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Quote by Philippa Gregory

Work

The White Queen

This novel is a part of a series that delves into the tumultuous period of English history marked by the conflict between the houses of Lancaster and York. The story is narrated from the perspective of Elizabeth Woodville, the queen consort of Edward IV, and follows her journey through the political intrigue and personal struggles of the era. more

Author

Philippa Gregory
Philippa Gregory

Philippa Gregory is a celebrated British historical fiction author, recognized for her works that delve into the lives of historical figures and events, particularly during the Wars of the Roses. Born on January 9, 1954, she has gained prominence in the genre, with her novels often adapted for television and film. more

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“It would be futile to delude ourselves that at present, readers find every pathography unsavory. This attitude is excused with the reproach that from a pathographic elaboration of a great man one never obtains an understanding of his importance and his attainments, that it is therefore useless mischief to study in him things which could just as well be found in the first comer. However, this criticism is so clearly unjust that it can only be grasped when viewed as a pretext and a disguise for something. As a matter of fact pathography does not aim at making comprehensible the attainments of the great man; no one should really be blamed for not doing something which one never promised. The real motives for the opposition are quite different. One finds them when one bears in mind that biographers are fixed on their heroes in quite a peculiar manner. Frequently they take the hero as the object of study because, for reasons of their personal emotional life, they bear him a special affection from the very outset. They then devote themselves to a work of idealization which strives to enroll the great men among their infantile models, and to revive through him, as it were, the infantile conception of the father. For the sake of this wish they wipe out the individual features in his physiognomy, they rub out the traces of his life's struggle with inner and outer resistances, and do not tolerate in him anything of human weakness or imperfection; they then give us a cold, strange, ideal form instead of the man to whom we could feel distantly related. It is to be regretted that they do this, for they thereby sacrifice the truth to an illusion, and for the sake of their infantile phantasies they let slip the opportunity to penetrate into the most attractive secrets of human nature.”