Drogheda: steeped in history

Drogheda: steeped in history

Part 2, Ireland location series
Drogheda

Drogheda and the Boyne River, from Millmount Fort (author’s photo)

Divided by a gentle curve in the great River Boyne, the town of Drogheda in County Louth is one of the oldest and largest in Ireland. This important trade and commercial center began as two walled towns that literally grew together, officially so in 1412, but archaeological evidence shows the first civilization in this area began at least 3,000 years ago.

At a point on the Boyne where St. Mary’s bridge exists today, a natural ford made Drogheda (pronounced DRAW-hee-duh) an attractive settlement and defensive location. The name Drogheda comes from the Irish Droichead Átha meaning ‘bridge of the ford.’ On behalf of King Henry II in 1172, Hugh de Lacy began constructing a wooden fort on the high ground overlooking this ford. By around 1200, the first stone bridge across the river made the settlement part of a principal north-south travel route, and its location just four miles inland from the mouth of the river confirmed its role as a trade center.

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Map dated 1657 shows ships on the river, indicating Drogheda’s long importance as a port town.

De Lacy’s fort eventually was rebuilt as a motte and bailey fort now known as Millmount—the highest and most distinctive landmark in the city (it is sometimes called the ‘cup and saucer’). In addition to Millmount and St. Mary’s Bridge, Drogheda has several more historical sites of interest, including the 13th century St. Laurence Gate, which was part of the 113-acre stone enclosure built by the Anglo-Normans, and Magdalene Tower, the remains of a 13th century monastery.

Sharavogue2017cover FBcopyI first learned about Millmount Fort and Drogheda when researching my first novel, Sharavogue. The book begins near the end of Cromwell’s famous and brutal march of 1649, at what was then the village of Skebreen (as it was spelled by map-makers at the time, and now known as Skibbereen), in the southwest corner of County Cork. By the time Cromwell reached this part of Ireland, stories of his army’s killing and destruction had spread far and wide, causing some towns to surrender and inhabitants to flee even as he approached. And the most powerful of stories was the terrible siege of Drogheda.

Since 1641, Ireland had been in a state of rebellion. The native Irish, Old English settlers, and Catholic Irish had joined to form the Irish Catholic Confederation led by James Butler, the Marquess of Ormonde. When Cromwell’s new model army defeated King Charles’ royalist forces in England’s civil war, many royalist officers and troops fled to Ireland and joined the Confederation to continue their resistance. Among these royalists was Sir Arthur Aston, who led a garrison at Drogheda composed of about 2,550 men.

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Residential street in Drogheda with St. Mary’s Church behind. (author’s photo taken from Millmount Fort)

Cromwell arrived at Dublin with the intentions to wholly crush the rebellion, starting by seizing major port towns, thereby securing the ability to supply his forces via the sea. He marched his soldiers north to Drogheda with heavy artillery, established batteries on either side of St. Mary’s Church, and blasted two breaches in the town wall. Then he called for surrender.

In the belief that Ormonde would come to his relief with 4,000 royalist troops, Aston refused. By the rules of war at the time, refusal to surrender meant that if his garrison was taken, all in the garrison could be killed. Cromwell attacked the town and the fighting was fierce, but no reinforcements arrived and soon the royalist resistance collapsed. Some tried to flee across the river, while Aston and 200 others took refuge in Millmount Fort. Cromwell’s soldiers surged into the town and massacred about 2,000 men—and an unknown number of civilians.

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Example of Cromwellian soldier, from Millmount Museum, Drogheda

Rather than attacking Millmount Fort, Cromwell offered to spare the lives of the governor and the men within if they surrendered, but within an hour of their surrender, all were put to the sword. Soldiers reportedly beat Aston to death with his own wooden leg, believing Aston concealed gold coins within it. About 30 more who hid within a church steeple were killed when Parliamentary soldiers set fire to pews they’d stacked beneath the steeple. Soldiers who were not killed were deported to work as slaves on the plantations of Barbados.

Richard Talbot, mentioned in my previous post about Malahide, was one of the few who escaped, most likely through a thinly guarded gate on the north side of the river.

In Sharavogue, the protagonist convinces the villagers of Skebreen to dismantle a bridge across the River Ilen to deny Cromwell access. The story is based upon a legend I came across in my readings, about a town somewhere in County Cork where the people did dismantle a bridge and were then forced by Cromwell to rebuild it. In the novel, the scheme also fails, and the protagonist is swept away, not to Barbados but to the island of Montserrat in the West Indies, to work as an indentured servant on an Irish-owned sugar plantation.

Drogheda’s remarkable history is much greater than the stain left by Cromwell, however. In 1849, Oscar Wilde’s father William wrote that the very history of Ireland could be traced through the monuments along the River Boyne.

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Plan of Drogheda, Gardiner, Samuel Rawson and F.S. Weller (illustrator) – History of the Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1656 (1903) volume 1 page 113, Public Domain

A 15-minute drive from the city will get you to Newgrange, a 5000-year-old passage tomb that is famous for the precision of its structure, such that it lights up at sunrise on the summer solstice. Less than 10 minutes drive from the town center, you’ll find Oldbridge, where the famous Battle of the Boyne was fought. Even more indelible than Cromwell’s march, this battle between deposed king, James II, and William of Orange (and his wife Mary, James’s own daughter) changed the course of England’s monarchy.

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Trim Castle, County Meath, at sunrise. Andrew Parnell, Creative Commons

If you love castles as I do, the restored Norman stronghold, Trim Castle, is about 26 miles from the city. Slane Castle, owned by the Scottish Protestant Conyngham family since 1703, is less than 10 miles from the city. Now an events venue, there are guided tours of the castle and distillery. You can learn about the archaeological heritage of the Boyne Valley at Brú na Bóinne Visitor Centre, 6 miles south west of Drogheda near Donore.

There are also historic manor houses in the area, including Beaulieu House, three miles from town. In existence for more than 800 years, it is believed this house evolved from a stronghold to a fortified manor house, and is now a ‘grand mansion.’ It is considered a rare example of 17th century Irish domestic architecture.

Sources:

A Detailed History by Michael Holohan, http://www.droghedaport.ie/cms/publish/printer_21.shtml

Videos:

History of Drogheda
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUgNG3MFHa4

Ghosts of Drogheda (historical photos)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzHLyW1BIiI

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Castle Malahide

TODAY BEGINS A NEW SERIES, based on sites I researched while writing my lastest historical novel, THE EARL IN BLACK ARMOR. This book takes place in the 1630s, primarily in Dublin, Ireland, but also several sites in the Southwest of Ireland, in England and in Scotland. The series features the 13 locations I visited. The first one, which happens to be very close to Dublin Airport, is Castle Malahide.

Among more than a dozen castles to be found in County Dublin, one stands out for having remained in the hands of one resilient family—the Talbots—for nearly 800 years. Malahide Castle, located nine miles north of central Dublin and about seven miles from Dublin airport, has evolved over the centuries, from a functional stone enclosure complete with moat, drawbridge, portcullis, church and central keep, to the imposing but elegant, multi-towered castle you can visit today, with its sprawling lawns and orchards.

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There are various meanings of the name ‘Castle Malahide’ but it likely comes from the Irish Caisleán Mhullach Íde, meaning castle on the hill of ‘Ide’—a feminine name that likely refers to the Norman family that lived there prior to the English invasion.

The Talbot family descends from William ‘Talebot’ of Normandy. William’s grandson Richard is believed to have served at the Battle of Hastings in 1066 when William the Conqueror first seized the English crown. As a reward, William granted to Richard valuable estates in England. In 1174 a later descendent—also named Richard—accompanied King Henry II into Ireland to assert his rule and to tame the aggressive Strongbow (Richard de Clare). The grateful king then bestowed upon Richard Talbot the lands and harbor of Malahide.

This castle is not featured in any of my novels (so far…), however Malahide is famous for surviving through tumultuous and violent centuries, and provides a fascinating glimpse into life in an ancient fortress, and the enduring spirit of the family that lived there.

MalahideWindowsThe oldest part of the castle dates from the 12th century. It was enlarged in the mid-15th century, and the cylindrical towers were an 18th century addition. On approach, the castle is quite beautiful, set in a vast green field with the ivy-covered towers, sunlight glinting off the their peaks. While the castle’s ground floor is now designed for group gatherings and exhibition, the real show begins upstairs in the Oak Room. Here the dark oak panels on the walls are intricately carved with Bible scenes. The stunning Tudor windows illuminate similarly carved cabinets and their finely turned legs. The oak armchair in the corner is said to have belonged to Robert the Bruce of Scotland.

The castle’s proximity to Dublin means it was well used by government officials over the years, and family members served in several influential positions. The sturdy walls withstood an attack during the Silken Thomas rebellion (1534-35). And in 1639, withstood a different kind of attack when the Lord Deputy of Ireland, the Earl of Strafford, Thomas Wentworth (the subject of my third novel, The Earl in Black Armor) tried but failed to acquire a portion of the Talbots’ land holdings.

When John Talbot was banished to Connacht for participation in the Irish Rebellion of 1641, the English Parliamentarian Miles Corbett took a seven-year lease on the castle and 400 acres. Corbett was later executed for regicide—having participated in the execution of King Charles I—and after the restoration of King Charles II in 1660 the castle and grounds were restored to the Talbots.

MalahideDiningTableMost touching is the story of the 14 Talbot cousins who met for breakfast at the long dining table in the castle’s great hall. It was July 1, 1690, the day of the Battle of the Boyne. The Glorious Revolution was as hand. All 14 rode out at first light to defend their Catholic King James II against William of Orange. But all were assigned to the same cavalry squadron that attacked the Williamite camp. William’s troops defeated the royalists. Only one cousin returned to the castle: young Richard, the heir.

Richard the elder then faced charges of treason and fought to secure his family’s inhabitation, if not ownership, of Malahide Castle. But the Talbots were only to have most of their rights stripped away again when Richard the younger inherited the estates, by the penal laws that severely restricted the rights of Irish Catholics.

And yet the Talbots endured—as did many of the castle’s inhabitants. So much so, that at least five ghosts are known to haunt the castle. Among them is Sir Walter Hussey from the 15th century who was killed in battle on his wedding day; Lady Maud Plunket who chases her husband through the castle; Puck the jester who fell in love with a lady at the castle and was found stabbed in heart; the White Lady who escapes from her portrait in the Great Hall to wander the castle corridors; and also the executed Miles Corbett, mentioned previously.

The Talbot family fortunes improved when Richard’s grandson by the same name made an advantageous marriage. The new family alliance meant that the Marquess of Buckingham, very powerful in King George II’s court, could and would ‘revive the Talbots’ place in society,’ but Richard would first have to renounce his Catholic faith. Richard did so in 1779.

Later, broad social reforms of the 19th and 20th centuries required increased taxation of the rich, so that some of the Talbot lands were sold to cover the costs. When the 7th Baron Talbot died in 1973, his sister Rose was forced to sell the Malahide estate to meet what author S.E. Talbot calls the ‘extortionate’ death duties of that time.

Shannon Heritage now operates Castle Malahide as a popular tourist attraction.

For a podcast of this blog post, visit the author’s website.

There are many sources of information about Castle Malahide and the Talbot family. Here are three of mine:

War and Peace: The Survival of the Talbots of Malahide, 1641-1671, Joseph Byrne, Maynooth Studies in Local History.

Into the Lion’s Den: A Biographical History of the Talbots of Malahide, S.E. Talbot, 2012.

The Ancient Castles of Ireland, C.L. Adams, 1904.

Blanton_Nancy_CoverThe 5-star rated Earl in Black Armor is now available in hardcover, paperback and ebook from most online booksellers.

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Love and Hate with the Earl of Strafford

For AUDIO of this post, click here

Can you love a person and despise him at the same time? Can you admire someone for his sense of honor and his intellect, and abhor his dispassionate cruelty and greed?

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Thomas Wentworth, 1st Earl of Strafford, after Anthony Van Dyck. National Portrait Gallery

Such was the conflict encountered while researching and writing about the infamous Earl of Strafford, Thomas Wentworth (1593 – 1641), for my latest novel, The Earl in Black Armor. Here was a man who stirred people’s passions to one extreme or the other. In his brightest hour, as chief advisor to King Charles I of England, he was loved by some and deeply hated by others. And yet, one is likely to feel respect for him, if not true admiration.

In my latest novel, protagonist Faolán Burke spies on Wentworth at Dublin Castle, where he meets the alluring Denisa Dumalin. Denisa, a personal assistant to Wentworth, spies on the man also, but for very private reasons. Faolán is soon likewise torn—by his allegiance to his clan, his love for Denisa, concern for his daughter’s future, and his sense of honor and admiration for Wentworth.

Born on April 13, 1593 to a wealthy, respected family in York, Thomas Wentworth became a man of ambition, responsibility and high standards, generally acknowledged by his peers as a wise and effective administrator. He became a member of the English Parliament at just 21 years of age. He soon exhibited his ideals and determination, willing to go to prison with many of his peers rather than pay to the king what he considered a forced loan. In 1628, Wentworth was one of the authors of The Petition of Right, a constitutional document to define and protect the people’s liberties against such things as forced loans and forced billeting of soldiers in people’s homes.

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King Charles I (1600 – 1649) after Anthony van Dyck. Wikimedia

He made perhaps his first and worst enemies when he accepted a position at court offered by King Charles. To his fellow parliamentarians, it appeared he was betraying them and selling out to the king. But Wentworth aspired to a court position, believing in the divine right of kings. He believed he’d have greater influence to advance reforms if he worked within the king’s court, rather than outside of it.

Wentworth demonstrated his capabilities so well, that soon colleagues urged him to accept the position of Lord Deputy of Ireland, to replace Lord Falkland, whom the king had recalled. Those colleagues may have had darker motives, wanting to remove Wentworth from consideration for the more lucrative position as the king’s treasurer in London. And, there is some suggestion that King Charles admired Wentworth’s abilities but also saw him as a threat. Wentworth accepted the Ireland post in 1632, eager to please the king by filling the treasury, and perhaps to earn a coveted earldom.

Arriving in Ireland in 1633, he established himself quickly as a man of fairness and action, by stopping the piracy that strangled trade, restoring law and order, and—by his policy of “thorough”—rooting out the corruption that lined the pockets of the wealthy at the expense of the poor. This policy made him rather unpopular with powerful nobles who had used their positions for personal gain.

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View of Dublin Castle, 1828

The same and other nobles also feared Wentworth’s plans to expand the English plantation system in Ireland, displacing Irish clans, destroying traditions, and eliminating the Irish way of life—including the Catholic religion that remained strong in the western counties.

Wentworth’s demeanor did not help, for he was intimidating, quick to anger, and his occasional cruelty caused many to hate him.

Haven’t we all experienced, or at least known of, such a person? A few modern examples come to mind. The beloved storyteller Walt Disney, for example, became the king of animation. He was greatly admired for his creativity and vision, and yet he was known to be an obsessive perfectionist and tyrant. The same might be said of Steve Jobs, a king of the microcomputer revolution, who was brilliant but also ruthlessness and cruel on a personal level. Anna Wintour, on whom the movie The Devil Wears Prada was likely based, became queen of the fashion industry, and yet was feared by her staff, made impossible demands, and gained a reputation of being rude to almost everyone.

In their defense, however, they managed under enormous pressures to help build major industries that employed millions of people—people who stayed with them because of their vision and power to succeed.

Wentworth succeeded on several levels to improve conditions in Ireland while earning the king’s favor. He made dozens of enemies along the way including the Earl of Cork, who was featured in my previous book, The Prince of Glencurragh. In time, Wentworth received his earldom, and much more. But King Charles was not the stalwart figure one hopes for in a monarch. Though Wentworth was the king’s chief advisor during the Bishops Wars, his advice often was not taken, and some of his recommendations may have been misconstrued. Did he, or did he not, suggest the king should use the Irish Army against his own people?

Faolán’s objective as a spy is fulfilled when the wars end at Newburn in 1640, but now he faces fierce inner conflicts and realizations about his own past that threaten to destroy him, just as the Earl of Strafford faces a bitter fight for his life.

As the author, I felt equally plagued by inner conflicts, influenced by historical writers on whose research I depended. I used several sources to study Wentworth and the events from 1633 to 1641, including C.V. Wedgwood, Elizabeth Cooper, Hugh Kearney, and more. Wedgwood and Cooper in particular exhibited mixed feelings about Wentworth. Wedgwood first wrote Wentworth’s biography when she was 25, then depicting him as a brave and able man. However, when new sources became available 30 years later, she revised it to produce “A Revaluation,” recognizing Wentworth’s greediness and tendency to apply laws to others but not to himself.

But Wentworth was not alone in this, and was probably not the worst of them in a time when corruption and the king’s favor were the best, if not the only paths to advancement. Wentworth is remembered as a tyrant and a statesman, but his contemporaries in Parliament have much worse to answer for.

This post was originally published on the award-winning UK blog, Myths, Legends, Books and Coffee Pots.

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For more info, visit the author’s website:

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Cover Reveal: The Earl in Black Armor

When writing about historical figures in my novels, it’s an honor and privilege to use actual portraits of them for book covers, especially when the portraits are the work of Sir Anthony Van Dyck (1599-1641).

For the cover of my upcoming novel, The Earl in Black Armor, I licensed the portrait of the Earl of Strafford, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland Thomas Wentworth, from the National Portrait Gallery. In this portrait, Wentworth wears full armor blackened by a special heating process, a style that was popular among the wealthy nobles of the time and worn by King Charles I of England.

Wentworth arrived as Lord Deputy of Ireland in 1633, and was later named Earl of Strafford and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. His administration in Ireland and the events leading up to his demise in London provide the timeline and historical backbone of my story, inspired in part by the portrait. In the face and in the eyes, Van Dyck managed to capture the man’s resolve as well a his fear. Once you know Strafford’s Icarus story you can recognize it all, but the artist perceived it and revealed it with his brush, particularly in his subject’s eyes.

 

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“No portraits painted by Van Dyck in England more brilliantly demonstrate his penetrating powers of perception than those of Charles I and Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, two sharply contrasting personalities.”
~ Judy Egerton, Anthony van Dyck, 1599 – 1641

At the time this portrait was painted, probably 1636, Van Dyck had been knighted by King Charles and enjoyed the lucrative business of painting many of the highest-ranking nobles in England. During a plague outbreak in the city—when most of the nobles fled to their country houses—Wentworth took advantage of reduced rates for a full size portrait.

Wentworth would soon rise to become the king’s chief advisor. He could not have known what would befall him, but he certainly knew he had many enemies, and that Charles I’s court was a most treacherous place. He had left his post in Dublin to see the king and restore the favor that had been damaged by his London-based detractors.

The 19th century essayist Thomas Babington Macaulay described Wentworth’s portrait: “…that fixed look, so full of severity, of mournful anxiety, of deep thought, of dauntless resolution, which seems at once to forebode and defy a terrible fate, as it lowers on us from the living canvass of Vandyke.”

We have no way of knowing how accurately Van Dyck’s painting depicts Wentworth. The artist was known to improve the looks of some of his subjects, painting them in their best light—no doubt to keep the customers happy. But I did stumble across the following quote in my research, which casts a shadow of doubt.

“Van Dyck’s handsome portraits had given me so fine an idea of the beauty of all English ladies, that I was surprised to find that the Queen, who looked so fine in painting, was a small woman raised up on her chair, with long skinny arms and teeth like defence works projecting from her mouth…”
~ Sophia, later Electoress of Hanover, 1641

The Earl in Black Armor will be available through online retailers by mid-February 2019. If you are a reviewer and subscriber on NetGalley you may download it now:

 

Thanks to the National Portrait Gallery of London for use of the portrait image,

Fact in Fiction

Why writers in every genre need accuracy

As a journalism student in college it was drilled into me that any facts I intended to include in a story had to be confirmed by at least three sources. Otherwise I risked damaging the credibility not only of myself as a writer, but also of the institutions I worked for. Now that I’m an author of historical fiction and I work for myself, my personal credibility is paramount.

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Randall MacDonnell, 2nd Earl of Antrim, Wikimedia Commons, public domain

I always strive for accuracy, but my first lesson in going the extra mile was when a reader questioned a tree mentioned in my first novel, Sharavogue. It was a minor detail, and I had confirmed that the tree was native to Ireland. But I hadn’t gone far enough. When trying to defend my tree, I found in another source that it was considered native, but it didn’t exist in Ireland until 50 years after the period I was writing about. Score one for the reader, black eye for me.

More recently I was writing in my third novel about an important historical figure, the Earl of Antrim, in the year 1639. His earldom was inherited upon the death of his father in 1656, according to one historical journal. But wait, a biography I had read put the event at 1636. If I called him an earl before his time, undoubtedly a reader would contest it and, if I were wrong, I would lose that reader and potentially others.

I checked three more trusted sources—two scholarly history books and Encyclopedia Britannica—that all put the inheritance at 1636. Two things happened: I now gained confidence in calling the earl an Earl, and I lost confidence in the historical journal, even though I realized it was probably just a typo.

Every genre at risk

My friend Linda Reynolds, an award-winning thriller author, has similar concerns about accuracy. She carefully researches specific locations used in her story that may be familiar to readers, but also uses those details make her scenes more real.

“The town of Marblehead is so well-known to New Englanders, the yachting community, and lovers of early American history, that any deviation from fact would probably generate a firestorm of protest and derision. Thus, describing the locale accurately was important. In one scene, the main character pilots a small Boston Whaler across the water between Beverly and the west shore area of Marblehead, in the middle of January! People have asked me if I spoke from the experience of actually having done that. (Absolutely not!) But it underscores how such passages can make readers feel that they are living the experience.

“Marblehead is an old, historic town that has not changed much in the last few decades, so I can use Google Street View and Satellite View to refresh my memory and help with details. I do take liberties when I think it is appropriate to do so. One character lives on an actual Marblehead street, but the house is not identified or described in any detail. Another home, destroyed by an explosion and fire in the novel, sits on a fictitious street and does not resemble the house that inspired it. I write fiction, after all, so literary license is allowed.”

Readers love to immerse themselves in a story, and authors can generate a sense of realism through the selective use of fact and description. It becomes more difficult, whether you are looking at the 17th century or 20th century, when the landscape has changed. Google is no help and you must search for alternative sources. For me, paintings, portraits and letters provide a helpful window to the past.

To accurately construct scenes that took place in Tehran in 1978-1979 during the Iranian revolution, Linda had to dig deeper also, but fortunately had personal experience to rely on.

“The city has changed in the intervening years and streets have been renamed (to eliminate any reference to the Shah), so current maps and photos were of little value. With a lot of digging, I was able to find old photos, maps, and websites that helped fill in some of the gaps. But if I had not traveled to Tehran around the time of the revolution, it would have been exceedingly difficult to reconstruct the sense of the place for readers.”

Nobody’s perfect

As with my tree episode, Linda found that even her best efforts did not prevent her from an unfortunate error.

“The only time that I have been called out was when I referred to the ‘ropes’ on a boat rather than calling them ‘lines.’ Admittedly, I’m not an avid sailor. But the passages were read by a highly-experienced and well-respected yachtsman, and he did not catch it. I can hold my head up because I go to great lengths to ensure my stories realistically reflect the time and setting of the events taking place. If I make a mistake it only proves that I am human, as are we all.”

Even fantasy authors must contend with accuracy. Though the word “fantasy” may seem as if they can just make things up as they go, these authors are bound by the laws of nature and/or whatever constructs they may establish to build their alternate reality. If they are not somehow grounded in a believable way, and consistent to those constructs throughout their work, these authors also risk credibility.

E.J. Wenstrom, award-winning author of fantasy and science fiction, says, “I have to confess that I got into fantasy writing because of the freedom to make it all up, but when I started writing book two in my series, I quickly learned how very important accuracy is even in this genre. In fact I would go so far as to say that accuracy in your fantasy world’s details is the key difference between a world that jumps off the page and one that never connects. Those details are what make your world feel real to readers.”

I’ve seen the look of dismay in some writers’ eyes when they realize writing will not be all fun and games. Frankly, the attention to accuracy in details is what marks the difference between the hobbyist and the professional. And some of us actually enjoy the research. If you are writing to be read, there are no shortcuts. Linda sums it up:

“Accurate reconstruction is an important concept, because there is always someone who will have more knowledge than I about a particular location or era. But if I am accurate in painting the setting, they can swallow and appreciate the fiction of the tale. If I am inaccurate, they will dismiss me as not credible and I will have lost them as a reader.”

 

TPOG_Cover2017Nancy Blanton is the award-winning author of novels set in 17th century Ireland, and the non-fiction book, Brand Yourself Royally in 8 Simple Steps. Find out more at nancyblanton.com

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.

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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.”

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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.

Laud_&_Strafford

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 nancyblanton.com

 

 

 

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

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.

1241:
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.

1341:
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.

1441:
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.

1541:
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

1641:
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.

1741:
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.

Sketch_of_Douglass,_1845-crop

Frederick Douglass sketch

1841:
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.

1941:
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.” (affinitynumerology.com)

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!

TPOG_Cover2017

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