C.W. Gortner's Blog, page 3
June 2, 2011
Catherine de Medici: An Italian in France
It took several weeks to get my new gowns fitted. In the meantime I began practicing my riding every day on a docile mare, using my Florentine saddle, which had a higher ridge and shorter stirrup length than customary in France and thus, Madame d’Etampes informed me, allowed me the extra advantage of being able to hike up my skirts to show off my ankles. “You do have lovely legs, my dear,” she remarked. “And the gentlemen always appreciate a hint of thigh.” – Excerpt from The Confessions of Catherine de Medici © C.W. Gortner 2010.
Popular history has painted Catherine de Medici as the perennial evil widow—the notorious queen mother who poisoned her foes and wreaked havoc upon France. Of course, history rarely tells us the whole story and Catherine’s is no exception. Still, the legend persists, and so we see Catherine enshrined forever in her unadorned black skirts and veil, a reptilian being without any glamour. We tend to forget that in fact she was once a pretty girl— thin, with the Medici’s slightly protuberant eyes, long beautiful hands, and, it was said, thick, curly auburn hair. She was not unattractive by our modern standards; though in her day, when willowy blue-eyed blondes were prized, she was never described as a beauty. Still, she had spirit and, most importantly, she had intelligence and a formidable education. A true product of the Italian Renaissance, she could speak several languages, read and write (in an age when literacy among women not of royal birth was a rarity, not the norm); and she imported with her to France the seeds of a cultural heritage that continues to flourish today.
It’s almost impossible to verify the claim that Catherine first brought pasta to France, though dried pasta was a staple in the 16th century for sea voyages. However, we can safely assume that if she did bring pasta, it wasn’t served in its most popular Italian incarnation, seeing as the first recipe for pasta with tomatoes was written in 1839. However, Catherine did import several other interesting devices, and her patronage of the arts made significant contributions to the French Renaissance and the world at large.
Like every well educated Renaissance person, she believed forces beyond our comprehension shaped the world; in particular, she was a firm believer in the power of astronomy and astrological influences. The French seer, Michel de Nostradamus, shared her belief and he dedicated many of his quatrains to her and her husband Henri II. She in turn patronized Nostradamus, safeguarding him and his rather unorthodox practices from the ecclesiastical authorities. Without Catherine de Medici’s protection and support, we may never have had the opportunity to read the visionary prophecies of Nostradamus.
Catherine was an avid art connoisseur who re-modeled the Louvre to house her vast collection. She was following in the footsteps of her beloved father-in-law, Francois I, whose obsession with purchasing art—in particular Italian art—is responsible for the Louvre’s housing of such masterpieces as Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa and Madonna of the Rocks. After Francois’s death, his collection languished in various palaces including Fontainebleau; under Catherine’s guidance, the art was protected ad preserved. In the same vein, Catherine had a keen appreciation for portraiture—a direct reflection of her humanistic education, in which the secular individual assumed vital importance. Under her patronage, the school of Clouet and others created astonishing images of some of the most important people of the age, including Catherine’s own children, allowing us centuries later to bask in their vivid, almost photographic likenesses. Her patronage of artists continued throughout her life; today, much of Catherine’s collection of portraits is on display in the Musée Condé, in the Château of Chantilly.
Architecture was another lifelong passion of Catherine’s, one in which she reputedly indulged rather wastefully. It is unfortunate that so little of her original architectural projects remain. Her chateau at Chenonceau, surely one of the most beautiful palaces on earth, bears testament to some of her work, including the gallery spanning the Cher River and sumptuous gardens. Another of her extant surviving projects is the impressive tomb she had built for herself and her husband in the mausoleum of kings in Paris’s Abbey of St Denis. It is sad to contemplate that the tomb now stands empty, as the royal skeletons were removed from the Abbey during the Revolution and tossed together into a common pit.
Catherine collected books and reputedly amassed a significant library, amongst which were several important treatises on nature and the occult. She was an amateur poet and patronized poets liberally at court, including the famous Pierre Ronsard, whose verses evoke the era so beautifully. Under her guidance, the theatrical scene of the era was enlivened, as well, with many court events including plays and other forms of stage entertainment, setting the scene for the Sun King’s later extravaganzas.
Perhaps most fascinating, however, are the smaller contributions she made: Catherine is believed to have imported the first artichokes to France, as well as the first example of the modernized side-saddle. She was also the first documented user of female undergarments in France— which, if true, indicates that before she arrived, the ladies went commando under their gowns. It does make one wonder just how Catherine went about introducing the benefits of underpants to the ladies!
Thank you so much for spending this time with me. To find out more about The Confessions of Catherine de Medici, as well as special features about me and my work, please visit: www.cwgortner.com
C.W. Gortner
C.W. Gortner
Popular history has painted Catherine de Medici as the perennial evil widow—the notorious queen mother who poisoned her foes and wreaked havoc upon France. Of course, history rarely tells us the whole story and Catherine’s is no exception. Still, the legend persists, and so we see Catherine enshrined forever in her unadorned black skirts and veil, a reptilian being without any glamour. We tend to forget that in fact she was once a pretty girl— thin, with the Medici’s slightly protuberant eyes, long beautiful hands, and, it was said, thick, curly auburn hair. She was not unattractive by our modern standards; though in her day, when willowy blue-eyed blondes were prized, she was never described as a beauty. Still, she had spirit and, most importantly, she had intelligence and a formidable education. A true product of the Italian Renaissance, she could speak several languages, read and write (in an age when literacy among women not of royal birth was a rarity, not the norm); and she imported with her to France the seeds of a cultural heritage that continues to flourish today.
It’s almost impossible to verify the claim that Catherine first brought pasta to France, though dried pasta was a staple in the 16th century for sea voyages. However, we can safely assume that if she did bring pasta, it wasn’t served in its most popular Italian incarnation, seeing as the first recipe for pasta with tomatoes was written in 1839. However, Catherine did import several other interesting devices, and her patronage of the arts made significant contributions to the French Renaissance and the world at large.
Like every well educated Renaissance person, she believed forces beyond our comprehension shaped the world; in particular, she was a firm believer in the power of astronomy and astrological influences. The French seer, Michel de Nostradamus, shared her belief and he dedicated many of his quatrains to her and her husband Henri II. She in turn patronized Nostradamus, safeguarding him and his rather unorthodox practices from the ecclesiastical authorities. Without Catherine de Medici’s protection and support, we may never have had the opportunity to read the visionary prophecies of Nostradamus.
Catherine was an avid art connoisseur who re-modeled the Louvre to house her vast collection. She was following in the footsteps of her beloved father-in-law, Francois I, whose obsession with purchasing art—in particular Italian art—is responsible for the Louvre’s housing of such masterpieces as Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa and Madonna of the Rocks. After Francois’s death, his collection languished in various palaces including Fontainebleau; under Catherine’s guidance, the art was protected ad preserved. In the same vein, Catherine had a keen appreciation for portraiture—a direct reflection of her humanistic education, in which the secular individual assumed vital importance. Under her patronage, the school of Clouet and others created astonishing images of some of the most important people of the age, including Catherine’s own children, allowing us centuries later to bask in their vivid, almost photographic likenesses. Her patronage of artists continued throughout her life; today, much of Catherine’s collection of portraits is on display in the Musée Condé, in the Château of Chantilly.
Architecture was another lifelong passion of Catherine’s, one in which she reputedly indulged rather wastefully. It is unfortunate that so little of her original architectural projects remain. Her chateau at Chenonceau, surely one of the most beautiful palaces on earth, bears testament to some of her work, including the gallery spanning the Cher River and sumptuous gardens. Another of her extant surviving projects is the impressive tomb she had built for herself and her husband in the mausoleum of kings in Paris’s Abbey of St Denis. It is sad to contemplate that the tomb now stands empty, as the royal skeletons were removed from the Abbey during the Revolution and tossed together into a common pit.
Catherine collected books and reputedly amassed a significant library, amongst which were several important treatises on nature and the occult. She was an amateur poet and patronized poets liberally at court, including the famous Pierre Ronsard, whose verses evoke the era so beautifully. Under her guidance, the theatrical scene of the era was enlivened, as well, with many court events including plays and other forms of stage entertainment, setting the scene for the Sun King’s later extravaganzas.
Perhaps most fascinating, however, are the smaller contributions she made: Catherine is believed to have imported the first artichokes to France, as well as the first example of the modernized side-saddle. She was also the first documented user of female undergarments in France— which, if true, indicates that before she arrived, the ladies went commando under their gowns. It does make one wonder just how Catherine went about introducing the benefits of underpants to the ladies!
Thank you so much for spending this time with me. To find out more about The Confessions of Catherine de Medici, as well as special features about me and my work, please visit: www.cwgortner.com
C.W. Gortner
C.W. Gortner
February 19, 2009
Reader Groups
It is true that much of what we write comes from an autobiographical fount. Even though I strive to remove myself as much as possible from my characters so that they can breathe and live for readers as individuals, fragments of who I am inform my characters as much as fragments of who the reader is informs the experience of meeting those characters.
It is an endlessly entwined dance between writer and reader, one that depends on the other's candor; this is why book groups teach me more about why I write than anything else. It never ceases to amaze me how insightful reader groups can be. Every time I do an author chat over the phone or visit a group in person, I'm always delighted to discover how much readers find in my work, sometimes more than even I supposed.
In my novel The Last Queen, several themes exist but the most important one was something I didn't see until I was meeting with a book group. We'd been discussing my central character's struggle to win her throne upon her return to Spain and one of the group members said, "I think Juana [the lead character:] struggles with this feeling of estrangement her entire life. Like the Moors who were vanquished, she fights to retain her rightful place in a country she loves but where she has become a stranger." Another group member nodded and added, "I know how she feels. I was born in Canada and raised here, and sometimes I feel as though I don't know where I belong." As other group members nodded in agreement, she looked at me. "Did you empathize with Juana because you've also felt this?"
Her question gave me pause. I'd never considered it before; yet as I mentally gazed back over the years I'd spent researching and writing, I realized that of course my own sense of estrangement permeated the book. How could it not? Like Juana, I was raised in Spain but I left in my early teens and when I returned after years of absence, so much had changed it felt like a different world. Somehow, I had found within the story of a 16th century queen a means to come to terms with my own yearning for a place I had left behind; I had, through writing, found common ground with my protagonist.
And my readers had found common ground with her, as well, seeing parts of themselves in Juana's quest. Moments like these are invaluable to a writer; and are why I'm always so eager to meet with reader groups/book clubs and hear their varied impressions of my work. What I take away from these encounters both strengthens my writing and illuminates my character's souls in ways I'd never know otherwise.
If you are interested in scheduling a chat with me or booking an appearance, please visit my website at: http://www.cwgortner.com for more information. Click on the
for Book Groups link.
It is an endlessly entwined dance between writer and reader, one that depends on the other's candor; this is why book groups teach me more about why I write than anything else. It never ceases to amaze me how insightful reader groups can be. Every time I do an author chat over the phone or visit a group in person, I'm always delighted to discover how much readers find in my work, sometimes more than even I supposed.
In my novel The Last Queen, several themes exist but the most important one was something I didn't see until I was meeting with a book group. We'd been discussing my central character's struggle to win her throne upon her return to Spain and one of the group members said, "I think Juana [the lead character:] struggles with this feeling of estrangement her entire life. Like the Moors who were vanquished, she fights to retain her rightful place in a country she loves but where she has become a stranger." Another group member nodded and added, "I know how she feels. I was born in Canada and raised here, and sometimes I feel as though I don't know where I belong." As other group members nodded in agreement, she looked at me. "Did you empathize with Juana because you've also felt this?"
Her question gave me pause. I'd never considered it before; yet as I mentally gazed back over the years I'd spent researching and writing, I realized that of course my own sense of estrangement permeated the book. How could it not? Like Juana, I was raised in Spain but I left in my early teens and when I returned after years of absence, so much had changed it felt like a different world. Somehow, I had found within the story of a 16th century queen a means to come to terms with my own yearning for a place I had left behind; I had, through writing, found common ground with my protagonist.
And my readers had found common ground with her, as well, seeing parts of themselves in Juana's quest. Moments like these are invaluable to a writer; and are why I'm always so eager to meet with reader groups/book clubs and hear their varied impressions of my work. What I take away from these encounters both strengthens my writing and illuminates my character's souls in ways I'd never know otherwise.
If you are interested in scheduling a chat with me or booking an appearance, please visit my website at: http://www.cwgortner.com for more information. Click on the
for Book Groups link.
