Charles and The St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre play central roles in Medicis Daughter. The massacre occurred shortly after Princess Marguerite’s marriage to Henri of Navarre, with guests who had traveled to witness the event slaughtered in Paris and some within the walls of the Palace itself.
A Woman Conveniently Defamed by History
This is the four-hundred-and-eleventh anniversary of the death of Marguerite de Valois, Princess and then Queen of France. Marguerite, the central character in my novel, MÉDICIS DAUGHTER, was the 8th child of Henri II of France and Queen Catherine de Médicis. Healthy, intelligent and beautiful—Margot was, sadly, never anyone’s favorite child, and may well have been Catherine’s least favorite.
I chose to write about Margot specifically because, as I say in the author’s note to my novel, Fate was not so kind to Marguerite de Valois. Nor was history.
There but for a bad law . . . .Three of Marguerite’s brothers were Kings of France. But when the last of them died, Salic law kept their sister from ruling, with the crown passing to her cousin/husband the King of Navarre.
The most traditional way to discredit a woman . . . . Marguerite has traditionally been portrayed as a wanton. But these luridly embroidered portrayals are rooted in a single piece of propaganda. Propaganda used by her husband, King Henri IIV, to secure a divorce when she didn’t produce an heir.
The truth is (always) more complicated . . . . Was Margot perfect? No. But nor was she a shallow, sex-obsessed, pleasure seeker. Looking at the historical record, it is clear Margot was highly intelligent, politically astute, and (in her later years) a serious force in the literary life of France. Arguably her political acumen exceeded that of her brothers, making her more like her strong-willed, politically expert mother, Catherine de Médicis than any of that Queen’s other children. Unlike her mother, however, Margot was a woman of deep and genuine religious conviction.
I hope that in Médicis Daughter I did Marguerite justice. For those who enjoyed my book, I recommend reading Margot’s own Memoirs—which provide a vivid exposition of France during her lifetime. For those who haven’t discovered Médicis Daughter yet, perhaps now is the time.
Happy International Women’s Day
I am SO HERE for International Women’s Day!
Doubtless my readers have noticed that I am an era hopper (I’ve written Ancient Rome, 13th century, 16th century, 17th century and who knows when I’ll go next) but my historical novels have a unifying factor—I like to restore or rehabilitate women who have been erased or mis-represented in history. So this International Women’s Day I’d like to celebrate some of my heroines.
The Erased . . . The spark for my novel, THE SISTER QUEENS, came from a footnote. I was reading about Notre Dame de Paris for a different project and came upon a footnote discussing Marguerite of Provence medieval Queen to Louis IX of France. She and Louis jointly presented the church’s last and smallest door—the Porte Rouge—and if you look up, you can see Marguerite’s kneeling image carved over that charming door. Anyway, in the footnote it was mentioned that Marguerite was one of four remarkable daughters of Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence—ALL of whom became Queens. I wondered how such women, with their powerful Savoyard connections through their mother and their politically significant marriages, could have slipped through the fingers of history. The fact they had aggravated me. So, I started a file folder with their names on it, vowing to come back and tell their story. The Sister Queens was the result of that vow and ultimately highlighted the two eldest, Marguerite who became Queen of France and Eleanor who became Queen of England. Neither of my Queens were mere pretty faces. Marguerite went on crusade and while their saved her husband, King Lois IX of France, who had been taken captive. Eleanor was her husband’s, King Henry III of England, rock—providing advice, perspective and unwaning love.
Another good example of restoring erased women is the collaborative novel that I worked on, RIBBONS OF SCARLET, about the French Revolution’s women. Women did everything from write to fight in support of the Revolution—the march on Versailles was led by women—but their significant contributions were largely left out of academic histories on the subject. I wrote about the King’s sister, Princess Elizabeth, lived a life of charity and was even considered for canonization by the Catholic church. At the time of the Revolution she took a stand to defend her brother, and was active in a plan to spirit her family to safety at the risk of her head, yet few people know anything about her. I wanted to correct that oversight.
The misrepresented . . . My novel, MEDICIS DAUGHTER, centers on Marguerite de Valois, youngest daughter of Catherine de Médicis, Queen of France. I knew Margot from my childhood reading, and specifically the work of Alexandre Dumas. Margot represents a woman unfairly treated by history. She’s traditionally been portrayed as a wanton. But these luridly embroidered portrayals are rooted in a single piece of propaganda. Propaganda used by her husband, King Henri IV of France, to secure a divorce when she didn’t produce an heir.
The defamation of Marguerite really fired me up to provide a more balanced, historically accurate look at the youngest Valois Princess.
Was she perfect? No. But nor was she a shallow, sex-obsessed, pleasure seeker. Looking at the historical record, it is clear Marguerite was highly intelligent, politically astute, and (in her later years) a serious force in the literary life of France. Arguably her political acumen exceeded that of her brothers (three of whom were Kings), making her more similar to her strong-willed, politically expert mother, Catherine de Médicis. Unlike her mother, however, Margot was a woman of deep and genuine religious conviction.
This International Women’s Day which historical women who’ve been erased or misrepresented have you enjoyed reading about? Is there a woman from the past you’d like to see someone write a historical novel about?
Rock, Paper, Sword, FUN
I had a blast discussing everything fromwriting historical fiction, my relocation to York, UK (aka God’s own country), and how I ended up in a wheelchair on my way to Pilates class with fellow historical novelists Matthew Harffy and Justin Hill! Take a listen! [spotify or youtube] Then check out some of the other terrific historical novelists included on their podcast, Rock, Paper, Sword.
