The following excerpts are taken from Castles, Customs, and Kings: True Tales by
English Historical Fiction Authors. The book is an anthology of select,
fascinating posts from the first year of the English Historical Fiction Authors
blog with historical tidbits from fifty-five authors gleaned from the research
they did in writing their novels.
Secret
Service, Spies, and Underhanded Dealings during the 17th Century
BY KATHERINE PYM
As historian Violet Barbour wrote in the biography, Henry
Bennet, Earl of Arlington (published 1914), “The ministers of
Charles II were not chosen for their honesty…”
This
did not make Charles II a stupid man, but one who had gone through years
of hardship. His life had often been in peril. Men conspired against him or
tried to rule him. This left its mark. To watch for underhanded dealings during
his reign, he sought out men who would meet toe-to-toe those who threatened the
king and his court.
On the
one hand, Charles II filled his court with frivolity. He played, danced, and
allowed his spaniel dogs to soil the palace. He and his brother, the Duke of
York, loved the theatre, and supported their own troupes. Charles II allowed
women on stage.
On the
other hand, Charles II inherited a land filled with restless and bitter
malcontents whose very existence had shattered at the fall of the Commonwealth.
Rarely opening up to anyone, Charles did not trust easily. He expected attempts
on his life or efforts to overthrow his monarchy.
During
the rule of Cromwell, John Thurloe was the head of espionage. As Secretary of
State under Cromwell, he sent out spies to cull the plots from within the
Protectorate’s government. His spy network was extensive. He also employed
men—and women—who were, on the surface, stalwart royalists. His spies could be
located in every English county, overseas (i.e., in Charles II’s exiled court),
in the Americas, and the far Indies.
Thurloe
compiled lists, sent spies into enemy camps, and had men tortured and killed.
One such fellow, Samuel Morland, an assistant to Thurloe under Cromwell,
confessed to having witnessed a man being “trepanned to death” at Thurloe’s
word. (A trepan, according to Dictionary.com was “a tool for cutting shallow
holes by removing a core.”) Not a nice way to go.
Thurloe
orchestrated the Sir Richard Willis Plot, wherein the king and duke were
intended to be lured out of exile to a meeting on the Sussex coast. Once the
brothers disembarked, they would be instantly murdered. Thankfully, we know
this plot failed.
Commonwealth
spies infiltrated homes, churches, and businesses to destroy the enemy, and
under Charles II’s rule, his government did the same. Their goal was to destroy
nonconformists, or “fanaticks”. Depending on who was in power, plots were a
part of political life.
After
the Restoration, Thurloe was dismissed, but not executed, for crimes against
the monarchy. He was released in exchange for valuable Commonwealth government
documents.
During
the king’s exile, Sir Edward Nicholas held the position of Secretary of State,
but he was old, nearly age 70. Within two years of the Restoration, Charles II
replaced him with Sir Henry Bennet, who took charge of the Crown’s espionage.
Joseph
Williamson worked for Bennet as the undersecretary. Williamson was born for
this work. He took the bull by the horns and enhanced the processes Thurloe had
begun. Williamson built a brilliant spy network. He enlisted informers who, for
money, turned on their associates. He used grocers, doctors, and surgeons,
anyone who would inform him of persons against the king. Informants were
everywhere. He obtained ambassadorial letters and had them opened and searched
for underhanded deceit. He had men overseas watching for any plots.
His
tools were numerous. He loved ciphers and cipher keys. Doctor John Wallis was
an expert in this who worked under both Thurloe and Bennet. The man could crack
a code in nothing flat.
Williamson,
known as Mr. Lee in the underworld, used London’s Grand Letter Office for
ciphered messages to pass back and forth between the undersecretary’s office
and his informants and spies. He expected to be kept apprised by ciphered
letters, passed through the post office, at the end of each day.
Under
Thurloe’s stint as Secretary of State during the Commonwealth, the secret
service received £800 per year. Under Bennet, the money doubled. Most of the
annual budget was spent on spies and keeping them alive.
For
more reading on spies and espionage during the reign of King Charles II, see my
novel Of Carrion Feathers which is set in London, 1662.
Seven
Years’ Hard Labor Overseas: Transportation as Punishment in the 17th-19th
Centuries
Steal a Book BY J.A. BEARD
England, like many societies throughout history, has had to
struggle with what to do with its criminal population. For a good chunk of
English history, punishment was harsh and severe. Executions were common for a
number of offenses. The fundamental question of how justice is best served has
been explored throughout English history and influenced by shifts in
historical, philosophical, and religious beliefs.
With
the expansion of British colonial holdings in the 17th century, another option
arose: transportation. The idea was simple in concept if occasionally more
complicated in execution. Transportation at its core was exile. Instead of
local imprisonment, execution, or another punishment, an offender was sent to a
distant overseas holding. In this way the home country depleted its criminal
population and minimized the resource impact of a growing criminal population.
Transportation
was not reserved for the most heinous of offenses such as murder. A variety of
crimes, both major and relatively minor, could end up with a criminal being
sentenced to transportation. For example, in 1723, one man was sentenced to
transportation and an accompanying seven years of labor for stealing a book.
Initially,
many criminals were transported to colonies in continental North America and
the West Indies. The American Revolution complicated things and ended North
America as a popular choice for transportation even for non-rebellious areas.
By 1787, British transportation was focused instead on Australia and some other
smaller colonial holdings.
Transportation
may have been exile at its core, but it was also supposed to serve the needs of
the home country beyond that. In addition to the restrictions one might expect,
such as the death penalty for those returning from transportation, these
sentences typically carried with them a hefty labor requirement. The services
expected from the convicts might be directed toward what we’d now call public
works projects, or the convicts might end up as indentured servants to free
citizens in a colony.
As one
might expect, sending people thousands of miles away and never allowing them to
return home was going to predispose them to even more anti-social behavior than
whatever got them in trouble initially. If they had no hope of any sort of
normal life, it would only contribute to the kind of instability and revolts
one witnessed with completely enslaved populations. One way of combating this,
and also serving the general idea of some form of semi-merciful justice, was to
limit the main criminal penalty period to a defined number of years. After the
prisoners served their sentences, they would not typically regain all of their
rights, but, at minimum, would have enough that they could live a semi-normal
life.
Related
to the exile of general criminals, a variation on transportation was also used
to sell people directly into slavery. Though your standard-issue English
criminal probably would end up an indentured servant on a plantation or digging
a canal or what not, hundreds of thousands of Irish and Scottish political and
war prisoners taken during the 17th century ended up being sold into slavery in
the West Indies and this, in some cases, continued in some forms even until
nearly the end of the 18th century. Please note that in most cases these were,
for all intents and purposes, true slaves and not simple indentured servants.
The
interbreeding of Irish and African slaves (who were initially considerably more
expensive than Irish slaves) in the West Indies became so extensive that by the
end of the 17th century, specific laws were passed to prohibit it. Admittedly,
the issue with the Irish and Scottish was more an offshoot of war (and
rebellion) between England, Scotland, and Ireland, and even many of the laws
concerning their handling were distinct from the various transportation acts
passed to cover non-political/war-offenses.
Given
our modern view of a more rehabilitative justice system, transportation may
seem cruel. Indeed, even being a child did not necessarily protect one from a
transportation sentence, though age and size (tiny laborers aren’t efficient,
after all) were somewhat taken into account. There are, however, documented
cases of children as young as seven years old being transported to Australia.
It is important to keep in mind, though, that by the standards of the time,
transportation was often considered somewhat more lenient than the more common
punishments: execution or being sentenced to a disgusting and overcrowded
prison on land.
Then,
as now, the building of more prisons to give convicted criminals more space
wasn’t high on the list of societal priorities. In addition, the general
English (or general world) attitude toward punishment from the 17th through
19th centuries could more generally be defined as retribution-based rather than
rehabilitation-centered. There were such severe issues with prison space that
even more disgusting and overcrowded prison ships were used as supplements.
That
being said, it’s hard not to notice the national self-interest served by
thousands upon thousands of cheap laborers being available to help develop new
colonies. Transportation would linger, as a punishment, officially until 1868,
but for several reasons, including socio-economic and geopolitical changes, it
had de facto ended years before.
Castles,
Customs, and Kings is available at Amazon
US, Amazon
UK, Barnes
and Noble, and Kobo.
It is an excellent gift for lovers of history and with its short topics, a
great book for a waiting-room or break-room. Author Tom Williams said, "It's
an amusing trot through British history and excellent bedtime reading."
