Pompeii, death, and a queen who surely welcomed hers.
August 25th was –like the 24th—a date upon which a great tragedy occurred and several important medieval people died.
The catastrophe occurred in 79 AD when Mt Vesuvius erupted, destroying the beautiful port cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. The eruption began on the 24th, and in the early hours of the 25th, Pompeii’s fate was sealed by a pyroclastic surge of hot poisoned gases and pulverized rocks and volcanic ash. The French have a poetic term for this horror—nuee ardente—burning cloud. It buried the town and its people, as if frozen in time. Here is a video that recreates the last day of Pompeii almost too convincingly. http://museumvictoria.com.au/educatio... This site also offers an eye-witness account by Pliny the younger, whose uncle perished in the eruption. In his letter, he said it occurred on August 24-25th, but archaeological evidence indicates that it actually happened three months later. Most of you know I am a great fan of Game of Thrones, and so I like Kit Harrington, whose character Jon Snow is one I find quite sympathetic. This year the actor appeared in a film titled Pompeii; it was not well received by the critics and after I watched it, I could understand why.
Now on to the Middle Ages. Readers of Lionheart know how that nasty piece of work, the Bishop of Beauvais, and his accomplice, Hugh, the Duke of Burgundy, did their best to sabotage Richard’s crusade. Beauvais survived to slander Richard the length and breadth of Christendom on his way back to France, but on August 25, 1192, Hugh died at Acre. At the time, Richard was lying very ill at Jaffa, suffering from malaria, but a chronicler reported that when he got the news of Hugh’s death, it cheered him up quite a bit and he began to improve.
On August 25, 1227, the Mongol ruler Ghengis Khan died; he had the bad luck to be portrayed by John Wayne in what was surely one of the more ludicrous historical films ever made. And on this date in 1270, Louis IX of France died in Tunis of dysentery on his second crusade. He was later canonized by the Catholic Church; what we’d find most interesting is that he was our Eleanor’s great-grandson. Eleanor traveled to Castile in 1200 to bring her granddaughter Blanche back to France to wed Philippe’s young son, Louis. So that would definitely give Eleanor bragging rights in any celestial arguments with Henry, for having a saint in the family probably trumped the Demon Countess of Anjou.
And on August 25, 1482, Marguerite d’Anjou died at the age of 52, eleven long years after the death of her only son at the battle of Tewkesbury. Here is a brief scene from Sunne, in which Edward confronts the woman he holds responsible for the death of his younger brother Edmund.
Page 507-508
* * *
“Self murder is a mortal sin, Madame,” Edward said evenly. “And the sin is no less if you do not do the deed yourself but contrive another to do it for you.”
One hand moved to her throat, pressing against the beating hollow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you cannot provoke me into sending you to the block. However much you do deserve it…or desire it.”
“You did not spare my son,” she said stonily
Edward didn’t even bother to deny the accusation, to remind her that her son had died on the field. Instead, he said with insulting forbearance, “I’ll not stain my hands with a woman’s blood.”
Marguerite drew so deep a breath that all could see her breasts heave. The hatred on her face was unmistakable, yet curiously muted. Like one forced to call upon remembered emotions, Anne thought; the light was there, but no heat, as if the sun had given way to a perpetual shadowed moon.
“Even if it were a mercy?” Marguerite asked, in dulled, queerly flattened tones, and Anne at last felt a faint, unwanted flicker of pity.
For the first time, emotion showed in Edward’s eyes. For an unguarded instant, they mirrored an unhealed hatred, gave an unnerving glimpse of a searing blue-white flame, all the more intense for being under such relentless restraint.
“Especially if it were a mercy, Madame,” he said bitterly and turned away
* * *
The catastrophe occurred in 79 AD when Mt Vesuvius erupted, destroying the beautiful port cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. The eruption began on the 24th, and in the early hours of the 25th, Pompeii’s fate was sealed by a pyroclastic surge of hot poisoned gases and pulverized rocks and volcanic ash. The French have a poetic term for this horror—nuee ardente—burning cloud. It buried the town and its people, as if frozen in time. Here is a video that recreates the last day of Pompeii almost too convincingly. http://museumvictoria.com.au/educatio... This site also offers an eye-witness account by Pliny the younger, whose uncle perished in the eruption. In his letter, he said it occurred on August 24-25th, but archaeological evidence indicates that it actually happened three months later. Most of you know I am a great fan of Game of Thrones, and so I like Kit Harrington, whose character Jon Snow is one I find quite sympathetic. This year the actor appeared in a film titled Pompeii; it was not well received by the critics and after I watched it, I could understand why.
Now on to the Middle Ages. Readers of Lionheart know how that nasty piece of work, the Bishop of Beauvais, and his accomplice, Hugh, the Duke of Burgundy, did their best to sabotage Richard’s crusade. Beauvais survived to slander Richard the length and breadth of Christendom on his way back to France, but on August 25, 1192, Hugh died at Acre. At the time, Richard was lying very ill at Jaffa, suffering from malaria, but a chronicler reported that when he got the news of Hugh’s death, it cheered him up quite a bit and he began to improve.
On August 25, 1227, the Mongol ruler Ghengis Khan died; he had the bad luck to be portrayed by John Wayne in what was surely one of the more ludicrous historical films ever made. And on this date in 1270, Louis IX of France died in Tunis of dysentery on his second crusade. He was later canonized by the Catholic Church; what we’d find most interesting is that he was our Eleanor’s great-grandson. Eleanor traveled to Castile in 1200 to bring her granddaughter Blanche back to France to wed Philippe’s young son, Louis. So that would definitely give Eleanor bragging rights in any celestial arguments with Henry, for having a saint in the family probably trumped the Demon Countess of Anjou.
And on August 25, 1482, Marguerite d’Anjou died at the age of 52, eleven long years after the death of her only son at the battle of Tewkesbury. Here is a brief scene from Sunne, in which Edward confronts the woman he holds responsible for the death of his younger brother Edmund.
Page 507-508
* * *
“Self murder is a mortal sin, Madame,” Edward said evenly. “And the sin is no less if you do not do the deed yourself but contrive another to do it for you.”
One hand moved to her throat, pressing against the beating hollow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you cannot provoke me into sending you to the block. However much you do deserve it…or desire it.”
“You did not spare my son,” she said stonily
Edward didn’t even bother to deny the accusation, to remind her that her son had died on the field. Instead, he said with insulting forbearance, “I’ll not stain my hands with a woman’s blood.”
Marguerite drew so deep a breath that all could see her breasts heave. The hatred on her face was unmistakable, yet curiously muted. Like one forced to call upon remembered emotions, Anne thought; the light was there, but no heat, as if the sun had given way to a perpetual shadowed moon.
“Even if it were a mercy?” Marguerite asked, in dulled, queerly flattened tones, and Anne at last felt a faint, unwanted flicker of pity.
For the first time, emotion showed in Edward’s eyes. For an unguarded instant, they mirrored an unhealed hatred, gave an unnerving glimpse of a searing blue-white flame, all the more intense for being under such relentless restraint.
“Especially if it were a mercy, Madame,” he said bitterly and turned away
* * *
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I would imagine she'd have welcomed it, Isis, though of course we can not say for sure. She may have resented Tudor for claiming the crown that she so wanted for her son.
I myself imagine that either she would not have cared at all - for I think when she died none of that held any more meaning for her - or, perhaps just a wry smile tinged with sadness, at being able to witness the eventual downfall of the dynasty that succeeded the one she was a part of. I think the twist of fate of it might have amused her, whilst at the same time still feeling like she herself had no further stake in it.
I quite liked Susan Higginbotham's sympathetic portrayal of Marguerite in The Queen of Last Hopes: The Story of Margaret of Anjou as a woman looking back with regret on her mistakes. Her life was full of those "what ifs" we love to discuss with Sharon.
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I have never been able to sit all the way through the John Wayne film - however, I am happy to recommend an alternative Genghis Khan biopic! Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan (2007) was one I watched in the cinema when it came out, and it's very good. All in Mongolian, and a dash of Chinese - but I've never minded subtitles if it adds to authenticity. My only disappointment in that one was when it ended - for it tells only the first part of his life, and was intended as the first of a trilogy that got shelved. However - good news once more - the trilogy was picked up again last year, and apparently filming for the second film is already underway.
I often find myself musing what if Marguerite d'Anjou had lived just four more years - what would she have made of Edward's death, Richard taking the throne, and eventually Henry Tudor's victory at Bosworth Field? What do you think, Sharon?