"Trash written by trash": The Belgian royal family responds to its critics

A few weeks ago, I posted an article on how the British royal household seems to be getting sassier with unwarranted attacks on the royal family's private lives, after photographers invaded the privacy of the Duchess of Cambridge while she was on holiday in France. Now, it looks like Belgium's royal family is following suit. Prince Philippe, the Duke of Brabant, is the heir-apparent to the Belgium throne; he is a graduate of Oxford and Stanford, where he took his masters in political science. He has also served in the Belgian armed forces and one of his main priorities as heir to the throne is promoting Belgium's economy, representing the kingdom at over forty economic conferences. 

The Duke is married to Princess Mathilde (nee d'Udekem d'Acoz) and they have four children together - Elisabeth, Gabriel, Emmanuel and Eleanor. Recently, the couple have been the target of books and articles claiming that their marriage is a sham and that their children were conceived through artificial insemination. False interviews with the Duke's father, King Albert II, to substantiate these rather dubious claims, but both the palace and the couple themselves have retaliated by firmly rebutting the allegations. 

The blog Cross of Laeken, which is a fantastic blog that focuses on the Belgian royals, talks about these rumours and about the royal household's reaction to them. 

Blues and whites

They're my favourite two colours together. Elena Maria Vidal's blog Tea at Trianon shows some of Marie-Antoinette's favourite combinations.

Hyde Park on Hudson

I haven't had a chance to see Hyde Park on Hudson yet, but I'm very excited to. It's based on the true story of the royal state visit to the United States by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (our late Queen Mother) on the eve of the Second World War. Bill Murray plays President Roosevelt, with Laura Linney as his distant cousin, Margaret Suckley, Olivia Williams as the First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Samuel West and Olivia Colman as King George and Queen Elizabeth.

Taking a SHORT break from the Tudors

Regular, or even casual, readers will know that quite a bit of this blog is given over to discussion of the Tudors and sixteenth-century England. It's an endlessly fascinating era in human history and I've enjoyed, tremendously, sharing it  and discussing ideas, theories and feelings with people from across the world. I have enjoyed it tremendously, that is, until quite recently. When I see another e-mail about the Tudors, I wince slightly. And, believe me, one of the best things about this blog has been reading the comments the readers leave. They are a frequent highlight of my day or week. So it's not because I've lost my appetite for blogging in general, blog-writers, blog-readers or for Tudor history, but because so much of what's been online in the last few months, particularly about the Tudors and Plantagenets, has been aggressive or just downright stupid. Not in what they're saying about the Plantagenets or Tudors, but about the people who write, read or just have an opinion on them. A few illustrative examples: in the last few weeks, I have seen a good friend personally insulted because she dared to take issue with somebody's theory about Anne Boleyn's childhood. I saw a biography by a writer I respect and like very much shredded apart in an Amazon review, by someone who actually admitted that they'd hadn't read it. I myself have been inundated with e-mails and comments from people calling themselves "Ricardians," who don't believe me when I say that I was demonising neither them nor King Richard III. I was just expressing an opinion about how inappropriate I found the idea of a state funeral for him, for a variety of reasons. Mostly though, I'm just bored by the comments - smug, know-it-all or vicious - that are left all over the web by Tudor enthusiasts, particularly by those who choose to remain anonymous. It's a shame, because the majority of people I've met over the web who share a passion for Tudor history have been funny, intelligent, thirsty for knowledge and passionate. Some of the best articles I've written have been because I've been spurred on my this community's love for their chosen topic; some of the best opportunities I've had in my career have come from people who are excited by history. That's why I'm taking a short break; to clear my head of the nonsense and re-focus on what's so fantastic about this subject.

It was maybe the poisoned venom of the unnecessarily vicious book reviews that became the straw that broke the camel's proverbial back and made me decide to take a break from writing about the Tudors for a while. Maybe it's something that only someone who's a published writer themselves can fully understand; I don't think it is (although God knows I didn't quite grasp what it felt like to be the victim of an unfair review before my own book came out last July.) Bad reviews are par for the course - they come with the job and, let's face it, some of them are right. But unfair reviews are a different kettle of fish; they are something far more unpleasant. I did not agree with G.W. Bernard's 2010 biography of Anne Boleyn, but at least I read it and when I did review it, I pointed out what I did not agree with, a few editorial flaws and then acknowledged what was praise-worthy in his book. I don't know at what point so many people stopped being civil to one another, but it seems that the ill-mannered viciousness that runs through the Tudor royals' stories also runs through far too many of their modern-day fans. You can disagree with an idea and make that clear without belittling the writer. You can disagree strongly, even passionately, but stick only to the criticisms that are fair; the ones that actually merit getting angry over. Don't make things up or pick on things that aren't reflective of the book, e-book, article or blog-post. I know how much blood, sweat and tears goes into, or should go into, a book. It is far, far more work than one might expect and far more than I expected when I began writing for a career. You pour so much time, but also so much of yourself, into your books that while you don't expect people to like them, it's difficult not to feel angry on any writer's behalf when people dismiss them for reasons that aren't fair. I remember I was guilty of doing it when I was eighteen, in some thoroughly unpleasant reviews that I'm now ashamed of. Slating a bad movie is one thing, but shooting down a singular author seems somehow ungallant. I always think to myself: what if the author's checking their Amazon page or their GoodReads? I know they signed up for this when they became a writer, but is there really any need to insult a writer - or a blogger - and ruin their day? Manners, as they say, cost nothing.

Maybe this sudden decision has got nothing to do with Tudor enthusiasts, though? It's possible that I've just reached saturation level and that I need to clear my head before I return to researching a biography I'm working on of Henry VIII's fifth wife. Maybe my fatigue has made me less tolerant of the constant hustle of Tudor popular history? Maybe I'm only noticing how vicious it can be - sometimes - because now I'm actively looking for it? Who knows? Either way, it seems like it's time for a quick break from blogging about them, so I can focus on promoting my second novel, which is due out next week, and return to privately writing about the Tudors for my agent with impartiality, speed and to the best of my abilities.

I'll still be blogging about other topics, too, and Catherine should prove good company in the interim. 

A new biography of Catherine Howard

I have had a few e-mails and messages from people asking me to review or comment on Professor David Loades' new book, Catherine Howard: The adulterous wife of Henry VIII. Professor Loades is Emeritus Professor of History at the University of Wales and an Honorary Fellow of the University of Oxford's History Faculty. His work on the Tudor navy and on the reign of Queen Mary I was ground-breaking. More recently, Professor Loades has turned his attention to more popular biographies for Amberly Press and his contract with them has produced short studies on Henry VIII, the Boleyn family, Mary Tudor (Queen of France) and, now, Catherine Howard. Loades is a respected scholar and a world-renowned expert on Tudor politics. Some regular readers of the blog know that I studied Catherine Howard for my masters dissertation, hence why they asked me to review Professor Loades's new book.

However, since I have researched Catherine myself and I am currently in the process of writing about her, I didn't think it would be fair to critique Professor Loades's work myself. Tudor history is far too full of people who are keen to take pot-shots at others; indeed, history in general has that trait. Any criticism I have of Professor Loades might lead people to assume that I am only doing it to big-up my own work or to massage my ego. Any praise might lead people to think I'm being sycophantic. Neither would be the case. Books from good writers are always to be encouraged.

Thank you for asking me to review this book and good luck to Professor Loades with his new biography! To anyone who purchases it, I hope you enjoy it. Catherine's story is certainly a fascinating one and Professor Loades is a gifted scholar.

27th November 1830: The vision of Saint Catherine Labouré

Today the miraculous medal (above) is one of the most popular items of Catholic devotion. Its prayer of "O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee" dates from 1830 and the visions associated with a young French nun called Catherine Laboure.

The year 1830 had not been a good one for French Catholicism - or, rather, it had not been a good year for the more devout and strict of its adherents. In July, the monarchy led by King Charles X was overthrown and replaced by a constitutional monarchy headed by the King's estranged liberal cousin, Louis-Philippe. The unpopularity of Charles X's government had been created not only by its draconian attitude towards the press and suffrage, but also because of its zealous devotion to state-Catholicism. There was a joke in France that Charles X's monarchy was government by priests and for priests. A few months, young Catherine Laboure claimed to have beheld two miraculous visions of the Virgin Mary around the time of the feast of Saint Vincent de Paul.

Catherine was a young and romantic girl, with a sensitive nature. Her mother had died at the age of nine and at her funeral, Catherine had allegedly gravitated towards a statue of the Holy Virgin, proclaiming, "Now you will be my mother." Later, she took the decision to become a nursing nun after she dreamed of Saint Vincent de Paul, who had founded the order Catherine subsequently joined. She was pretty, kind, hard-working, devout and gentle. Many of the sisters liked her for her goodness.

One night, Catherine awoke and claimed she heard the voice of a child calling her to the chapel. She went and later said that while in the chapel, she heard the voice of the Mother of God, which told her: "God wishes to charge you with a mission. You will be contradicted, but do not fear; you will have the grace to do what is necessary. Tell your spiritual director all that passes within you. Times are evil in France and in the world."

The second vision took place on Saint Vincent de Paul's feast day, when Catherine saw the Virgin Mary surrounded by an oval light (which is also depicted on the medal, above.) Around the margin of the oval, Catherine felt or saw the words of the prayer which all the medals now carry, too. The oval gave way to twelve stars - the number of stars accredited to Mary by the Book of Revelation. Catherine also claimed she had seen the letter M, surmounted by a Cross, with images of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary nearby. The Virgin told Catherine to report these things to her confessor, who should have them made into medals.

It took Catherine's spiritual director two years to believe her. In that time, he watched her closely for signs of dishonesty or mental imbalance. He found none and in 1832, the first of the miraculous medals were made by a local goldsmith. Catherine continued her life as a nursing sister, but she modestly did not like to draw attention to the fact that she was the one who had beheld the visions which gave birth to the Miraculous Medals. She died in 1876 and she was later buried in the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal in Paris. Her body was declared incorruptible in 1933; she was beatified in the same year and she was formally raised to the sainthood by Pope Pius XII in 1947. 

Richard III and me

An article has appeared in The Washington Post about the debate surrounding the reburial of Richard III's alleged remains. In the very short time since it has gone up online, I have received several e-mails and comments asking me to clarify my views on Richard III, because in the article I am very briefly quoted as calling him out-and-out "a child-killer." I have also received several less-than-pleasant e-mails from die-hard Ricardians, because the article referred to me as "no friend to Richard III." To which I can only say: grow up.

To be quite clear, I bear no animus towards Richard III personally. When set in context, I actually pointed out that he has never been satisfactorily cleared of the charge of participating in his nephews' disappearance. That reburying him with a state funeral, when he could be guilty of such a crime would surely be a risk to the credibility of both the crown and the nation. There is, and there must be, a strong presumption of guilt when it comes to Richard III - as there would be on any responsible adult who was entrusted with the well-being to two teenagers who disappeared while in his care. The garish and often silly romanticisation of Richard III is something I find personally bizarre, but while it is my own opinion that he was complicit in Edward V's murder, I accept that there is room for debate. That room, however, cuts both ways and it should preclude us from either lionising or demonising the last Yorkist king.

In any case, if I could make a point to my unsought-for correspondents: simply because I do not agree with you does not mean that I was planted here by Satan or Margaret Beaufort to spin lies about Richard of Gloucester. I am not a friend of Richard III, no; my friends tend to have been born in the twentieth century, not the fifteenth. I did not, however, approach the question of his remains because I am in the pay of Henry VII; I answered it honestly. From my own studies - and I could be wrong! - I think Richard III did know about, and quite probably ordered, the murder of King Edward V and Richard, Duke of York, in 1483.

However, my point about all this is not to focus on whether or not Richard III actually did it, but to look at what it tells us about our own attempts to subvert and ignore the complexities of history in order to suit our own need for fairy tales, what ifs and conspiracy theories.

My articles on Richard III and the debate surrounding him are here: -

http://garethrussellcidevant.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/a-state-funeral-for-richard-iii-dont.html

http://garethrussellcidevant.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/missing-royals-and-murder-mysteries.html