In the time of Thomas Wentworth, 1st Earl of Strafford, 1593 – 1641

Just before the turn of the 17th century in 1593, Thomas Wentworth was born in London, into fortune, property and prestige. Queen Elizabeth I still reigned, and the bloody Nine Years War raged on in Ireland.


Thomas Wentworth by Sir Anthony van Dyck

By 1614 when his father died, Wentworth inherited the great Wentworth Woodhouse of Yorkshire—by the 18th century the largest of England’s country houses—plus two other estates and vast business holdings to keep things running. In addition to income, such land ownership commanded power and respect. Truly, Wentworth already had everything and more than most people might desire in life.

But he sought more than anything what he did not have: a royal title. An earldom. It would come at the greatest cost.

His ambition led him to politics. He started law school in 1607, and in 1611 he was knighted. He married an earl’s daughter. As a principal landowner he quickly became Yorkshire’s representative in the English Parliament.

In 1625, Charles I ascended to the throne. The following year Wentworth became High Sheriff of Yorkshire, and in 1628 he returned to Parliament to become one of the most vocal supporters of the Petition of Right, which attempted to curb Charles’s non-Parliamentary taxation, forced billeting of soldiers in people’s homes, imprisonment without cause, and the use of martial law.

Wentworth showed himself to be smart, reasoning and persuasive, with strong leadership abilities. He became President of the Council of the North. He joined Parliament’s dispute with King Charles I over subsidies to support the Thirty Years War effort, and stood against the king even to the point of imprisonment for refusing to pay his “forced loans.”


King Charles I by Sir Anthony van Dyck

But here is where he made his first dangerous turn. The king invited Wentworth to join the Privy Council: to sit at the king’s table with titled courtiers and advise the king on decisions to run the commonwealth. It fed Wentworth’s deepest ambition. It was an offer he could not refuse. But it branded him as a turncoat to his fellow Parliamentary members. He had been seduced by power.

Wentworth turned from fighting the king’s arbitrary use of power to being a staunch supporter of the Divine Right of Kings. Charles had picked up his father King James I’s torch for this the long-held belief that monarchs were chosen by God, had a direct connection to God’s word, and therefore should always be trusted to do God’s will and make decisions for the highest good, guided by God’s hand.

At this time in history, however, people had seen many rulers supposed to be God’s designees on Earth who made very poor decisions. They had recognized greater access to their own religion through Calvinism and could read the Bible themselves. The printing press, nearly 200 years old, was demonstrating the considerable powers of mass communication. And the Divine Right was under fire.

By 1629, Charles grew tired of arguing with Parliament for what he wanted, and having to ask for his subsidies. He decided he no longer needed Parliament at all. He adopted “self rule,” which became known later as the Eleven Years’ Tyranny.

In 1632, the king appointed Thomas Wentworth to be the new Lord Deputy of Ireland. Although distant from the king’s court, it was a very powerful position in a time of sweeping change.

Ireland had been settled by the Anglo-Normans since the time of King Henry II in the 12th century, and from that time great and powerful clans had developed and intermarried with the Irish, such that they became accepted “Irish” clans. Until the time of Henry VIII, they ruled their realms autonomously.

The Desmond Rebellions of the 16th century began when Henry named himself king of Ireland, and tried to exert his authority over all the clans, starting first with plantations in fertile Munster. They ended with Irish defeat just before Elizabeth I died in 1603. Several clan leaders remained loyal to the king, yet Ireland remained resistant and challenging to oppressive English rule. To English adventurers, Ireland seemed like a plum that waited to be picked.

If Wentworth’s appointment to Ireland had been orchestrated by other courtiers eager to get him out of the running for the lucrative job as the king’s treasurer, no matter. Wentworth saw great opportunity, and planned to be the most effective viceroy the king had ever seen.

At this point his first and second wives had died. Wentworth had secretly married the 18-year-old daughter of a Yorkshire neighbor, and sent her ahead to Ireland to start preparing their home. Meanwhile he studied and learned, preparing for a long-term and “thorough” effort to make Ireland a profitable venture for the king. He did not set foot on Irish soil himself until July of 1633, with a huge retinue including 30 coaches of six.

And the first task on his list, after losing to pirates the £500 worth of wardrobe that he had shipped ahead, was to get control of the Irish Sea and secure Ireland for trade.

(c) Dulwich Picture Gallery; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Laureys a Castro – A Sea Fight with Barbary Corsairs. Wikimedia Commons, public domain

More than half of the king’s subjects made their livings from the sea, whether collecting fish, oysters, pearls, eels, gulls—anything they could eat or sell—or operating small craft and large merchant ships for moving passengers and goods. At the same time, Algerian pirates were notorious for robbing ships of their cargo, and robbing or abducting passengers and crew for ransom or to sell as slaves. Wentworth quickly took control by installing trusted captains to patrol the Irish Sea, and by rooting out corrupt officials who took bribes from the pirates and pocketed money intended for their crew’s provisions.

Once installed in Dublin Castle, Wentworth began a mission of “thorough,” intending not only to establish law and order for common people, but to root out corruption among the nobles, such as the Great Earl of Cork who’d been enjoying a healthy portion of the tithes from the church at Youghal. He would support the growth of Protestant religion while limiting the political power of Catholics. He would invest in new industries like the wine trade, linen and tobacco. And he would continue in the king’s interest the spread of English plantations.

Wentworth saw plantation as a benefit to Ireland, believing native Irish did not understand how to wring the greatest productivity from their lands, and more industrious English (Protestant) settlers would demonstrate the most efficient and lucrative practices. But it was met with great resistance, and the underlying goal was far from altruistic.

Wentworth devised a plan by which, instead of the crown just taking lands, the existing landowners would happily surrender their lands to the king in order to have them returned with clear and legal titles—minus, of course, the 25 percent of the best lands that Charles would keep for himself. The goal was to shift, over time, the majority of land ownership from Catholic to Protestant. The result of this process was considerable unrest, as the nobles lost income and Irish families were turned out of traditional homelands.

Over several ensuing years, Wentworth methodically and relentlessly carried out his plans, implementing the king’s divine right, arrogantly establishing absolute rule, and enriching himself along the way. His tactics and lack of political finesse made him many powerful enemies in all corners of his life. By the time of the Bishops Wars (1639-40) against Scotland—the king’s attempt to enforce his own religious practices upon the Puritan Scots—Wentworth became the king’s primary advisor and received his coveted earldom. He was named Earl of Strafford in 1640.

And then, when the wars were lost, he became the king’s scapegoat.


Wentworth receives final blessing from imprisoned Archbishop Laud, by Paul Delaroche, 1835 Wikimedia commons, public domain

Parliament was called because money was needed to pay the Scots army under terms of the treaty. Parliament then impeached Wentworth—fueled by his enemies in Ireland. And when, angered over the country’s bankruptcy, the members were unable to prove treason against him, they dusted off an ancient, unused but still available tool, the Bill of Attainder, which required no need of proof to execute a man accused of high treason. King Charles, in his classic, two-faced, self-serving behavior, signed the death warrant for his most loyal servant.

Wentworth, having achieved his goal and reached his zenith of wealth and power, was beheaded by Parliament in May of 1641.

TPOG_Cover2017Nancy Blanton writes award-winning novels set primarily in 17th century Ireland. Her third book, The Earl in Black Armor, set in the time of Thomas Wentworth, is scheduled for publication in late 2018. Visit her at





The Power of 41

As children we learn how to connect the dots to reveal a complete picture. That skill stays with us and can apply in some unexpected ways. Recently while watching a documentary about Hitler, I heard the narrator say that in 1941, certain events revealed weaknesses in his regime that helped encourage the United States to join the fight and ultimately help crush the Nazis.

The “41” arrested my attention because I am researching events in 1641 that led to the Great Irish Rebellion, when the Irish rose up against the English settlers who displaced them from their traditional clan properties. This rebellion started out to be a bloodless coup, but ended up a bloody and terrible defeat.

No matter the outcome, the rebellion stands for me as one of many examples when the human spirit rises for liberty against formidable if not impossible odds. And as we all know, the Irish never gave up. In 1919, the Irish Republic was declared.


Birth of the Irish Republic, Wikimedia Commons

But what else happened in a ’41 year? Is there a traceable pattern? Going back as far as the 13th century, history does indeed suggest ’41 as a year for freedom-seekers.

At the Battle of Cameirge in Ulster, the Milesian Irish—a Gaelic tribe from the Iberian Peninsula—defeats the ancient Tuatha De Danann. Whether this clash is reality or myth, a new history begins: the O’Neill dynasty is established in Ireland.

The Byzantine civil war breaks out, with the lower and middle classes fighting against the aristocracy. The war rages for seven years, ultimately devastating Byzantium and reducing its power and territories.

At Lagos in the south of Portugal, the first black African slaves are brought to Europe, setting the stage for oppression and rebellion to last for centuries.

John Calvin returns from exile to Geneva to reform the church doctrine. Calvinism brings new freedoms, aims to protect the rights of ordinary citizens, and supports democracy versus absolutism.

irish rebellion

The Irish Catholic gentry attempt a coup d’état at Dublin Castle to force the Protestant English administration to make concessions for Catholics. The coup is betrayed, violence erupts, and the conflict evolves into the Irish Confederate Wars—the Irish Catholics vs. the English and Scottish Protestants.

Slaves and poor whites in the British colony of New York plot the Conspiracy of 1741, to revolt and level New York City with a series of fires. Some 200 are arrested and tried, 100 are hanged, burned or exiled.


Frederick Douglass sketch

The principality of Guria revolts against the Russian Empire over duties and taxes on peasants. In United States v. The Amistad the Supreme Court rules that the Africans who seized control of the ship had been taken into slavery illegally. Frederick Douglass speaks at an Anti-Slavery Convention in Nantucket, Massachusetts.

The occupied Netherlands starts the “February strike” against German deportation of Jews in Amsterdam. In Yugoslavia the anti-axis army exiles pro-Hitler Prince Paul and elevates 17-year-old King Peter II. At the Acropolis in Athens, two young men tear down the Nazi swastika and replace it with the Greek flag. Prominent Nazi Rudolph Hess flies solo into Scotland.

Just out of curiosity, I did a quick Internet search to find the numerological meaning of the number 41, and it confirms the freedom idea:

“The numerology number 41 is a number that tends to express its innate sense of personal freedom with building a secure foundation for the future. The number 41 is conscientious. The number 41’s sense of personal freedom generally leads it to focus on establishing financial, physical, and emotional security.” (

And going a step further with that idea, I found the dominant Biblical meaning of 41 is “separation,” as in Israel’s separation from Egypt.

While the struggle for freedom is a prominent theme throughout all human history, the number 41 offers a focused lens that allows us to see the hammering drum of its repetition over the centuries.

I wonder if one could find similar threads of other topics by choosing any year and following it through the centuries. It is fascinating to consider, and also could provide the basis for a saga for an ambitious author, or provoke ideas about what might happen in 2041. A fan of George Orwell’s might use the author’s approach to his novel 1984, by looking at conditions in 2014, and then mirroring them in a dark and imaginative way in a novel entitled 2041.

Wishing everyone a happy 2018!


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Romeo Butler & Juliet Preston

Romeo Butler & Juliet Preston

A match made in Ireland

Shakespeare’s tragedy of Romeo and Juliet finds a happy ending in the 17th century story of James Butler and Elizabeth Preston. These two members of feuding Anglo-Irish families were actually cousins, and made an unlikely couple until events shifted, ultimately allowing a marriage of choice rather than arrangement.


King Charles I, public domain

During the reign of King Charles I (1625-1649), normal practice in society required parental control over a marriage arrangement. It was nothing more than family discipline, considered the best guarantee of public order, and in King Charles’s court, order was paramount.

From the time that a child was born, parents began calculating potential marriage matches that would improve the family’s bloodline, elevate their social status, increase their wealth, solidify a mutually beneficial business alliance, consolidate or expand real estate holdings, and preferably all of the above. Both the bride and the groom were expected to bring something to the table.


Wikimedia Commons

In the 17th century, land ownership was power. Historically, the Butler family held the Earldom of Ormonde, controlling a huge tract of land in Ireland, basically from Waterford to Limerick. The FitzGeralds (known as the Geraldines) held even more land, with two branches bordering on each side of Ormonde: the Earldom of Desmond, roughly including the modern-day counties of Cork and part of Kerry, and the Earldom of Kildare, on the east side of Ormonde and adjacent to the Pale, the area surrounding Dublin.

Disputes over property lines and ownership waxed and waned at least from the 14th century, the two neighboring earldoms fighting one another in skirmishes and outright battles. Many schemes attempted to heal the feud, from the famous handshake through a hole in a door at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in 1492, to the marriage of Joan, the widowed Countess of Ormonde, to Gerald Fitzgerald, the 15th Earl of Desmond, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But the feud roared up again when Gerald had a dispute with Joan’s son, Thomas, the 10th Earl of Ormonde.

A famous quote is attributed to Gerald after being wounded on the field in the Battle of Affane in 1565. While being carried from the field on the shoulders of Ormonde soldiers, an Ormonde commander triumphantly asked, “Where is now the great Lord Desmond?” And Desmond is said to have given his quick reply, “Where but in his proper place, on the necks of the Butlers?”

After the Desmond Rebellions, which by 1603 had left all of Gerald’s male heirs either dead or attainted, the Desmond earldom was extinguished. But it was not the end of the story.

Thomas, the 10th Earl of Ormonde, a great uncle of James, sought a suitable marriage for his only daughter Elizabeth. Rejecting a suit by the second son of the fourth Earl of Thomond, he brokered a more lucrative match with Richard Preston, a Scot and a court favorite with King James I. When Thomas died in 1614, the king saw it as an opportunity to settle the long-term feuding and so, when they married he named Preston the first Earl of Desmond, third creation, and awarded most of the Ormonde estate to Elizabeth. Since properties belonged to the husband upon marriage, thereby he combined the estates of Desmond and Ormonde.

But that only produced another problem, because Thomas had no surviving sons, and had named his nephew Walter, James’s grandfather, to inherit the Ormonde earldom and estate. Walter began a series of complaints and legal actions to regain the land he believed was rightfully his, and the proper inheritance for his own son Thomas, who should have been the next earl of Ormonde. Walter’s disputes annoyed the king and landed him in prison for eight years.

About the same time, Walter’s son Thomas had married and James was born, but this Thomas drowned in a shipwreck on the Skerries, a series of rocky islets off the shore of Wales (and also off Northern Ireland), when James was quite young. The titles that should have gone to Thomas would now pass to James.


Henry Rich, 1st Earl of Holland, by Daniël Mijtens, Public Domain

A few years after James was born, Richard and Elizabeth Preston had their first child, a daughter also named Elizabeth. Richard betrothed her to a nephew of another court favorite, the powerful and wealthy Duke of Buckingham. But, by strange coincidence she was also orphaned in 1628 when her father drowned in a shipwreck on his way from Dublin to England (probably also on the Skerries), and in the same year Buckingham was assassinated. The king placed young Elizabeth in wardship with the Earl of Holland.

Her father’s death meant that Elizabeth was now an heiress who could choose her own husband. However, she was just fourteen years old. Lord Holland got busy trying to arrange a lucrative match for Elizabeth that also would benefit him – one of the happy consequences of having a royal wardship.

Elizabeth first met her cousin James at London court when he was studying the Irish language and living with his aged grandfather who’d been released from prison. James was 18 years old and, according to all accounts, immediately fell in love with her. The affection was returned, but Lord Holland stood in the way.

Somewhat in the role of Shakespeare’s Friar Lawrence, Scottish kinsman Patrick Wemyss, who managed Elizabeth’s estates, arranged secret meetings for James and Elizabeth in her home or in London churches, where James arrived disguised as a peddler.

In order to court her openly, James, now known as Viscount Thurles—a courtesy title that had been his father’s—had to clear his way with a bribe of £15,000 to Lord Holland.


James Butler, 12th Duke of Ormonde, National Portrait Gallery

The couple wed with the king’s consent in 1629, and all of the Ormonde ancestral lands were returned to the Ormonde earldom. Their union put an end to the long-term feud by creating a strong family alliance. When Walter, the 11th earl, died in 1633, James became the 12th earl of Ormonde.

Instead of drinking a death-simulation potion like Romeo and Juliet, they must have found instead a love potion, for they had 10 children, five of whom survived to adulthood. They also became a very powerful couple. James the Earl became leader of the Confederate forces against the Parliamentary army after the Great Irish Rebellion of 1641.

After Parliament executed King Charles I in 1649 and Oliver Cromwell ascended to power, Ormonde lived in exile in France, in service of King Charles II and his family until the monarchy was restored in 1660. It was Elizabeth, however, who returned to Ireland to save the Ormonde family estates.

For his loyalty and service to Charles II, the king named James Butler as the first Duke of Ormonde in 1680. Both highly respected and revered, Elizabeth died in 1684, and James in 1688.

The portrait of James Butler graces the cover of my second novel, The Prince of Glencurragh, as a symbol of the 17th century ideal, a man of honor, grace, wealth and nobility, and a true statesman.

Note: There are numerous and conflicting accounts of this story, with possibly some confusion arising from the two Elizabeths and two Thomases. I’ve made every effort for accuracy but if you see something that seems incorrect, please comment with source information. Thank you!

TPOG_Cover2017The Prince of Glencurragh is an award-winning novel of hope during the sweeping change preceding Ireland’s Great Rebellion of 1641. Available on amazon, B&N, and other online retailers.

For other books and more information please visit my website at, and while you are there please sign up for my newsletter to receive notification of my upcoming book, The Earl in Black Armor.


Royal Branding: Henry VII, the Dark Prince

Continuing my research on the monarchs of old, who give us the first examples of effective personal branding, I came across one writer who claimed that personal branding began with Henry VIII, the 16th century, larger-than-life king of England himself. While Henry makes a powerful image even today, the truth is that the origins of personal branding reach back all the way to the ancient Egyptians in the 15th century BC. And England’s monarchs took their cues from Greek philosophers like Plato, Aristotle and others more than 400 years BC.

Plato’s great work, The Republic, advised that the ruler should be a “philosopher king,” to be learned, thoughtful and make his decisions on what he believes is best for his people. Aristotle argued instead that the ruler should do less thinking, but take counsel from those around him, making decisions for the populace based on consideration of gathered information.

henry7sittow1By the 15th century AD, we come to Henry VII—father to Henry VIII and founder of the Tudor dynasty. He ruled almost a quarter century, 1485 – 1509. As Aristotle recommended, he surrounded himself with close advisors as well as a wider circle of nobles who could expand his awareness of the needs and opportunities in his realm. His reign was a time of transition, when violent feuds ended and the age of renaissance and reformation awaited.

But Henry VII had a challenge in creating his personal brand when he first took the throne. Exiled for most of his youth, he was 28 when he finally had the support he needed to fight for the kingdom. He returned to England, defeated and killed Richard III in the battle of Bosworth Field, and was crowned Henry VII on the spot. The House of Lancaster had defeated the House of York. The war of the roses was finally ended. Or was it?

The situation was messy. Henry was the last of the Lancastrian bloodline after Edward IV had killed all the others, including the weak Henry VI and his heir. But detractors said he was really only half-royal, descending illegitimately from a queen’s dalliance with a charming Welsh (Tudor) chamber servant. The two direct heirs, sons of Edward IV, had disappeared (the famous princes in the tower), but Edward and his wife had 10 children. Might there be another heir lurking about? How could Henry strengthen claim and stamp his royal boot once and for all on England?

Values based brand

After years of exile, instability and mistrust, what Henry valued most was stability in all things: familial, financial, legal, administrative and religious.

To begin, he needed to establish himself quickly and firmly in the minds of the people. First thing’s first: he not only declared himself king, but established his start date two days before the battle at Bosworth Field so that, by law, anyone who had fought against him or supported Richard was guilty of treason. That alone had people praising his virtues forthwith. Check.

Next, he dealt with the questionable bloodline issue. He married Edward IV’s eldest daughter, and in one stroke he combined two lines of royal blood, and unified Tudor and York. To confirm it, he quickly set about begetting an heir (Arthur) and a spare (Henry), establishing the Tudor dynasty.

He had artists and scribes illuminate parchment rolls, coats-of-arms, badges and portraits merging red rose (Tudor) with the white (York), and depicting him as the true successor to Edward IV. Check.

But that was just the beginning for Henry VII. He claimed his new reign would bring a “Golden Age” to his kingdom, a concept borrowed from Plato and first described by the Greek poet Hesiod:

“…And they lived like gods without sorrow of heart, remote and free from toil and grief. Miserable age rested not on them; but with legs and arms never failing they made merry with feasting beyond the reach of all evils. When they died it was as if they were overcome by sleep, for they had all good things…They dwelt in ease and peace upon their lands with many good things, rich in flocks and loved by the blessed gods.”

And Henry looked and acted the part as ruler of this rich kingdom. In 1497, Italian ambassadors meeting him at his summer palace in Dover admired the many heraldic devices and rich tapestries in the house, the elegant robes and trimmings on the nobility, and the king himself—(quoting from biographer Thomas Penn) “in a long violet, gold-lined cloak and, around his neck, a collar comprising four rows of ‘great pearls’ and many other jewels. On his head he wore a black felt cap studded with a pear-shaped pearl.” Another 17th century expert claims Henry VII spent the equivalent of £3 million on clothes. Check.

Conquering fear with formality

Henry’s great fear was civil war, and so he set up his kingdom with rigid adherence to due course and order of laws, with swift and decisive action to snuff out potential troubles. He focused on collecting the revenues due him to avoid a tax levy in peacetime. And he placed symbols of his royal authority everywhere, from statutes and proclamations to newly minted coins and the pope’s blessings.

The royal household reflected the same order. Services were below stairs and unseen. Public rooms were opulent. Access to the king was via succession of chambers, from the halls to lobbies, antechambers, closets, and galleries. And to maintain complete order, he established a French-style security force of 300—the yeomen of the guard—and placed spies in noble houses to root out suspected traitors.

His greatest political capital was in his two heirs, eldest son Arthur and second son Henry. Arthur was named for the legendary King Arthur. Henry insisted he be born in Winchester Castle, the ancient seat of King Arthur’s court, and claimed his son’s coronation was prophesied by Merlin himself. He named Arthur’s three-year-old younger brother Henry, Duke of York, thereby taking back the title from the Yorkists and establishing the child as a powerful leader.

Arthur’s wedding to Catherine of Aragon validated Henry VII’s rule by confirming an alliance between England and Spain. The wedding was two years in the planning, borrowing from every great ceremony on record to confirm and claim the most powerful English traditions, and took place in the larger and more magnificent St. Paul’s Cathedral (instead of Westminster), so that as many people as possible could attend, experience, and therefore take ownership as a part of the great occasion.

The Legacy

King_Henry_VII_from_NPGHenry VII was not loved, he was feared. It’s said that Shakespeare wrote no play for this king because era was just too painful, which may be true, but I would add that the story is so complex you need a full series to explain it. (Enter Starz and their series, The White Princess, based on Philippa Gregory’s novel.)

Henry VII’s reign was fraught with protests, uprisings, pretenders, and conspirators. He wanted to be thought of as a great man, but his focus on money overshadowed this persona. He intended to be known as a wise ruler, but surrounded himself with thug-like administrators and money collectors. One ambassador said Henry did not play by the rules people expected, but instead tried to change them to suit himself.

With quiet reserve he made sweeping changes to traditional English government. Outwardly, he showed the face of a strong, confident and knowledgeable ruler, astonishing foreign ambassadors by seeming to know everything before they reported it. Inwardly, however, he was suspicious and paranoid, willing to do anything to protect his hold on the throne. Eventually, his fear turned his personal brand into something far from what he had envisioned.

Arthur Tudor died suddenly at just 15 years of age, so that when Henry VII died from tuberculosis in 1509, he was succeeded by his second son, Henry VIII.

Gems from the Crown:

  • In times of change or instability, establish your identity quickly and firmly
  • First impressions are critical. Look the part of your of your persona every time you represent your business. Clothing might seem an extravagance but it is an important business investment.
  • Well-planned public events can make a solid and lasting brand statement. The marriage of Arthur and Katherine was in the planning for two years, and the roles of each participant carefully designed.
  • Make decisions based on values, not fears. Otherwise your brand will be distorted and possibly lost.
Thanks to: Tracy Borman via the Daily Mail; Thomas Penn, The Winter King; John Dillon, Plato and the Golden Age; and the Creative Commons / Public Domain for images.

Create your own royal brand:

BrandYourselfRoyallyIn8SimpleSteps_Blanton_cropBrand Yourself Royally in 8 Simple Steps gives you lessons learned from some of the strongest royal brands, and walks you through the process to create your own unforgettable brand, including vision and mission statements, persona and positioning, colors and tagline, and much more, plus communications planning to put your new brand into action. Available in soft cover and ebook.



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My Favorite Book: GWTW

When people ask me about my favorite book, I scratch my head and wonder. There are so many that I love, choosing one is nearly impossible. For the purpose of this post I’ll focus on a book that has special meaning for me, but start with the first runner-up.

My mother always made a point of taking my sisters and me to the public library. She never directed us, but let us roam freely until we found something that interested us. She, by the way, was doing the same. One day I found what was to be my first novel, in a pink cloth cover. It was a Victorian story about a woman named Cassandra who gives a young girl a jewel necklace she calls The Wishing Star. The gem is intended to give the girl confidence until she realizes she has it within.

GWTWpromopicI  have not been able to find the book again because there are several with The Wishing Star title. I loved it and did not want to return it to the library when the due date came. I checked it out several times just to have it. This book was my first introduction to historical fiction, and my first real love of story. But it is not my all-time favorite book, because my heart was stolen by another: Margaret Mitchell’s 1939 novel, Gone with the Wind.

I am sure I join a long line of readers in choosing this book, especially since it was brought to life on screen by David O. Selznick and Victor Fleming, and all the magnificent actors: Vivienne Leigh, Clark Gable, Leslie Howard, Olivia de Havilland, Hattie McDaniel, Butterfly McQueen, Everett Brown and so many more.

The book was bursting with interesting characters and dialogue that became classic (“As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again” or “I can’t think about that now, I’ll think about it tomorrow” and of course “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”)

The lead character, Scarlet O’Hara, became one of my heroes in life. I loved her strength, her spark, her resourcefulness and hopefulness. She was real, human, made mistakes and suffered from her flaws and bad decisions. She never quit, never gave up.


Cover taped and pages yellowed, this is one of my greatest treasures

But something very special makes me choose this book. It was the first time I went to my mother for advice about what to read. I was bored, I suppose. She led me to the bookshelf in our living room, which was fairly jammed with volumes. She was an avid reader, always having a novel or two on her reading table. She scanned the shelves for just a moment before pulling out the fat book in its blue cardboard cover.

I don’t remember what she said exactly, but something about that book keeping me busy for a while (it did), and that she thought I would like the lead character, Scarlet O’Hara (sure enough). I loved the adventure I had with this book. It remains one of my greatest treasures. And, it cemented my love for historical fiction. My mother knew that, but I don’t think she took credit where it was certainly due. Since then I have never been bored.

The reason this former journalist now writes historical fiction is because all of my reading over the years gave me the confidence to do it myself. The love of historical fiction is, in fact, my wishing star.

Happy reading!

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Tracking the Prince: Adare

Part 16 in a series featuring sites I visited in Ireland while researching my second novel, The Prince of Glencurragh. See previous posts listed at the end.

And so we have arrived, like the last point on an itinerary for a grand adventure, at the last entry in this series. Appropriately, it is Adare. The name comes from the Irish “Ath-daar,” meaning a ford of the oaks, perhaps a coming together of things. And though Adare did not make it into The Prince of Glencurragh as a scene setting, a visit to Ireland is not complete without setting foot here.

adarethatchedcottagesIf you are traveling north from Cork to Limerick or Shannon Airport, you’ll find Adare just before the N20 and N21 converge. It is called “Ireland’s Prettiest Village,” and though there are so many pretty villages in Ireland it would be hard to pick just one, if you look at the images you’ll probably have to agree.

To walk along the road in front of several quaint thatched cottages, you might believe you are in an ancient neighborhood, and perhaps wish that you were. Definitely shop here. And at the end of the cottages the beautiful Adare Park invites you for a rest.

I first visited Adare at the age of 14 when traveling with my family. It was the night before we would catch our flight home at Shannon, and we stayed at Dunraven Arms Hotel. It was a splurge for us at the time, and I recall especially the splendor of the bedding. I returned as a college student and was equally impressed. My father had made a point of visiting every year, either at Christmas time, or to ride in a hunt, or to select from Ireland’s famous hunter-jumpers in the area. Once he actually shipped one home.


Hunters Bar, from the Dunraven Arms Hotel website

My most recent visit was at the end of this research trip in 2015. My father had passed away years before, but the owner and Maître de remembered him. He had always stayed in the same room, they told me. And once during Christmas time, when a violent storm had cut off the hotel’s electricity, he joined them in the Hunters Bar and by the light of the fireplace they all sang Christmas carols – my father’s was one of the strongest voices, but I think a considerable amount of Irish whiskey was involved.

The biggest attractions here are Desmond Castle (also called Adare Castle), the Adare Manor Hotel and Golf Resort, the Trinitarian monastery, and the thatched shops. The Adare Heritage Center is always packed with tourists but you can get snacks, buy tours and souvenirs, and go through the heritage museum so it is worth a visit.

Desmond Castle dates from the 12th century, though artifacts found at the site go back to the Norman Conquest. Sources conflict over who may have been the original builder, but agree that in the 13th century the Kildare family owned it.


Desmond Castle, Adare. Copyright Peter Craine and licensed for reuse under the Creative Commons License

The beauty, fertile land and location on the banks of the River Maigue must have been especially desirable, for many battles were fought for this castle over the centuries. In 1329, Edward III granted the lands and castle to Sir John Darcy, stepfather to the Earl of Kildare, and at this time the castle was described as having “a hall, a chapel with stone walls and covered with thatch, a tower covered with planks, a kitchen covered with slates, and a chamber near the stone part covered with thatch.”In the 16th century the castle passed from Kildare to the Earl of Desmond. In 1578 it was taken by the English Sir Nicholas Maltby after a siege of eleven days, and then was garrisoned.

“Desmond made every effort to recover the castle in 1580. He resorted to several stratagems, one of which was to send a beautiful young woman to the constable, by whose means he hoped the castle might be betrayed. But upon hearing from whence she came, the officer tied a stone around her neck and threw her into the river.”
~C.L. Adams


Painting in heritage center museum depicts medieval life in Adare, the castle in the foreground, left, and the abbey in the background.

Many battles ensued with many changes of ownership until the end of the Desmond Rebellion. Ultimately Cromwell’s soldiers ruined the castle in 1657. (The ruins can be visited only via tours from the heritage center.) It passed through the hands of 10 families until Thady Quin purchased it in 1669, and later constructed the first section of the Adare manor house. His descendent, Valentine Richard Quin, became the first Earl of Dunraven.

Adare Manor


interioradaremanorIn 1785, this earl made major additions and changes to the manor house, which received praise as “a very noble structure with fine and extensive demesnes.” The second earl converted it into a large, three-story Tudor Revival manor fine enough to entertain the royal family. In 2015, Limerick businessman J.P. McManus purchased the manor, and the site is now an exclusive 840-acre hotel and golf resort.

5276_dunraven_arms_hotelWould that my budget had allowed a stay there. The interior of the manor is nothing less than sumptuous. Instead, I followed my father’s footsteps to the Dunraven Arms Hotel. Built by the Earl of Dunraven in the 19th century, it is also sumptuous, to a somewhat more affordable degree. Run by the Murphy family, it is comfortable, well maintained and has many wonderful places to relax and read, as well as activities and conference rooms.

The Abbey


Adare Trinitarian Abbey. Copyright Peter Craine and licensed for reuse under the Creative Commons License

The Adare Trinitarian Abbey is a beautiful site just a block away from the hotel. Built in the 13th century, the abbey was dissolved in 1539. Ownership passed through a couple of hands before the 2nd Earl of Dunraven, Wyndham Quin, gifted the abbey ruins to Catholic Parishioners in 1824. He also began the restoration that was continued by his heir. The abbey is noted for its fusion of medieval and 19th century Gothic Revival architecture.

Adare and Desmond Castle may yet find their way into my writings, because they will remain in my thoughts. Somewhere near, along the banks of the river, my father’s ashes were scattered. Adare would always be the place where he was happiest in his later years, in the county of our ancestors. I know I will always feel closest to him, and to them, when I visit Adare and stand upon that rich Irish soil.

Thank you for joining me on this adventure with The Prince. Though this brings an end to one particular series, as always there is more to come. Baaaaaaaaah.


Thanks to C.L. Adams, The Ancient Castles of Ireland, 1904;; Monastic Ireland; Adare Manor Hotel & Golf Resort; Dunraven Arms Hotel; Wikipedia; Creative Commons.

Part 1 – Kanturk Castle 

Part 2 – Rock of Cashel 

Part 3 – Barryscourt 

Part 4 – Ormonde Castle

Part 5 – Lismore Castle

Part 6 – Bandon, Kilcolmen

Part 7 – Timoleague Friary

Part 8 – Castle Freke, Rathbarry, Red Strand

Part 9 – Coppinger’s Court

Part 10 – Drombeg and Knockdrum

Part 11 – Liss Ard, Lough Abisdealy

Part 12 – Skibbereen

Part 13 – Baltimore

Part 14 – Mallow Castle

Part 15 – Mitchelstown Cave

jack6.140x9.210.inddAn heiress, a castle, a fortune: what could go wrong?

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Tracking the Prince: Mitchelstown Cave

Part 15 in a series featuring sites I visited in Ireland while researching my second novel, The Prince of Glencurragh. See previous posts listed at the end.



Map of Cahir, 1599

While traveling through southwest Ireland, I took a side trip from my planned itinerary to see the Mitchelstown Cave. I’d noticed a sign along the M8 roadway between Cahir and Mitchelstown and thought it worth a look. It was to satisfy my own curiosity because I’d never been inside a cave before. I hadn’t intended to use a cave in The Prince of Glencurragh, but as I’ve said before, you never know from where inspiration will come.

Caves can conjure several kinds of images: the womb-like comfort that sheltered our cave-dwelling ancestors from the elements; the mystical and magical hiding places of wizards, faeries, dragons and the like; and a toothy, cavernous mouth with an endless throat to swallow you into hell.

I ended up using a deep, dark cave similar to what I saw at Mitchelstown in a scene where a ruthless killer has taken our heroine, the heiress Vivienne. Readers will, I hope, grant me license for the reference to Mitchelstown Cave. This is a beautiful and dramatic cave that has been explored extensively since it was discovered in 1833, when a Michael Condon accidently dropped his crowbar into a crevice while quarrying for stone.


Mitchelstown Cave entrance

The explorers who came after him found long, low corridors, cathedral-like chambers, and dramatic stalactite caverns. But, if these explorers remain correct, no one could have accessed the caves in 1634, when my story takes place:

“…no bones, either of existing or extinct animals, have as yet been found within the cavern; nor indeed is it likely that any such will be discovered; as, until accidentally perforated through the quarry, it would appear to have been altogether impervious, and therefore inaccessible as a den or place of shelter…”
~ Prof. Apjohn, Dublin Geological Journal, 1834 (from Dublin Penny Journal)

However, there are many caves in Ireland that probably were accessible to humans and animals, the deepest in County Fermanagh, and the longest in County Clare. (Photographer and blogger R. Mulraney offers some stunning images by County.) Apparently there is another cave near Mitchelstown that was called “Desmond Cave” because the Earl of Desmond may have taken refuge there during the Desmond rebellions. This cave is not open to the public because it is too dangerous, but it and others like it could have served for the fictional scene.


Map of Mitchelstown Cave from Dublin Penny Journal, 1834

The public tours of the Mitchelstown caves provide great exposure to the dark and strange cave interiors, their sparkling beauty, their enormity, and their treacherous pathways. No one could have prepared me for the chill that ran up my spine when my tour guide had everyone turn off his/her lights. Even in a room full of tourists, it is an eerie kind of darkness. In 1895, the Rev. Canon Courtenay Moore, Mitchelstown Rector, described the cave this way:

dublinpennyjournal_mitchelstown“There is no foulness or tumult in its straight and silent street; only the strength of rock and the finished setting of stones grey with the age of countless centuries. Then a stillness as of death itself pervades the place, which is almost painfully oppressive to ears accustomed to the constant and varied sounds of life in the world above, which you have only quitted so recently.”

To put the size of some of these caves in perspective, the largest chamber of Mitchelstown Cave is called Tir Na Nog (meaning “land of the young”), measuring 61m × 49m and 18m high, making it more than twice as large in floor space, and its ceiling three times as high, as King Charles I’s Banqueting House at Whitehall, London. In other words, you could almost fit a 747 jet in there. The largest column, called Tower of Babel, is nearly 30 feet high.

It seemed there was nothing that could compare to the dramatic setting of a cave like Mitchelstown for a frightful and deadly scene in a book.

Thanks to Journal of the Cork Archaeological Society, 1894;;; ‪Caves of Ireland; The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, Volume 1, 1872

Part 1 – Kanturk Castle 

Part 2 – Rock of Cashel 

Part 3 – Barryscourt 

Part 4 – Ormonde Castle

Part 5 – Lismore Castle

Part 6 – Bandon, Kilcolmen

Part 7 – Timoleague Friary

Part 8 – Castle Freke, Rathbarry, Red Strand

Part 9 – Coppinger’s Court

Part 10 – Drombeg and Knockdrum

Part 11 – Liss Ard, Lough Abisdealy

Part 12 – Skibbereen

Part 13 – Baltimore

Part 14 – Mallow Castle

jack6.140x9.210.inddAn heiress, a castle, a fortune: what could go wrong?

The Prince of Glencurragh is available in ebook, soft cover and hard cover from online booksellers.


OR, try this universal link for your favorite ebook retailer:

Learn more and sign up for  updates via my newsletter at