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scotianostra · 3 years ago

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23rd August 1305 saw the trial and execution in London of Sir William Wallace, one time Guardian of Scotland.

I posted yesterday stating the trial happened then, it came u in a source I was reading about Wallace, sometimes the historians can get it wrong, but the post yesterday served as more of prelude and a taster of todays more detailed one. Wallace is said to have accepted his execution without resistance and a brave heart. He even made a final confession to a priest and read from the book of Psalms before his punishment.

Types of execution at The Elms ranged from burning at the stake (for heretics) to the tried and tested hanged-drawn-and-quartered method for those convicted of high treason. For those unfamiliar with this method, it involves being dragged by a horse to the place of execution, hanged until almost dead, then disembowelled whilst still conscious, beheaded, and finally being chopped into four pieces (i.e. ‘quartered) and subsequently having these pieces put on display across the city, or in Sir William Wallace’s case, the country.

I think it only right to give a background post about Sir William Wallace so hang on to your hats, there’ll be no mention of French Princess’s, Blue painted Australians or the like.

Much of what we know about Wallace comes from Blind Harry, also known as Harry, Hary or Henry the Minstrel, is renowned as the author of The Actes and Deidis of the Illustre and Vallyeant Campioun Schir William Wallace, more commonly known as The Wallace. The trouble is how reliable can Blind Harry’s account be, it was written over 150 years after Wallace's grisly demise, the stories about oor erstwhile hero would have been handed down through word of mouth, possibly even in song.

Harty claims that Wallace's father was named Malcolm, and on this basis Wallace has traditionally been identified as Sir Malcolm Wallace, a minor landowner from Renfrewshire. Sir Malcolm was a descendant of Richard Wallace, a native of the lordship of Oswestry on the Welsh border, (Wallace itself meaning Welshman), who first came to Scotland in the twelfth-century in the service of Walter Fitz Alan, first High Steward of Scotland. This Stewart connection has also been used by historians to explain Wallace's place in the 'patriotic' struggle of the 1290s.

But Harry’s story has some flaws, now I’m not decrying the story, just some details like his age.

No reliable evidence exists to gives us an estimate of his age. Harry claims that Wallace was 'forty and five [years] of age' when he was executed, but also states that he was 'bot eighteen yer auld' shortly before the Battle of Stirling Bridge, which would place the year of his birth around 1278/9.

It shows how difficult it is to build a picture of Sir William.

The contemporary English chronicler William Rishanger implies that Wallace was a young man when he emerged as the leader of armed resistance to the English in southern Scotland in 1297, but this does little to narrow things down. According to Hary, Wallace was raised by his two uncles - both clerics - who saw to his education after his father was killed by an English knight named Fenwick

One of his uncles was from Dunipace, a wee town not far from my home in Falkirk, it is through this uncle we get an oft quoted phrase “This is the truth I tell you: of all things freedom’s most fine. Never submit to live, my son, in the bonds of slavery entwined.” The second pic shows part of the quote, it is on a paving stone on Falkirk High Street that I often walk past.

He does seem to have had two brothers, Malcolm - who would provide Wallace with much-needed support in the later part of his career - and John - who would later be executed for supporting Robert Bruce after 1306. His activities before 1297 are also uncertain, but they may have been less than wholesome. Contemporary English accounts describe him as a 'brigand' and a 'thief', suggesting he may have lived outside the law even before the English invaded. Of course, these may simply be attempts by hostile writers to blacken his reputation. However, a legal document of August 1296 mentions 'a thief, one William le Waleys' as an accomplice of a cleric named Matthew of York who had in June of that year been convicted of robbery at Perth. This could well be our William.

Again I am not trying to blacken his character, I am merely pointing out the difficult job that historians have when piecing together his life.

Whatever the details of his early life, following the English invasion of 1296 that Wallace first emerged into the mainstream of Scottish affairs in a big way. The death of King Alexander III in 1286, followed by the death of his granddaughter Margaret of Norway in 1290, had provoked a major succession crisis in Scotland. Efforts to settle the ongoing dispute between the competing Balliol and Bruce factions had led to increasing English interference in the governance of Scotland, culminating in a full-scale invasion of the kingdom in 1296. I’ve covered all this in posts regarding King John Balliol, the sacking of Berwick and the first Battle of Dunbar all in 1296.

One of Wallace’s first encounters with the English is told in typically dramatic form by Blind Harry, the story goes that William was fishing when he is accosted by five soldiers in the service of 'lorde Persye' Henry Percy, 1st Baron Percy who was the warden of Galloway and Ayrshire . The honest, unsuspecting Wallace offers them some of his fish so long as they leave the rest for his uncle - 'ane agyt knycht' - Wallace hopes to feed, but the soldiers demand all of his fish and attack him when he refuses them. Remarkably, Wallace disarms the first attacker using only a 'poutstaff' ('fishing pole'), seizes the discarded sword, kills two of the soldiers, severs the hand of another, and chases the survivors off!

The earliest confirmed encounter between Wallace and the English administration occurred in May 1297, when Wallace and a small band of supporters killed William Heselrig, the English sheriff of Lanark, shortly before an assize was due to be held in the town. According to the indictment against him in 1305, Wallace and his men also dismembered Helelrig's corpse. Famously, Hary claims that Wallace's attack on Heselrig was in retribution for the killing of Wallace's wife - Marion Braidfute, as Harry identifies her.

It is apparent from contemporary English accounts of the incident at Lanark that it proved to be a powerful recruiting tool for Wallace's rebellion. As Walter Guisborough put it, 'the common folk of the land followed him as their leader and ruler; the retainers of the great lords adhered to him; and even though the lords themselves were present with the English king in body, at heart they were on the opposite side'.

What I find remarkable is that the killing of the soldiers and then Heselrig kickstarted, the uprising against Edwards army and around 4 months Wallace and Andrew de Moray had assembled a combined army of over 6 thousand troops that ambushed the English as they crossed the Forth at Stirling.

Before Stirling we also had the capitulation of the Nobility at Irvine, I have also covered this in a previous post.

In the wake of the Scottish victory at Stirling Bridge, the English administration in Scotland all but collapsed. The Scots were once again able to form a government of their own, and at its head - now as Guardians of Scotland - were Wallace and Murray, although Murray's tenure was cut short when he died - probably of wounds sustained at Stirling Bridge - in November.

This was the zenith of Wallace's career. He had emerged from obscurity to the very summit of Scottish society, all in the space of a year. It also meant he had a price on his head and was the most wanted man in Scotland.

Edward I returned from the Continent in March 1298 and set his sights on Scotland, he marched with an army North in late June and quickly discovered that Wallace's response to the threat had been to devastate southern Scotland and withdraw with his army out of reach of the English. A bitter and frustrating campaign followed, with Edward almost abandoning the chase altogether. However, in late July Edward got wind that the Scots had been sighted near Falkirk, and hurriedly moved his army to meet them.

Precisely why the confrontation at Falkirk happened is, as with so much of Wallace's career, uncertain. Until this point in the campaign Wallace had carefully avoided the English army, a prudent strategy that would later pay off for the Scots under Bruce. Guisborough claims that Wallace had learned that Edward planned to withdraw and hoped to attack the English in the rear. This would at least explain why Wallace so suddenly abandoned his previously cautious strategy. However, given the potential challenges he was facing from the nobility of Scotland it may equally have been the case that Wallace felt compelled to face the English in open battle sooner or later and prove that his success at Stirling Bridge - which was after all arguably at least as much Murray's as it was Wallace's - was not just a lucky accident.

Whatever the case, the battle that followed was an utter catastrophe for the guardian. Abandoned by the cavalry, who may have lost their nerve as they had at Irvine or - as claimed by subsequent Scottish chroniclers - betrayed Wallace, Wallace's schiltrons - tightly-packed bodies of infantry armed with long spearmen - repelled the English cavalry but fell prey to English archery, which broke up their formations and left them vulnerable to a renewed assault by the cavalry. Wallace escaped the battle with his life, but his position as guardian had been irrevocably damaged. It is not entirely clear precisely when or where he resigned the guardianship, but by the end of 1298 Robert Bruce, earl of Carrick (the future king), and John Comyn, lord of Badenoch, were jointly exercising the office of guardian.

Wallace's time as guardian may have been decisively ended, but he remained an active opponent of the English in Scotland. The resistance he offered to the English in this period was not always in keeping with the wishes of the guardians. For instance, in August 1299 an altercation took place at a council at Peebles at which Wallace's plan to travel to France was condemned by Sir David Graham as being 'without the leave or approval of the Guardians'. Wallace's plans were defended by his brother Malcolm, who argued that they were at least 'for the good of the kingdom'

Wallace did indeed leave for France in 1299, apparently on a diplomatic mission to seek the support of King Philip IV against Edward I. Wallace's reception in France was initially hostile, since at the time Philip was himself seeking peaceful relations with Edward I, and Wallace was briefly incarcerated by the French king. However, in November 1300 Philip was writing to his envoys to the pope asking them to promote Wallace's case at the papal court. It is possible that Wallace himself visited to Rome assist in making the Scottish case to the pope in person, and the fact that when he was eventually he reportedly had on his person a safe-conduct from King Hakon V of Norway may suggest he also travelled to Norway on diplomatic business (although he may simply have planned to do so at some point). By 1303 - possibly earlier - he was back in Scotland and again involved in armed resistance to the English

By this point the tide in the war was slowly turning against the Scots. The French were once again pursuing a peaceful policy towards the English following their own military reversal at Courtrai in 1302. Scottish nobles were gradually making their peace with the English, and the surrender of Stirling Castle marked the effective end to organised Scottish resistance on a large scale. In light of his increasing success, Edward I was generally willing to be fairly accommodating towards those Scots who were willing to submit to him, but this was not so with Wallace. Indeed, in the general amnesty offered to the Scots by the English, Wallace might at best 'render himself up to the will and mercy of our sovereign lord the king, if it shall seem good to him' - hardly an encouraging prospect. When Wallace's long-standing cohort Simon Fraser submitted to Edward in July 1304, he was welcomed into the king's peace only on the understanding that he would assist in the ever-intensifying hunt for the fugitive Wallace. Nevertheless, Wallace remained at large until 3rd August 1305, when he was seized near Glasgow by men in the service of Sir John Menteith, keeper of Dumbarton Castle on behalf of King Edward. Menteith - identified as Wallace's 'gossop' ('godfather') by Harry.

Having finally captured Wallace, Edward I refused even to see him. Instead, Wallace was taken to London for what for want of a better word might be called a trial.

Sir Peter Malory, one of the king's justices, presided over the proceedings, which were little more than a formality. The charges were considerable. Wallace had, according his accusers, been a traitor to King Edward, perpetrated armed resistance against him and slain the king's officers (William Heselrig was mentioned by name), assumed the authority of 'a superior' of Scotland, submitted 'to the fealty and lordship of the lord king of France and [gave] him help to the destruction of the kingdom of England', made war on the northern counties of England, 'feloniously and seditiously assaulted, burned and devastated religious men and nuns...[and] inflicted [upon] all, old and young, wives and widows, children and babes the worst death which he could devise', and 'harmoniously and eagerly...refused to submit himself to the lord king's peace' even after being defeated at Falkirk. According to the Annals of London, he 'answered that he had never been a traitor to the king of England, but granted the other crimes charged against him'.

In the eyes of the English as an outlaw, Wallace had no recourse to a defence. Instead, he was summarily sentenced to be executed in the manner reserved for traitors. Wallace was thus 'dispolyeid of his weid' as Hary puts it and dragged naked on a hurdle through the streets of London. At Smithfield he was hanged by the neck 'for the robberies, homicides and felonies which he carried out in the kingdom of England and the land of Scotland'

Before he could suffocate he was taken down and emasculated and disembowelled 'for the dreadful wickedness which he did to the church'. His 'heart, liver and lungs and all the bowels...from which such perverse thoughts proceeded' were then burned. Presumably now dead, Wallace was beheaded - the punishment for outlawry - and his body was divided into four parts. His head was to be displayed on London Bridge (where it remained until at least September the following year, when it was joined by that of his former comrade Simon Fraser). The remaining quarters were to be displayed on gibbets at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Berwick-upon-Tweed, Stirling and Perth, 'to put dread in and to warn all by-passers and observers'.

The savagery with which Wallace was dispatched contrasts sharply with Edward I's attitude toward the Scots in general, but let’s not forget it was the usual punishment for any person deemed to be a traitor.

However it appeared that Longshanks earlier experiences with the Scots had convinced the ageing English king that a more conciliatory approach to establishing a lasting English administration in the kingdom. Edward's new plan for the settlement of Scotland envisaged a ruling council composed primarily of Scots - including the likes of Bruce and Comyn - which would advise an English lieutenant who would retain overall authority. Scots law and custom was to be respected, at least in the short term, and it may have seemed to many at the time that the objections that had fuelled Wallace's original rebellion in 1297 had been addressed.

As we know, the matter would be rendered moot less than six months after Wallace's death when Robert Bruce killed Comyn, forcing him to make public his ambition to become King of Scots. In many senses Bruce's struggle was quite unlike Wallace's, being primarily motivated by his own ambitions and perception of his rights. That being said, if Wallace had not maintained the momentum behind Scottish resistance to the English, particularly in the crucial year of 1297, then Bruce may never have had his opportunity to make his successful bid for power.

Pics are statues of Sir William Wallace around Scotland in order, Bemersyde near Dryburgh, Aberdeen, opposite His Majesty's Theatre, Edinburgh Castle, Newmarket Street Ayr, St Nicholas Church, Lanark, Stirling Town Centre, The National Wallace Monument Abbey Craig, Stirling, showing it before and after it’s recent restoration, Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh and his memorial at Smithfield, London. There are others around the world that remember the Scots Patriot who so bravely stood up to fight for his country.

#Scotland #scottish #Sir William Wallace #medieval history #judicial murder #execution #history

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joachimnapoleon · 3 years ago

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Meet the Bonapartes--Louis (3/4)

I left off with Part 2 of this an embarrassingly long time ago, but I'm trying to make it a habit of finishing more of the things I start, so I don't want to leave this hanging. So, one year later, here is Part 3 of my write-up on Louis Bonaparte, and I promise Part 4 will not have a similar gap in between.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

***

Louis had been sincere in his declaration, upon accepting the throne of Holland, that he had "become Dutch." He immersed himself in Dutch culture, encouraged his Dutch courtiers to wear their traditional clothing at court balls, and tried to learn and speak Dutch--sometimes with comedic results, such as when he declared himself the Konijn (rabbit), rather than Koning (king) of Holland. His subjects appreciated his efforts nonetheless.

They also appreciated the initiative Louis showed when tragedy struck early in his reign. On 12 January 1807, a ship bearing hundreds of barrels of gunpowder exploded in the Dutch city of Leiden, blowing up hundreds of buildings and killing 150 people, and injuring thousands. Louis immediately left for Leiden and oversaw the recovery efforts, earning him the nickname "Louis the Good" from a grateful populace.

[Aftermath of the Leiden explosion, by Johannes Jelgerhuis]

Louis began his reign with a flurry of activity, writing to Napoleon to request a number of measures intended to favor his new subjects. He requested a reduction in the number of French garrisons in the kingdom, a new treaty of commerce with France, and the right to choose his own men for his Royal Guard. Napoleon granted these, but refused his brother's request for a loan, arguing that the expenses of France were so great that he was unable to give Louis any money.

The Dutch climate negatively impacted Louis's perpetually delicate health from the beginning, but he rarely left the country for much-needed stays at health resorts; this was especially true later in his reign after his relationship with Napoleon had deteriorated so badly that Louis began to fear that he might be deposed in his absence.

That deterioration did not take long to commence. Napoleon began finding fault with Louis's reign almost from the beginning. Napoleon had intended for Louis to play a key role in the 1806 campaign against Prussia, and was seriously disappointed with his brother's sluggish movements and lack of cooperation with Marshal Mortier during the campaign. When, towards the end of the campaign, Louis balked at attempting to seize Hanover in spite of his greatly superior numbers, Napoleon's displeasure with his younger brother was complete. But Napoleon still took care to preserve Louis's reputation; Louis's forfeiture of his command to Mortier and subsequent return to Holland were attributed to bad health, and further territory from Napoleon's conquests was added to Louis's kingdom. Returning to his kingdom, Louis received a hero’s welcome.

If Napoleon was irritated with Louis's conduct during the campaign, Louis, in turn, was angered by the retention of Dutch troops in Germany after the war, commanded by a French general; this, in Louis's eyes, was proof that he was to be little more than a puppet-king. His flagging health notwithstanding, Louis spent the winter working to further assert his independence by implementing public works projects, reorganizing his kingdom's administration and law code, and creating his own military orders, the Order of Union and the Order of Merit. A major point of contention arose between Louis and Napoleon when Louis announced that he intended to introduce the rank of marshal into the Dutch army and navy. Napoleon wrote to him scornfully on 2 January 1807:

Do you think a French general of division would take orders from your Dutch marshals? You are aping French organization, though your circumstances are utterly different. Why not begin by establishing the conscription and having a real army?

He followed it up more bluntly and concisely a week later: "There is nobody in Holland fit to hold such high rank." Louis viewed this as an insult and persisted in implementing the rank, until Napoleon finally ordered him to abolish it as one of numerous conditions to which Louis was forced to concede in early 1810 in order to retain his kingdom. On the subject of conscription, Louis would successfully resist its implementation, despite Napoleon's repeated demands, to the end of his reign.

Louis's relationship with his wife, meanwhile, remained fraught. Hortense had stayed with her mother, the Empress Josephine, during the campaign, and did not return to the Hague until months after her husband, prompting a quarrel. Mutual recriminations abounded: Hortense was upset over Louis's attentions to a Dutch lady at court; Louis, in turn, complained of Hortense's conduct. Napoleon became aware of the conflict and wrote reprovingly to his brother:

You have the best and most virtuous of wives, and you make her miserable. Let her dance as much as she likes; it is only right at her age. I have a wife of forty, and from the battlefield I write to her that she must go to balls; and with a wife who is only twenty and naturally wishes to live her life and has still some of the illusions of youth, you want her to live as if she were in a convent, or to be busy always like a nurse with her children? You yourself are too much shut up in your study and not about enough in public business. I would not say all this unless I thought so much of you. Make the mother of your children happy. You have only one way of doing this, and that is by showing her a great deal of esteem and confidence.

Louis was stung, and protested to Napoleon that he was being misrepresented to the Emperor by rumormongers. The domestic quarrels continued, as did the gossip they inspired at the Dutch court.

The estranged royal couple suffered a severe blow with the unexpected death of their eldest son, Napoleon Charles. The boy, who had been regarded by the still childless Napoleon as the heir to the Empire, had fallen ill in late April 1807. Louis frantically summoned numerous physicians to tend to the child; multiple remedies were attempted; but all without success. The four-year-old child died at midnight on the 5th of May. Hortense was almost insensible with grief and had to be taken away from the palace. Caroline Murat arrived soon to be at Hortense's side, followed shortly thereafter by Josephine. Hortense eventually left to take the waters in the Pyrenees, and Napoleon gave Louis permission to leave his kingdom to join her in early June. At the end of the summer, Josephine arranged for Hortense, who was still very unwell, to remain with her while Louis returned to Holland. Their younger son, Napoleon Louis, remained with Josephine at Fontainebleau as well. This tragedy drew Hortense and Louis together in their shared grief, but the reunion was short-lived.

[Queen Hortense with Napoleon Charles]

Before Louis's return to Holland, he had argued over political matters with Napoleon. The Emperor wanted more troops from Holland; Louis replied that he could not afford to raise them, due to his kingdom's economy suffering from the recently enacted Berlin Decree, which prohibited all trade with England. But Napoleon was unwilling to grant any concessions on this subject, and it would ultimately be Louis's inability--which Napoleon would interpret as unwillingness--to enforce the ban on English trade, that would spell Louis's downfall.

The 1809 war brought Louis's kingdom under threat from attack by the English, who intended for an expedition to seize Antwerp. Antwerp, however, was a French fortress, and as such, Louis was technically not allowed to interfere with it; but his warnings to Napoleon of its vulnerabilities went unheeded. Louis pleaded with Napoleon that his entire kingdom was defenseless due to Napoleon sending Dutch divisions off to Spain and Westphalia; Louis was left with fewer than 9,000 soldiers in Holland. Napoleon refused to reinforce Louis and downplayed the English threat; when the invasion actually occurred, he then blamed Louis for it. Invoking his title as Grand Constable of France in order to take command of the French troops, Louis set to work arming his fortifications and extending river defenses. On the 16th of August, he handed over command of the forces at Antwerp to Marshal Bernadotte. The English expedition ultimately floundered, out of a combination of disease and incompetence.

Napoleon, rather than thanking or lauding Louis for his efforts, blasted him in his correspondence. Louis was told that his office of Grand Constable was purely civil and honorary and gave him no right to command French troops. He questioned how Louis could expect anyone to respect Holland's independence when he refused to provide a larger army and navy for its defense. Without a larger army, his kingdom was a farce.

Louis protested that he was being treated unjustly. He had already heard whispers that Napoleon was planning to annex Holland to France, and garrison it with French troops. As he would soon learn, these were more than just whispers. By late 1809, Napoleon had not only lost faith in Louis, but had come to suspect his brother of disloyalty. In the Emperor’s mind, his brother was far too sympathetic to the Dutch nobility, whom Napoleon distrusted for their ties to the English. Nor did Napoleon appreciate Louis's attachment to the Dutch people and his insistence on promoting Dutch culture at every turn. But above all, Napoleon could not abide his brother's failure to enforce the blockade against English trade; this, in the words of biographer Michael Broers, "was the issue that turned incapacity into treason in his mind." Napoleon was determined that his Continental System be upheld at all costs; he was not oblivious to the suffering this would entail, as he made it clear to Louis in one particularly menacing letter:

Make searches and seize English goods, and [then] my customs men will respect your territory. If you don't do it, I will, as is my right.... The blockade will ruin many commercial cities, Lyon, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, but this state of anxiety must be got over; it must go on to the end.

The efforts of smugglers and corrupt/patriotic police notwithstanding, the blockade wreaked havoc on the commercial cities, just as Napoleon had anticipated. Writes Broers:

Amsterdam plunged into harrowing decline in every sense. Emigration caused by the collapse of commerce was compounded by the spread of diseases related to poverty, reducing its population from 202,000 in 1808, to little more than 180,000 by 1815. Its shipyards, which had employed 2,000 men in 1800, had barely 500 by 1808. Empty towns stood in ruins, while shanty towns along the canals swelled. Poverty was manifest in the city, and even the number of taverns declined. The local system of poor relief and charity that Louis had inherited from the old republic was stretched to the breaking point by the unprecedented speed and scale of Napoleon's manufactured crisis; it is estimated that between 30 and 40 per cent of the population of Amsterdam depended on poor relief by 1809.

And yet Napoleon remained displeased with his brother's enforcement of the blockade, and was convinced that Louis was deliberately acting to thwart him. When the entire imperial family was summoned to Paris in December 1809 for what would be the announcement of Napoleon's divorce and ensuing re-marriage plans, Louis suspected--rightly--that he might be walking into an ambush. He warned his ministers that he might be coerced into signing documents against his will, and that they were to only regard documents signed with his Dutch name--Lodewijk--as valid. In the event of an attempted French occupation of the country, his commanders were to offer a passive resistance, bringing their men inside their fortresses, closing their gates, and raising their drawbridges.

Napoleon welcomed Louis to Paris coldly; at their second meeting, he told him frankly that he intended to annex Holland, and that if Louis resisted, he would find himself at war with France. "Holland," he said, "is nothing but an English colony, more hostile to France than England herself. I mean to eat up Holland!"

In a bid to keep his kingdom, Louis pleaded for a compromise, and demonstrated a willingness to make concessions, including increased enforcement of the blockade and a ceding of territory. Napoleon sent orders to suspend Oudinot's march to occupy Holland, so that negotiations could proceed. But first, there was the issue of the divorce. Louis attempted to piggyback on his brother's divorce from Josephine by petitioning the Emperor for the arrangement of a formal separation from Hortense. Napoleon, instead, decided to have the matter decided by a family council. Though the two would not be permitted to divorce, it was decided that they might live apart; Hortense was permitted to remain in Paris and given an income of half a million francs. She also retained custody of Louis's eldest son, to Louis's bitter disappointment.

During this interim, Napoleon's mind had changed about his earlier negotiations with Louis. He predicted that Louis would not be able to meet the requirements they had agreed upon, and that the annexation would only be deferred. Harsher terms were drawn up--Louis was required to cede to France all his territory up to the left bank of the Rhine; he was forbidden to trade or communicate with England; he was required to build an army of 25,000 men and increase the size of his navy; and the rank of marshal was to be eliminated from the Dutch military. Louis was prohibited from returning to his kingdom until the agreement was signed. The treaty was finally signed on the 16th of March; Louis arrived back in Amsterdam on the 11th of April. Despite his earlier agreement to let Hortense remain in Paris, Napoleon had insisted on her returning to Holland as well. Hortense dreaded the return. "I wrote the Emperor a despairing letter," she recorded in her memoirs. "He did not answer me." Upon her arrival, Hortense writes that Louis "was overjoyed to see his son again but paid little or no attention to me."

Louis's unhappy queen leaves the following portrait of her life at court during this time, on the brink of her husband's deposition:

Word would be sent me when dinner was ready that the King was waiting for me. While we were at the table he would scarcely say a word. After the meal the King would thrum on the piano, which stood open. He would take his son on his knees, kiss him and lead him out on the balcony which overlooked the square. The crowd, catching sight of them, would give a few cheers. The King would re-enter the room, return to the piano, recite some French poetry or hum an air. I would stay in an armchair, not saying a word and watching what went on in the room. When a few hours had passed, my husband, becoming conscious of the strained situation, would ring and send for the Dutch members of our household and the ladies in waiting. Card-tables would be brought out. Sometimes I played also and at nine o'clock I returned to my apartments after having said good night, the only word we had spoken to one another. This is an exact picture of how I spent my days at Amsterdam.

Hortense did not remain in the kingdom for long. Her health suffered, and it was soon determined that it would be better for her to return to France. She left her husband for the final time on 16 May 1810.

The Sword of Damocles was not long in descending on Louis. An assault on a coachman of the French ambassador gave Napoleon all the excuse he needed to finally carry out his plan to annex Holland. Napoleon demanded that the perpetrators be arrested and hanged; Louis's ministers pointed out the impossibility of identifying them. Oudinot was ordered to march on Amsterdam.

Louis briefly considered appealing to Russia or Austria for help, but it was far too late. He had word sent to Oudinot that, though his troops would receive no welcome, they would also meet no resistance. Louis made some final, hasty financial arrangements, including selling some of the Dutch estates he had acquired and transferring his diamonds out of the country.

On 1 July 1810, Louis abdicated in favor of his second son, Napoleon Louis. The following night, he boarded a carriage accompanied by his captain of the guards, an aide-de-camp, and his favorite dog, Tiel, and headed east. In one last parting blow, Tiel was hit and killed at a horse-changing station on the road. Louis was devastated. "It was," writes biographer Atteridge, "he said, part of his bad luck, that now haunted him everywhere."

For weeks, Napoleon was unable to ascertain the whereabouts of his brother. "We don't know where he has gone, and we know nothing about this lunacy." He asked Hortense if she had any word of him. Writes Hortense in her memoirs, “Real anxiety as regards what had happened to the King was my first reaction. No one knew where he had retired. I imagined that he had left for America, alone, with no one to help him, no one to console him. His fate aroused my sympathy. I almost came to believe that I had become fond of him, now that he had known misfortune." Louis finally wrote to Madame Mère from the health resort of Toeplitz, that he was "as well as can be expected, and well out of affairs to which I will never return."

Regarding Napoleon's feelings towards Louis, Broers concludes that they were

an ill-sorted mixture of piercing truth and injustice clouded by the deepest kind of hatred, rooted in love betrayed. Yet, Napoleon worried about Louis' safety once 'the business' was over. He did not harbour the fanatical hatred that leads to murder. Even after his ill treatment of Hortense, Louis was his brother, and Bonapartes did not practise 'insular vendetta.' Nevertheless, in the world of high politics, Louis' end signaled the end of his faith in his brothers.

***

Sources:

Atteridge, A. Hillard. Napoleon’s Brothers, 1909.

Broers, Michael. Napoleon: Spirit of the Age. 2018.

De Beauharnais, Hortense. Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol I.

Masson, Frédéric. Napoleon et sa Famille, Vol I (1796-1802), 1907.

Roberts, Andrews. Napoleon: A Life. 2014.

#Meet the Bonapartes #Louis Bonaparte #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Hortense de Beauharnais #Holland #19th century

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thebrownssociety · 4 years ago

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Hi, so I was wondering about the toons getting an education. You said that they didn't know how to read or write at the begining. First of all, when did they learn to read and write? And second of all, when they started learning those things, how did they do it? Did all of the toons go to school, you know, like kids do? Did they have classes and classmates, different subjects, different teachers? Or did they have private tutours?

So, first things first, thank you Ana for giving me one of my most complicated asks yet! That's why it's taken me so long to answer, I need to first of all sort through the strands of my brain in order to find the answer, and then translate it so it can be understood by normal people.

This headcanon is LONG, I hope you lot enjoy.

the majority of the toons [about 90 percent] are NOT created with the ability to read and write. In the olden days it was generally assumed that they didn't have the ability to learn either.

The other ten percent DID. They tended to be toons that were created to be doctors, lawyers or other professions that need the ability to read and write. Or members of royalty because the creators made the decision that royals would have been taught to read and write and so incorporated that into there designs. This is why Porky Pig is unusual, because he has the ability read and write, but he's not royalty and he doesn't have an official profession. Technically Porky is an anomality, it just happens that his anomality has helped him more than hindered him.

Moving onto the villains, it tends to follow the same rules as above. Grimhilde [wicked stepmother] has the ability to read and write because the creators assumed that as the now queen she had to be a princess before, therefore fit the rules.

Maleficent however, couldn't read or write [much to her frustration] because she was a villainous fairy and although she was [I think?] royalty of some sort within the fairy world the creators decided she didn't need the ability.

You might be getting an idea of the timeline from the movies I mentioned. I headcanon that the toon began campaigning to get an education during the 60's. They did this largely via peaceful means [mainly because one thing that has always been acknowledged by humans is that Toons are quite powerful and they aren't to keen to annoy them massively. The toons for their part don't want to cause massive distress to humans - they want to make them laugh! - so it actually works to a degree. During the 60's though the Toons decided something needed to be done.

The directors and other higher-ups had been promising to change the rights for the last decade and it hadn't happened. In 1965 the Toons decided enough was enough, they would start peacefully protesting. They adhered to the riles of there contracts to the letter. The LT's contract for instance says they have to arrive at least five minutes before filming starts, so they arrived five minutes before filming started when previously they'd been arriving half an hour so the director could run through everything with them.

They also left straight after seeing as there contract said they were free to go after the filming ended.

The LT's were also contracted to be available should WB ask them to do anything like help in the kitchens, but they only gave to do that for a set amount of hours each week. They worked those hours to the letter and went straight after. A few of the more devious toons even reasoned the contract just says they have to show up, not do any work, so they didn't. At first the studio got round that by asking toons who they knew would do the work properly, but it didn't take the toons long to figure out that was happening and then the 'good' toons wondered why they should bother when the 'bad' toons were being allowed to get off scot-free?

Eventually no toons was doing any work to help the general running of WB at all.

The above, I should mention, did not happen overnight. It took around 18 months, and it wasn't just happen at WB. Although Disney didn't have the exact same contract, they ran on the general principle of arriving at a set time and leaving straight after, so the toons just adhered to there contracted times.

18 months later and the companies decided enough was enough. They were having to go overtime to film the cartoons/movies now the toons weren't doing extra [previously unpaid] hours. [Which they did because the majority of them are perfectionist when it comes to the cartoons and wanted them to be the best they could be.] They were also having to pay the Human employees extra to cover the hours, often at extremely short notice. And unlike the toons they weren't contracted to come in just because the company wanted them to.

So anyway, the point of me detailing this is to explain the circumstances that meant that the companies were at there wits end and ended up petitioning the president to give the toons rights. Mickey Mouse also helped out enormously here as well. Walt Disney had died a few months earlier and Mickey was now running Disney. Which also meant control of the theme parks. Mickey decided that seeing as Toons clearly weren't valued enough to bother educating [despite being proven as intelligent] they shouldn't bother providing entertainment at the parks either.

The Disney toons also had it worked into there contracts that they had to make periodic appearances at Disney's parks [kinds like the people dressing up as the characters do now, except it's the actual toons] and are on a rota basis. Unless they're doing an events [like Halloween for the villains or valentines day for the princes and princesses] then each toon does at least one 12-hour day at Disney per year. It was this bit that Mickey was putting a stop to.

It had a real knock-on effect as, as well as the rides, most people went there hoping for a glimpse of there favourite toon. Without that...

As much of an absolute business-killer as this idea was, Mickey was more than happy to explain to anyone who would listen [read: most of the world news] exactly WHY he was doing it. With all this pressure it was really just a matter of time until the laws changed and the toons were able to gain an education. This was in 1968.

Now as fast as things work in Toontown, this was such a complicated area that it took a full 2 years for the various schools to be built, staffed and a curriculum drawn up (which followed the same basic guide as human education, but with some added stuff and some stuff taken out. It basically followed a 'would a toon actually need this in future life?' and went from there.

Here's were it gets slightly complicated. Because I mentioned before that toons age in a weird way. But the main thing is they go up and down in there age on a day to day basis until they are about 20. This makes educating them quite difficult, to say the least.

The studios solution to this was to bring in Human teachers to teach them at the grades human children would go through. So Kindergarten, Grade 1 ext. The thing was that a lot of the toons had learn some of th education already, like identifying shapes and coulors and things. And of course the ones who were professionals [Like Ludwig Von Drake and Gus Goose] already had a college-level of education, they just needed to prove it to the teachers.

The end result of this was that it wasn't unusual for a toon to be in a class for only a few months at a time while they did the work [don't forget, they only need 4 hours of sleep as well, so they could study for longer if they wanted]

It did eventually even up though and the toons ended up spending 9 months if the right class. For example, Porky Pig aced Kindergarten all the way up till 4th grade and then found he was struggling with 5th grade. This was a shock to him after spending 21 months in education [excluding holidays], to suddenly need help. Porky was forced to realise that he had centred a lot of his identity around being 'the one who can help his friends/family read.' and hadn't expanded his personality much beyond that.

So yeah, as an average most toons took about ten years to complete Kindergarten - end of high school.

Then a few of them took college courses, which lead to them getting degrees, which led to a couple of them getting teaching degrees. The majority of the LT's you see in Tiny Toons [excluding Foghorn, who decided he didn't want to be a teacher, and Elmer who took a undergraduate degree in law until 1992] did their teaching degrees from 1988 - 1992.

There's a couple of you who might had realised that they were filing Tiny Toons at the times and learning how to be parents at the same time. That was partly why they wanted to do it then, they realised that after Tiny Toons had finished the kid would need educating. Although the human teachers had been alright, they'd found it slightly difficult to cope and the LT's didn't want their kids to go through that particularly. Also, what's the point of building a school just to got rid of it after?

So here's the main schools: (After the toons gained teaching degrees)

Disney Elementary - Kindergarten- Grade 5.

Hanna-Barbara Middle School - Grade 6_8.

The Looniversity (the name stuck after the TV show) Grades 9-12.

So the Tiny Toons finished filming in 1992 and had it promptly explained to them that they would be attending school the next August [Tiny Toons were created in 1987, so were 6 by the end of filming.]

Toons don't do pre-school because there doesn't seem to be any point. Loads of Toons have coped without preschool for decades now, why would they start now?

So the TT's started Kindergarten at Disney Kindergarten, run by Snow White and helped out by Cinderella and Fairy Godmother. Kindergarten is the only school year where the toons have to do an entire year in it, the logic being they'll have longer to get adjusted to school if they're there for a year as opposed to three months.

Then it was decided which was the toon would go. Would they move upwards into Disney Elementary school, run by the Three Good Fairies? Or would they be taught by human professors? Or - the final option - they could be privately educated. [It's mainly royalty or the children of famous toons like Micky and Minnie that go down this option. The TT's were unusual in that all the LT's opted to send there kids to Disney Elementary with the hope it would help them make friends with other toons outside the LT bubble. Whether it did or not remains up for debate.

Anyway, they then go to Hanna-Barbera Middle School, which is then followed by the Looniversity. Now, despite what was shown in Tiny Toons, The Looniversity does not focus solely on Toon Physics and the like, the kids have to study the curriculum. They have options to take Toon Physics class if they wanted to, but they don't have to.

The Toons technically don't HAVE to finish High School, but they're strongly encouraged to. College is another matter, it's quite hard so only Toons who the adults know will stand a chance of passing are encouraged to do it.

Toontown University focuses primarily on The Performing Arts and Toon Physics. As well as those subjects, it offers Art, Physical Education, separate courses of Dance, Drama and Music and LAMDA.

If a Toon wants to study the likes of Maths, English and Science they can either be privately educated [A lot of the adult toons have ridiculous amounts of money due to there cartoons and the fact that until the 50's Toontown didn't exist and all there expenses were being covered by there respective directors/studios] or they could join one of the smaller colleges that specialised in what they want to do.

Push comes to shove, they find a Adult toon [over the actual age of 25] with a degree and try to mentor under them. This happens a lot.

#Looney Tunes Headcanons #Looney tunes headcanons #Looney Tunes #Asks #Education #Porky Pig #maleficent #Grimhilde #tiny toons #Mickey Mouse #Minnie Mouse #Kindergarten #Education is so complicated #Education is so important #Disney Parks #Education is highly valued by the toons #It took them long enough to get it

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satoshi-mochida · 4 years ago

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Rabbit & Bear Studios, a Tokyo-based studio formed by key creators of the Suikoden series, has announced Eiyuden Chronicle: Hundred Heroes, an ambitious new RPG planned for release in fall 2022. A Kickstarter campaign seeking $500,000 USD in funding for a PC release—with a single stretch goal to unlock PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X, and Switch versions (or next-gen Switch, if one is available)—will run from July 27 at 9:00 a.m. PT / 12:00 p.m. ET to August 28. A trailer will also debut when the campaign launches.

Eiyuden Chronicle: Hundred Heroes is led by Suikoden I and II veteran scenario writer Yoshitaka Murayama, alongside series veterans Junko Kawano, Osamu Komuta, and Junichi Murakami. The project marks the first time these four creators have worked on a game together, as well as the first time Murayama and Kawano have collaborated in 25 years.

“The first thing we decided when our members came together was, ‘It’s about time we made a really interesting game that we ourselves want to make,'” project lead Murayama said in a press release. “We chose Kickstarter in order to make an interesting game with the players in mind, hold the rights to the planning, world, and story of the game, all while keeping the fun of the project. Please lend us your support in this new challenge of ours! We promise to create something that heeds the call of your voices.”

Speaking to Gematsu, Murayama shared more information on the game’s similarities to Suikoden and what elements of the series will carry over.

“Eiyuden Chronicle is about war, or more importantly, the intention and feelings of the 100 heroes who fight that war from a variety of perspectives and for a variety of different reasons,” Murayama told Gematsu. “And of course the drama that can only occur when a group of different people from different walks of life come together and must wage a war of life and death.”

Murayama continued, “And the many characters that participate in this war aren’t just pawns added in as ‘war fodder,’ they have a living breathing soul and begrudgingly must fight to protect the things they believe in. Additionally, there are non-combat specialists, researchers, and other ‘heroes’ on the periphery that can help win battles or lose them. Each and every one of them is a living breathing character that the player gives life to through their choices.”

Each character has their own strengths and weaknesses that can be leveraged to help the player form a balanced team.

“Some characters are good are some things and bad at others,” Murayama explained. “But if you combine them with other characters that can strengthen their weaknesses, you can end up with a really balanced team. And based on that delicate balance your team make be more apt at mining or adventuring which will affect the overall game progression loop. One of the core game loops in Eiyuden is to experience the wide variety of different characters and personalities in your 100 person army.

“With each new character your ‘fortress town’ grows in size and ability. It is a key system in the game. As you increase your teammates, some members will be blacksmiths, some chefs and whether on the battlefield or not, each character will play a role in strengthening your resolve as an army. There are guilds that you can join which will largely change the visual make-up of your fortress town and grant different abilities. The more people you recruit, the stronger the snowball effect. As you level up, new trade options appear along with enemies and thieves that randomly attack your town in an effort to impede your progress. You need to make choices whether to strengthen your walls or hasten your progress. Each choice will make every play session feel different and have its own consequences.”

According to Murayama, all of this is “just the tip of the iceberg,” meaning that fans can expect much more to come.

Here is an overview of the game, via Rabbit & Bear Studios:

■ About

Eiyuden Chronicle: Hundred Heroes is an ode to the classic Japanese RPG genre from the PlayStation era that will feature classic Japanese RPG exploration and battles in high-resolution 2.5D graphics, pixel-based characters, a story of war and friendship, a diverse cast of 100 unique heroes to join the protagonist’s endeavor, and a fortress building system to grow their army.

The game will feature a guild system that allows players to change their fortress attributes based on the guild they join. Battles will be turn-based with parties of up to six members and feature dynamic boss battles that change camera angle and rotate depending on the environment.

■ Studio and Staff

Rabbit & Bear Studios

Founded March 26th, 2020 by Yoshitaka Murayama, Rabbit & Bear Studios asks the age old question, what do gamers really want? It’s something we must never forget as creators. To continually focus on giving the fans the experience they really want.

We have created Rabbit & Bear Studios as the first step in realizing that dream and to have the responsibility that comes with it. That’s our core philosophy and we plan to lead by our actions.

Staff

Story: Yoshitaka Murayama (Suikoden, Suikoden II, The Alliance Alive)

Character Design: Junko Kawano (Suikoden, Suikoden IV, Arca Last)

System Design and Direction: Osamu Komuta (Suikoden Tierkreis, Suikoden Tactics, Arca Last)

Art Direction and Production: Junichi Murakami (Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow, OZ)

Composers: Michiko Naruke (Wild Arms series), Motoi Sakuraba (Tales of series), and more.

■ Story

Welcome to the Continent of Allraan

“Our story begins in one corner of Allraan, a tapestry of nations with diverse cultures and values.

By dint of sword, and by way of magical objects known as “rune-lenses,” the land’s history has been shaped by the alliances and aggressions of the humans, beastmen, elves, and desert people who live there.

The Galdean Empire has edged out other nations and discovered a technology that amplifies the rune-lenses’ magic. Now, the Empire is scouring the continent for an artefact that will expand their power even further.

It is on one such expedition that Seign Kesling, a young and gifted imperial officer, and Nowa, a boy from a remote village, meet each other and become friends.

However, a twist of fate will soon drag them into the fires of war, and force them both to reexamine everything they believe to be right and true.”

■ Characters

Nowa (Default Name)

Sex: Male

Age: 17 years old

Home: A remote village in the League of Nations

Favorite Food: Anything with meat in it

“That’s who I am. A meddler. Always will be—just ask Leene. So don’t tell me to do nothing. I may not be able to help them, but I have to at least try.”

When the League of Nations recruits warriors to assist in a joint expedition with the Galdean Empire, our protagonist answers the call and leaves his remote village to test his skills. On the mission, he finds an ancient rune-lens, unaware that the discovery will spark a war between the League and the Empire. After the conflict begins, he joins a unit in the League’s border guard.

The protagonist is the “leap before you look” type. He doesn’t always weigh the pros and cons before springing to action, and while his constant need to involve himself in other people’s problems sometimes creates headaches for his companions, they like him for it and know his heart is in the right place. After all, if they ever got into trouble, he’d be the first person there.

Seign Kesling

Sex: Male

Age: 18 years old

Home: A noble house in the Galdean Empire

Favorite Food: Poached eggs

“I can dream all I want, but it won’t change a thing. The world is not that kind. So if the only way to achieve my ideals is to betray them first, then I will do that—unflinchingly. You have my word.”

The second-born son to House Kesling, a powerful imperial family. His older brother died on the battlefield. Seign is exceptionally gifted; after achieving outstanding grades at military academy, he was placed in command of a company of his peers and sent on the expedition to find the ancient rune-lens. During the mission, he meets the protagonist. The two warm to each other as they overcome adversity, and they learn of one another’s ambitions.

Seign’s strategic mind allows him to analyze things from a broad perspective and make sound decisions. People often confuse his clear mind for a cold heart, but he is guided by strong ideals and a deep passion to fulfill them.

After his brother’s death during a border rebellion, Seign began to think long and hard about what it means to fight.

Marisa

Sex: Female

Age: 16 years old

Profession: One of the Guardians who watches over the forest

Favorite Food: Herbed chicken

“You just leave the forest to me. I know where the water springs, where the rabbits burrow—and most importantly, where your enemies will try to hide.”

A young member of the Guardians, a clan that hallows and protects the forest. Since Marisa was very little, her family has instilled their ways and traditions in her. She has a warm, affable smile—except on the battlefield, where she wears the countenance of a warrior.

Although the Guardians live as one with the forest, they have respect for the outside world’s culture and technology, and they are not against integrating the parts of it that make sense to them. Marisa is particularly forward-thinking in this regard, and loves new things—especially cute things.

Over the generations, the Guardians have developed a unique method of wielding the rune-lenses. For that reason, both the Empire and the protagonist try to win them over to their camp. Whom the Guardians choose will prove to be a major turning point in history.

Melridge

Sex: Male

Age: 27 years old

Profession: A scholar of natural history

Favorite Food: Duck soup

“You should lay down arms and surrender. That’s the quickest way to end this… No? Very well. Then I suppose I’ll provide you with the next best thing: a winning strategy.”

A young scholar who specializes in natural history. He yearns to know of every last thing in the world, and exactly how it got there. He also happens to be a genius tactician, and will be a valuable asset to the protagonist.

That said, he views warfare as the most pointless of all human endeavors, and any personal contributions to it as a complete waste of time.

Garr

Sex: Male

Age: 32 years old

Profession: Warrior in a clan of mercenaries

Favorite Food: Pancakes slathered with whipped cream

“Only a soft-brained leader runs headlong into danger. Anyone who knows what’s good for him will tell you you’ve lost it, kid. But not me. If blaze-of-glory’s your thing, count me in. We all die in the end. Might as well make it interesting.”

A veteran beastman warrior. He and his clan make their living as mercenaries, and their vast experience and sheer brutality put them in high demand. War is all Garr has known, and to him life is one battlefield after the other until you die.

When a conflict breaks out, every army wants as many beastmen as they can afford. Because mercenary contracts are made with individuals and not the entire clan, it is not uncommon for Garr and his fellow beastmen to face each other as enemies in the field.

Lian

Sex: Female

Age: 16 years old

Home: A martial arts dojo

Favorite Food: Super-spicy ramen

“Uhh, maybe I’m dumbing this down a little, but—like—if a bunch of arrogant swine strut into YOUR home and started acting like they owned the place, what would YOU do? ‘Cause there’s your answer.”

After the Empire’s forces invade League lands, Lian is infuriated and runs away from home…without even the slightest semblance of a plan. She decides the first thing to do is hoof it to the biggest town she can find, and luckily that’s where she meets the protagonist and his companions.

Lian was born in a dojo, and her father wasted no time in teaching her. She was doing roundhouse kicks before she even learned to walk properly.

Mio

Sex: Female

Age: 27 years old

Home: The Far East

Favorite Food: Bamboo-wrapped sasa dumplings

“The road you walk is one, and yet its endpoints are myriad. You can still choose where the road takes you.”

A swordswoman who is journeying to perfect the way of the blade. She has a stoic personality and rarely speaks, unless it’s to challenge someone she views as a worthy opponent.

When she does open her mouth to say something, it’s straight to the point and usually dripping with wisdom, so the people around her have taken to calling her “sensei.” However, even the greatest of senseis do have the occasional brain fart…

■ World

The Waterstead of Quinja

The Seaside Cavern

Watch a gameplay teaser video below. View the first screenshots and artwork at the gallery.

youtube

#Eiyuden Chronicle: Hundred Heroes #Eiyuden Chronicle #Rabbit & Bear Studios #RPG #PS5 #Xbox Series X #Nintendo Switch #Steam #Gematsu #long post

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

Text

What’s In A Name:8 - J. Toews

Chapter 8

Where we left off: Bekah accompanied Jon to the NHL100 Gala and he suggested they could live in Chicago together.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,396

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Untitled.

His season ended in round 1 and anyone could see the disappointment all over Jon’s face for the first few weeks after being knocked out in four games. Bekah came to game 1 and wore the jacket he bought her with his name and number on the back. The conversation from LA still hung over their heads but was not discussed by either with the end of the season. Work was crazy for her and summer flew without seeing Jon much. She did take a Friday off in August to take the long weekend go see him at home in Canada. She could see why he spoke about home the way he did. It was peaceful even with the sounds of slap shots waking her up one morning. She toed out to the kitchen to see coffee already made and prepared to her liking of a splash of honey and cream. She hummed while taking the first sip realizing it was exactly how she made it. The large window in the back eliminated source of the sounds echoing through the house. Jon was working out on his mini rink in the backyard. She opened the door with nothing on but one of his old, warn UND shirts on.

“You are crazy Tae!” Bekah emerged with coffee in hand leaning on the railing of his deck. Jon laughs and starts to make his way to her.

“Determined is usually the adjective used Beks.” His sweaty lips dip down and brush against hers. “Determined. Also, good morning.”

He was very determined to get her to Chicago. He knew she loved the city but the conversation in LA was looming over every discussion of a weekend with him. It took a ton of effort for Brynn convincing Bekah to go for the Blue Jackets and Blackhawks game in October. She helped Bekah wiggle some of work accounts during a few lunches and wouldn’t stop talking about it until they booked their flight. Bekah was working so hard that she resisted at first but Jon was thankful for Brynn’s persistence got her to his city.

Brynn rolled her eyes when Bekah walks in from the parking garage in her playoff jacket within Toews airbrushed across the back and a I heart Chicago T-shirt under. “I’m happy for you friend but you are an Ohioan damnit!” Brynn laughs and links arms with Behkah so they can head to the arena.

Jon scored and had an assistant handing the Blue Jackets a lose. Brynn laughs as the two friends embrace near the locker rooms and head their separate ways. “Have fun you two.” She waves more at Jon than Bekah.

“Nice game Tae.” Bekah looks up at Jon as he takes her under his arm.

“I felt your energy, Baby.” He kisses her lips. “Let’s head home.” The words lingered but weren’t touched by either one.

Bekah loved the way Jon smelled post game. It was intoxicating especially as he pressed into her making her legs push hard into his ass while she moaned out his name loudly.

“Come on Beks.” Jon encourages feeling Bekah’s orgasm coming. His not far behind. Bekah’s back arches up and he works faster. Reveling in the way their bodies moved in sync.

“Jon, I...” She moans out while her toes curl tightly into his legs.

“Merde Beks! Je t'aime.” Jon grunts out as he climaxes and collapses into Bekah’s trembling body.

“Uh, what did you just say?” Bekah tries to catch her breath. “Tae?” Jon whinces realizing the gravity of his words. “Jon.” Bekah tries to move him but he just lays with his head in her neck attempting to catch his own breath. “Jonathan! What the hell did you just say?”

“It was French Beks.” He finally moves so she can see his face.

“You orgasmed in French? You’ve never... have you ever... wait. What did you say?” Bekah questioned.

Jon’s mind and heart are racing. Of course he loved her. But saying it in French while cuming wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to tell her for the first time especially when they hadn’t established anything beyond exclusivity. “Babe, I don’t know.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“I swear I heard t’aime. Isn’t that love?” Bekah feels the heat coming to her cheeks. Her hand swiping at sweat on Jon’s hairline.

“Beks. Maybe. I don’t tend to remember what we say in the moment. Plus my brain is hardwired for both languages. Remember, I learned French first.” Jon searches her eyes and sees a smile appear.

“Well that was new. I didn’t hate it but it was new.” She kissed his lip tenderly. “Does it mean something when you brain switches like that?”

“I don’t think so mainly comfort I guess but we’ve been pretty comfortable for awhile. Seriously Beks. I don’t think I’ve ever done it before, ever.”

“Interesting.” Bekah struggled her shoulder out of not understanding before kissing his lips and Jon was thankful for the dropped conversion.

Work picked up for Bekah again. Her firm was given the task of the Cannonball for the CBJ foundation. As the marketing department she was stressed. She took a few days at Christmas and spent them in Chicago. His family didn’t join this year because of the schedule but he was thankful to see her in the mist of maybe her biggest project yet. All-Star break came and went. Jon didn’t make the All-star team so he came to Columbus and spent time with her but mainly in bed then she was off to work. Brynn didn’t mind when he suggested lunch out and invited her knowing they had a standing lunch date.

The week of Cannonball Brynn walks in with flowers. “These were delivered for you.” Bekah could hardly see her tiny best friend over the ginormous bouquet. Bekah’s eyes bug out of her head when her eyes adjust to them. She has only received flowers once at her office and it was when her grandfather died and they were from Brynn and Derek not her boyfriend. Jon sent her flowers for her birthday but to her apartment and not to work.

“Holy shit Rin!” Bekah gets up to grab the flowers and places them on the ledge behind her desk.

“There is a card.” Brynn points towards the center of the roses. “I didn’t read it. Still sealed.” Brynn’s face lights up as Bekah fishes out the note and opens it.

To the purrdiest lady at the ball,

You have worked so hard and I’m so proud of you.

Always, Tae

Bekah’s heart skips a beat and her face has a smitten smile across it.

“Does he always end his notes that way?” Rin questions.

“What? Huh?” Bekah rereads the card and looks at her best friend puzzled.

“Always, Tae. Does he always sign things like that?” Bekah just nods gliding her fingers over the text. “Very similar to that tattoo you have isn’t it.” Brynn flicks her finger to Bekah’s left side where the Always yours tattoo was.

“He’s done it before seeing the tattoo.” Bekah’s brain remembering the note she kept in her wallet from when he gave her his jersey. Butterflies erupt in her stomach thinking about the similarities.

“Yeah, just adding to the list of your no name thing there Bekah.” Brynn breaks the silence caused by Bekah’s realization. “Those flowers are stunning! I’m gonna let you call that handsome man.” Brynn waves from the door and Bekah turns to inhale the arrangement of red and white roses.

She picks up her phone and calls Jon.

“You didn’t have to but they are beautiful. Thanks Babe.” Bekah hardly let’s him say hello.

“Oh, well deserved. You worked your ass off for this western rodeo campaign and I just wish I could be there to push you across that dance floor, Beks.” There was a silence that they both let happen.

“I miss you.” Bekah finally whispers.

“I miss you too Beks but I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Cannonball got Bekah all nervous. She ended up wearing the same dress that she did for the NHL 100 gala with some major convincing from Brynn. “You worked hard, that dress is amazing why not wear it and we can enjoy ourselves.” It definitely didn’t go with the theme and Bekah considered if it was too much for an event she was technically at for work. The fundraiser was perfect. Being country themed the players showed up in hats and bolo ties. About half way through Bekah felt the weight of the project lift off her shoulders as she started to mingle among some of women from the Chicago trip and the team. Her comfort level in the hockey world had dramatically changed and even Seth Jones noticed it when they were talking. He had run into her and Jon at the All-Star game in 2017 that became the focal point of the conversation. Bekah crawled into bed way later than she expected and didn’t wake up until her phone was ringing before her alarm.

“Hey Tae!” Bekah knew it was only Jon calling that early.

“Why the fuck do I see Josh fucking Anderson’s arm around you on Twitter?” Jon chokes out through his teeth.

“Huh?” Bekah sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“I was looking through the tag from your event and scrolled to see a picture of that cocky new call up Jacket with his fucking arm around you. Bekah... I... I....”

“You need to breathe Jon. No one had their arm around me especially Josh.” Bekah grabs her tablet from the nightstand to find this picture. The mention of Josh’s name made Jon almost growl.

“Well it sure as hell looks like he’s all cozy with you.” Bekah can tell Jon is pacing the floor. She hears the hard thud of his feet even over the phone.

“Jon! We. You and me, we are exclusive. I’m not seeing or talking or flirting with any other man.” Bekah scrolls as Jon breathes heavily into the phone. She finally sees it. From the angle of the photograph it does looks like Josh’s arm is on the small of her back and not whatever he was propping himself on. A small smirk on Josh’s face as she is talking to Seth. “Jon, Honey, I’m looking at the picture right now and I was just talking to the boys. Seth was asking about what part of the All-Star game I enjoyed since he saw us in LA. The conversation was about YOU,Tae.” Bekah waits and hears Jon swearing in both French and English. “Jonathan Bryan Toews calm the fuck down. You have a game tonight and you cannot be all like this.”

“Like fucking what Bekah? Pissed that my woman is looking like she’s talking to another man and one that is in my profession and one that I have to play soon. Pissed that we won’t call this what it fucking is because we live in different states or are scared or whatever it might be? My head hasn’t been in the right space and it’s hard to lead a damn team when I’m this way.” Jon stops pacing and can hardly hear over booming from his pulse in his ears.

“I... I don’t know what to say Jon.” Bekah feels the prick at the corner of her eyes.

“Well maybe you need to figure that out. I need to get to the rink and settle down. I’ll talk to you later Beks.” Jon hisses and hangs up. Bekah pulled her pillow over her head and starts to cry. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying but she just did it. Jon’s word echoing in her thoughts as she did.

The two texted a few times in the next few weeks and even Brynn could feel there was something off. “Bekah, he’s coming in town tomorrow night after their home game. You need to talk to him.”

“Rin, please don’t.” Bekah looks up from the salad she’s just pushing around with her fork.

“Call what you two have whatever you want but it’s something and in the last few weeks you’ve been a puddle of a human instead of the annoyingly hot for Toews bestie I’ve come accustomed to. You two make each other better you know?” Brynn stares into her best friend’s eyes seeing all the confusion that was stirring.

“But Rin.” Bekah whispers.

“Just go talk to him.” Byrnn spells out and Bekah knew she was right.

She texted Jon asking to meet in the lobby. He said he had a late team meeting but could slip out for a moment. Bekah’s heart beat faster and her cheeks flooded red when she sees him walking towards her.

“Hey Beks.” Jon leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“I’ve missed you.” Bekah blurts out.

“I’ve missed you too.” Jon stands close but not too close. “What’s up?”

“We haven’t seen or talked to each other in awhile.��

“Yeah, we’ve been busy.” Jon rubs the back of his neck looking down at her and she sees his pocket buzz.

“I... I... fuck... why is this hard?” Bekah whispers almost to herself as Jon’s pocket buzzes again.

“Beks, I don’t know but I really have to go. Tomorrow night, after the game I’ll meet you down in the tunnels like always okay?” He dips down and kisses her cheek before jogging off.

Bekah shook off the odd exchange and the next day wore her Toews jersey as she had been doing the last few seasons. Brynn’s eyes were bright when she got into Bekah’s car and saw the familiar jersey but said nothing. The ladies were closer than normal for this game and when Jon skated by during warmups she saw a slight smile across his face.

The game was not great and Bekah could swear she saw Jon push Josh after the whistle and words were exchanged but when Brynn said she didn’t see anything she wrote it off as paranoia. The Blue Jackets won and when Anderson scored in the third Bekah felt Jon’s eyes on her while the entire arena erupted in cheers. After the game, as always, Bekah waited for Jon between the home and visitor’s locker rooms. Bekah getting chirped by a few of the player who saw her in the Toews jersey and recognized her from Cannonball. Bekah sees Jon and starts toward him. His expression soft as he makes his way to her.

“Bek-caw!” A booming voice behind her calls out. She turns to see Josh with his hands to his mouth. Seth, and Boone behind him in the tunnel. The boys all wave and she waves back then turns to see Jon standing in front of her. A grimace now flooding his face.

“Ready?” Jon pulls his arm tight around Bekah and she felt his whole body was tense.

“Yes, Tae. Let’s get outta here.” Bekah squeezed Jon and the two made their way to his hotel room. Once inside Jon drops on the bed kicking off his shoes but fully clothed in his suit. “I’m sorry Tae.” Bekah curls up into him and she can feel the tension radiating out of him. Jon finally groans and moves their bodies. Stripping Bekah’s clothes off first then his own in almost silence. Just the sounds of movement and kisses filled the air. He slinks down her body and presses his tongue into her core.

“Fuck Jon!” Bekah jumps and he presses his hand down at her hips to keep her body in place. He’s relentless and doesn’t let up after an orgasm rips through her body. His fingers curling into her as he sucks and flicks at her clit. Bekah yells out his name as the second orgasm crashes over her with even more of an intensity than the first. Jon only let’s up for a moment while he adjusts her legs and slams his throbbing cock into her. The room now filled with curses and moans. Jon biting at Bekah’s shoulder while she claws at his back. He thrusts hard into her then stops. Her eyes that are screwed shut fly open and the intensity of Jon’s eyes was a lot to take. Pupils blown, the look of want and a hint of something she couldn’t put her finger on before he rolled his hips out and slammed back into her. Bekah’s hands fly up to brace herself with the headboard. Jon’s hands move so he’s on his elbows with his lips ghosting her lips. “Mine.” He whispers then presses his lips on hers. Bekah feels Jon twitch deep inside of her which causes her body to climax again. Jon rolls off of Bekah. His hard expression softens and he kisses her then heads to the bathroom. She expects him to return but when the shower turns on she pads over to the bathroom.

“Tae?” Bekah looks into the shower and Jon’s forehead is pressed against the tile and the water is running down his back. He doesn’t move or answer. “Baby?” Bekah enters the shower and wedges herself between the shower wall and his body. Jon’s eyes closed and her hand comes to cup his cheek. “Jon?” Bekah runs her thumb across his cheek.

“I’m sorry Beks.” He opens his eyes and looks at her.

“Sorry for what?” She keeps her hand in place and blinks the spray from her eyes.

“For everything Beks. For everything but I’ll start with my behavior in bed just now.”

“Jon.” Bekah goes to kiss his lips and he moves.

“Let me finish. I got jealous. I got pissed off. I didn’t talk to you. I have let you and my team down. I just...” Jon takes a deep breath.

“Jon, let’s get out of the shower and talk okay?” Jon nods his head and let’s Bekah lead him out. She dries them both off and snuggles into his chest in bed.

“I’m sorry.” He says again and runs his hand down and up her arm then pulls her body flush with his.

“You keep saying that.”

“I mean it.”

“And the jealousy thing?” Bekah looks up at him.

“I couldn’t see beyond a poor camera angle and got angry that these local guys could see you almost daily. That they could easily have you if they wanted to.”

“But they don’t and they won’t.” She reassures him. “And the whole mine thing?” Bekah whispered out and rubs her shoulder.

“Fuck Beks did I hurt you?” Jon kisses the spot that already looks like it’s bruising.

“It was in the heat of the moment and I’ll be fine. But Mine Jon? The possessive sex thing isn’t exactly you.”

“I know. I just... fuck.... fuck... fuck.”

“You fuck?” Bekah laughs. Jon sits up on his elbow and looks down at Bekah.

“Bekah. I love you and I know we said we aren’t naming this but I love you and I’m a fucking idiot for not telling you this years ago.” Jon leans down and kisses her lips.

“Jon...” Bekah breathes out.

“And not just love. I don’t want to live without you honestly. When we leave each time it gets harder. When that hint of cinnamon smell from your pillow is gone I find myself in the kitchen trying to replicate it but it’s your smell. You. I want you. I want you to come to Chicago, run my new foundation, build a life with me, together. Je t’aime Rebekah. I said it once before and didn’t realize then that I meant it but I do.” He drops back down so their faces are inches apart.

“Jon.” Bekah places her head on his chest. He combs his fingers through her wet hair.

“You don’t have to say anything Beks. I don’t want you to say it back unless you mean it. I’m okay with being just this. Okay? Just know that’s what I want is more and if you don’t then we keep doing what we are doing but if you consider even a little bit of what I just said that we can start slow and not all at once. I’m in this for the long haul Beks.” He hand glides under her chin and slowly moves it to look her in the eyes and kisses her lips again.

“Okay.” Bekah quietly says.

“Okay? Okay to what Beks?”

“Okay....”

#what’s in a name fic #WIAN #jonathan toews fic #jonathan toews #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#happens in the 2017 2018 season #j toews fic #j toews

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josefavomjaaga · 4 years ago

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Sir Robert Wilson on Murat and Eugène

Okay, so I said I would read up on Wilson first before reading anything by him – but I had already looked into the second volume of his diaries, and this is just perfect: During the final days of March and April 1814, when the First Empire ended in Upper Italy, he visited both Murat and Eugène and had dinner with them.

Please bear with me, this is going to be lengthy. Plus, I do not know if these diaries were truely private or intended for publication, so I have no clue in how far they were edited later and how trustworthy they are as a source.

We start off in mid-March. Eugène is still holding the Mincio line for Napoleon. Murat has received the ratification of his treaty with Austria but is still on awful terms with Austrian Field Marshal Bellegarde – and with Bentinck [»Lord William«, as Wilson writes], of course.

March 15th – As I am of the species of anecdote collectors, I must note a speech of Beauharnois at Verona, which has made an impression in his favour, although it is not sufficiently towering for a hero's last struggle and would rather suit a sixth than a fifth Henry:

"Pour moi, je suis monté par un escalier si bas que je ne me ferai pas du mal en descendant. Je n'aurai que du chagrin pour ma femme, née et elevée princesse."

In English: "As for me, I have climbed a staircase from so low that I shall not harm myself on the way down. I will only grieve for my wife, born and bred a princess." That was Eugène’s usual attitude. Auguste did the same, in reverse: Of course she never wanted that crown of Italy for herself. But her Eugène (best of husbands™) deserved it so much more than anyone else in Napoleon’s family!

There are many others recorded equally meek; and this humility of spirit, combined with other good qualities and his present martial and military conduct, excites great interest in his favour.[...]

Yesterday, Colonel Cattanelli arrived and brought me advice that Lord William and Murat were at Reggio, contending for and against the British occupation of Tuscany. [...]

March 20th - We have no further advices from Reggio, but are most anxious to know the result of Murat's and Lord William's final conference.

Cattanelli tells me that Murat said to him: "Whereever I am in all the great battles, I have seen General Wilson. He is certainly one of the most distinguished officers, and if it had not been for him, we should in various instances in Russia have got through much better. He has done us infinite harm, but it is a fatality that he should always be opposed to me." He then continued his remarks, observing that I was an enemy to him, his family, the French nation etc. Cattanelli told him that he had heard me extol his military conduct, which pleased him much.

The fact is that I have not written a line or given an opinion under the influence of personal feeling. I have not shown the smallest prejudice in conversation or official correspondence, although I consider Murat's conduct as very dishonourable with reference to his benefactor. I have always said that the Allies did not give his renegade zeal fair trial, and that our present propositions are inadmissable by a King of Naples having only an armistice with England.

There is a reason, why, personally, I would wish to serve Murat. He now knows it, and will be satisfied that at all events I respect myself too much to wrong him.

March 29th, Bologna. - In consequence of the difficulties which existed and seemed to increase, I was requested by Lord William to negotiate with Murat. Constant to the principle of promoting public utility, I acquiesced, but I felt much personal reluctance. […]

At midday I went with Lord William, and was introduced to Murat. He received me very amicably; and we had more than an hour's very interesting conversation on past military events, particularly those relating to the Russian campaign; and I acquired some valuable information on that subject. Murat's dress was singular. Hair curled in Roman coiffure—two ringlets, or what, à la Parisienne, are styled “pensées”, dependent on each shoulder. Blue uniform coat, red pantaloons, yellow shoes, with spurs; sword, with three pictures in the handle. His countenance martial, his manners soft, his conversation easy and intelligent. I reserve further opinion until I have transacted business with his Majesty.

30th. — I dined with the Duke di Gallo - a handsome entertainment and a well-chosen party. In the evening went to the opera. Murat was seated as a Sultan -- princes and dukes all standing behind his throne-chair. He is by far the best actor that has appeared in the royalty theatre. This morning Lord William is gone to have an interview with the Pope. I am left to negotiate. I find myself much like the Allies in France—without any base for operations, line of communication uncertain, various interests clashing, and no unity of direction. [...]

April 1st. —On the evening of the 29th, at half-past six, I was at the dinner-table with Murat. The banquet was according to all the rules of perfect gastronomy. The master's manners were very gracious. It was impossible for Lord Chesterfield to have done the honours better. A certain high personage in England would, I am sure, ever feel a little jealous of his kingly courtesies. There was somewhat more of ceremony in the arrangement of the table than I ever witnessed before in royal fêtes. Murat occupied one whole side himself. Three persons sat opposite, and two at each end. With the exception of this distinction, there was no extraordinary attention paid to him, and the conversation was as general, fluent, and free as in private society. After dinner was over we remained talking till near eleven o'clock. I fought with his Majesty all the battles over again which we had witnessed together. He was exceedingly interesting, very candid, and by no means a Gascon for himself or his brethren in arms. I profited by this opportunity again to acquire information on various subjects which he was best qualified to give, and which may tend to make a posthumous memorandum of the late campaigns more valuable. […]

3rd. - I, yesterday, had a very long audience of Murat, and received his ultimatum on the subject of Lord William's demands. I begged, however, to have the statement in writing, and Murat promises to give it under his own hand. I think his case a good one. In foro conscientiæ he is justified. He has had much reason to feel mistrust and suspect hostile intentions under the pretext of peace. […]

Wilson actually lists up a whole bunch of reasons why Murat was justified both to mistrust the Allies and to break away from Napoleon, including Napoleon's intended takeover of Naples. So, in comparison with what he wrote on March 20, his opinion of Murat seems to have improved much by the end, on meeting him personally and on hearing his side of the story.

I skip over some stuff: The Allies and a bit later the Italians receive the news of Napoleon's abdication, which leads to a first military convention between Eugène and Bellegarde. Then we get the anti-French riots in Milan as soon as the senate tries to install Eugène as king of Lombardy, Pina gets tortured to death. That’s the point when Eugène quits the game.

25th. —Events have streamed so rapidly that I cannot attempt to note their progress. Yesterday, Marshal Beauharnois agreed to surrender the kingdom of Italy. The insurrection at Milan and the intelligence of Buonaparte's cession of the iron crown, with other circumstances, determined that measure.

I have, in my despatch to Lord Castlereagh, rendered justice to his conduct as an administrator, a general, and a man.

I passed the whole of yesterday evening with Beauharnois and in Mantua, and enjoyed very interesting conversation on all subjects. He treated me with a confidence that very few friends could experience from a person in his situation, and earnestly begged that I would see him again to pursue our discourses. There is unquestionably great satisfaction in a reception which gives proof of previous good repute, and shows the existence of unlimited credit on the heart's stores. [...]

Well, if I may suggest – don’t flatter yourself too much. That has, I fear, a lot to do with Eugène and rather little with you. (And btw, Eugène was not a marshal!)

The dinner was a most agreeable part of the day's entertainment, not only because we did not sit down till 7 o'clock in the evening, which is a great extension beyond 2 o 'clock, but because the society was very select, there not being more than eight, including three ladies appertaining to the Princess whose presence embellished the company. The Princess was herself not visible, having been confined only eight days, but they say she is very handsome. Her children, four of whom I saw, are of the best appearance and manners.

Beauharnois asked much after the Duke and Duchess of Bedford.

And that’s because he kinda knew the duchess pretty well before she became the duchess, during the peace of Amiens, when all the Brits crowded Paris. (There had even been talk about marriage but in the end either First Consul Bonaparte or the Duchess of Gordon decided against it.)

He is altered, but has a great resemblance to Moreau, and is as plain as Murat is gaudy in his dress. He is, in my opinion, just the man to suit some good Englishmen of my acquaintance.

Something makes me think he does not intend this to be a compliment 😉.

27th. — Yesterday, Beauharnois and his Princess arrived here. The preceding day there was much reason to fear that there might be obstacles to his departure, as the Italian generals, etc, were greatly displeased with the second convention which surrendered the capital and the fortresses without any arrangement made for them, according to the express stipulation of the first convention to that effect. I think, however, that Beauharnois does right; especially as Berthier desired him to withdraw, and the people had commenced a senseless and what threatened to be a very sanguinary insurrection, only to be repressed in its first outbreak by the presence of an Austrian force. [...]

The Princess, although only brought to bed twelve days, bore the journey very well; but Assalini tells me that she is very delicate, and that he fears the more for her as her mother died after child-birth. I have just sent her a bottle of Tokay from the cellar of John Sobieski. It was given me when I was in Warsaw, and I have carried it about intact on the presumption that I might one day apply the nectar to a better purpose than the gratification of my own palate. If I have not, as I hope, combined the “ utile dulci,” I have at least combined in this instance the “decorum dulci,” and this is more in character.

28th - Yesterday, Beauharnois showed me a letter from his sister, the Queen of Holland. It was full of anecdote about Buonaparte, the Empresses, etc, and proved that she possessed much good sense and good feeling. One of her remarks was—“Fatality determined that no experience, no counsel, not even the Emperor's own intelligent mind should discover the bandage which it had bound over his eyes. The perception of the heart was wanting, and great geniuses rarely possess it. He has been abandoned almost by all. Rustan (the Mameluke) is even about to quit, and when I saw the Empress Louisa the other day, she had not more than one valet-à-pied in her service. She came to the advanced posts to embrace her father before she followed her husband, but it is now said that she will not be allowed to go after him. It is true that he was not latterly kind to you, but I am sure you will remark only his benefactions at this time.” The tears started in the eyes of Beauharnois as he read.

May 1st. - I dined on the 29th with the Prince Eugène, the Princess and three ladies of her court; no other persons present. A conversation of five hours enabled me to travel over much matter, but without exhausting our subjects. I had every reason to be pleased with the Prince, and to be assured that we did not separate without a mutual wish to meet again. He was very anxious that I should be at Paris when he was there, but as I hate traitors and cowards - however beneficial their treason and baseness — I shall not sojourn in that city. I would rather be Buonaparte, to have written his last bulletin, than any one of the yet prosperous renegades.

So, to sum up: Murat fascinating but hard to assess, Eugène plain boring. No surprises there.

#joachim murat #eugene beauharnais #eugene de beauharnais #napoleon #italy1814 #sir robert wilson #abdication #trust in whoever meets murat to describe his outfit in detail #napoleon's marshals - not!

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it.

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’.

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'.

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there.

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else.

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice.

When he left us, everyone did.

---- ---- ---- ----

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now.

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip.

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train.

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London.

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members.

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't.

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father.

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.”

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly.

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me.

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?”

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.”

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely.

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could.

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.”

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes.

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule. In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony.

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister.

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all.

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

---- ---- ---- ----

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features.

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by.

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying.

---- ---- ---- ----

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall.

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony.

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats.

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly.

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine.

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do.

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father.

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks.

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other.

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips.

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control.

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly.

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his.

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards, as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead.

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said.

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?”

“I do, sir.”

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked.

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible.

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]

#prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryff #royalfanficcollection #princeharryfanfiction #princeharryfanfic #brf #fanfic #fanfiction #modern royalty fanfic #chapters #modern royalty au #im so excited about this story #but also like #really nervous #i missed this

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nala-raines · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 3 The Telling: Our Friends

Pairing: Adrian Raines x Nala August (MC)

Summary: Adrian and Nala have land back home, but some unexpected guests show up.

Author’s note: I’m pretty sure that every chapter of this is going to be long. But please enjoy.

After we landed in New York, we got in his car to head to his pentho… our penthouse. A week after Lily died, I decided to find somewhere else to live, and Adrian asked me to move in with him.

To be honest, this was one of the fights I have with my parents and sister. I never saw myself moving in with a boyfriend, but after everything that happened I had tried living alone in a different apartment and decided that it wasn’t a good idea. Being completely alone in an apartment, I spent two days alone, and on the second night, I packed a bag and went to Adrian’s, and asked if it was still okay if I lived with him. He just wrapped his arms around me and told me that ‘Of course you can stay here, for as long as you want’. When I was alone, I couldn’t help but think about Lily and the relatives I’ve lost over the years, with her death so fresh, all of those old feelings just kept coming back. Sometimes I don't know whether I should call and talk to my friends or wait until I see them. I told Adrian what I was thinking and feeling and he said that I would have his full support, no matter what I decided. I knew that it was better for me to be with him, so I moved into his penthouse.

I felt better on the first night of officially living together. Even after a hard day, he would be right there listening to how I was feeling. Despite how my parents feel about it, I made the right choice. Adrian is kind, loyal, honest, and respectful, if I don’t want to do something, then we won’t do it. I prefer snuggling and cuddling to other activities, and Adrian understands and respects that I wanted to wait. So, most nights, we usually wind up cuddling or snuggling in bed and fall asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms.

As we pull up to Raines Corp. Adrian drops me off at the front doors to the building saying “You head up and relax. I know you get severe jet lag and vertigo sometimes after long plane rides. And don’t worry I’ll get the bags.”

I give him a loving but annoyed look. I open my door, but before I close it, I run to the back of the car and open the trunk before he could pull away. I grap one of my bags, close the trunk, and run to shut my door, but before I close it, I tell him, “I know you're trying to be gentleman, but I think I can handle my purse and this one bag.” I give him a quick smile, shut the door before he can say anything, and run up to the penthouse.

‘Home.’ I take a moment to look out the window, overlooking the city where I found the love of my life, my best friends, and the place I was meant to be. After that, I turn and head to our bedroom. Normally I’m fine with Adrian bringing all of the bags up, but I found something while in Paris, a surprise for Adrian on our wedding night. There is no way I’m letting him see this beforehand. The package with the surprise in it is small enough to fit in my box filled mementos from when Lily first helped me navigate Manhattan, he knows I have it, but neither of us open it up. The memories still feel too fresh, he won’t find it in there. I quickly remove the lid and place the package inside trying not to look at anything else.

Suddenly, I hear the elevator arrive at our floor, I quickly put the lid back on the box, and return the box to its proper place, stand up, and begin removing the rest of the bag's contents, just as Adrian walks through the bedroom door. He drops the bags he’s carrying, walks over to me, wraps his arms around my waist, and places a kiss on the top of my head. “How are you feeling? Are you dizzy, or lightheaded?” He asks me.

“No I feel fine. I think we should invite our friends over. I know you didn’t tell Kamilah where we went, and I don’t want her to come here alone so she can kill us.”

He chuckles against my head.”She wouldn’t kill us. But I think we should wait until tomorrow before we tell anyone. So, you can rest, just in case.”

“If you say so.” I tell him, chuckling a little. I lean back into his chest as he kisses my cheek. I take a deep breath, happy and content, I feel safe in his arms. I turn in his arms to kiss him sweetly… but before our lips meet, I somehow manage to slip. Adrian didn’t have time to fix his footing as I cause us to both fall on our bed.

“Woah.” We say in unison, as he lands on top of me. We pause for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, before I start laughing, he follows soon after.

We stay like this for a while, him on top of me. His chest pressed to mine, I feel his heartbeat, beating in unison with my own. After a few minutes, our eyes meet once again. Adrian pushes himself up just enough to cup my cheek in his warm hand. I nuzzle into his hand, closing my eyes to savor the moment, and when I open them again, Adrian is staring at me, his eyes filled with love and adoration. He leans in and gives me several long, sweet, loving kisses. It’s funny, he may be a third generation vampire, but he is the strongest man on Earth. I’ve seen him tear out veins, arteries, and hearts of people, punch holes through metal walls, but 97% of the time, when he’s with me, he’s soft, gentle, and kind. He moved to kiss my cheek, jaw, and throat. Still gentle, as he comes back to my lips for another kiss, before saying, “I’ll let Kamilah know we’re back tonight, but we can invite them over to tell them tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. We’ll tell them tomorrow.” I say before our lips met again. The only thing either of us see, hear, or feel is each other.

Until…

“Tell us what, tomorrow?” Someone says from the doorway, sounding very agitated and angry. Both of our heads snap toward the voice, it was Kamilah. She, Gauis, and Jax are standing there, staring at us. Adrian stands up first, then he helps me to my feet. We’re both staring surprised, neither of us have told them we were back.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask confused. “I didn’t text or call telling anyone that we were back yet. Adrian did you…?” Adrian simply shook his and was about say something before Kamilah snapped,

“I asked security to alert me when you returned. Now, where have the two of you been?!” She looked Adrian dead in the eye. I’ve seen that look before, I knew this was gonna be bad. “You're in the middle of a campaign, Adrian! Why in the world did you think it was a good idea to leave and not tell us where you were going?!” She’s yelling now. Gaius and Jax don’t look too happy either.

“After everything that’s happened, after everything we’ve been through, you two thought that the best thing to do, is leave for a week and not tell us where you went?!” Jax sounds almost as pissed as Kamilah. The two of them continue yelling at us. Even though I hated it when we’re all fighting each other, I remember Kamilah and Jax taught me to observe people, but my left hand is currently on Adrian’s arm, the lighting making my engagement ring sparkle, and the three of them haven't noticed it yet. I’m not letting them forget this.

“Look!” Adrian said clear, stern, and startling. Kamilah or Jax may have said something along the lines of, “Nala put you up to this, didn’t she?!” He hates it when people say stuff like that. I just spaced out and missed it, but Adrian continued, “It was MY idea to go to Paris. If I get elected, I’ll be in D.C. most of the time. I will have to buy a house or apartment, so I thought it would be a good idea for us to have a small relaxing vacation, before our lives get turned upside-down again.” We had several conversations about what would happen if he got elected, every last conversation ended with us staying together.

That’s when I noticed, I’m lightheaded, the vertigo and jet lag must’ve just set in. Thankfully, I’m still holding on to Adrian’s arm, my ring still in view, but I look around and realize Gaius is staring at Adrian and I, he knows something is different but can’t place it. A three-thousand year-old vampire hasn’t noticed the huge diamond ring on my left hand. When it’s in full view. I’m never going to let him, or any of them live this down.

“Nala are you okay?” Adrian asks me. He must have noticed that I’m holding onto him tighter. He’s always been able to tell if something is wrong, or if I make the slightest change with what I’m doing. Before he lets me answer, he sits me on the edge of the bed, I noticed that my lightheadedness had gotten worse. I was happy he kept one hand on my cheek, his other hand on my waist. I nuzzle into his hand that’s on my cheek. And take a quick glance at our friends, they each have a worried look on their faces, it’s like they finally noticed that something was off with me.

I turn to look back at Adrian to answer, “The vertigo and jet lag is catching up to me. It’ll pass, I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.” I give him a small, loving smile; then a quick kiss. Which nearly causes me to fall off the bed. Thankfully, Adrian catches me easily. I look up at him and the room starts spinning. “Although, it’s a lot worse than normal.”

Adrian's eyes are filled with concern, “Maybe you should lay down and rest? You’ve had a long trip.” His voice matching the concern in his eyes. I just respond with a nod, and he moves my suitcase and clothes from the bed, then moves the covers. He carefully removes my shoes and helps me lay down.

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” Jax asks, realizing something is wrong.

“I’ll be fine.” I tell him. “This happens sometimes after I get off a plane.”

“Since when?” Kamilah asks, skeptical of what I told them.

“Since always.” I tell her, “Ever since my first plane ride when I first came to New York. And yes, this happened when we went to Las Vegas, Paris, Prague, New York, Tokyo, and every other plane ride I’ve been on.”

“Why is this the first we’re hearing about this?” Gaius asks, curious. He knows that I am still grieving Lily, and he didn’t feel like it was his place to pry that much. Especially since we don’t really know each other, yet. And the fact the first time we met he was trying to kill us.

“It’s never been bad enough where I couldn’t, power through it. And since every plane trip we took we were trying to save the world, me feeling dizzy and lightheaded seemed like the least of our worries.” I tell everyone. “And besides, it usually passes after a few hours.” I added.

I hear Adrian sigh, he knows that I love and trust him with my life… but he hates it when I think my problems aren’t important. He pulls the blankets up, leans down and places a tender kiss to my forehead and cheek, then says, “She just needs to rest. She’ll be back to normal.” He says gently stroking my cheek, as he gives me the most loving look.

“Wait! Neither of you told us what you were going to tell us tomorrow! So what was it?” Says Jax.

“It can wait. We’ll tell you when Nala wakes up. If she feels up for it.” Adrian says. He has always put me and my needs first. Everyone knows Kamilah and Jax are both incredibly stubborn, but Adrian is far more stubborn than the both of them combined. Especially when it comes to something important to him.

I start to feel myself grow tired. I move my hand from under the covers placing my hand over his. That’s when someone finally notices what’s different and it’s not who I thought would notice my ring first.

“Where did you get that diamond ring?” Gaius noticed the ring first. Kamilah and Jax have known me the longest, they knew that I wore a small heart gem heart ring on my middle finger, on my left hand. But they didn’t notice that I wasn’t wearing it. Instead of that small ring, I’m wearing a big, bright, shiny diamond ring, and Gaius noticed it first. Jax and Kamilah are not living this down. Adrian and I share a look, and we both share big, loving smiles as we recall the night I promised to become his wife, and he promised to become my husband.

“Adrian gave it to me… ” I tell them.

“While we were in Paris.” Adrian finishes my sentence. That’s just how well he knows me. We look at the others, as they share confused and shocked looks. Adrian and I chuckle, he takes my right hand in his, kisses my knuckles, before standing to face our friends.

“Adrian, why did you give Nala a diamond ring?” Asks Kamilah, she seems to be both hopeful, nervous, and a bit shocked, all the while she has a very surprised and shocked look on her face.

“Is it like a promise ring? Jax asks. Everyone knew I was worried about what would happen if Adrian won the election. I knew that we would make it work, but the fear of losing him still scared the crap out of me. Jax actually told Adrian about a promise ring and what they can stand for. He thought it might calm me down about the idea of Adrian staying in D.C. most of the time. He told him that, “Instead of a promise to get married, it could mean that ‘you’ll always be there for her’ or ‘you want to stay with her no matter what’ basically just saying you’ll both be together, with some wiggle room.

Adrian turns to look back at me, rubbing my knuckles, his smile is getting wider and sweeter, and says, “Yes of sorts. But I plan on making a bigger promise sometime in… Say around December 25.” I had mentioned that I liked the idea of a December wedding. The sun wasn’t out as much, we could have mistletoe in random spots at the reception, and we could spend our honeymoon in Washington D.C. Although I like Adrian’s surprises. And Adrian had asked me to let him pick the honeymoon destination. Adrian loves surprising me, and I didn’t care where we were as long as we were together. So I told him it was fine by me.

I’m fairly certain that Kamilah had thought that we may be engaged, but thought she was wrong. Jax and Gaius both look very confused. Gaius just asks, “What promise did you make when you gave Nala that ring, Adrian?”

I’m about to fall asleep, but still look up at Adrian and give him a small, sweet smile and answer, “He promised to become my husband.” With that said I close my eyes to sleep, but I feel Adrian bend down, kiss my forehead, and tell me, “I’ll handle the questions. Just rest. Sweet dreams, My Love” My dreams are sweet. I dream of him holding me close, as we dance together, our first dance, as husband and wife.

#adrian raines #bloodbound #bloodbound 4 #adrian raines x mc

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feralnumberfive · 4 years ago

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I expect no one to read this at all. It’s more of a way to get some feelings off of my chest. This is a look into my personal life and what I went through in 2020. I cried quite a bit while writing this, haha.

My farewell letter to 2020:

To you 2020, the year that shook the world. You’re certainly one to go down in the record books. You changed my life as you did to everyone. To you, the month of March. I had hit the lowest part in my life since the shock of my parent's divorce 11 years ago. My beloved cat had died in October of 2019, a few days short of our one year anniversary of fostering him, which soon turned into us adopting him. It was sudden and unexpected. I still can remember clear as day that horrid call I got from my sister from the vet. “Hey, we need you to come up here. It’s kidney failure.” As she spoke through her tears, I instantly began to cry. I had felt sad for months after that.

In December of 2019, the adoptive dad of one of my closest friends committed suicide. She was torn apart, having had three people she knew died earlier that year. I stood by her side and watched her cry. We colored together in the counseling room, making small talk and doing anything I could to comfort her.

From late February into March, another one of my closest friends revealed to me a traumatic experience she went through. She had been raped by a classmate of mine, one who I considered to be good acquaintances. She was a grade younger than me, and was practically completely dependent on me and my friend, as she was too scared to tell her parents. She eventually completely relied on my friend as I became shoved out of the problem. Her story and the amount of support required from her, which she never gave back to me throughout our friendship, made me realize at that moment I had hit rock bottom. I was tired and so sick of it all. This sentence that I'm about to say is one I've never admitted to anyone: I didn't want to be around anymore, or at least alive. I needed somewhere to escape. I didn't want to commit suicide due to expectations I held upon myself. I was also too scared to commit suicide.

I finally admitted I needed help, which was scary for me to do. In March of you, 2020, I was diagnosed with situational depression. I was soon put on an anti-depressant. It felt good to put a name on it, but little did I know I would pay the price for my relief. Preparing to go off to college, I needed to get a First Class Medical Certificate in order to apply to the flight program at the colloege I wanted to go to. I went and got my FAA Medical Certificate done, ticking off the boxes on my journey to fulfill my life long dream of becoming a pilot.

Spring Break came and after watching schools around me close, it was announced that we wouldn't be returning until mid April, and then the end of April, then until May. I quickly realized it wasn't possible to return and that unbeknownst to me I had already spent the last days of my Senior year at school in March. A frantic question was suddenly formed amongst my classmates and soon the world: Will the class of 2020 graduate? I, being burnt out, didn't care what would happen to me or my class. We soon became a laughing stock and a sight to pity around the world. Class of 2020, Corona Class, The Class that would be telling this story to their kids. It didn't matter to me. As I held up the “Class of 2020″ shirt my uncle got me with the zeros as tp rolls, I sighed. I just wanted to graduate without getting laughed at. Spoiler Alert: That didn't happen.

Around this time I ended my friendship with the girl who I cherished but didn't cherish me back. I still to this day can’t exactly understand why I did that. I blocked her and left without saying goodbye. That wasn’t the right thing to do at all. She had been raped and needed support, but here I was leaving her. She always needed and wanted my support but never gave it back. It was always “Aw you have a problem? Here, let’s try this minimal effort plan to help you. That didn’t work? Oh well, let’s get back to me.” This is no excuse at all for my actions of cutting her off. I really still don’t know why I did this. I had hung out with her everyday in the summer of 2019. Here I was, easily letting her go. Jackie, I’m so sorry. I hope you are doing well and get into ISU to follow your dreams of being an engineer.

In May I received news that still hurts and effects me to this day. I had been denied my Medical Certificate. It wasn't due to me being on an antidepressant, is was due to the fact that I was depressed. This was soul crushing news, but there was still a chance I could reapply for the Medical Certificate if I jumped through multiple hoops. May also provided the announcement that my safe haven in Oshkosh, Wisconsin wouldn't be happening this year. It was definitely understandable due to the virus, but still very saddening to me. It’s really the only thing I look forward to each year, but I understood and agreed on why it was canceled for 2020.

In June I got the news that a beloved teacher of my family and I passed away due to a heart attack and complications of Addison’s Disease. She was the best math teacher I had ever had, and the best in my High School. Math is my worst subject, but she never made me feel stupid like the other math teachers. She always made sure I understood what I was doing. Sometimes when she didn’t feel like having class she would have a free day. She would gossip with my classmates and tell us stories of her youth. Sometimes though she would give us free days due to having intense migraines that sometimes hospitalized her due to her disease. It wasn’t fun to see her like that.

In June she was hospitalized where even her husband and two kids weren’t allowed in to see her. The only person allowed into her before she died was her twin brother. The family decided to have a public funeral, with tons of people in the community and school district socially distancing and wearing masks to pay their respect. I began to cry as I listened to her husband tell everyone that he wasn't ready and was so scared to be a single parent. Their children were both under ten, and were now motherless. Mrs. Johnson it was so hard saying goodbye to you. I loved you so much, and I still do. You gave my friend who had lost her dad food and comfort. You did so much not only for my family and I, but for everyone in the community and school district. I miss you so much.

Hot days came with hazy skies. Everyday I checked the wildfire smoke map as I watched the sun turn bright pink as the sun became a blazing red when the sun went down. For weeks our sky looked hazy. Some days looked cloudy, but it was actually smoke. As someone who lives the Midwest, this was quite surprising.

In August I experienced something that will forever be remembered by me and everyone who lives in my state. A Derecho tore through and ravaged my hometown and the state that I dearly love. We watched through the window as trees snapped in half and branches and leaves whirled around everywhere. We watched through the window as water roared down the road, appearing as if a stream had started right next to us. We watched in fear as shingles were torn off and large items were blown through our yard. As the electricity flickered out, we wondered if we would be crushed by either tree that were on two sides of our house. Wet leaves were torn apart and slammed into our window, where they stayed there for a month afterwards. They looked like confetti, torn into thousands of tiny pieces.

To the branches and trees I still see today in the neighboring towns and cities, broken reminders of the damage done. To you, the metal grain bins that still sit out in the flattened cornfields. Our once tall and proud cornfields that are a proud symbol of my state were now flattened to the ground, completely parallel to the rich farming soil that it stood in. Painting the countryside in flat waves of green with splotches of silver from grain bins and white from barns and houses damaged. Our proud stalks became damaged goods that costed us billions. To the buildings that still show their battle scars from months ago, the houses with the tarps on their roofs and the old wooden barns that couldn't handle the 140 mph. To you, Donald J, Trump, the President of the United States who was supposed to tour Cedar Rapids to exam the damage that still lies there today. You stayed in the airport and immediately left after getting your business done. You didn't care about us, you were there to do business and leave to start your campaigning.

My small town was able to clean up within a month or so, but even still TODAY the bigger cities are littered with damage. There are tree trunks and branches scattered along roads. Thousands of houses still have tarps on their houses and siding missing.

In August my grandma was also diagnosed with Dementia. I've watched her deteriorate over the past few months. Every time we call she forgets that I’m not in school. Sometimes she forgets my name. When we tell her we’re on our way to visit outside her window, she forgets within 10 minutes. Grandma, I hope you never forget that I love you.

In September I finally met with a therapist. I am so thankful to be working with her. After months of my family getting angry and upset at me for being scared to go to the store, my therapist diagnosed me with Social Anxiety. I was so relieved to be diagnosed with it and to be working out the issues I have with my therapist. We work together weekly to help me become a better and more comfortable version of myself.

Over the summer months the health of my already diseased cat took a steep decline. She was my cat, and I felt powerless as I slowly watched her die. She could no longer stay inside due to her having constant accidents. As we made our plan to take her to the vet to give her a peaceful death, I received a heartbreaking call from my mother on a cold September night. My little Jill had passed away in her sleep on our porch. I came over to say goodbye to my baby as I pet her cold fur one last time. I love you my little Jilly Bean and I miss you everyday. I miss and love you so so so much.

September also brought the news that a precious B-25 had a crash landing. It always hurts to hear about a Warbird crashing or getting damaged. I was happy to hear though that they were going to fix it back to airworthiness.

In October I had to make a difficult decision with the FAA. Do I try to visit four different doctors for phycological examinations in order to complete my Medical Certificate or do I wait to get off my medicine and start feeling better on my own? I opted for the second part due to the decline of visiting all of those doctors coming up in November. We had been given that option early in the year, but Covid prevented us from traveling out of state to see those doctors. I sent a letter to the FAA to let them know what I was doing. I received a letter about a month ago that stated that I still needed to visit those doctors or something like that. I honestly didn’t look through it that well because it’s just such a pain in the butt.

Another thing about you 2020 is that you provided me with he opportunity to meet amazing people. I began to watch The Umbrella Academy in September, but I decided to make my account on October 1st. I’ve met tons of funny and talented people on here. The show itself had provided me tons of comfort. It has given me the courage to start writing fanfiction for it along with starting back up on drawing fanart

The end of 2020 has slowed down for me. One of my aviation heroes died this year, Mr. Chuck Yeager. It was heartbreaking for me to hear that. One of the worst days for me was ironically on my birthday in December. I felt really bitter and down and just wanted to sit in my room, but I didn’t. I don’t like celebrating my birthday anymore. As I get older it feels less and less special and in turn I feel sad about it. Another reason why is that I don’t like having a fuss made about it. I don’t like the attention from it haha. It’s okay though because even though this year I felt upset I eventually felt a bit happier as it turned to night.

This year I witnessed history being made. Let me be clear that history is made every year, but this year was very eventful. I witnessed innocent black lives being slaughtered by the very people who are sworn to protect everyone. It’s so disappointing and soul crushing to see all of this. I don’t know if I’ve made it clear on here, but I strongly stand with the BLM movement. I may not understand what they haven been going through for decades, but I stand with them to make things right. Black Lives Matter, not All Lives. All Lives only matter when it’s actually true and Black Lives are included. If you saw a house on fire in an entire block of houses, you wouldn’t say “All Houses Matter!” No they don’t, that house on fire matters. Black Lives Fucking Matter, and All Cops Are Bastards.

To you, the Pledge of Allegiance. Everyday in elementary school I proudly held my right hand over my heart as I stared up at Old Glory and recited you. This year helped me realize that “With liberty and justice for all.” is total bullshit. The only thing I truly appreciate about my country now is the scenery and nature it provides.

To you 2020, as I finish writing this letter on December 31st. You’ve made me cry a lot, including right now. You’ve deeply effected my life and brought me lots of sorrow. Despite all of this, I don't feel upset about you. Yes, you gave me some events that will always haunt me but that’s okay. 2020 even though you’ve hurt me, you’ve also shaped me. Yes, you also made my lose faith in my country and humanity, but I can only hope for the best. You’ve pushed me to become a better version of myself.

So to you 2020, you’ve been a hell of a year. I’ve hated and loved you, but mostly hated you. I went through some shit, but others have gone through worse this year. To those of you who have had a very hard time this year, I love you. I sincerely hope things get better for you. Friend or stranger, you can always rely on me as someone to talk to, to rant or vent to, and to cry to. This year was excruciating, but don’t give up. It has ended and a new year has begun. Sure 2021 may also be bad and we’re all exhausted from 2020, but let’s fight till the end.

#sorry if there are any mistakes in here #I was emotional and listening to music #which always messes up my writing #I love you all #and to myself I hope 2021 will be better #2020 #new year's eve #fuck 2020 #2021 here we come #personal

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sciencespies · 4 years ago

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The Top Ten Online Exhibitions of 2020

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-top-ten-online-exhibitions-of-2020/

The Top Ten Online Exhibitions of 2020

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Dec. 31, 2020, 10:48 a.m.

In recent years, curators and educators have increasingly started exploring the many possibilities offered by virtual exhibitions. Hundreds of institutions have made 3-D tours of their galleries available online through Google Arts & Culture and similar platforms, allowing visitors from around the world to virtually “wander” through the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, Frida Kahlo’s Casa Azul in Mexico City, the Tokyo National Museum and other significant sites.

But when the Covid-19 pandemic forced museums to shutter for most of 2020, public interest in virtual art experiences skyrocketed like never before. Closed to the public and financially strained, many museums nevertheless managed to create thought-provoking alternatives to in-person viewing.

Digital offerings in the United States ranged from the Morgan Library & Museum’s interactive retrospective of Al Taylor’s drawings to the Museum of Modern Art’s (MoMA) “Virtual Views” of Surrealist women. Abroad, exhibitions such as the Rijksmuseum’s interactive version of a Rembrandt masterpiece offered viewers a chance to literally “zoom in” on a single piece of art—and perhaps notice new details that would’ve otherwise gone unnoticed. In London, meanwhile, Tate Modern adapted its “Andy Warhol” show by creating a curator-led tour that takes users through the exhibition room by room.

The Smithsonian Institution also made impressive forays into the world of online exhibitions. A beautifully illustrated portal created by the National Museum of American History and the Smithsonian American Women’s History Initiative examined how girls have shaped history, while a landmark show at the Smithsonian American Art Museum spotlighted Chicano activists’ pioneering printmaking. At the National Museum of Natural History, curators catered to science enthusiasts with narrated virtual tours of various exhibits and halls; at the National Air and Space Museum, aviation experts produced panoramic views of famed aircraft’s interiors. Other highlights included the National Museum of Asian Art’s virtual reality tour of six iconic monuments from across the Arab world, the Cooper Hewitt’s walkthrough of “Contemporary Muslim Fashions,” and the National Museum of African American History and Culture’s exploration of black soldiers’ experiences during World War I. (For a more complete list of offerings, visit the Smithsonian’s online exhibitions portal.)

To mark the end of an unprecedented year, Smithsonian magazine is highlighting some of the most innovative ways in which museums helped craft meaningful virtual encounters with history and art. From first ladies to women writers and Mexican muralists, these were ten of our favorite online exhibitions of 2020.

“Every Eye Is Upon Me: First Ladies of the United States”

The Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery (Washington, D.C.)

Click this image to view the online exhibition. Depicted clockwise from top left: Mamie Eisenhower, Lady Bird Johnson, Grace Coolidge, Nancy Reagan, Dolley Madison, Abigail Fillmore, Frances Cleveland and Sarah Polk.

(Illustration by Meilan Solly / Photographs via NPG)

Visitors to the National Portrait Gallery’s presidential wing have long called for an exhibition devoted to the U.S.’ first ladies. But as Alicia Ault points out for Smithsonian, these women haven’t always been recognized as important individuals in their own right—a fact reflected in the relative dearth of portraiture depicting them. The gallery itself only began commissioning official portraits of the first ladies in 2006.

“Every Eye Is Upon Me: First Ladies of the United States” seeks to redress this imbalance by presenting 60 portraits—including photographs, drawings, silhouettes, paintings and sculptures—of American presidents’ wives. Though the physical exhibition is currently closed due to the Covid-19 pandemic, would-be visitors can explore a virtual version featuring high-resolution images of first ladies from Martha Washington to Melania Trump, as well as brief biographies, podcasts and blog posts. The portraits are as “varied as the women themselves,” who all responded to the unique challenges and pressures of their office in different ways, writes Ault.

Inspiration for the exhibition’s title comes from Julia Gardiner, who was the first woman to marry a president in office. Born into a wealthy Long Island slaveholding family, Gardiner was just 24 years old when she wed John Tyler in 1844. As Gardiner prepared to take on the high-profile role, she wrote in a letter to her mother that she knew she would be scrutinized: “I very well know every eye is upon me, my dear mother, and I will behave accordingly.”

“Jacob Lawrence: The American Struggle”

Peabody Essex Museum (Salem, Massachusetts)

One of black history’s preeminent visual storytellers, Jacob Lawrence employed Modernist forms and bright colors to narrate the American experience through the eyes of the country’s most marginalized citizens. This year, the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts, reunited one of Lawrence’s most groundbreaking series—Struggle: From the History of the American People (1954–56)—for the first time in 60 years.

In 30 hardboard panels, each measuring 12 by 16 inches, Lawrence traces American history from the Revolutionary War to 1817, covering such events as the Boston Tea Party and the nation’s bloody, prolonged campaigns against Native Americans, as Amy Crawford wrote for Smithsonian in June. Virtual visitors can stroll through the exhibition, aptly titled “Jacob Lawrence: The American Struggle,” or zoom in on images of each panel. Entries are accompanied by related artworks and reflections from scholars.

When the show traveled to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, it sparked an exciting reunion. A museum visitor recognized the panels’ distinct Modernist style and realized that her neighbors, a couple living on the Upper West Side, had a similar painting hanging in their living room. Curators determined that the panel, which depicts Shay’s Rebellion, was one of five missing works from the Struggle series. No photographs of the panel had survived, and it had been presumed lost for decades—but as curator Randall Griffey told the New York Times, it turned out to be “just across the park” from the museum.

“Vida Americana: Mexican Muralists Remake American Art, 1925–1945”

Whitney Museum of American Art (New York City)

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When the Mexican Revolution drew to a close in 1920 after ten years of armed struggle, the country was left profoundly changed. But among artists of the post-revolutionary period, a new cultural revolution was just beginning. Over the next several decades, artists like the famed Tres Grandes, or Big Three—José Clemente Orozco, Diego Rivera and David Alfaro Siqueiros—started crafting radical, large-scale works that embraced Mexico’s Indigenous cultures and told epic narratives about the nation’s history.

As “Vida Americana,” an ongoing exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art, argues, these sweeping, dynamic murals also had a major impact on Mexico’s neighbors to the north. As Mexican artists traveled to the U.S. (and vice versa), they taught their peers how to break free of European conventions and create public art that celebrated American history and everyday life. On the show’s well-organized online hub, art lovers can explore short documentaries, audio guides, essays and other resources in both Spanish and English. Click through some of the selected artworks from the show to encounter Rivera’s Detroit Institute of Art masterpiece, a massive 27-mural cycle that offered Americans reeling from the Great Depression a visionary outlook of their country’s future industrial potential, and Siqueiros’ experimental workshop, which directly inspired Jackson Pollock’s Abstract Expressionism.

“Dorothea Lange: Words & Pictures”

The Museum of Modern Art (New York City)

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Recognized today as one of America’s foremost photographers, Dorothea Lange is known for her arresting portraits of the human condition and keen social awareness—qualities perhaps best exemplified by her 1936 image Migrant Mother, which became a de facto symbol of the Great Depression.

But few people know that Lange was also enamored with the written word. As she once said, “All photographs—not only those that are so called ‘documentary’… can be fortified by words.” Lange believed that words could clarify and add context to photographs, thereby strengthening their social impact. In her landmark photobook An American Exodus: A Record of Human Erosion, she became one of the first photographers to incorporate her subject’s own words into her captions, as Smithsonian reported in August.

Through this MoMA exhibition’s online hub, viewers can read selections of Lange’s writing, watch a series of short videos on her work, listen to interviews with curator Sarah Meister, and—of course—take their time studying close-up versions of the artist’s iconic photographs.

“Writing the Future: Basquiat and the Hip-Hop Generation”

Museum of Fine Art, Boston (Boston, Massachusetts)

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Jean-Michel Basquiat is often touted as a singular genius. His large-scale works, which riff on color, phrases and iconography to probe issues of colonialism, racism and celebrity, regularly fetch enormous sums at auction.

But the graffiti artist–turned–painter, who died of a heroin overdose at age 27, didn’t develop his artistic vision in a vacuum: Instead, he was profoundly influenced by a network of peers and close collaborators. “Writing the Future: Basquiat and the Hip-Hop Generation,” which opened at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in October, is the first show to consider the influence of Basquiat’s large circle of mainly black and Latino collaborators, all of whom shaped the painter’s artistic vision in 1980s New York City.

The museum complemented its in-person show with a multimedia-heavy online exhibition, which includes detailed essays, images of works in the show and clips of interviews with the artist. Viewers are encouraged to scour lesser-known artworks from Basquiat’s peers, such as the “Gothic futurist” paintings of Rammellzee and the rebellious murals of Lady Pink, in search of themes and styles that Basquiat echoed in his own work.

“Making the Met, 1870–2020”

Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York City)

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A group of businessmen and civic leaders purchased the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s first work—a marble sarcophagus from ancient Rome—in 1870. Since then, the museum’s collections have become some of the greatest troves of cultural heritage in the world, constituting an encyclopedic range of artifacts that attracts millions of visitors each year.

This year, the Manhattan museum celebrated its 150th birthday by hosting a celebratory exhibition and slate of virtual offerings: Among others, the list of digital resources includes an hour-long audio tour of some of the exhibition’s highlights, as narrated by actor Steve Martin; an interactive online version of the show; and a virtual walkthrough courtesy of Google Arts and Culture. Met officials also made a rare gem available for public viewing: Behind the Scenes: The Working Side of the Museum, a silent 1928 documentary that depicts curators and janitors at work in the iconic New York building.

“The Museum of the World”

The British Museum (London, England)

Click this image to access the interactive timeline.

(Screenshot via British Museum / Google Arts & Culture)

An innovative example of the possibilities of online exhibitions, the British Museum’s “Museum of the World” debuted in February 2020—and it couldn’t have been better timed. Though the museum remained closed to in-person visitors for much of the year, desktop computer users were able to use this interactive timeline to visualize connections between different items in the museum’s vast collections.

On the website, which the museum developed in partnership with Google Arts & Culture, viewers can trace links through time and space, jumping from a handscroll describing courtly behavior of ladies in the Eastern Jin Dynasty of China to the jade plaque of a Maya king. With a slick interface and audio elements, the timeline encourages viewers to take an interactive, self-directed trip through the material culture of human history.

Notably absent from the project is an acknowledgement of the London museum’s colonialist history, which came under renewed scrutiny this summer amid global protests against systemic racism. In August, the cultural institution moved a bust of its founder, who profited from the enslavement of people in Jamaica, to a new display featuring added contextualization. As Aditya Iyer writes for Hyperallergic, the museum recently made a “promising but flawed start [at] grappling with” this legacy by curating a self-guided tour titled “Empire and Collecting.” Available online in an abbreviated format, the tour traces the “different, complex and sometimes controversial journeys of objects” that entered the collections, according to the museum’s website.

“The Night Watch”

The Rijksmuseum (Amsterdam, the Netherlands)

Click this image to access the interactive portal.

(Screenshot via the Rijksmuseum)

In this new hyper-resolution view of Rembrandt van Rijn’s The Night Watch, art lovers can pore over every detail of the Dutch master’s most famous painting—down to every crack and stray paint splatter, as Theresa Machemer wrote for Smithsonian in May. The Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam debuted the interactive version of its prized painting as part of a lengthy restoration process dubbed Operation Night Watch. Last year, experts began restoring the 11- by 15-foot painting in a glass chamber installed in the middle of the museum, offering visitors a rare behind-the-scenes glimpse at the conservation process.

Officially titled Night Watch, Militia Company of District II under the Command of Captain Frans Banninck Cocq, the 1642 painting depicts a captain instructing a cadre of soldiers. In the online guided tour (which comes with options for children and adults), users can zoom in on different aspects of the painting while a soundscape—the swish of a cloak, a horse’s hooves, an eerie melody, a far-off bell—sets the mood. Look for Rembrandt’s signature, his presumed self-portrait lurking in the painting’s background, the striking young girl with a chicken dangling from her belt and other mysterious elements embedded in the action-packed scene.

According to a statement, the image combines 528 exposures into one composite, making it the most detailed rendering of Rembrandt’s masterpiece ever created. The project is a prime example of how online galleries can encourage viewers to engage in repeated, close study of the same piece of art—and proof that they can always discover something new.

“Van Eyck: An Optical Revolution”

Museum of Fine Arts Ghent (Ghent, Belgium)

Click this image to access the virtual experience.

(Screenshot via Museum of Fine Arts Ghent)

Curators and art enthusiasts were crushed when the pandemic forced a blockbuster Jan van Eyck exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts in Ghent to close less than two months after opening. The once-in-a-generation show—titled “Van Eyck: An Optical Revolution”—represented the largest-ever display of van Eyck’s paintings and was “so unlikely to be repeated that the museum might as well use ’now or never,’” as J.S. Marcus wrote for the Wall Street Journal in January.

In response to the unexpected closure, the museum pivoted, partnering with Belgian virtual reality company Poppr to create a 360-degree tour of the gallery with accompanying audio guides for adults and children. Star items featured in the show included Portrait of a Man (Léal Souvenir) and panels from the spectacular Ghent Altarpiece, whose center panel depicts Jesus as a sacrificial lamb on an altar, alive but bleeding from a wound. Prior to the exhibition, the panels had not left their home in St. Bavo’s Cathedral since 1945, as Sophie Haigney reported for the New York Times earlier this year.

Born in 1390 in what is now Belgium, van Eyck created spectacularly detailed oil paintings of religious scenes. As the show’s website notes, only about 20 of the Flemish master’s paintings survive today.

“Wise and Valiant: Women and Writing in the Golden Age of Spain”

Instituto Cervantes (Madrid, Spain)

Click this image to browse the exhibition’s essays and artworks online.

(Screenshot via Instituto Cervantes)

Spain’s Golden Age is perhaps best known for producing Miguel Cervantes’ Don Quixote, El Greco’s eerily elongated portraits and Lope de Vega’s prolific plays. But as the now-closed exhibition “Wise and Valiant�� showed, these individuals and their male peers weren’t the only creative geniuses at work during the 16th and 17th centuries. Though women’s opportunities at the time were largely limited to the domestic and religious spheres, a select few took advantage of the relative intellectual freedom offered by life in a convent to pursue writing professionally.

From Mexican nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz to playwright Ana Caro and nun-turned-soldier Catalina de Erauso, hundreds of women across the Spanish Empire published poetry, diaries, novels, dramatic works and travelogues. Though many of these works have since been lost or forgotten, scholars are increasingly taking steps to recover their authors’ hidden stories—a trend reflected in the Madrid show, which explored women writers’ lives through a display of more than 40 documents. As Lauren Moya Ford observed in Hyperallergic’s review of the show, the online version of the exhibition (available in both Spanish and English) presents their stories in a “format well-suited to this dense, delicate material.” Users can delve into digitized historical documents, browse curator commentary and watch a video montage of relevant clips.

#History

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lukeskywaker4ever · 5 years ago

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1st King of Portugal and of the Burgundy Dynasty: King Afonso I of Portugal, “The Conqueror”

Reign: 26 July 1139 – 6 December 1185 Acclamation: 26 July 1139 Successor: Sancho I

Afonso I (25 July 1109 / August 1109 / 1111 – 6 December 1185), nicknamed the Conqueror (: O Conquistador), the Founder (O Fundador) or the Great (O Grande) by the Portuguese, and El-Bortukali ("the Portuguese") and Ibn-Arrink or Ibn Arrinq ("son of Henry", "Henriques") by the Moors whom he fought, was the first King of Portugal. He achieved the independence of the County of Portugal, establishing a new kingdom and doubling its area with the Reconquista, an objective that he pursued until his death.

Henry and Teresa reigned jointly as count and countess of Portugal until his death on 22 May 1112 during the siege of Astorga,after which Teresa ruled Portugal alone. She would proclaim herself queen (a claim recognized by Pope Paschal II in 1116) but was captured and forced to reaffirm her vassalage to her half-sister, Urraca of León. In 1122, Afonso turned fourteen, the adult age in the 12th century. After the military campaign of Alfonso VII against his mother in 1127, Afonso revolted against her and proceeded to take control of the county from its queen.

In 1128, near Guimarães at the Battle of São Mamede, Afonso and his supporters overcame troops under both his mother and her lover, Count Fernando Peres de Trava of Galicia. Afonso exiled his mother to Galicia, and took over rule of the County of Portucale. Thus the possibility of re-incorporating Portucale into a Kingdom of Portugal and Galicia as before was eliminated and Afonso became sole ruler following demands for greater independence from the county's church and nobles. The battle was mostly ignored by the Leonese suzerain who was occupied at the time with a revolt in Castille. He was also, most likely, waiting for the reaction of the Galician families. After Teresa's death in 1131, Afonso VII of León and Castille proceeded to demand vassalage from his cousin. On 6 April 1129, Afonso Henriques dictated the writ in which he proclaimed himself Prince of Portugal or Prince of the Portuguese, an act informally allowed by Afonso VII, as it was thought to be Afonso Henriques's right by blood, as one of two grandsons of the Emperor of Hispania. Afonso then turned his arms against the persistent problem of the Moors in the south. His campaigns were successful and, on 25 July 1139, he obtained an overwhelming victory in the Battle of Ourique, and straight after was (possibly unanimously) proclaimed King of the Portuguese by his soldiers, establishing his equality in rank to the other realms of the Peninsula, although the first reference to his royal title dates from 1140.

The first assembly of the Portuguese Cortes convened at Lamego (wherein he would have been given the crown from the Archbishop of Braga, to confirm his independence) is a 17th-century embellishment of Portuguese history.

Complete independence from Alfonso VII of León's suzerainty, however, was not a thing he just could achieve militarily. The County of Portugal still had to be acknowledged diplomatically by the neighboring lands as a kingdom and, most importantly, by the Catholic Church and the Pope. Afonso wed Mafalda of Savoy, daughter of Amadeus III, Count of Savoy, and sent ambassadors to Rome to negotiate with the Pope. He succeeded in renouncing the suzerainty of his cousin, Alfonso VII of León, becoming instead a vassal of the papacy, as the kings of Sicily and Aragon had done before him.

In Portugal he built several monasteries and convents and bestowed important privileges to religious orders. He is notably the builder of Alcobaça Monastery, to which he called the Cistercian Order of his uncle Bernard of Clairvaux of Burgundy.

In 1143, he wrote to Pope Innocent II to declare himself and the kingdom servants of the church, swearing to pursue driving the Moors out of the Iberian Peninsula. Bypassing any king of León, Afonso declared himself the direct liege man of the papacy. Afonso continued to distinguish himself by his exploits against the Moors, from whom he wrested Santarém

and Lisbon in 1147.

He also conquered an important part of the land south of the Tagus River, although this was lost again to the Moors in the following years.

Meanwhile, King Alfonso VII of León (Afonso's cousin) regarded the independent ruler of Portugal as nothing but a rebel. Conflict between the two was constant and bitter in the following years. Afonso became involved in a war, taking the side of the Aragonese king, an enemy of Castile. To ensure the alliance, his son Sancho was engaged to Dulce, sister of the Count of Barcelona and Infanta of Aragon. Finally after winning the Battle of Valdevez,

the Treaty of Zamora (1143) established peace between the cousins and the recognition by the Kingdom of León that Portugal was a fully independent kingdom.

In 1169 the now old Dom Afonso was possibly disabled in an engagement near Badajoz, by a fall from his horse and slamming against the castles gate, and made prisoner by the soldiers of the king of León Fernando II also his son-in-law. He spent months at the hot springs of São Pedro do Sul, but never recovered and from this time onward the Portuguese king never rode a horse again.

In 1179 the privileges and favours given to the Catholic Church were compensated. With consistent effort by several parties, such as the Primate Archpishop of Braga Paio Mendes, in the papal court, the papal bull Manifestis Probatum was promulgated accepting the new king as vassal to the pope exclusively. In it Pope Alexander III also acknowledged Afonso as King and Portugal as an independent crown with the right to conquer lands from the Moors. With this papal blessing, Portugal was at last secured as a kingdom.

In 1184, the Almohad caliph Abu Yaqub Yusuf rallied a great Almohad force to retaliate against the Portuguese raids done since the end of a five-year truce in 1178 and besieged Santarém, which was defended by the heir Sancho. The Almohad siege failed when news arrived the archbishop of Compostela had come to the defense of the city and Fernando II of León himself with his army. The Almohads ended the siege and their retreat turned into a rout due to panic in their camp, with the Almohad caliph being injured in the process and dying on the way back to Seville. Afonso died shortly after, probably out of a sudden cause of death, on 6 December 1185. The Portuguese revere him as a hero, both on account of his personal character and as the founder of their nation.

He rest in the Monastery of Santa Cruz in Coimbra:

In 1146, Afonso married Mafalda, daughter of Amadeus III, Count of Savoy and Mahaut of Albon, both appearing together for the first time in May of that year confirming royal charters. They had the following issue:

Henrique (5 March 1147 – 1155 named after his paternal grandfather, Henry, Count of Portugal, he died when he was only eight years old. Despite being just a child he represented his father at a council in Toledo at the age of three;

Urraca (1148–1211), married King Ferdinand II of León and was the mother of King Alfonso IX. The marriage was subsequently annulled in 1171 or 1172 and she retired in Zamora, one of the villas that she had received as part of her arras, and later at the Monastery of Santa María in Wamba, Valladolid where she was buried.;

Teresa (1151–1218), Countess consort of Flanders due to her marriage to Philip I and Duchess consort of Burgundy through her second marriage to Odo III;

Mafalda (1153 – after 1162). In January 1160, her father and Ramón Berenguer IV, Count of Barcelona, negotiated the marriage of Mafalda to Afonso, future King Alfonso II of Aragon who at that time was three or four years old. After the death of Ramón Berenguer IV in the summer of 1162, King Ferdinand II of León convinced his widow, Queen Petronilla, to cancel the infante's wedding plans with Mafalda and for Afonso to marry instead Sancha, daughter of Alfonso VII of León and his second wife Queen Richeza of Poland. Mafalda died in her childhood at an unrecorded date.

Sancho, the future King Sancho I of Portugal (11 November 1154 – 26 March 1211). He was baptized with the name of Martinho for having been born on the saint's feast day.;

João (1156–25 August 1164);

Sancha (1157–14 February 1166/67), born ten days before the death of her mother, Sancha died before reaching the age of ten on 14 February according to the death registry at the Monastery of Santa Cruz (Coimbra) where she was buried.

Before his marriage to Mafalda, King Afonso fathered his first son with Chamoa Gómez, daughter of Count Gómez Núñez and Elvira Pérez, sister of Fernando and Bermudo Pérez de Traba:

Afonso (1140–1207). Born around 1140,according to recent investigations, he is the same person as the one often called Fernando Afonso who was the alferes-mor of the king and later Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller. His presence in the court is first recorded in 1159. In 1169 he succeeded as alferes-mor his half-brother, Pedro Pais da Maia, the legitimate son of his mother and Paio Soares da Maia.

The extramarital offspring by Elvira Gálter were:

Urraca Afonso. In 1185, her father gave her Avô, stipulating that this villa was to be inherited only by the children that she had with her husband Pedro Afonso de Ribadouro (also known as Pedro Afonso Viegas), grandson of Egas Moniz, which could indicate another previous or subsequent marriage. In 1187, she exchanged with her half-brother, King Sancho, this villa for Aveiro. She died after 1216, the year she made a donation to the Monastery of Tarouca.

Teresa Afonso. In some genealogies she appears as the daughter of Elvira Gálter, and in others as the daughter of Chamoa Gómez. Her first marriage was with Sancho Nunes de Barbosa with whom she had a daughter, Urraca Sanches, who married Gonçalo Mendes de Sousa, the father of Mendo Gonçalves de Sousa known as "Sousão".Her second husband was Fernando Martins Bravo, Lord of Bragança and Chaves, with no issue from this marriage.

King Afonso was also the father of:

Pedro Afonso (died after 1183), Lord of Arega and Pedrógão, mayor of Abrantes in 1179, alferes of King Afonso I between 1181 and 1183, and Master of the Order of Aviz.

#king afonso i of portugal #d. afonso henriques #portugal #first king of portugal

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verycleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to October 8th.

Where we are this afternoon:

A game of Telephone

After spending the weekend at Walter Reed Medical Center for treatment of his COVID-19 infection, President Donald Trump returned to the White House yesterday afternoon, where he is expected to continue treatment under quarantine. He returned to the Oval Office late Wednesday afternoon after conducting business from makeshift offices next to the White House medical facilities.

Trump opened his Thursday with a lengthy telephone interview with Fox Business host Maria Bartiromo. More so than usual with his Fox phone-ins, it was an unhinged freeform rant that revealed much more than he intended to. In the latest sign that he's still running the 2016 race in his head, he answered a question about the Barrett confirmation by pivoting without warning into Hillary Clinton's emails. He also returned to his unceasing effort to place the full blame for the virus in America on China, called Kamala Harris a “monster” and a Communist, and (for one last note of disgrace on this oldies tour from hell) threatened to put Joe Biden in jail for being a part of the administration that launched an investigation into a campaign with a suspicious number of Russian ties.

On the political front, his message is what it's always been: everyone is a liar and a criminal but poor pitiful me. So much for the party of "personal responsibility".

But it was when the questions turned to his health and the virus that things went from deeply concerning to highly alarming. If we take him at his word, President Trump doesn't believe he's contagious anymore, and wants to be on the campaign trail right now. Barely a week after he first began showing symptoms, he wants to go back to the densely packed, badly protected campaign rallies which have not only been a signature of his campaigns but his presidency in general.

How he knows he’s gotten over it is anyone’s guess because of the other big revelation about his current health that he blurted out: In spite of returning to a residence in full-blown panic mode over the plague he’s brought back the house, Trump still isn’t getting coronavirus testing on a regular basis.

As a New York Times report mentioned on Tuesday, rapid testing has basically been used in the West Wing throughout this health crisis, often in place of the actual preventative measures which the President openly mocked again this morning. However, the report also revealed that Trump himself was tested infrequently, and so the question still lingers whether he was tested at all in the week before the Hope Hicks diagnosis set this most recent catastrophe into motion. The one thing we do know for sure from last week is that he skipped a pre-debate virus test because he arrived well behind schedule. Everything else is being hidden behind the claim of “private medical history”.

There’s another thing we know about the recent state of the West Wing with absolute certainty: Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, while insisting the President is doing well, has not set foot inside the White House since the beginning of August, and he made his reasons crystal clear, almost to the point of bluntness.

"I actually haven't been to the White House since August the 6 because my impression was their approach to how to handle this is different from mine and what I insisted that we do in the Senate which is to wear a mask and practice social distancing,"

Anyway, that’s the Trump-on-Trump part of this morning’s interview. But if you’ve been paying attention, you already know it gets much worse.

And now, the part that pisses me off...

Now that Trump considers himself an "expert" on the coronavirus, because he's convinced himself that he's completely recovered, his advice has gone beyond depressingly and predictably wrong into a disgusting slap in the face to the people who've lost everything to his inept leadership. "Remember this: when you catch it, you get better, and then you're immune."

The picture above is the funeral service of Freddie Lee Brown Jr. and Freddie Lee Brown III., a father and son who died within three days of each other last spring during the first wave of the pandemic in America. In spite of the "young people are immune" narrative this administration perversely continues to push, Freddie III was only 20 years old when he left this world. They caught it. They most definitely did not "get better".

220,000 Americans are dead from the virus, but none of them are Trumps yet, so he can't be bothered to even mention them, let alone understand what their families have gone through.

A brief ray of “sunshine” in all of this

Trump's insistence that he and Biden do the next debate in person or not at all is promising to derail the remaining debate schedule entirely, the virtual debate format unanimously agreed to by the members of the Commission on Presidential Debates being completely unthinkable to a man who currently carries a deadly disease.

Frank Fahrenkopf, head of the Commission, answered the Trump protest with a shrug, indicating that he’s under no legal obligation to be the enabler for Trump’s worst possible impulses. “There is no law requiring any presidential candidate to debate. In fact, in 1980, Jimmy Carter, president of the United States, refused to participate in the first debate, but he did participate in the second debate. So it is up to every candidate to decide whether they want to debate or not.”

Later in the morning, the Trump team indicated their willingness to delay the second debate an extra week, provided that it’s an in-person format. Meanwhile, Biden’s team has scheduled a solo town hall appearance on the originally-announced night of the second debate.

Biden’s ability to appear both in sound and vision underlines an inconvenient truth in Trump’s medically-mandated nonexistent public schedule. While this morning’s incoherent phone ramble definitely qualifies as “proof-of-life”--and dear God, did it ever--Trump’s last on-camera appearance at that time was a pre-recorded statement on Monday night. The absence of visual evidence since then of a man who never met a camera he didn’t like filtered into the ongoing speculation about how well the President really is, and how deep the cover-up of his condition goes.

(edit: After I finalized this ridiculous post, it turned out Trump released a Twitter video in the early afternoon that, if anything, fed fresh fuel to the fire.)

The coronavirus is not your usual “October surprise”, but in revealing the measure of the commander-in-chief who has suddenly found himself as its target, it’s definitely playing the part of one.

First Lady Melania Trump, who did not join her husband at Walter Reed, continues to rest at the White House during her recovery.

No fresh cases of infection related to recent White House events have been reported since yesterday’s update. If new cases are announced, I’ll post the revised list later.

#Donald Trump #coronavirus #COVID-19

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