Category: On This Day In Her Story
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.
Rest In Peace, Marguerite de Valois
This is the four-hundred-and-second anniversary of the death of Marguerite de Valois, Princess and then Queen of France, and central character in my novel, MÉDICIS DAUGHTER. Marguerite was the 8th child of Henri II of France and his 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. As I say in the authors to my novel:
Fate was not so kind to Marguerite de Valois. Nor was history.
Salic law kept her from ruling in France after the death of her last brother, with the crown passing to her cousin/husband the King of Navarre. And a single anonymous political pamphlet during her lifetime was later taken for history not slander, leaving people with the impression Margot was nothing more than a wanton sex-addict. Yet the historical record shows that Marguerite was highly intelligent, politically astute, and (in her later years) a serious force in the literary life of France. She also had a fierce conscience.
I hope that in my novel I did this Princess justice. For those who enjoyed my book, I recommend reading Margot’s own Memoirs—which provide a vivid exposition of France during her lifetime.
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A Little Invasion and some Big Questions . . .
In mid-July of 1572 a French Huguenot nobleman, the Seigneur de Genlis, invaded Netherlands from France with 4,000 infantry and slightly less than 1,000 Calvary. It went badly. Don Frederic of Toledo routed the Seigneur and his troops at Quiévrain, and not two hundred Frenchmen survived (those who survived the battle proper where quickly slaughtered by local peasants). Gossip and fallout at the French Court was immediate.
A good number of courtiers and foreign figures (for example the Venetian ambassador) were sure Genlis had been sent by Admiral Coligny with the King’s knowledge. Others avowed, adamantly, that the Seigneur had gone without the knowledge or permission of either the King or the Admiral.
Frankly, and after years researching the Valois Court in this era, it is impossible for me to believe that the King did not at least know of Seigneur de Genlis’ plan in advance, whether or not he tacitly approved it, if for no other reason than the planned invasion was a very open secret at French Court. So much so that Spain caught wind of it making for an easy interception of the French near mons. Additionally, a letter evidencing Charles complicity found on Genlis when was taken prisoner.
Yet confronted with the invasions catastrophic failure, Charles denied that he sanctioned the expedition and congratulated Philip II on his victory. This represented more than a desperate effort to distance himself from a plan run amok. His actions were at his mother Catherine de Médicis’ behest and she also demanded that he declare publicly that his subjects had disobeyed his orders in going to Flanders. All of this suborning of what was basically perjury was part of a larger struggle between the Queen Mother and Admiral Coligny for the role of chief-influencer over Charles. War with Spain was on the table and while Coligny pressed for it, Catherine was against it.
Less than two months later the winner and loser of this struggle would become painfully and bloodily clear.
Happy Birthday Queen Catherine de Medicis
Today marks the 497th birthday of Catherine de Médicis, Queen of France and a woman with many detractors. 
Catherine did not begin her life with much to celebrate. Although she had illustrious parents—her Mother (Madeleine de La Tour d’Auvergne, Comtesse de Boulogne) was a French princess of royal blood and 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 wasn’t all that caring—he just viewed Catherine, 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.
When in the fall of 1533, at age 14, Catherine was shipped off to France to marry the future Henri II her new husband was not yet even Dauphin—merely a second son. And he preferred another woman, his already established Mistress Diane de Poitier. Catherine’s new country wasn’t impressed with Catherine either. A report from one of the Venetian ambassadors declared that “all of France” disapproved of the marriage. So Catherine’s early experiences of rejection continued.
Yet from these inauspicious beginnings arose 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—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 and as such she deserves as much credit for what went right in that period as she does blame for what went wrong.
Farewell to a Princess . . .
On this day four-hundred-and-one years ago, Marguerite de Valois, heroine of Médicis Daughter, died. 
The last of the Valois was initially buried at the Basilica of St Denis, traditional resting place of French Royals and the place where both her parents and her brothers lay. Unfortunately, the French Revolution showed no respect for the dead. So the bodies of the Bourbon and Valois monarchs were removed from the Basilica to “celebrate” the October 1793 execution of Marie Antoinette, and given ignominious trench burials. The monument that marked Marguerite’s grave was destroyed. Today the location of Marguerite’s tomb is not on maps of burial places at St. Denis, although her brother Henri III and her parents Catherine de Médicis and Henri II are still listed.
Click here for more on the tragic revolutionary “Profanation at Saint Denis.”
Maundy Thursday in History and in my Books . . .
Today is Maundy Thursday. The final Thursday before Easter, Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper—the event which established the Holy Eucharist. Historically Maundy Thursday is associated with powerful figures washing the feet of the marginalized (a King might wash the feet of a pauper—see the stained-glass depiction below—and this year Pope Francis will wash the feet of a dozen refugees) 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. 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.” 
I cannot say when or why exactly I became slightly fixated on this particular religious observance, but Maundy Thursday makes multiple appearances in my work. It was included in the original draft of The Sister Queens (Louis, seen at the right, was a hugely penitent man who not only frequently washed the feet of the less fortunate but liked to eat the leftovers of meals consumed by his favorite leper). King Charles IX and Queen Catherine de Médicis observe the Lenten foot-washing tradition in Chapter 2 of Médicis Daughter. An occasion that finds a teenage Margot in no very good mood:
“Why do you pout?” My brother sidles up to me where I stand, watching Charles and Mother receive basins and ewers from the Cardinal de Bourbon. Nearby, a collection of Troyes’s paupers—mostly women and children—sit on a long bench, prepared to be the objects of royal Lenten piety.
“I did not realize I would be left out of some of the grandest ceremonies of the journey.”
Yesterday the King made a magnificent Entry into Troyes—riding beneath a canopy supported by dignitaries past elaborate set pieces and stopping to hear recitations of poetry written for the occasion. The residents of the city, from the wealthiest to the urchins roaming its streets, were permitted to witness it all. I was not. It seems the women of the court, even the Valois women, are not included in the proceedings that constitute a Royal Entry.
As for What’s Next . . . I can tell you this, Chapter 4 of my latest novel begins with a mumbled, “Last Supper” and Maundy Thursday marks some very dramatic events.