Charles Beauclerk

The author of this book, Charles Beauclerk, is Nell Gwynn’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson (I may be a “great” or so off there; I don’t have enough fingers) and therefore has some personal – if remote – interest in the subject. My own interest in Mistress Gwynn comes from seeing the movie Stage Beauty, where she has the memorable line (on meeting a countess while wearing a décolleté gown) “Sorry I can’t bow, but my t**s would fall out”). Although there’s no record of Nell ever saying that, it’s certainly in character for her.


Nell Gwynn is really a history of the Restoration, going into considerable detail on Charles II’s other mistresses, his confidants, his enemies, and the politics of the time. Beauclerk writes with a casual, lively style that manages to keep your interest even while discussing such unsalacious topics as the Treaty of Dover, the Cabal (Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley and Lauderdale), and the Exclusion Crisis. The other mistresses – at least the main ones – get considerable attention; Nell’s actress contemporary Moll Davis, Barbara Villiers (later Countess of Castlemaine and Duchess of Cleveland), Louise de Keroulle (later Countess of Portsmouth) and Hortense Mancini. Although Nell did profit considerably from her relationship, she was the least grasping and most humane of Charles’ seraglio (although she indulged in some pretty vicious practical jokes now and then; she once invited Moll Davis over to dine on a day when Davis was scheduled to spend the rest of the evening with the King and surreptitiously dosed Moll’s tea with laxative (the custom of drinking tea – especially at a particular time of day – was introduced to England by Charles’ legitimate wife, Catherine of Braganza, who is also responsible for the name of the Borough of Queens in New York City. How about that.)


Nell’s early life was anything but promising – her father died when she was young and her mother took up running a brothel; Nell initially (age perhaps 9 or 10) acted as a barmaid but is presumed to have moved up to dispensing other things to the customers. She eventually moved on to her second most famous profession as theater orange seller, where at age 14 she became the protégé (and mistress) of actor Charles Hart, who taught her to read, write, and act. She quickly became a talented and popular comedienne, which is how she attracted the eye of Charles II (thus Stage Beauty is historically inaccurate – Nell was an actress well before she became Charles’ mistress rather than the other way around, as the movie shows it).


Charles’ attraction to Nell seems based on her natural ease and wit (well, there were probably other things – several nude portraits of Nell show she had no need for silicone). While Charles could have had (and in many cases, did have) any of the noble ladies in the kingdom, they all came with politics. The ladies inveigled, conspired, and coaxed for favors, and were egged on by patrons (Louise de Keroulle, in particular, was essentially recruited by the King of France and sent to England to become the King’s mistress and a French intelligence agent). Although Nell was perfectly willing to accept any favors the King provided, she never pestered him for them (with the sole and understandable exception of support for her children). Charles could relax with her, and while the other mistresses loved court functions, Nell enjoyed fishing, horseback riding, and just strolling through the woods. Although the public resented the other mistresses as expense on the treasury, they liked Nell; when her carriage was mistaken for Louise de Keroulle’s on leaving Whitehall, an angry crowd gathered and blocked it. Nell stuck her head out the window and said “Please, good people, let me pass – I’m the Protestant whore!” and everybody cheered and threw their hats in the air. Nell was also famed for her charity, and spent a considerable amount of royal largesse on the poor. Perhaps one indicator of Nell’s character is she was the only one of the mistresses to earn the affection of Catherine of Braganza (despite, as noted, being the only one who was a Protestant). It’s not known whether they ever actually met and talked but after Nell became mistress, Catherine (who had been raised in the strict seclusion of a Portuguese infanta) began wearing more revealing dresses and going out in public. In any event, after Nell’s death Catherine, as Queen Dowager, settled a £1000/year pension on Nell’s son Charles. Beauclerk suggests that Catherine recognized that Nell was the only one of the mistresses that actually loved Charles II for himself.


Charles II died in 1685; the suggested cause is kidney failure, but medical assault may have contributed; there were 16 different doctors in the King’s bedchamber and he was bled, cupped, scarified, blistered, cauterized, shaved, given enemas and purges, and dosed with “spirit of human skull”, “pearl julep”, and a bezoar stone. Nell, alas, only survived him by four years, dying at age 37 – apparently of a stroke (“apoplexy” in the jargon of the time) but likely exacerbated by years of untreated STDs. Her funeral sermon was based on the Parable of the Lost Sheep.


The last chapter traces the history of Nell’s descendants; her son James died young but Charles (who had received the surname Beauclerk (it’s pronounced BOWclaire) and the Dukedom of St. Albans from the King) founded a line that obviously continues. The Beauclerks have a tradition of eccentricity (although perhaps not more than any other English noble family) and various family members engaged in unsatisfactory marriages, got themselves committed to mental institutions, and found other ways to attract attention. Notably, the heir apparent to the dukedom (and author of this book), Charles Beauclerk, is famous for an impassioned speech opposing the House of Lords Bill as “treason” (which got him banned for life from the Houses of Parliament) and for espousing the Oxfordian theory of Shakespeare (since the 17th Earl of Oxford is also an ancestor). Well, good for him. This is a fun but erudite book and is full of interesting factual tidbits. Recommended.… (altro)

Charles Beauclerk wrote this portrait of his famous ancestor with humour and affection, but thankfully without rose-coloured glasses. The book is overflowing with fascinating anecdotes and Nell and her time are brought vividly to life. The descriptions of the theatre, the plays and the theatre-going public play a big part and are certainly wonderful, owing largely to quotes from Samuel Pepys, as well as other diarists. This is one of those excellent biographies where you come away feeling you've "met" the subject. A well researched book, as well as a great read.… (altro)

Definitely intriguing. I suppose we'll never know the true identity of the Shakespeare works. Though Beauclerk puts a good case forward: someone with deeper access to the world of the Elizabethan court would be the more likely writer, I was a bit put off by the immediate assertion that the Earl of Oxford, Edward De Vere, was the true writer. I mean, he had no doubt, and in history there is always room for doubt. Then there's all the incest: De Vere's actually the son of Queen Elizabeth by Thomas Seymour, and in turn they had a son together. His way of proving this was by using the Shakespeare plays and sonnets to find hidden codes and metaphors, which by all means could have been possible, but it was sometimes a bit of a stretch. Poets the English-speaking world over have used 'ever' as a word that means 'ever', not necessarily E. Ver (Edward De Vere? Get it?)

Do I think William of Stratford was the true Shakespeare, or was it Oxford? I'm still not thoroughly convinced either way.

If anything, it was a fun study of Shakespeare's writings, especially of Hamlet.… (altro)