“Let not poor Nellie starve”.

This is reported to be one of the last requests that King Charles II made to his brother James shortly before his death. Charles had had multiple mistresses during his life, and Eleanor “Nell” Gwyn was just one of several long-term favourites. But unlike her contemporaries, who had powerful families and connections to protect them after his death, Nell was a commoner who could easily be dropped by her supporters, thus the request that his brother help her after he was gone.

Being a big fan of Royal women’s history (as you’ve probably noticed from the Unlucky Princess and Royal Mistress blog series), I couldn’t wait for Erin Lawless’ new book to come out! I got it off Amazon a few days after it was released and it promptly went to the top of the “To be read” pile.

Many Kings had mistresses, either as brief flings to more long-term commitments. Only the French court turned this in to a semi-official role, with the title “maitress-on-titre” waiting to be bestowed on a favourite with real staying power. In the case of one woman it lasted over a decade, and faced regular condemnation from the Catholic church.

Despite living in a small countryside village between the ages of 3 and 25, I never actually joined the local Women’s Institute. Like many I tend to view the WI as the whole “Jam and Jerusalem” thing, a bunch of middle-aged ladies singing hymns and churning out award-winning cakes. But when I saw “Jambusters” sitting on the shelf of my local library something made me pick it up. Maybe it was the fact that it was about the Second World War, a part of history for which I only know basic dates and bits about the “Home Front” that I remember from Middle School history classes. Perhaps it was because it was quite clearly about woman’s role in the war; something which I think tends to be neglected and therefore is worth reading about.

Either way I took the book home with me and got thoroughly absorbed in it. So much so that when it had to go back to the library I promptly bought it off Amazon, and still reread it every so often.

For centuries Alice Perrers has been portrayed as an ugly but intelligent woman, who seduced a King, took him for all she could get, and then disappeared in to a quiet retirement. But recent work by historians, particularly around documents held at the National Archives, have managed to draw out a more rounded picture.

I recently read “England's Witchcraft Trials” by Willow Winsham, published in 2018 by Pen and Sword Books.

This book arrived just after I saw the Doctor Who episode “The Witchfinders”, which as the title suggests featured a storyline involving witches (which included references to Pendle). Having seen the episode I felt like I could use a bit of an introduction in to the world of English witchcraft trials. I felt like I knew more about the Salem witch trials than anything that had happened in the UK, and that was just through Wikipedia reading. 

Reportedly shy with an interest in religion, not to mention severe health problems, Claude probably would have lived longer if she had been able to dedicate her life to a convent. Instead necessity led to a political match that put her on her mother's throne, and a series of pregnancies that considerably shortened her life. 

At the death of Queen Anne on 1 August 1714 the throne of Great Britain passed from the House of Stuart, to the House of Hanover. Despite multiple pregnancies Anne's only child to live past the age of three had been Prince William, Duke of Gloucester. 

Some princesses, even unlucky ones, could at least wield some kind of political power. They ruled the domestic side of a court, had a certain degree of patronage of artists and writers, or gained reputations for piousness and charity. But sometimes even a princess can become a virtual cipher to history. 

After surviving the usual childhood illnesses, as well as a stint in the Royal Navy, Albert Victor was virtually a shoe-in to one day become King Albert I. Unfortunately a winter chill changed everything.