Review: Henry and Clara by Thomas Mallon

On April 14, 1865, an engaged couple, Henry Rathbone and Clara Harris, accepted the Lincolns' last-minute invitation to join them in their box at Ford's Theatre. For the nation, the impact of that night's tragedy would be felt at once; for Henry and Clara, the denouement of their own private tragedy occurred years later.

Henry and Clara follows the titular couple from their childhood in Albany, New York, where Henry's widowed, ambitious mother sets her cap at Clara's widowed father, Ira Harris, whom Pauline Rathbone sees as a promising politician. A marriage soon follows, and young Henry and Clara find themselves stepbrother and stepsister. Though neither child cares much for the other's parent, Henry and Clara soon gravitate toward each other, and as they mature their feelings grow into romantic love. Before they can marry, though, they must overcome the opposition of their parents, and the outbreak of the Civil War throws yet another obstacle into their path.

There is another difficulty, one the determined and devoted Clara doesn't much want to acknowledge: Henry. For Clara, the mercurial Henry is Byronic, but the horrors of war soon disclose how fragile Henry's psyche truly is. Nonetheless, Clara, deeply in love and not willing to give up easily, presses on with her marriage plans, even after the Lincoln assassination strips yet another layer of sanity from Henry.

Though the story Henry and Clara tells is a tragic one, Mallon's wry narrative voice and his sharp eye prevent it from being a gloomy one. His characterizations are superb, with Clara, the main viewpoint character, being a particular success. Even as Clara becomes more isolated and her situation more grim, she never turns into the pathetic victim she might have become with a less skilled author.

If there's a rough patch in the novel, it's at the beginning, where the immersion into Albany politics may be too much for some readers. Persevere, though, and you'll be well rewarded. This was one of the best historical novels I've read.

Three Cheers for the BBC!

I have a Google alert set up for "Edward II," and though I get some things of interest that way, I also get a lot of worthless alerts, mostly to shopping sites. So when I saw my alert today, I thought at first it was another shopping alert. Then I looked closer and gave a great big whoop, for I see that the BBC has reissued the 1970 telecast of "Edward II" on DVD! Finally!

This telecast starred Ian McKellen as Edward II, and is an excellent adaptation of the Marlowe play. My university library of choice has an old VHS copy, which couldn't be taken off premises, so I had to watch it sitting in a carrel, wondering if some undergraduate would come up behind me during the poker scene and say, "Ewwww!" Needless to say, I'm delighted about finally being able to buy a copy of my own. I'm also delighted that the play, which is seldom produced in the US outside of major cities, will get a wider audience. (The Derek Jarman film, while interesting and well-acted, loses Marlowe's play in its emphasis on twentieth-century sexual politics.) It's the Marlowe play that got me interested in Edward II and got me to writing my own novel, so I owe this playwright a big thanks!

Q &A with Sandra Gulland--and a Giveaway!

As part of her blog tour to celebrate the paperback release of Mistress of the Sun, the story of Louise de la Vallière, I'd like to welcome Sandra Gulland to my corner of the blogsphere! I read Sandra's Josephine Bonaparte trilogy when I was just beginning to write historical fiction. Not only did I learn quite a bit about Josephine from it, I also learned a great deal about the craft of writing. So I'm particularly pleased she's stopping by here.

SH: What drew you to the character of Louise in particular? In general, are there qualities that tend to draw you to a historical character?

SG: What initially drew me to Louise was her extraordinary horsemanship. She could stand a cantering horse. She could out-ride and out-hunt the Sun King, who was himself an amazing athlete. I wondered how this came about. Certainly, it wasn't typical of women in the 17th century (much less today). Clearly, she had spent a lot of time with the guys in the stables and out in the fields.

I have to care deeply about my main character, so the most important quality, for me, has to do with having a sympathetic nature. The other essential is that there be something unexplained, something that provokes my curiosity. With Josephine, it was the fact that her remarkable future had been foretold. For Louise de la Vallière, it was her horsemanship.

SH: I’ve seen several different covers for Mistress of the Sun. Do you have a favorite? Why?

SG: I'm crazy in love with the cover of the Canadian hardcover edition, the one with the big eyes. I think it captures Petite's innocent, yet almost hypnotic and somewhat mystical allure. Poetically, I think it gets to the heart of what the novel is about. Plus, it's so gorgeous, simply lush. It communicates that the novel is historical, without confining it only to readers of historical fiction. It has a literary appeal, as well as romantic: a great combination, in my mind. I don't think I will ever love a cover as much as I love this one.

SH: Is there a character you’d like to write about, but don’t think you ever will? Why?

SG: I'm tempted by Joan of Arc — but she's so intimidating. Plus, there would have to be a question about her I wanted to solve.

I'm also, curiously, tempted by Saint Vincent de Paul. Now that would be a challenge! I've read biographies about him, but the one story that intrigues me is that he was, apparently, very popular as a confessor to the society ladies because he would forgive every sin. Imagine the story possibilities that might open up!

SH: Other than historical fiction, is there a genre you enjoy reading in particular? As a reader, do you have any “guilty pleasures”?

SG: I like literary fiction, especially literary historical fiction. In the historical vein, I've found it difficult, lately, to read works set close to the period I'm working in. Some recent works I've read and admired (Blonde, by Oates, for example) were set in the last century.

I did read a "guilty pleasure" book recently: Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer. (Hasn't everyone read this book?) I thought it well done, but I was quite happy to return to my non-vampire world.

___

Thanks for the interview, Sandra! Now, here's your chance to win a paperback copy of Mistress of the Sun. Just leave a comment here by midnight May 25 (US EST) telling me which of Sandra's covers below is your favorite. (The winner will get the book with the second cover--the US paperback.)

Me? My favorite's the first one. I'd love to wear a dress like that, and my cats would love to shed on it.

That's One Way of Looking at It

While double-checking the facts for my Buckingham novel (it will be getting another title), I came across this little gem of a letter in the Calendar of State Papers, Milan (online here). The "enclosed copy" refers to an account of the Battle of St. Albans:

22. The Bishop of Novara, Milanese Ambassador at Rome, to Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan.
From England we have the news which you will see by the enclosed copy. Although it is not good for those who are dead, yet it cannot fail to favour our proceedings, because it will make the French a little more cautious, as during these differences between the English, they had become great and daily became greater.
Rome, the 4th July, 1455.
[Italian.]

A Woodville Meets a Boleyn

One of the fascinating things about doing historical research is seeing how people's paths cross. The William Boleyn who was appointed to a commission with Anthony Woodville in November 1482 was the grandfather of none other than Anne Boleyn:

Nov. 12. Commission to the king's kinsman Anthony, earl Ryvers, Henry Heydon, Westminster. William Boleyn, Richard Suthwell, John Fyncham, Henry Spylman and James Hoberd, certain dissentions having arisen between William Lumnour on the one part and Thomas Brygge of Manyngton, co. Norfolk, 'gentilman,' and Margaret his wife on the other, to summon the parties and other persons and examine them and put their examinations in writing and to enquire by inquest into certain felonies, murders, trespasses and offences committed by the said Thomas and Margaret Brygge late the wife of William Lumnour and to certify thereon to the king and council in the quinzaine of Midsummer next.

[Patent Rolls, 1476-1485]

It's probably safe to say that if this commission actually had a chance to meet, its members would have never predicted that Anthony would be dead in less than eight months and that William's as-yet-unborn granddaughter would end up as queen of England!

A New Richard III Novel: This Time

One of my friends from the Richard III Society, Joan Szechtman, has written a novel about Richard III, which is due out shortly from Basset Books. It's called This Time, and it has a twist: instead of dying on Bosworth Field, Richard is brought by a team of Americans into present-day Portland, Oregon.

Normally, I don't go for time-travel, but this was an enjoyable read, not the least for Richard's various fish-out-of-water experiences as he copes with modern-day technology and modern-day mores, especially when he meets Sarah, a Jewish divorcee. Joan writes in an engaging style, with excellent dialogue, and her solution to the mystery of the Princes in the Tower, though very different from my own, is quite plausible. Richard is sympathetic without being too good to be true, and the modern-day characters are vivid and likable.

This Time, scheduled for release on June 1, is the first book in a three-book series. Ordering information (along with photographs and an assortment of Richard-related links), is on Joan's website.

Dorset the Evil Guardian?

While doing some research for a blog post last night, I looked up the entry for Thomas Grey, first Marquess of Dorset, in W. E. Hampton's Memorials of the Wars of the Roses. This book, put out by the Richard III Society in 1979, contains descriptions of memorials and tombs connected to various Wars of the Roses personages, with a potted biography of each one. Though most of the biographies are fairly straightforward, Hampton's account of Dorset, Elizabeth Woodville's eldest son by her first marriage, is a rather different affair.

After a more or less factual recounting of Dorset's life, Hampton suddenly changes tack and launches into an account of Dorset's supposed sexual exploits with his female wards, the daughters of John Neville, Marquess Montagu. He writes that Dorset appears to have fathered a bastard daughter on Elizabeth Neville, Lady Scrope of Masham, though Hampton rather damages his case by noting that the father could have been Dorset's son instead. (Dorset senior, Dorset junior, what's the difference?) Hampton then moves to the case of Anne Neville, married to Sir William Stonor. "The marriage took place at the end of 1481, and almost immediately afterwards she rode to join the Marquis in Taunton Castle. She wrote from there to Stonor in February, 1482, having, as she says, been with the Marquess longer than anticipated. In August she presented Stonor with a son . . ."

By this, Hampton apparently is implying that while Anne was staying with Dorset, he took the opportunity to father a child upon her, which was passed off as Stonor's. Aside from the fact that there's no apparent reason that Anne couldn't have been pregnant with Stonor's child before she went to visit her guardian, the actual letter by Anne hardly implies such debauchery. Here it is, from the Stonor Letters and Papers (thanks to the Internet Archive):

306. DAME ANNE STONOR TO
SIR WILLIAM STONOR

27 FEBRUARY [1482]

Syr, I recomaund me unto you in my most h[ert]y wise, right joyfull to here of yowre helthe: liketh you to knowe, at the writyng of this bill I was in good helthe, thynkyng long sith I saw you, and if I had knowen that I shold hav ben this long tyme from you I wold have be moche lother then I was to have comyn into this ferre Countrey. But I trust it shall not be long or I shall see you here, and else I wold be sorye on good feith. Syr, I am moche byholdyng to my lady, for she maketh right
moche of me, and to all the company, officers and other. I have early trust uppon your comyng unto the tyme of thassise, and else I wold have send Herry Tye to you long or this tyme. I have deiyvered a bill to Herry Tye of suche gownes as I wold have for this Ester. And I beseche oure blessed lord preserve you. From the Castell of Taunton the xxvij day of Februarer.

Your new wyf Anne Stonor.

Nowhere does this quite sweet letter mention Dorset, though the reference to "my lady" probably refers to Dorset's wife, Cicely Bonville. Would Cicely be making "right moche" of a young lady who was carrying on an affair with her husband? Would a young lady who was being sexually exploited natter on happily about her Easter gowns?

But it gets worse. Next, we're told that "His [Dorset's] treatment of Clarence's son, young Warwick (before 1483) may have caused the boy to be mentally retarded."

There are two rather big problems with this statement. First, as Hazel Pierce, the biographer of Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, points out, the evidence that the Earl of Warwick (Margaret's younger brother, Edward, who was executed by Henry VII on probably trumped-up charges) was mentally retarded rests on a single statement by Edward Hall that Warwick had been imprisoned for so long "'out of al company of men, and sight of beates, in so much that he coulde not descerne a Goose from a Capon.'" (An online version of Hall renders this passage as, "And Earl Edward, who had been imprisoned since childhood, so far removed from the sight of man and beast that he could not easily tell a chicken from a goose, although he had deserved no punishment by his own wrongdoing and had been brought to this by another man’s fault.") Read reasonably, this statement does not imply that Warwick was mentally deficient, simply that long imprisonment had left him ignorant and naive. Pierce also notes that in a later petition to Henry VIII excusing her brother's alleged treasonous behavior, Margaret described her brother only as unworldly and inexperienced, though it would have been to her advantage to describe him as mentally deficient had he been so. Henry VII himself never described Warwick as being mentally retarded ("idiot" is presumably the word that would have been used at the time), and neither did Richard III, though doing so would have been to both men's advantage given the potential threat to the crown the boy presented to them.

Assuming for the sake of argument, however, that Warwick was indeed mentally retarded, how on earth can Hampton assume that Dorset was responsible? If Warwick was retarded from birth (in February 1475), Dorset can hardly be blamed; if Warwick was normal at birth and was later damaged by childhood neglect or abuse, Dorset is only one of several possible culprits who had charge of Warwick before Henry VII took him over in 1485. Dorset did not obtain the wardship of Warwick until September 1480, over two years after Warwick's father, the Duke of Clarence, was executed; in the interim, Warwick was a ward of Edward IV. After Richard III took the throne, Warwick was put in the care of Queen Anne, though he spent most of Richard III's reign at far-off Sheriff Hutton. There is not a shred of evidence, however, that any of these people or their servants neglected or mistreated the boy before his long imprisonment at the hands of Henry VII began--and that includes Dorset. Indeed, Dorset in particular had an excellent incentive to treat Warwick well: he had many daughters, and might well have planned to marry one of them to Warwick.

Having thoroughly slandered Dorset, Hampton fortunately passes over Elizabeth Woodville's tomb in silence, but a trip to Salisbury Cathedral gives rise to the comment that Bishop Lionel Woodville, by a concubine "had a son, Stephen Gardiner, who became Bishop of Winchester." Evidently, Lionel Woodville had access to one of the earliest sperm banks in history: Lionel died in 1484, whereas modern historians put Stephen Gardiner's date of birth as being in the late 1490's.

I'm Not Cheap

While checking my Amazon ranking (it's a compulsion, and will someday be duly recognized as such in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), I noticed that a merchant was attempting to sell the Lulu version of Hugh and Bess for a whopping $364. The name of the seller: cheapbargainbook. (Two other sellers are trying for a more modest $90 or so.)

Somehow I doubt anyone will be paying this (especially since the Sourcebooks edition, which has been revised slightly, is coming out on August 1), but if you do, you deserve a little something extra, maybe a DNA sample or something. (I'd offer to be an egg donor, but I'm way too old.) Just shoot me an e-mail with proof of purchase and I'll arrange it.

A Letter From Henry, Duke of Buckingham

Much to the frustration of the historical novelist who chooses Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, as a main character, few of his records survive. Many records were destroyed in 1483, where the Vaughan family raided Brecon Castle after Henry left it for his ill-fated rebellion against Richard III, and more were destroyed by Welsh rebels after Henry VII came to the throne in 1485.

Here, however, is a transcription of one letter by Henry that's held at the Staffordshire Record Office. No smoking guns here, folks (no "My well beloved Richard. I have taken care of the business in the Tower that you asked me to. Repairs will be needed to the staircase now. Now do I get my Bohun lands?") Rather, this is simply a letter to an unknown recipient who apparently had claimed an interest in some of Henry's lands:

____________

Welbeloved in oure hartie maner we grete you wele And
wheras you make clayme to our Manors of Penshurst and
Yensfeld with other landes comprised in your bill which we
with our counsaile at your instance have herd and examined
We do you to wite that seing our father whom god assayle
long before the bargein made betwene us and Syr Will[ia]m
Sutton had the said Manors by letters patentes of King
Henry conteyning clause of warrantye We ar not advised
to make you enny further aunswere untill the king and
his counsaile be made prevye to the title that in case it be
found for you we maye have satisfacc[i]on in value of his
graces lands otherwhere And in the mean tyme we requyre
you to quiet your self ffrom London the xxti daie of Julye
Bukyngh[a]m

______________

Penshurst and Yensfield had been granted to Henry's grandfather, Humphrey Stafford, first Duke of Buckingham, by Henry VI in 1447, after the death of their previous owner, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, so it's not clear to me on what grounds the recipient made his claim. Evidently, Henry himself was not impressed. In 1519, however, Henry's son Edward Stafford, the third Duke of Buckingham, wrote a letter to Sir Edward Chamberlain in which he acknowledged Chamberlain's claim to Penshurst and other manors in Kent and stated that his council had agreed to offer Chamberlain some recompense. Perhaps the Chamberlain claim is related to the one made against Henry years before.

One interesting point about Henry's letter is its signature, shown in the first picture below. Compare it to the second signature, taken from the famous fragment that contains the signatures and mottoes of Edward V, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, and Henry. In the "three signatures" document, Harry seems to have added his first name "Harre" almost as an afterthought.

April Showers Bring . . . Search Terms!

Searches people used in April to find my website (for those who have asked, my server keeps track of them):

the life during the reign of edward the first

Ah, those were the days, my friend.

kind edward ii

Alianore will love that one.

hugh despenser the still young

What were his beauty secrets?

why do isabella and edward break up?

They have relationship issues, and he's just not that into her anyway.

fun image of joan of acre england

That Joan was a party gal, all right!

when did elizabeth the 1 have a brother

Not nearly soon enough, in her father's opinion.

what does the duchess father gain from the marriage to the duke

Almost always, a son-in-law.

did richard iii have a motive

You mean people think he did something wrong? That sweet-looking chap?

who is susan higginbotham

It took a lot of bad adolescent poetry before I figured that one out.

hugh despenser bridge

Undoubtedly he charged a hefty toll to get across.

The Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham Pay Homage to the Prince of Wales

Last night, when revising My Heart Split with Sorrow, I ran into the annoying scenario of having to rewrite a scene in order to account for one of my historical characters' known whereabouts. Once I realized that I could do so without sacrificing a big chunk of necessary dialogue, I was a happy camper.

Anyway, here's the record in British Library Additional Manuscripts 6113, folio 74de, as transcribed for me, that made me do my rewrite. It's an account of a dinner hosted by Edward, Prince of Wales, on November 9, 1477, and the homage done to him afterward. Ironically, in light of what was to happen in 1483, the first man to pay his respects was Richard, Duke of Gloucester; the second was Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham.

1. M[emorandu]m that in the yere of our lorde / ml iiijc lxxvij /
2. on the ixth day of November / The Prince Feasced
3. the greate Parte of all the nobles Temporell /
4. beinge Presente at that generall counsell w[i]t[h]
5. all the Judgges and Barons of the Kinges eschequer
6. where after dynner / his Brother The Duke of
7. Yorke was Sette on the Beddes fote besyde the
8. clothe of Astate / And his uncle The Duke of
9. Gloucester on gorde / And on bothe his knees /
10. Pottynge his handes betwene the Princes handes
11. dyd hym homage for suche landes as he helde
12. of hym / And so kyssed hym / And that don The
13. Prince thanked his sayde uncle / that yt lyked hym
14. to do yt so humbly / And in lyke forme after
15. hym dyd the Duke of Buckingeh[a]m Also /
16. The Duke of Suffolke / The Marquis Dorsette
17. Therle Rivers / The lorde Lisle / Sir [blank] Bryan
18. chefe Judge of the comon Place / And the Officers
19. of Armes had the Rome made by gentlemen usshers
20. Clarencieux Kinge at Armes
21. Norrey Kinge at Armes
22. Chester Harrolde
23. Herforde Harrolde
24. Seales Poursev[a]unte beinge there presente

George, Duke of Clarence, of course, missed this dinner: he was a prisoner in the Tower and would be executed on February 18, 1478.

Incidentally, Paul Murray Kendall writes in Richard the Third that prior to 1483, Richard "had had small opportunity to know Buckingham well." How well Buckingham and Gloucester actually knew each other is unknown, but opportunities certainly weren't lacking: in addition to their being together on this occasion in 1477, the men also attended the young Duke of York's wedding in January 1478, where they were given the job of leading the little bride into the wedding feast. In 1471, they were among the nobles who joined Edward IV's triumphant entry into London following the Battle of Tewkesbury, and in 1474, Richard was one of the men who nominated Henry to the Order of the Garter, after which Richard and Harry seem to have attended at least one Garter feast together. They were each summoned to Edward IV's last Parliament in 1483, where Henry was among the men appointed triers of petitions for England, Ireland, Wales and Scotland.

Richard III, "The Simpsons"-Style

The other night, "The Simpsons" did an episode which featured Homer attempting to build a diorama of Westminster Abbey. Anne of Cleves showed up briefly, which reminded me that some time ago, "The Simpsons" presented its own version of Henry VIII and his wives. Which got me to thinking (always a dangerous thing), isn't it time that "The Simpsons" did a show on Richard III? The Shakespearean Richard III, of course--the nice guy Richard wouldn't work at all for these purposes.

So in order to give the writers of the show a head start, I've already done the casting for them. All I need to do now is wait and collect a portion of the payment when they write the episode.

Richard III: Bart Simpson. Who else?
Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham: Milhouse Van Houten
Edward IV: Homer Simpson
Elizabeth Woodville: Marg Simpson
Elizabeth of York: Lisa Simpson
The Princes in the Tower: Rod and Todd Flanders
Margaret of Anjou: The Crazy Cat Lady
Henry VI: Hans Moleman
George, Duke of Clarence: Barney Gumble
Margaret Beaufort: Agnes Skinner
Henry VII: Principal Seymour Skinner
Bishop Stillington: Reverend Lovejoy
William Hastings: Lenny Leonard
Anthony Woodville: Ned Flanders
James Tyrell: Nelson Muntz

This is proving harder than I thought, for there's a lot to be said for casting Moe as Richard III. However, doing that would make the graphic below impractical:



So if you don't like my casting, eat my shorts.

Emily Sarah Holt, and the Despensers Meet Jane Austen

As longtime readers of this blog know, I've mentioned Emily Sarah Holt a few times here. Holt, who wrote historical fiction in the nineteenth century, wrote one of the first novels about the Despenser family, In Convent Walls. Her novels aren't for everyone--among other things, they're intensely anti-Catholic, and most of her good characters are incipient Protestants--but they were quite well researched. In Convent Walls centers around the Despenser girls who were forced into convents by Queen Isabella.

Anyway, I paid a pretty penny for my copy of In Convent Walls several years ago, which means, of course, that it's now available as a reprint on Amazon, along with a number of other novels by Holt. (Higginbotham's Rule: When you find and buy an out-of-print book after years of searching, it will soon be reissued at a fraction of the price that you paid for it.) Holt's White Rose of Langley, which features the very same Constance of York you'll recognize from Brian Wainwright's excellent novel, Within the Fetterlock, is also available as a reprint on Amazon and on Kindle, though you can also read it for free online.

Holt wrote several novels set during the Wars of the Roses, including one featuring Anne Neville's stint as a kitchenmaid and one about Perkin Warbeck, but they seem pretty hard to come by. Perhaps some accommodating person might bring them back into print?

Speaking of the Despensers, the late Joan Aiken wrote several Jane Austen sequels before they became as ubiquitous as they are now. One, Jane Fairfax, features this amusing little snippet:

Mrs. Fitzroy had been a Despenser, as she lost no time in informing any new acquaintance considered worthy of the honour; one of her ancestors had been the last Justiciary of England and another had been the Earl of Winchester, executed in 1322 by Queen Isabella. "No doubt she had her reasons," Colonel Campbell was in the habit of darkly muttering to himself when he chanced to hear one of his mother-in-law's not infrequent repetitions of this piece of history.

1322? Ah, well. It's still entertaining.

Oh, I keep forgetting to mention that Maurice Druon, author of Les Rois Maudits (The Accursed Kings), died on April 14. I was sad to hear of his death, though I have to admit that I found his depiction of Edward II and Hugh le Despenser to be a tad over-the-top. Still, he seems to have led a fascinating life; there's a good obituary of him here.

The Company One Keeps

Being a little lazy tonight, instead of revising My Heart Split with Sorrow, I started poking around in the Library of Congress catalog for some familiar names. I liked this list of entries adjacent to Hugh le Despenser the younger:

Despenser, Hugh le, the younger, d 1326.
Despentes, Virginie, 1969-
Desperado City
Desperado (Motion picture)
Desperadoes (Musical group)
Desperadoes Steel Band
Desperadoes Steel Orchestra
Desperadoes Steelband
D'Esperance, E. (Elizabeth), 1855-1919
D'Esperance, Elizabeth, 1855-1919
Desperate housewives (Television program)

How'd a nice lady like Elizabeth D'Esperance end up in such shady company? And who the heck is she? Well, now we know. On the other hand, Virginie Despentes might be a match for Hugh.

Sadly, searches for Edward II, Piers Gaveston, Roger Mortimer, and Isabella all proved rather unamusing, as did my search for everyone's favorite fifteenth-century king. No doubt certain folk would find this juxtaposition apt, however:

Woodville, Elizabeth, 1437?-1492
Woodville gold mine, Orange Co., Va.

Some ego-searching brought up several Higginbothams, along with a company known as Higginbothams (Private) Ltd., which has produced not only the invaluable "City guide of Hyderabad & Secunderabad" but the "Latest road guide to Tamil Nadu." Now if I find myself in either locale, I certainly know which maps to purchase.

Finally, a few lines down from the numerous entries for Henry VIII, I found this entry:

Henry (Whaleship)

So that's how he traveled after he got out of shape.

Current Reading, Some Link Love, and Dead Existentialists

Over my vacation I got less reading done than I thought I would (which is a good thing; I always pack an excess of books in fear of getting stranded at the airport or shut up in a hotel room on a rainy day), but I did get two books finished: The King's Confidante by Jean Plaidy and The Rose in Spring by Eleanor Fairburn.

The King's Confidante is a reissue of St. Thomas's Eve, first published in 1954. Like Plaidy's other early Tudor novels, it's held up quite well for a book that's over fifty years old. This one focuses on Sir Thomas More and his family, chiefly his daughter Meg. Though part of it centers on More's relationship with Henry VIII (hence the title), most of the book is given over to the family life of the Mores, and particularly More's loving relationship with Meg. I enjoyed it thoroughly, though I don't know enough about More's personal life to make any grand pronouncements about the novel historical accuracy. Incidentally, a recent nonfiction book by John Guy, A Daughter's Love, also deals with More and Meg, and I'm looking forward to reading it.

The Rose in Spring is part of a four-part series about Cecily, Duchess of York. This book covers her life from childhood until 1449, when she and her husband go to Ireland. I rather liked it, especially the depiction of Cecily's relationship with her older sisters, until Jacquetta Woodville came onto the scene. As my skim of the other books in the series indicates, Fairburn takes the usual line of evil Woodvilles and a saintly Richard III, so naturally Jacquetta here is portrayed as a full-fledged witch. That would be bad enough, except that Jacquetta is also depicted as a rather stupid witch. She holds a dinner party for the English nobility in Rouen to celebrate the Greek Festival of the Dead, and she leads the company into a "sinister, dark-shaped room which was decorated with silver stars and planets, wands, cups, pentacles and swords." Jacquetta then proceeds to give a Tarot reading. One might think this lack of subtlety was a tad dangerous. With all this and the promise of a debauched Edward IV jilting that poor sweet Eleanor Talbot in the sequel, I don't know if I'll be in a hurry to read the next books in the series. (For those with stronger stomachs for this kind of thing, the other books are White Rose, Dark Summer, The Rose at Harvest End, and Winter's Rose.)

I'm still reading Margaret George's Memoirs of Cleopatra (it was way too big to tote on the airplane), but for a change of pace I'm also reading Jocelyn Kettle's Memorial to the Duchess, about Alice Chaucer. It's quite interesting. Kettle wrote a couple of other historical novels, but this was her only venture into medieval England that I could find. Anyone know of any other medieval novels by her?

Finally, while I was away, my blog tour was still going on. You can read some more interviews with me at Savvy Verse and Wit (which is giving away four copies of The Traitor's Wife, Diary of an Eccentric (which is giving away one copy of The Traitor's Wife), and Steven Till. There are also reviews at Peeking Between the Pages, Savvy Verse and Wit, My Friend Amy, Medieval Bookworm, Steven Till, and Tome Traveller. There's also a review by a blogger who hated the book, but I'll let y'all hunt for that one. The word "sophomoric" ought to bring it up pretty quickly, which makes me think that I should raise the intellectual tone of this blog a bit. So here goes:

I'm B-A-A-C-K!

I spent seven very nice days in Paris. This was my first visit there, and I hope it won't be my last.

Since my family and I were first-time visitors, we spent most of the time doing the usual tourist activities--the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Montmartre, Versailles. We also made it to the Museum of the Middle Ages (the Cluny), where I especially enjoyed getting to see what a portable altar looked like (very small and, thus, very portable), to Père-Lachaise cemetery, the Concierge, and to the Cathedral of Saint-Denis (burial place of most French kings, including Philip the Fair). I'll be posting some more pictures later, but here's a few odds and ends. First, our family, being people of taste and discernment, couldn't resist this souvenir:



I thought the Ricardians who read this blog would like this tough-looking fellow at the Louvre:



I was quite taken with this advertisement featuring a bespectacled bunny:



Paul Delaroche's painting of the Princes in the Tower:


Ouch!

Guest Q&A with David Jones

As promised, I'm leaving you for the week with a question-and-answer with David Jones, author of Two Brothers: One North, One South, a story of the American Civil War. David has a website here and has recently been interviewed over at Michele Moran's History Buff.

Q. What motivated you to write your novel?

A. The Civil War has always held special meaning for me as my father related interesting stories that he heard from his maternal grandfather, who served in the 10th West Virginia Infantry. However, the real impetus started about twelve years ago when I documented all aspects of my genealogy, including details of the Civil War regiments of my ancestors. My paternal great great grandfather served as quartermaster of the Federal 6th Maryland Infantry and Clifton Prentiss was another officer in the regiment. I discovered that Clifton’s younger brother, William, served in the Confederate Maryland Battalion and was written about by Walt Whitman in Memoranda During The War. I was captivated by the story and launched a three-year research effort that amassed a considerable stack of historical data on the persons and events involved. With the breadth and texture of the tale fully revealed, it was quite evident that this was a story that must be told.

Q. Apparently you could have written Two Brothers as a non-fiction. Why did you write it as an historical fiction?

A. Despite being aware that many Civil War buffs are biased “to the hilt” against historical fiction, I believed that the Prentiss brothers’ story could achieve greater readership as a novel, rather than as a non-fiction. After all, the circumstance of “brother fighting brother” is the quintessential story of the American Civil War. Further, the Prentiss brothers’ story is quite remarkable because they met during the Breakthrough Battle at Petersburg just one week before Robert E. Lee surrendered his army at Appomattox. These dramatic events were recalled in a number of somewhat contradictory memoirs and eyewitness accounts that do, nevertheless, confirm the substance of the story. Clearly much would be lost if this poignant tale was presented as a stark non-fiction, based entirely on official records and supplied with extensive footnotes.

Q. Did you create many characters and events to benefit the telling of the story?

A. All but two of the characters in Two Brothers were real people and many of their experiences were recorded in post-war memoirs, books, and articles. Some literary license was employed when several anecdotes were stretched to include primary characters. My standards for creating these fictional aspects were 1) it could have happened that way; and 2) there was no evidence that it didn’t happen that way.

Q. Did these standards prevent character development?

A. Probably. I was careful not to indulge in too much character development beyond what was clearly suggested by historical record and genealogical evidence provided by a Prentiss family member. These were real people, living in difficult times not that long ago, and their memory should be respected. I believe that it’s wrong for an historical fiction author to take excessive liberties with the personality and character of historical figures. My hope is that the reader, despite the lack of character development, would become emotionally involved with the characters given their authenticity.

Q. The dialogue sounds very authentic for a mid-nineteenth American setting. Is it based on letters and journals written by the people portrayed? 



A. Yes, the dialogue is often based on the words and phrases of the participants that they recorded in letters, memoirs, and journals. In some instances, the dialogue is close to the record of what was actually said in those moments. I wrote in nineteenth century style to harmoniously blend the dialogue and narration as much as possible, although this format creates difficulty for a few readers. 



Q. Your book appears to focus more on the Confederate brother William rather than the Union brother Clifton. Is that true, and if so, why?

A. My goal was to be even-handed in the treatment of the Prentiss brothers as I related their wartime experiences and explored their reasons for choosing opposite sides. My own sense of the Civil War is that soldiers of both sides were honorable Americans. Whitman revealed a similar view in “The Wound Dresser” when he declared them all to be “unsurpass’d heroes” and “equally brave.” As research yielded more usable material on William and the 1st and 2nd Maryland Battalions than on Clifton and the 6th Maryland Infantry, it does appear that there is a bias in favor of the South. However, this factor is mitigated by the shift of focus from South to North as the story progresses toward the climax at Petersburg. Also, the viewpoint of the surviving brothers around Clifton’s hospital bed is clearly for the Union.



Q. The southern characters seem to be somewhat ambivalent about slavery and its connection to the Southern cause. Is this a common attitude among the Confederates that you researched?

A. Both North and South, the central issue in most people’s minds at the beginning of hostilities was not slavery. The average Northern soldier was fighting to preserve the Union and his Southern counterpart was fighting a second war for Independence from what was perceived to be the political and economic tyranny of the North. In fact, racial attitudes were essentially the same throughout the country. Nevertheless, recognition grew as the war progressed that slavery was at the heart of the conflict between the states. The Southern characters in Two Brothers were well-educated people of the upper class who held strong religious beliefs. It’s clear from their writings that they recognized the evil inherent in the institution of slavery and believed that slavery would wither away of its own accord over time. They even worried about the difficulty of transition for former slaves when freedom was inevitably achieved. Their slaves were mainly household servants, who, despite being well treated, were simply making the best of a bad situation. It should also be acknowledged that the plight of field slaves on large plantations was often much worse, but that sad circumstance does not fall directly within the Two Brothers storyline and the purview of its characters.

Q. What do you hope readers will gain from reading your book?

A. The realization that these soldiers, both North and South, were American patriots. They were the children and grandchildren of Revolutionary War patriots, yet they strongly disagreed on the major political, economic, and social issues of the period. The Civil War transformed this nation and we should celebrate our history by striving to achieve a better understanding of it. Historical fiction, properly done, can contribute greatly to that knowledge, and entertain at the same time.

More Blog Touring, and Bits and Pieces

Some more reviews from Amy at Passages to the Past, Margaret at Historical Novels, and Grace's Book Blog. And Margaret is also interviewing me over here.

On a non-me-related note, I finished reading Robert Hutchison's The House of Treason this week. It's nonfiction about the Dukes of Norfolk from the end of Richard III's reign through that of Elizabeth I, and is a quite interesting portrait of a family that found it exceedingly difficult to stay out of the Tower. I'm currently reading Margaret George's Memoirs of Cleopatra, which is quite good.

Next week, I'll be mostly gone from the blogsphere. While I'm away, I'll leave you with a Q & A from David Jones, author of a novel about the American Civil War, Two Brothers: One North, One South. In the meantime, Happy Easter!

More Blog Tourin'

A couple of reviews today by Lilly at Reading Extravaganza and S. Krishna. Thanks, folks!

March was a rather dismal month for amusing search terms on my website--most were straightforward and sensible. However, these are two web surfers who might have a bright future together:

torrid nubiles

whipping scene in poor cecily

Well, as they say:

to each his own like the old lady that kissed the cow

Blog Tour and a Giveaway!

Over the next few days, I'll be doing a blog tour for The Traitor's Wife, so this blog will be a little quiet since you'll be getting so much of me elsewhere. (Boswell says you can never have enough of me. But he's got Beggin' Strips and sausage biscuits to earn, so there may be some bias here.)

First, stop by Historical Tapestry for a giveaway of The Traitor's Wife! Two copies are up for grabs for readers in the U.S. and Canada.

Second, the lovely Amy over at Passages to the Past has an interview with me. You even get to see my smiling face!

Third, Carla, Michele, and Cheryl have each posted reviews. All are discerning readers, so I'm glad they liked it!

Sweeping Changes Planned for Amazon's Review System

SEATTLE—APRIL 1: Concerned over customer and author complaints about its reader reviewing system, Amazon is planning drastic changes in the way customers will be allowed to review books.

The centerpiece of the new plan, called “Twice as Nice,” which is to be unveiled formally later this month, requires reviewers to leave two positive comments for each negative comment they make in an individual review. An anonymous company executive explained, “If you say, for instance, that an author couldn't write her way out of an open paper bag, you will have to balance that by making two positive comments like, ‘But her male characters were really HOT,' and ‘At least she didn’t have anyone eating potatoes in medieval England.’”

“We think this will lead to a more pleasant and congenial atmosphere at Amazon,” explained a public relations representative. “It won’t eliminate negativity altogether, because, let’s face it, some people just can’t be satisfied with anything. But at least anyone who leaves a negative comment will have to think hard about doing it, because they have to leave those two positives or the system will reject their comment. And looking for two positives will ultimately tend to enrich the reading experience, we think.”

The PR representative added, “To be frank, this decision was a business necessity, because authors are very sensitive, fragile sorts and will be more productive if they’re not spending three days in bed with their cats each time they get a bad review. By easing their pain, we’ll be increasing their output, and in the long run, we’ll have more product. It’s really a win-win situation all around, even for the cats, since the more the author produces, the more cat toys are involved.”

Under the new system, reviewers inclined to be critical will be encouraged through online tutorials to find creative ways of softening their remarks. Explained the company executive, “You can write, ‘This book put me to sleep,’ but then add, ‘But you know, a soothing sleep was just what I needed last night.’ Or the reviewer could say, ‘This writing is sophomoric,’ but add, ‘And I really had a blast my sophomore year.’ There are so many ways reviewers can be nicer. It’s mind-boggling, really.”

Also targeted will be the way in which customers vote on the helpfulness of reviews. The current system, under which readers can rate a review “helpful” or “not helpful,” will be changed to eliminate the “not helpful” option. “Our philosophy is that every review is helpful in some way, even if it’s by the author, her mother, or her best friend, because it at least gets a dialogue going,” explained the PR representative. “So readers will now vote ‘helpful,’ ‘very helpful,’ or ‘extremely helpful.’ It’s a small thing, granted, but it really will make life on Amazon a lot more pleasant. It just sets a more genteel tone.”

Asked whether the new system might simply mean that “helpful” becomes the new “not helpful,” the representative said, “We have an algorithm to take care of that, I’m sure.” Asked to explain precisely what an algorithm is, the representative said, “I’ll get back to you about that. I was an English major."

When asked whether the discouraging of negative reviews would stifle open discussion, the executive was philosophical. “It’s true that Amazon might become a little less lively, but I think in the long run, the new, nice Amazon will suit people just fine. And if reviewers have these pent-up urges to be snarky, they can always start blogs, can’t they?”

For more details about this new program, visit this site.

No Foolin'; It's Out on April 1!

The ladies over at Historical Tapestry are hosting a guest post by me to mark the re-release by Sourcebooks of The Traitor's Wife. Stop by and say howdy! (You'll be seeing more on me in the blogsphere in days to come.)

By the way, she said casually, tomorrow is the official re-release date of The Traitor's Wife, though it's been in stock on Amazon and in some Barnes and Noble stores for a few days now. (That, of course, is what people inform me. I'm way too cool to check myself. I haven't checked its Amazon ranking one single time, and I didn't go near my local Barnes and Noble this weekend. Nope. Not a chance.)

Thanks, Uncle! Gifts to Eleanor de Clare From Edward II

Whatever else one might say about Edward II, he was a generous uncle--at least to his favorite niece, Eleanor de Clare. Here's some of his recorded gifts to her:

1308: 20 marks for her expenses while staying at Rockingham Castle (JCD)

May 8, 1308: 10 marks for her expenses for her journey from Rockingham to the king (JCD)

1310: 100 marks for her expenses for her journey from Northampton to Berwick-on-Tweed to join Queen Isabella, plus another 20 marks as a gift from the king (JCD)

1313: Exchequer grants for her expenses: 10 pounds on October 10; 10 pounds on October 15; 5 pounds on Oct. 27; 5 marks on Oct. 29; 10 pounds on Nov. 7; 10 marks on November 19; 4 pounds and 1 mark on December 11 (JCD)

Feb. 14, 1314: 5 marks (JCD)

Easter 1316: Livery of green cloth, trimmed and lined with miniver. (Edward II, Isabella, Prince Edward, and the Countesses of Hereford, Warwick, and Cornwall, the latter being Piers Gaveston's widow (Eleanor's sister Margaret), also received the livery) (MV)

July 9, 1322: A life interest in the manors of Melton Mowbray and Sonyngdon, with a remainder to Eleanor's son Gilbert. (Calendar of Patent Rolls; the gift was made "out of affection to Gilbert")

September 1323: 13 pieces of sturgeon (AW) (Wisely, the King sent Queen Isabella 20 pieces, thereby avoiding the specter of sturgeon wars between the queen and Eleanor.)

1323: 100 pounds toward the expenses of Eleanor's illness while she was in childbed (JCD)

May 10, 1324, Life interest in the manor of Bramelhanger, again with a remainder to Gilbert (Calendar of Charter Rolls)

April 26, 1326: Grant to Eleanor of the goods of Alan de Newenham, whose goods had been taken into the king's hands after he was indicted for "divers felonies." (Calendar of Patent Rolls)

May 18, 1326: Grant to Eleanor of the keeping of the hundred of Gosecote, to hold until Stephen de Segrave's heir came of age. (Calendar of Patent Rolls) (On May 19, Edward issued an order to make the letters regarding this grant "as hastily as possible and deliver them to the bearer without delay.")

1326: 47 caged goldfinches (RH, MP, AW) (Why the odd number of 47? Were there originally 50, of which three died? Could only 47 goldfinches be found? Inquiring minds wonder.)

200 stockfish (JCD: author does not give the date)

Sugar bought to make sweets for Eleanor (MP)

100 marks on "one brief visit" near the end of Edward II's reign) (MP)

Haines also mentions "privy dining" between uncle and niece and his accommodating her at the royal manor of Sheen, and it's also been noted by Prestwich that medicines were bought for the two of them when they were ill in 1319-20. In 1310, a messenger was given twenty marks for bringing Edward news of Eleanor (JCD), the nature of which is sadly unspecified, and in December 1325, Edward offered prayers to the Virgin for his niece's safe delivery of a child, perhaps John le Despenser or Elizabeth le Despenser (Haines).

Why all of this generosity? There are generally three explanations: (1) Edward II was very fond of Eleanor; (2) Edward II was having sexual relations with Hugh le Despenser the younger, Eleanor's husband, and wanted to keep Eleanor sweet by showering her with gifts; (3) Edward II was having an affair with Eleanor herself. There's probably no way of knowing now which was the case. Both Michael Prestwich and Roy Haines have suggested the third possibility, based on allegations by a Hainault chronicler, Robert Reading's comment that Edward II was engaged in "illicit and sinful unions," and the lack of comparable entries in Edward II's records for other ladies. This can't be ruled out, but it's notable that Edward III treated Eleanor generously once he began to rule on his own and that he considered her to be a fit companion to accompany one of his sisters to her wedding. Though Edward III's court was not a prudish one, it still seems unlikely that he would have treated Eleanor so well had she and his father been slighting his mother by engaging in flagrant adultery.

As for the second possibility, though I think it likely that Edward II and Hugh were lovers, I doubt that the gifts were made just to keep Eleanor from raising a fuss about their relationship, whatever its nature. Had Eleanor been inclined to be petulant, Edward and Hugh probably would have simply stuck her on some remote manor and let her steam in solitude. Moreover, Edward II's generosity to Eleanor long predates his attachment to Hugh, though it's true that the large gifts date from the period when Hugh was the king's favorite.

All in all, I think that the first scenario--that Edward II was fond of Eleanor and treated her as a confidante--is the most likely one. It probably helped, of course, that the king was also fond of her husband.

Sources:
James Conway Davies, The Baronial Opposition to Edward II
Roy Martin Haines, Edward II
Michael Prestwich, Plantagenet England
Malcolm Vale, The Princely Court
Alison Weir, Queen Isabella

Literary Maven Meme!

I found this meme over at Writing the Renaissance, and since Julianne said anyone could play, here I am! Feel free to join in yourself--I had fun with this one.

1. What author do you own the most books by?
Jean Plaidy. I just started reading historical fiction a few years ago, and since then, I've acquired what looks to be at least two dozen of her books. My first Plaidy, though not her best, was Follies of the King, and since it's about Edward II, it's a sentimental favorite of mine.

It's amazing where Plaidys crop up. My late mother-in-law had no interest in Jean Plaidy or historical fiction, except for books with Western themes, but she bought a lot of used books with the intention of reselling them, and my husband found a copy of Beyond the Blue Mountains in one stack.

2. What book do you own the most copies of?
Bleak House. I have various illustrated versions of it, and I have scholarly editions of it with different introductions, and I have the first bound edition--but not the original monthly numbers. I wish!

3. Did it bother you that both those questions ended with a preposition?
Sad to say, I didn't notice until you pointed it out! By the way, there's a joke about this:

Southerner to snooty lady from up north: "Where are you from?"
Snooty lady: "Here in the north we do not end sentences with prepositions."
Southerner: "OK. Where are you from, bitch?"

4. What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Eugene Wrayburn in Our Mutual Friend. Such a handsome, charming wastrel.

5. What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding children's picture books)?
Difficult to say once we get past childhood. I seldom re-read books from beginning to end, but I do re-read passages of my favorites.

6. What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
I probably didn't have a favorite book, but I loved a lot of series--probably then I was reading a lot of Trixie Belden books. I also admit to reading all of the Bobbsey Twins books, and another favorite was a series called the Happy Hollisters.

7. What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
A few pop into my mind instantly, but I'm zipping my mouth.

8. What is the best book you've read in the last year?
I though Manhunt, a nonfiction book by James Swanson about the capture of John Wilkes Booth, was great. It's the sort of book one wishes students were assigned in school--it makes history comes alive.

9. If you could force everyone to read one book, what would it be?
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, on the theory that most people end up hating books they are forced to read, and this was a book I detested and think deserves to be detested by others.

10. Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for literature?
Well, if I were handing them out, Anne Tyler would get it.

11. What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
I'd love to see Our Mutual Friend or Bleak House made into a movie--they've been made into TV mini-series, but it's be fun to see them on the big screen.

12. What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
I can't really think of one.

13. Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
I vaguely remember a childhood dream where some of my favorite fictional characters appeared and hung out with me at a train station, but I can't think of anything more recent.

14. What is the most lowbrow book you read as an adult?
One of Virginia Henley's historical romances, because it was set during the reign of Edward II.

15. What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
Probably The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Lawrence Sterne. With all of the wordplay and all of the contemporary references, it was a slow read. I've never tackled James Joyce's Ulysses, and unless I get very bored someday, I probably never will.

16. What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've ever seen?
Coriolanus.

17. Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
I haven't read a good selection of either, but of the ones I have read, probably the Russians.

18. Roth or Updike?
Updike. I love the Rabbit novels and Gertrude and Claudius. I did enjoy Goodbye, Columbus by Roth, but I never had the urge to read any of his other books--too much male writer middle-aged angst, I guess. Of course, the Rabbit novels have a lot of that too, but at least Rabbit isn't a writer.

19. David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
I've never read either.

20. Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Shakespeare. I love seeing his plays in performance.

21. Austen or Eliot?
Austen. The last paragraph in Middlemarch is one that always brings tears to my eyes, but I much prefer Austen's wit to Eliot's rather somber world.

22. What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
I haven't read very many modern novels written outside of the US or the UK, which means that I've missed out on a lot of Nobel Prize winners.

23. What is your favorite novel?
It's a tie between Our Mutual Friend and Bleak House.

24. Favorite play?
Romeo and Juliet, until Mercutio dies. After that I'm ready to leave. Then it would be Richard III, Hamlet, or King Lear.

25. Favorite poem?
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot

26. Favorite Essay?
I'm drawing a blank.

27. Favorite short story?
I can't single out one, but I love Flannery O'Connor's and Dorothy Parker's short stories.

28. Favorite work of nonfiction?
I've found so many works of nonfiction useful, it's difficult to assign a favorite.

29. Favorite writers?
Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell, Anne Tyler, Barbara Pym, P.D. James. In historical fiction, my favorites are Sharon Penman, Margaret Campbell Barnes, Jean Plaidy, and Brenda Honeyman/Brenda Clarke.

30. Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Getting out the lip-zipper again.

I do find, however, that a lot of literary fiction is overrated. So much of it sounds as if it came out of a can (add a cup of angst, a cup of alienation, a dash of substance addiction, a sprinkle of adultery, mix in a bleak suburb . . .)

31. What is your desert island book?
How to Get off of a Desert Island.

32. What are you reading now?
Robert Hutchison, The House of Treason: The Rise and Fall of a Tudor Dynasty (nonfiction). I'm looking for a novel to read, and the house is full of them, but I'm having a hard time settling down to anything.

Hi, There!

Thanks to Lady Despenser, I found Sign Generator, and decided that this would be an excellent way to introduce some of the uninitiated out there to some of the prominent folks of Edward II's reign, as well as to complement her own introduction to the year 1326:










(I really have no idea how that last picture got here. Must have been one of the cats walking across the keyboard again. It would hurt their feelings if I took it off, don't you think?)

The Taming of the Duke

In around 1435, Henry VI’s council decided that strict measures were required for the upbringing of a royal ward. The ward was to rise between six and seven in the morning and to say prayers, and then go and wait upon the king, where he was to hear mass with him. Our young person was also to hear daily evensong. He was to go to bed no later than ten. His household had apparently recently been purged of undesirables; instead, he was to be waited upon by squires hand-picked by the king’s council, who were to encourage him to be of good rule and good governance. When he passed the king’s lodgings, he was to be in the company of at least one of the squires. Finally, if our ward fell into bad company, the ubiquitous squires were to report this, and the names of those involved, to the council.

Were the ward to prove incorrigible, the ordinances recite, the squires could ask the council to be relieved of their duties. This was not likely, the drafters continued optimistically, since the ward had already promised the king and the council to obey whatever rules were drawn up for him.

The ward in question? John Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk (1415-1461), who was about twenty at the time these ordinances were drawn up. Sadly, it’s not known what behavior on the young duke’s part prompted this concern, but as Nicholas Orme comments, such ordinances had no known precedents for individual wards and were probably drawn up because the duke had fallen into wild living with bad companions.

Norfolk’s reaction to his new regime likewise is not recorded, nor is it known whether it had the desired effect. If he chafed at these new restrictions, he at least didn’t have long to do so, for in September 1436, immediately after his twenty-first birthday, he received livery of his inheritance and thus was free to game, whore, stay up until the wee hours, skip prayers, and engage to his heart’s content in whatever other youthful folly he espoused.

Whatever success Norfolk’s attendants might have had in inculcating other virtues in him, deep-rooted loyalty does not appear to have been one of his defining qualities, though caution might have been. He seems to have avoided firm commitments to either side in the Wars of the Roses until after the Battle of Northampton, when he allied himself with the House of York. Having fought for the Yorkist side at Towton, he was earl marshal at Edward IV’s coronation in June 1461 and was amply rewarded, but he had little time to enjoy his new status, for on November 6, 1461, he died, aged forty-six. His mother, Katherine Neville, who lived into her eighties, married the twenty-year-old John Woodville in 1465, when she was a spry young thing of sixty-five or so.

Sources:

Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (online edition)

Nicholas Orme, “The Education of Edward V,” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research, November 1984.

Catch-Up Time!

This is more of a "yes, I'm still out there" post than anything else, I'm afraid. I was pretty wiped out most of last week by some flu-like bug. That and the periodic appearance of winged termites in the house kept me quiet on the blog front.

Last week, however, I did get the advance review copies for Hugh and Bess, and they're lovely! If the termites get near them, they're doomed. (Actually, they're doomed anyway, since the exterminators have been by.)

I'm also eagerly awaiting the publication of The Traitor's Wife next month, to the point where I've been scoping out its future location on the shelves of the nearby bookstores. (At the Borders nearby my house, the fiction books beginning with "Hi" are at knee level. I wonder if the manager would consent to move them all up to eye level? Or to the front of the store?)

Finally, I'm making good progress on the Buckingham novel, though Richard III might beg to disagree, since I reached the Battle of Bosworth last night.

The Pious--Yes, That's Right, Pious--Elizabeth Woodville

Any Ricardian novel worthy of its genre contains a scene where Elizabeth Woodville and/or her mother dabble in witchcraft, though in both women’s cases, the allegations of witchcraft are utterly unsubstantiated. What you won’t get if you read one of these novels is any indication of Elizabeth’s acts of Christian piety and of her actions that reflect her conventional Christian beliefs, though they, unlike her supposed witchcraft, are well documented. Here are some of them:

*Elizabeth’s device was a gillyflower, or pink, which Anne F. Sutton and Livia Visser-Fuchs have pointed out was closely associated with the Virgin Mary. (“The Device of Queen Elizabeth Woodville: A Gillyflower or Pink,” The Ricardian, March 1997)

*Elizabeth founded the chapel of St. Erasmus in Westminster Abbey. (Sutton and Visser-Fuchs: “A ‘Most Benevolent Queen’: Queen Elizabeth’s Reputation, Her Piety, and Her Books,” The Ricardian, June 1995)

*Elizabeth obtained a license to attend Carthusian services at those houses that had been founded by English kings or queens (Ibid.)

*On March 5, 1466, at Elizabeth’s request, the king granted a license for a chaplain and two priests to found a fraternity of sixty priests to pray for the good estate of the king, the queen, and the Archbishop of York (Calendar of Patent Rolls, Edward IV, 1461-67, p. 516)

*Elizabeth joined the London Skinners’ Fraternity of the Assumption of the Virgin (a portrait of her appears in its records) (J. L. Laynesmith, The Last Medieval Queens)

*Elizabeth was a patron of Queen’s College, Cambridge, which named her as its “true foundress” in its statutes of 1475. The portrait of Elizabeth that graces most biographies of her is from Queen’s College. (Ibid)

*Elizabeth made pilgrimages to Canterbury Cathedral, once in the company of her four-year-old daughter, Elizabeth of York, and was a member of its fraternity (Ibid.)

*In 1481, the queen obtained a papal indulgence for those who knelt and said the Angelical Salutation, or Angelus, three times per day. The Pope explained that the queen desired “the devotion of the faithful of the realm for the said salutation to be increased.” (“’Most Benevolent Queen”)

*When Elizabeth made her will in 1492, she named as her executors John Ingelby, the prior of Sheen Charterhouse; William Sutton, vicar of St. Stephen’s Walbrook and of Ashford, Kent; and Thomas Brent, who had served as her almoner when she was queen. (Ibid)

By contrast, what is the evidence that Elizabeth practiced witchcraft? We don’t have any—only the accusations by Richard III, who was hardly a disinterested party. But as a witchy Woodville sells more books than a pious one, it’s safe to say which we’ll be seeing more of in the future.

Get Your Motivation Here!

I do have a serious post in me somewhere, I promise, but tonight's not the night. Thanks to Richard over at Historical Fiction Online, I learned of this site that lets you create your own motivational posters. Here's my maiden effort:

New Blog Title

Ever had one of those days when everything makes you cranky? Tonight it was my blog title (actually, I've been sick of it for a long time). So what do you think of the new one?

By the way "Medieval Woman" comes from my mishearing of the lyrics of the ELO song "Evil Woman." This, so I understand, is called a "mondegreen," and there is an entire site devoted to them. My favorite remains "There's a bathroom on the right" for "There's a bad moon on the rise," and "Like a ham and mustard shake" for "Like a hand in rusted chains."

The Reign of Edward II, as Told by You-Know-Whats

In the interest of equal time, here is the reign of Edward II told by Lolcats. Really, why buy one of those expensive biographies of Edward II when you can get the whole story here?