Showing posts with label Catherine de' Medici. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catherine de' Medici. Show all posts

Monday, 8 July 2019

'Ten Handy Ways to Poison your Spouse - Part 3' by Karen Maitland


Poisoning of Queen Bona of Poland (1528-1572)
Artist: Jan Matejko (1838-1893)
The queen was murdered by her trusted officer
on the orders of King Philip II of Spain.
We are now in the Dog-days of summer, when the dog-star, Sirius, rises with the sun and was once thought to increase the sun’s heat “making dogs mad, women wanton and men commit foul crimes.” So, this seems a good month to add another Top Ten to my list of ‘Ways to Poison your Spouse.’ (8 June 2016). This month we look the bizarre means by which murderers in history have attempted to introduce the poison to their victims.

Poisoning your victim’s food or drink is most obvious method, but you have to have access to the food intended for the victim, which is not easy if you are attempting regicide. And what if the victim can’t be relied upon to eat that cake you sent them, without offering a first slice to someone else?

1) Poisoned Chalice – Rather than poison the food or drink, why not make the goblet or trencher itself poisonous, so that any innocuous food or liquid served in it becomes lethal. That was the goal of François Belot, a member of the French King’s bodyguard in the 17th century. He claimed to have devised a method that would make a silver vessel permanently lethal so that no matter how many times it was washed or how many victims drank from it, it would still kill. His method involved stuffing arsenic into a live toad, then crushing the toad in the vessel, while reciting spells. Unlikely as it seems, he was believed and acquired a great reputation for procuring the means of murder. Even the Commissioners of the Chambre Ardent or Chamber of Poisons, thought him guilty, and in 1679, sentenced him to be executed by being broken on the wheel. Though by then Belot was protesting he’d merely done it as a means of obtaining silver cups and trenchers.

2) Poisoned Flower – This was a medieval fiction, which in later centuries was not thought possible, except that there have been two cases which might make it seem more credible. In 1909 in Austria, suspicions were aroused when a ‘pious’ prisoner kept demanding flowers to put on an altar he’d made in his cell. It transpired that he had instructed his wife to obtain atropine or hyoscyamine, put it in a quill and insert the quill into the calyx of a carnation, binding it with thread as a florist would do. The poison did reach him by this method.

In the 1930’s, a London lavender seller was found to be hallucinating and taken to hospital where he died. His pocket contained a bottle of oil of mirbane (nitrobenzene) which he had sprinkled on the lavender he was selling to increase the perfume. It was thought that he’d inhaled the toxic vapours given off and poisoned himself.
Catherine of Medici (1519-1589)
Artist: Workshop of Frances Clouet (1510-1572)
Musee Carnavalet

3) Poisoned Dagger – Obviously the simplest method is simply to coat the blade in poison, thereby ensuring that even a flesh wound is fatal. But more subtle were the knives made in the late 16th and 17th century, designed to murder the user of the knife. The knives had a mechanism concealed inside the handle. When pressure was exerted on the cutting edge, three sharp spikes sprang out of the handle and pricked the hand or fingers of the person holding the knife. The moment the pressure was relaxed or the knife dropped, the spikes vanished. If the murderer was lucky, the spikes might even inject the poison straight into a vein.

4) Poisoned Bed – In 1908, Mary Kelliher went on trial in Boston, charged with the murder by poison of her husband, three children, sister and sister-in-law over a period of three years. After the death of her daughter, all the other family members were exhumed and found to have died of arsenic poisoning. No one knew how it had been administered until the bed was examined in which all the victims had at some time slept. The mattress was found stuffed with hair impregnated with arsenic which, the prosecution claimed, had been deliberately put there by Mary, so that her victims would absorb it while they slept. But the jury weren’t convinced and Mary was acquitted, though only after she been held for 15 long months.
Hercules poisoned by the Shirt of Nessus
Painting 1413-1415

5) Poisoned Marriage – According to an Indian legend, the Queen of Ganore murdered Rajah Bukht by impregnating his marriage robes with poison, which, when he sweated in the intense heat, caused severe and fatal burns. There are many legends of poisoned robe murders in India, which are probably more allegorical than literal, similar to the classical tale of Hercules and the shirt of Nessus. Nevertheless, forensic researchers in India have shown than impregnating cloth with cantharidin, which in India is extracted from the telini fly, can cause severe blistering, excruciating pain and necrosis resulting in death from shock.

6) Poisoned Glove Box – In 16th century France, the fear of poisoning had reached epidemic proportions. It was suspected in almost any death where the cause was not immediately obvious, and while most stories were unfounded, they do reveal that the rich and noble were almost afraid to touch anything in case it might prove fatal. For example, when Jeanne d’Albret, mother of Henry IV of France, died after a four-day illness, rumour spread that she had been murdered by Catherine de’ Medici who sent her a pair of gloves in a box with a false bottom containing belladonna, henbane, opium and a few other nasties, which not only poisoned the gloves, but released a fatal vapour while poor Jeanne slept. But an autopsy revealed Jeanne died of natural causes.
Jeanne d'Albret, Queen of Navarre (1528-1572)
Portail des collections des musees de France.


7) Poisoned Gold – Cardinal of Lorraine was another supposed poison victim of Catherine de’ Medici. He was rumoured to have sicken and died after handling gold coins on which nicotine had been smeared, though more likely he died of respiratory illness brought on by walking barefoot in a procession.

8) Poisoned Candle – Pope Clement VII is said to have been poisoned by an arsenic-impregnated torch or candle carried in front of him in the procession. This has long since been discredited, but in 1810, Michel Eugene Chevreul invented a process for making cheap composition candles. In 1835/36 these were very popular in England, until a Professor Everitt, working late one night, noticed a strong garlic odour from the candles, indicative of heated arsenic, which subsequent testing proved to one of the ingredients. Not healthy to breathe in, though amount it released probably wouldn’t kill you. But perhaps inspired by this, Edgar Allan Poe, in The Imp of the Perverse (1845) had the narrator murder his victim with the fumes from a poisoned candle.

9) Poisoned Shoe – Legend has it that John, King of Castile, died after wearing a pair of boots impregnated by poison by a Turk. This is undoubtedly pure fiction, but more recently a man did accidently poison himself with his footwear. In 1904, a young man became unconscious and died four hours after going to a dance. It was found he’d been poisoned but no knew how, until bottle of shoe blacking was discovered in his room. He had cleaned his shoes and as he danced, the blacking had soaked onto his socks and been absorbed into his skin via his feet and ankles. The blacking had contained nitrobenzene, which had passed rapidly through hot, sweaty skin.
The Wanstead or Welbeck Portrait of Elizabeth I
C.1580-1585
Artist: Marcus Gheeraerts the Elder 

10) Poisoned Saddle – Edward Squire, a scrivener from Greenwich, was persuaded by a Jesuit, Richard Walpole, to try to kill Queen Elizabeth I. Squire was instructed to take a bladder of poison concealed in his gloved hand, prick it and press it down on the pommel of the Queen’s saddle, where she would be sure to rest her hands and afterwards would transfer the poison to her mouth and nose by touching her face. He did as instructed, but the plot failed, because the queen didn’t arrive at the stables. Having inveigled his way aboard a ship with Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex, Squire then smeared the rest of the poison on the wooden arms of the dinning chair used by the Earl in an attempt to murder him, only to find it had no effect. Nevertheless, he was denounced, and hanged, drawn and quartered for his attempts.

Friday, 26 August 2016

The Novel that got Away by Sarah Gristwood


It’s the writer’s equivalent of the dress you can’t quite fit into - but, if you lose a few pounds, then maybe . . . Every author has that back-of-the-wardrobe box of unwritten stories; the ones you can’t quite bear to throw away. But we’re always being urged to de-junk our lives, aren’t we?

So let’s accept this is one historical novel I will never write - I would have called it The Valois Bride. Good title, do we think? A bit old fashioned, maybe?

Elisabeth de Valois

In December 1559, the 14 year old Elizabeth de Valois arrived on the Spanish frontier to marry King Philip II of Spain – a man twenty years her senior, and twice a widower already. We all know a version of the story from Verdi’s opera Don Carlos, itself based on Schiller’s play - though some of us (forgive me) remember it better from Jilly Cooper’s novel Score!. That set Cooper’s trademark Rutshire rumpy-pumpy against the shooting of a film version of the opera; and its trick of making the Spanish royals into Britain’s present day royal family - and the Inquisition into the tabloid press - worked rather well, actually.

There is no historical truth in Verdi’s fantasy of Philip’s son Don Carlos’ spying out the wedding party on their way to Spain, and there falling in love with the French princess destined to become not his bride, but his stepmother. Of Elizabeth choosing duty over love to make peace between their countries . . . Though she would called Isabel ‘de la Paz’, actually. And it’s true Elizabeth had originally been destined for the son rather than the father but, hey, that was tame, by the standards of the royal marriages of the sixteenth century.

Verdi's Don Carlos

But the real Elizabeth seemed more than content with a husband who was after all in a worldly sense the catch of the century, while Philip’s son and heir would soon be spiralling downwards into his brutal madness. The teenage bride awoke a response in her dour husband, and the extravagant chit who never worse the same dress twice was nonetheless allowed, just six years later, to represent Spain in official negotiations with her own formidable mother, Catherine de Medici.

Philip goes down in English history as a dutiful but essentially uncaring husband to his previous wife Mary Tudor, but when Elizabeth was giving birth, he sat by her bed clutching her hand through every pain. When Don Carlos died in 1568, incarcerated and insane, Elizabeth wept for two days, but ten weeks later she herself was dead from another childbearing, still only 23.

She was survived not only by Philip, but by two other women whose voices I might have used to tell her story. One of them was the Italian painter Sofonisba Anguissola, invited to Spain by Philip and given rank as a lady of Elizabeth’s court. The other was the Princess of Eboli, with her beauty and her patch over one eye. In Verdi’s version, she is Philip’s mistress and an arch manipulator. In real life she was a schemer indeed - widow to Philip’s first great minister, Ruy Gomez (more than twenty years older than she), whose intrigues only mounted after his death - but one who loved and mourned Elizabeth sincerely. Her involvement in a scandalous political murder saw her spending the last ten years of her life under house arrest in one of her castles from where, looking back (yes, cue a time-honoured writer’s device here!), she had no doubt her memories.

Sofonisba Anguissola self-portrait


So why won’t I ever write it? One reason is, I don’t know enough. My limited experience of writing historical fiction (and my far larger experience of writing historical fact) has shown me that the former is more demanding, in many ways. You don’t just need to know the great political events against which the character is placed - you need to know what someone of that age and rank, in that day, would have done when they go out of bed each morning. The sixteenth century court equivalent of switching off the radio and shoving a piece of bread in the toaster . . . And I don’t, for sixteenth century Spain, quite simply.

Could I research it? Maybe - though factual information on that kind of detail can be quite hard to come by. And the trouble is that with Spain, I don’t even have a gut feeling for the rhythm of the seasons or the way the light falls on the landscape - the things that don’t change through the centuries. Research might hack it, for a story set in England, or any country I know well. But I suspect the research would lie dead on the page if I were to write about a place still truly foreign to me.

The other reason is that I know too much. The real Elizabeth is making a very minor - but her mother Catherine de Medici a major - appearance in the non-fiction I’m currently writing: Game of Queens, about the chains of women and power running, from mother to daughter through the sixteenth century.
Catherine de' Medici


So I know about the stream of self-revelatory letters Catherine sent across the border to and about her daughter in Spain: I know that the last of them, a maternal warning as to what should be done about her daughter’s increasing weight, arrived only after Elizabeth’s death. I know that when the two met for that summit meeting, as queen regent of France and queen consort of Spain, Elizabeth would have felt the tug of loyalties known to so many a princess, between her natal and her marital country. ‘How Spanish you have become, my daughter’, said Catherine to Elizabeth, coldly.

I know that as a child in France, Elizabeth was set to sleep in the same room as that other little girl newly arrived at court - her future sister-in-law, Mary Queen of Scots. I’ve read the letters Mary wrote after Elizabeth’s death - distraught not just by the death of her old playfellow, but by the loss of a possible ally, who might have persuaded King Philip to help the Scots queen in her long English captivity.

Of course I’d love to explore these things further - but I’m not sure fiction is the way, for me. Of course anyone who were writing a Valois Bride would have read up on all this and much, much more - but I’m not sure I’d be able to get past the huge rock of facts I’m still discovering, to let the fiction fly free.

Though mind you, the madness of the historical Don Carlos did in the end lead him to an obsessive crush on his step-mother . . . Hmm. Maybe I was a bit quick to jettison this one, actually.

Thanks to Sarah Gristwood for this post. Carol Drinkwater will be back on 26th September.

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

FEISTY WOMEN IN HISTORY by Theresa Breslin



 
Why is it that highly intelligent, accomplished, able women are viewed with suspicion by men (and other women) and get such a bad press?


ISABELLA of Spain – researched when writing Prisoner of the Inquisition

Isabella conquering Granada
Brought up by mentally disturbed mother. Prominent supporters of her family’s rightful claim to the throne of Castile switched sides (sometimes several times) Brother died. She had to take control. Marriage brokered with Ferdinand of Aragon who thought he’d then be King of Castile and Aragon and take control of both - but Isabella wouldn’t let him and had herself crowned Queen of Castile.
Turned the government from one of venal corruption unto one that allowed the people to prosper and live under a rule of law Was clever and had the foresight to back Columbus when others turned him down
OK -  so people who disagreed with her views tended to be deal with in very disagreeable manner, but that was the custom of the time, and if she hadn’t, well…..   




CATHERINE de’ MEDICI, Queen of France – researched when writing The Nostradamus Prophecy

Catherine de' Medici consulting her Magic Mirror
“Sold” as a bride to the son of the King of France and fell in love with him but was humiliated for many years by him openly consorting with his mistress and showering honours upon her when he became King. Was about to put aside as barren when suddenly had lots of children - rumour was that his mistress had to insist that he slept with his wife to produce an heir and safeguard the throne.  How awful was that for poor Catherine?  However her time came. King dies. Catherine at once takes back the beautiful Chateau the King had given his mistress and the jewels etc, etc. Beset on all side by ruthless men with her children too small to rule, she fought her whole life to keep the throne safe for them to inherit. Was said to have started the (Note: very successful and lucrative) French perfume industry… in addition to perfume wa 
s supposed to have imported the art of making poison too…
But if the armed guard supposed to be protecting you and yours is in the pay of your worst enemy what’s a girl supposed to do? 


CATERINA Sforza & LUCREZIA Borgia - researched when writing The Medici Seal

CATERINA Sforza
Husband murdered and left to defend her city and people against greedy would be conquerors. Is captured with her children and negotiates a deal whereby she is released to go into the last of her fortresses holding out against the enemy to persuade them to surrender. When she gets there she encourages her Captain and his soldiers not to give up, stands on the battlements and shouts down at her enemies, telling them all the tortures and deaths she will inflict upon them. They threaten to kill her children. The Bold Caterina’s response is to hoik up her skirts, point to her private parts and say “ Do you worst. I have the means to make more!”
Obviously Caterina was astute enough to work out that as soon as her enemies took her last fortress they would murder her and her children so she cunningly secured her freedom so that she could lead her armed men who were inspired by her courage and thus gave her children their best chance of survival. They all did.
That amount of nerve leaves you gasping but, hey, way to go, Caterina!


Film Poster for Lucrezia Borgia

Lucrezia Borgia. 
Famous (infamous?) Born daughter of a man who became Pope she had riches in plenty but very little control over her life as her father and her ruthless brother used her as a pawn in the strategies to acquire power and money. Husband she loved was murdered by her brother, Cesare, when he was no longer useful for his ambitions. Sent to marry the Duke of Ferrara who didn’t really care for her but she won his respect by her courage in defending her adopted city against their enemies and her diplomatic skill. When he was away he left the government in her hands. In addition to being a wise leader she also encouraged the Arts, especially poetry

… possibly personally very encouraging to one poet in particular, but a girl has to have a diversion or two when all that war business is going on.



These were game gals – what’s not to admire about them?


LATEST BOOKS
The Traveller  (from dyslexia friendly publisher Barrington Stoke)
Divided City   Playscript now available.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

FEISTY WOMEN IN HISTORY - Theresa Breslin



Why is it that in history highly intelligent, accomplished, able women are viewed with suspicion by men (and other women) and get such a bad press?
I discovered one of my favourite stories about feisty women in history as I was researching The Medici Seal which follows the fortunes of a boy befriended by Leonardo da Vinci. When Caterina Sforza’s husband was murdered she was left to defend her city and people against greedy would-be conquerors. Captured with her children Caterina negotiated to be released, agreeing to go into the last of her fortresses holding out against the enemy and persuade them to surrender. When she gets there she encourages her Captain and soldiers not to give up, and proceeds to stand on the battlements shouting down at her enemies, telling them all the tortures and deaths she will inflict upon them. They threaten to kill her children. The Bold Caterina’s response is to hoik up her skirts, point to her private parts and say “ Do your worst. I have the means to make more!”
Obviously Caterina was astute enough to work out that as soon as her enemies took her last fortress they would murder her and her children. Therefore she cunningly secured her freedom so that she could lead her armed men who were indeed inspired by her courage and thus gave her children their best chance of survival. They all did.
That amount of nerve leaves you gasping but, hey, way to go, Caterina!
That story was a bit of a sidetrack – one of those instances where you become fascinated by the research and then can’t shoehorn the nugget you’ve found into the final story. So glad we’re doing this Blog and I can share it now! I was actually on the trail of Lucrezia Borgia, famous (infamous?) daughter of a man who became Pope, she had riches in plenty but very little control over her life as her father and ruthless brother, Cesare, used her as a pawn in their strategies to acquire power and money. The husband she loved was murdered by her brother when no longer useful for his ambitions. Sent to marry the Duke of Ferrara who didn’t really care for her Lucrezia she won his respect by her courage in defending her adopted city against their enemies and for her diplomatic skill - to the extent that when he was away the Duke left the government in her hands. She was also a patron of the Arts, yet her name is more often associated with incest and murder. I hope I gave her a fairer hearing in the book. I loved finding out about her and reading her letters, and so grateful that my husband managed to blag his way into a convent of enclosed nuns to photograph her tomb.
It was a natural progression for me to become fascinated by the equally notorious Catherine de’ Medici while writing The Nostradamus Prophecy. The much maligned Catherine was “sold” as a child bride to the son of the King of France and fell in love with him, but was continuously humiliated for many years as he openly consorted with his mistress, showering honours upon her when he became King. Catherine was about to put aside as barren when suddenly she had lots of children - rumour was that his mistress had to insist that he slept with his wife to produce an heir and safeguard the throne. How awful was that for poor Catherine? However her time came. King dies. Catherine at once takes back the beautiful Chateau the King had given his mistress and the jewels etc, etc. Beset on all side by ruthless men with her children too small to rule, she fought her whole life to keep the throne safe for them to inherit. Credited with bringing ballet and the lucrative perfume industry to France, (and let’s not forget the innovative long drawers so that a woman could take part in the hunt by throwing her leg over a pommel while retaining her modesty). In addition to perfume Catherine was supposed to have imported the art of making poison too…
But if the armed guard supposed to be protecting you and yours is in the pay of your worst enemy what’s a girl supposed to do?
And then more recently in Prisoner of the Inquisition there’s the warrior Queen, Isabella of Spain, who was not prepared to be bullied out of her birthright. She suffered a traumatic childhood brought up in isolation by a mentally disturbed mother. Prominent supporters of her family’s rightful claim to the throne of Castile switched sides (sometimes several times) leaving her shocked at their betrayal. When her brother died she had to fend for herself. Marriage was brokered with Ferdinand of Aragon who thought he’d then be King of Castile and Aragon and take control of both, but Isabella wouldn’t let him and had herself crowned Queen of Castile.
Go Girl Go!
Isabella turned the government from one of venal corruption unto one that allowed the people to prosper and live under a rule of law. She was clever and had the foresight to back Columbus when others turned him down. I love the anecdote about Isabella that says she left a message about herself for history in the design of her tomb. In those days it was thought that intelligent people had heavier brains and her tomb was designed so that the indent on her stone pillow was deeper than that of her husband, Ferdinand, who lies beside her. I managed to get pic of her gorgeous little golden crown, and did try to get one of her stone pillow but when walking through to where her tomb is located the camera flash alerted the security guard. So the last photo you see is of us about to be ejected from the Royal Chapel in Granada.
OK - so people who disagreed with Isabella tended to be dealt with in very disagreeable manner, but that was the custom of the time, and if she hadn’t, well…..
Consider the lives of these women, their upbringing, background, the times in which they lived and their particular circumstances. Famous male rulers are held in awe for their strength, famed for their wars and respected for holding a tough stance. Strong women on the other hand are reputed to be unnatural and castigated as being vicious.
Why?
Theresa Breslin
Prisoner of the Inquisition was voted the Carnegie Medal Shadowing Group favourite book.
To see and hear Theresa answering questions and talking about the book.