queen

Captive Queen: A Novel of Eleanor of Aquitaine

admin — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Alison Weir is first a historian, and it shows in Captive Queen. She studied Eleanor of Aquitaine in the 1970s and 1990s and realized one day that “the nature of medieval biography, particularly of women, is the piecing together of fragments of information and making sense of them. It can be a frustrating task, as there are often gaps that you know you can never fill.”

Captive Queen explores Eleanor’s life from just before her marriage to Henry FitzEmpress (later Henry II, King of England) until just after Henry’s death in 1189. There is also an epilogue that covers her death in 1204. At the beginning, there’s a map of lower England and Aquitaine, Normandy, Brittany, and France, which are all parts of present-day France. Also included is a helpful flowchart of Eleanor and Henry’s genealogy, which I referred to numerous times when I was trying to remember minor characters.

The novel itself is split into five parts, each representing a stage in Eleanor’s life and marriage to Henry. The first part is a rosy depiction of Eleanor’s early life with Henry. At the time of their wedding, he was eighteen and she was twenty-nine and already had two daughters. They were married just two months after the annulment of her marriage to the King of France, Louis VII. Eleanor’s marriage to King Henry was tumultuous: she fought with Henry often about his rule of her lands. At the same time, however, it was steamy; it wasn’t even twenty pages in before the first bedroom scene occurs. Still, it’s clear she wanted a partnership of equals, not a man to rule over her as husband and lord, which was the norm at the time, especially for women in royalty.

The following four parts accentuate her desire to be included in affairs of state, rule her lands equitably, and be treated as more than “the wife of King Henry and mother of his children.” The second part covers her apparent rivalry with Thomas Becket. In the third part, Weir writes about Eleanor and Henry’s sons: Young Henry, Richard (who would become Richard the Lionheart), Geoffrey, and John (later to become King John, best known for signing the Magna Carta and for being a primary antagonist in most Robin Hood legends).

After encouraging her sons to rebel (unsuccessfully) against their father, Henry placed Eleanor under house arrest for more than fifteen years, most notably in Sarum, Wiltshire (the earliest settlement of present-day Salisbury, England). There, she received very little news from outside the confines of her imprisonment but was finally freed upon Henry’s death in 1189. In the novel, she says to her gaoler, “Master Berneval, I command you, in the name of King Richard, to set me at liberty at once.” And he does.

Two things irked me about Captive Queen, and neither are the author’s fault. The first is Henry’s repeated insistence (and everyone else’s assumption) that women are meant to be child-bearers and nothing more. Eleanor herself even notes that she is most proud of her daughters when they produce children—hopefully sons—for their husbands. The second is that Eleanor’s life revolves around the men in it, no matter how much she wants to rule her lands herself or how intelligent and magnanimous she is in acting as Henry’s regent. The first thing is the unfortunate sexist reality Eleanor had to deal with during her lifetime. The second is related; Weir’s frustration at being able to find only a very few fragments of Eleanor’s life basically forced her to study the men surrounding Eleanor and often make conjectures about her based on what was written about them.

It’s clear in reading that Alison Weir did a lot of research before penning Captive Queen as a fiction. After all, she writes, “What is the point of a historical novel... based on a real person if the author does not take pains to make it authentic as possible?” For fans of medieval Europe, this book is a must read. Just beware that the author made it as authentic as possible, right down to the sexism of the time period.

Written by: Viannah Duncan, July 18th 2010

Cleopatra: A Biography

admin — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 17:01:00 +0000

By Duane W. Roller

Oxford University Press

Cleopatra is a cipher, an enigmatic and historically remote figure reimagined until she has become, for much of the world and for much of modern history, the apotheosis of desire, representative of the potency of feminine allure. As with the search for the historical Jesus, separating the real figure from the myth is complicated not only by our fascination with all the artistic interventions and the millennia of (mis)representation but also by the paucity of hard evidence. The slender record that remains is complicated by the bias of her contemporary observers (mostly suspicious and resentful Romans) and the tangle of political agendas that surrounded her reign.

Distinguishing reality from the myth is Duane Roller’s project in his new biography of Cleopatra. He marshals the modest amount of fairly reliable biographical information, supplemented by a helpful sketch of the political and social world of Ptolemaic Egypt in the first century BCE. But was Cleopatra, well, Cleopatra?

Sources disagree about her physical attractiveness, although it seems likely that she was relatively short. The book offers an array of physical images from statuary and contemporary coinage, but there is little commonality among the images, so her actual appearance remains mysterious. The record of her ascent to the throne and involvement in Roman politics would seem to confirm her reputation as ruthless and Machiavellian, although her supposed suicide by snakebite is almost certainly fictional, as Joyce Tyldesley, who covers much of the same ground in her new book Cleopatra: Last Queen of Egypt, has convincingly demonstrated.

Readers hoping to find some account of the controversy over Cleopatra’s racial identity, that has been such an exciting and often public part of contemporary academic discussion, will be disappointed. Further, Roller’s diction seems dated (“the marriage produced no issue” and his use of B.C., for example). What would solidly justify this project is a “new” Cleopatra, one firmly rooted in newly discovered or reinterpreted documentary evidence and grounded in the historical context in which she moved. The same constraint that excludes the mythic elements from this study also seems to prevent a newly and sharply imagined Cleopatra from emerging here.

The closest the author comes to a revisionary portrait is in his account of Cleopatra’s public oratory, and particularly in her apparent authorship of treatises on stunningly banal subjects such as treating dandruff or curing baldness. In 'The Cosmetics,' a collection of writing attributed to her, we see a leader not exclusively concerned with war and geopolitics, but also with the everyday welfare of her people.

Roller’s approach can tell us the types of boats that sailed on the Kydnos River and the apparel Egyptian queens would have worn. But it misses the spiritual force of that figure still resplendent and still threatening two millennia later.

Written by: Rick Taylor, March 4th 2010

The White Queen

admin — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 23:54:00 +0000

By Philippa Gregory

Touchstone

Philippa Gregory’s latest novel, The White Queen, opens her series on the War of the Roses with a tale of blood and lust shrouded in historic mythology. Told from the perspective of Elizabeth Rivers, country maiden turned Queen of England; we follow the fall of the House of Lancaster and rise of the house of York through a Romeo and Juliet love story with a conspiring twist.

Elizabeth loses her husband in battle fighting for King Henry, leader of the house of Lancaster. As Lancaster falls and the Yorks take the reigns of Britain she loses her property and in turn her sons inheritance and only hope of a prosperous future. As the daughter of a nobleman she decides to plead with the new king, Edward IV. It is at this fated and possibly magically guided first meeting that our story truly begins. Lust at first sight is followed by a series of desperate mysterious acts, the most fascinating of which is the possible use of magic by Elizabeth’s mother to propagate her daughter’s second marriage. The King, an infamous womanizer, would be nearly impossible to pin down especially when he was still at war. It is implied that a water goddess, Melusina, a fabled descendant of the Rivers line, intervenes after Elizabeth mom invokes her. The Rivers family calls upon Melusina throughout the book for luck and hope bringing fantastical explanations for some quite unbelievable but true turns of events.

Magic aside, it is a beautifully woven story that heeds to the integrity of the historical record while still maintaining the lightness of a beach read. My one complaint would be the repetitiveness of Elizabeth’s language, she at times seems more of a conniving robot then a person but to be fair in order for her rise to power to have been plausible at all she had to have a one track mind.

As summer turns to fall, you may have a hankering to be back in the classroom. With this book you can easily reap all the benefits of a history class plus the easy reading pleasure of a good romance novel.

Written by: Nicole Levitz, September 30th 2009

Power, Piety, and Patronage in Late Medieval Queenship: Maria de Luna

admin — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 17:30:00 +0000

By Nuria Silleras-Fernandez

Palgrave MacMillan

In Power, Piety, and Patronage in Late Medieval Queenship, Nuria Silleras-Fernandez examines the life of the Spanish queen, Maria de Luna, from her childhood amongst the sons and daughters of the royal court, to her successes and failures as queen in the Crown of Aragon until her death in 1406. Silleras-Fernandez systematically demonstrates how “in an age in which queens were expected to act as no more than intersectors between supplicant subjects and the authority of the king, Maria [de Luna] was an active and independent political agent.”

Maria de Luna understood that the source of her power as queen was inextricably tied to the success of her husband’s rule as king, but she also had an understanding of the measures necessary to ensure the preservation of his power, an understanding that was, many times, far superior than her husband’s. She had great foresight for the implications of and potential repercussions from political and military actions, and she took the reins when she saw her husband or son acting in ways that might jeopardize their hold on the crown. Through the course of this book, Silleras-Fernandez shows how Maria de Luna manipulated all aspects of her life to serve her power-hungry agenda, particularly those of patronage and piety. Her acts of sponsorship were used to make loyal dependents out of her subjects, while her pious acts toward the Christian clergy and her husband were used to portray a queenly image that would win the support and respect of those over whom she ruled.

Power, Piety, and Patronage in Late Medieval Queenship demonstrates how exceptional Maria de Luna was at navigating the politics of the fourteenth century, and I believe that she would be a skilled politician according to today’s standards as well. Unfortunately, that is because she managed to use her relationships to further her political aims and maintain power. She was by no means a feminist, and her patronage was extended to the women in her court insofar as she could help educate and refine them so the could be strategically married off to suitors who would fortify certain political bonds.

Power, Piety, and Patronage in Late Medieval Queenship offers interesting insight into the life of an exceptional woman, who had an understanding of the politics of power far superior to that of most men of her time, but she relied on and clung to the power of her husband all the same. Thankfully, the past few years in Chilean, Israeli, and American politics (to name a few examples), have proven that women have come a long way from the days where their power was only derived from their male counterparts.

Written by: Rebecca McBride, October 12th 2008