A French lithograph from about 1850, showing an imagined tryst among all three of the princesses and three, rather than two, Norman knights. Nobody looked like this; this never happened; none of the furnishings make any sense, though the chandeliers are especially charming; total fantasy, all. But! The story reverberated down through the centuries. The 100 Years War, which this scandal set off, is long over. Ridiculous stories about the princesses and the Norman knights are not. This lithograph is held at the Musée des Civilisations de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, in Marseilles.
In 1314, Philip IV of France had three adult sons, all married. There should have been no problem with the royal lineage. Too bad that Philip’s three daughters-in-law all got into trouble, because two of them were having affairs with a couple of Norman brothers who were knights of the household. Too bad, indeed. Torture, executions, dungeon incarcerations, and the dying off of the Capetian line would follow. Oh, and Isabella the She Wolf was involved. (Bonus! Michelle explains the Three Rules of Regifting, none of which the princesses paid any attention to. Big mistake.)
Dante, accompanied by Virgil, attempts to talk to one of the traitors frozen in the ice of the third level of the 9th circle of hell, where the sinners who were traitors to guests or hosts hang out. This is Gustave Doré’s illustration of the frozen lake, from the expensive folio volume of the Inferno that Doré published in 1861.
As far as we can figure out, the only reason that anybody knows anything about Fra Alberigo, who murdered a couple of kinsmen at a banquet in 1285 in Faenza, is that Dante stuck him in the traitors’ level of hell in the Inferno. Horrible crime! Violation of the ancient laws of hospitality! But he didn’t get arrested, he didn’t go to trial, he just ended up in Hell before he actually died, because Dante tweaked theology, and so now he lives on. Forever. In footnotes to the Inferno. We discuss the Jovial Friars, the 9th circle of hell, and medieval lasagne. Indeed, if you go over to the Show Notes, we’re including a recipe. Oh, and also the Maryland State Flag, but you have to listen to the podcast to find out why. Update: He was fined, and he had to leave town. So there’s that.
Special! Extra illustration! This map of Dante’s Inferno was created by Botticelli, in a manuscript commissioned by Lorenzo de’ Medici in the last part of the 15th century. We would have used Botticelli’s illustration of the frozen lake, if it existed, but his illustration of the traitors doesn’t include the hospitality sinners. In this map, they are WAY down at the bottom of the map, just before you get to Satan.
From Volkach (like Nördlingen, a town in Bavaria), an illustration from 1504 of the municipal brothel keeper of Volkach, with two of the prostitutes who work for him, taking the official brothel-keeper’s oath, in front of the mayor. From the Volkacher Salbuch, held at the Museum Obere Saline
Living as a prostitute in the municipal brothel in Nördlingen, Els von Eystett, forced to have an abortion (periwinkle, cloves, wild carrot and wine was the recipe), refused to be silent, even after she was beaten by the brothel-keeper. She and the other women working in the brothel testified against the brothel-keeper and the madam, giving details about the horrible conditions they worked in. The city officials believed them, and they won the case. Really. Also, Nördlingen was built inside a meteor crater. Really.
This is not what Gilles de Rais looked like. This is an imaginative rendition of the Marshall of France, hero of the Siege of Orléans, fellow soldier of Jeanne d’Arc, in the years before he fell (literally) to hell and gone, and started summoning demons and murdering children, in a portrait painted by Éloi Firmin Féron in 1835, commissioned by the Galerie militaire de Versailles.
Marshall of France and war hero, Gilles de Rais spiraled downward precipitously, ending up being executed for murder, sodomy, torture, and heresy in 1440. Whether or not he actually sold his soul to the devil in the process is debatable. In good news, though, he produced an awesome dramatic extravaganza before he started murdering children.
The White Ship sinking, from a manuscript c. 1321, now held at the British Library (Cotton Claudius D. ii, fol. 45v)
The fact that some people think that Stephen of Blois — or maybe Ranulf Meschin — caused the sinking of la Blanche-Nef allows us to consider it a True Crime. It wasn’t. But it was the worst teenage drunken party in history, and that’s good enough for us.
Supposedly a portrait of Beatrice Cenci, supposedly by Guido Reni. But if it was painted by Reni, it couldn’t be Beatrice, since he didn’t paint in Rome until 1609. It’s probably meant to be one of the Sybils. That it’s even by Reni at all is unclear. It now hangs at the Palazzo Barberini with labels giving question marks for both the subject and the painter. It’s not Beatrice! It’s just part of her legend.
Oh, all right. Outside of our 1000 year mandate. Only just, though. And there is torture! A lurid trial! Ghost with severed head! Also a really bad play by Shelley, but that came lots later.
The earliest painting of Richard III, a 1520 copy of an earlier portrait.
In this episode, we discuss the various theories of what happened to young Edward V and his little brother Richard, who went into the Tower of London in June of 1483 and never came out alive. As far as anybody really knows.
Millais’s painting of the princes, from 1878. The young king Edward V is wearing the Order of the Garter below his knee. Well, no. Not a true thing.
Well, probably 1483. That’s the last time anybody saw them, anyway. In this first part, we discuss the Cousins’ War, and how the boys ended up in the Tower, in June of 1483.
