Secret Service, Spies, and Underhanded Dealings during 17th Century By Katherine Pym

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Per Violet Barbour, author of Henry Bennet, earl of Arlington, (published 1914), “The ministers of King Charles II were not chosen for their honesty…” 

Henry Bennett, Earl of Arlington

 This did not make Charles II a stupid man, but one who had gone through years of hardship. He was cautious. His life had often been imperiled.  Men had conspired against him, or tried to rule him.  It left its mark.  To watch for underhanded dealings during his reign, the king sought individuals who would meet toe-to-toe those who threatened him, and his court. 

King Charles II

On one hand Charles II filled his court with frivolity. He played, danced, and allowed his 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 uneasy, restless, and bitter malcontents whose very existence shattered with the fall of the Commonwealth.  Rarely opening up to anyone, the king did not trust easily.  He expected attempts on his life, or efforts to overthrow his monarchy. 

Death mask, Cromwell

During the Cromwell days, John Thurloe was the head of espionage. As Secretary of State under Cromwell, he sent out spies to cull out plots from within the Protectorate’s government. His spy network was extensive. He 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 America’s, and the far Indies. 

Sir Samuel Moreland

Thurloe compiled lists, sent spies into enemy camps, had men tortured and killed. One such fellow, Samuel Morland, and assistant to Thurloe under Cromwell, confessed to witnessing a man ‘trepanned to death’ at Thurloe’s word.  (Dictionary.com states the following definition to trepan:  “a tool for cutting shallow holes by removing a core.”)  Not a nice way to go.  

Thurloe, Cromwell's spymaster

Thurloe orchestrated the Sir Richard Willis Plot, wherein the king and duke would be lured out of exile to the Sussex coast.  Once the brothers disembarked, they would be instantly murdered. 

This plot failed. 

Commonwealth spies infiltrated homes, churches, and businesses to destroy the royalist enemy, and under Charles II’s, his government did the same.  Their goal was to destroy nonconformists, or “fanaticks”. Depending 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 (Charles I and II). He was let go for exchange of 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. October 15, 1662, he was appointed Secretary of State.  

Sir Joseph Williamson, Charles II spymaster

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 allowed informers who, for money, turned on associates.  He burrowed spies into households, businesses, and churches.  He used grocers, doctors and surgeons, anyone who would send him notes against persons who were against the king. He had men overseas watching for any plots against the king. Informants were everywhere. 

His tools were numerous.  He loved ciphers, and cipher keys. Doctor John Wallis was an expert in this who worked under Thurloe and Bennet. The man could crack a code in nothing flat.  Williamson, known as Mr. Lee in the underworld, used the Grand Letter Office for ciphered messages to pass back and forth between the undersecretary’s office and the spies. He expected his spies to keep him informed by ciphered letters at the end of each day, and passed through the post office. 

Williamson obtained ambassador letters, had them opened and searched for underhanded deceit. He developed a system of local informers, letters and money crossing palms.  Under Thurloe, 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. 

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Many thanks to: Wikicommons, Public Domain &

Marshall, Alan, Intelligence and Espionage in the Reign of Charles II, 1660-1685, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1994.

A Very Short History of Spies and Spying during the American Revolution

by Kathy Fischer-Brown

As one of the world’s oldest occupations, espionage in one form or another has been around for as long as men have contended for territory and resources, waged wars, vied for crowns, and pressed for industrial and scientific advantage and superiority. While in no way possessing the skills, training, and technological tchotchkes of modern-day spies—or their counterparts in some of cinema’s great blockbusters—covert agents played a vital role in the American Revolution.

Anyone who’s watched the AMC hit mini-series, “TURN” (although I will not vouch for its total accuracy), knows that George Washington, as well as his British adversaries, relied heavily on gathering information about enemy strengths and weaknesses, their movements and supply lines when planning their campaigns. He also expended time and energy in disseminating misleading information through the same channels. But for the first few years of the war, American intelligence efforts were no match for the superior training and methods of His Majestey’s agents.

This was soon to change. Under the auspices of The Committee of Secret Correspondence, created during the Second Continental Congress in November of 1775, General Washington was provided with an assortment of alpha-numeric codes, several kinds of secret ink and an equal number of ways to employ them, as well as novel means of transporting and exchanging these communiqués. In addition to hiding messages in canteens and false shoe heels, among others, one clever method involved tearing the message into narrow strips, rolling them up tight, and stuffing the slivers into the hollow stem of a goose quill pen. 

In the pictures shown here, you can see a simple but ingenious method employed by the British during their summer campaign of 1777, which ended in the defeat of General Burgoyne’s forces at Saratoga. The first picture (above right) depicts a seemingly innocuous letter from British general Sir Henry Clinton to John Burgoyne, comprised mostly of nonsense and false information. The Code Mask (shown left) was based on the Cardan System developed by Geronimo Cardano, an innovator in encrypted messages. A cut-out shape was placed over the letter, revealing the encrypted message inside the text (below right). It must have been fun composing a letter so that only the important words were shown through the mask. 

People from all walks of life served as eyes and ears for their respective causes. Among their numbers were women. Although but a few names have come down to us through history—Lydia Darragh, Anna Strong, Ann Bates, among them—no one knows exactly how many women worked behind the lines, selling food and other necessaries as sutlers in the camps and meeting places frequented by Rebels, British, and Tories. In many cases, such as that of Agent 355, a member of the famous Culper Ring out of Setauket, New York, we don’t even know their real names. It’s safe to assume that we never will.

Spying is central to the plot in the second and third books of my “Serpent’s Tooth” trilogy, set during the early years of the War for Independence. In Courting the Devil (book 2), we find our hero leading a band of “scouts” whose directive is to gather information vital to the American cause in advance of the British march on Albany. The heroine, Anne, is betrayed by a particularly unscrupulous American agent to Loyalists who have been misled to think she’s a spy. Her brutal “interrogation” is in no way far-fetched. In fact, I saved her from a far worse fate: that suffered by the real-life Canadian Tory spy, “Miss Jenny,” at the hands of French soldiers serving under Lafayette in 1778. Under the pretense of seeking her father in their camp, she aroused suspicions and was arrested. Not only did her captors try to beat the truth out of her, they raped her. If that wasn’t despicable enough, they cut off her hair—an act considered the height of humiliation at the time. Miss Jenny, however, did not relent and successfully completed her mission. After returning to the British camp with her intelligence, she vanished from history. It is interesting to note that women, in general, were considered too “simple” to understand the complexities of a military campaign, and for the most part, were not taken seriously. A rather short-sighted attitude on both sides of the conflict.

Captain Daniel Taylor, a character who appears briefly in Courting the Devil, was an actual Tory spy who plied his trade between New York City and the area around the upper Hudson River during the British push toward Albany from Canada. Although elusive, he was eventually apprehended by American soldiers, who went on to discover a coded message to General Burgoyne concealed in a hollow bullet in his hair. Taylor immediately swallowed the incriminating evidence, but was given a “strong emetic,” which did as it was intended. He was convicted of spying and hanged. Some say his execution was in retaliation for Nathan Hale’s death a year earlier.

In The Partisan’s Wife (book 3 of the trilogy), the reader is introduced to a number of shady characters, some real, some fictitious, as well as Washington, himself, and a few of his spy masters, as the stakes for our hero and heroine become deadly.

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Kathy Fischer Brown is a BWL author of historical novels, and The Return of Tachlanad, her newly released epic fantasy adventure for young adult and adult readers. Check out her The Books We Love Author page or visit her website. All of her books are available in a variety of e-book formats and in paperback from Amazon and other online retailers.

Pictures courtesy of the Clements Library.

Secret Service, Spies and Underhanded Dealings by Katherine Pym

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17^th century England was volatile. The Stuarts ruled most of this century. There was civil unrest. One king was beheaded outside the Banquet House in London. Cromwell died on a cold and dreary night. His body was embalmed and dressed as an emperor’s; then whisked away to be buried (due to a noisome stink). His son was considered weak, so King Charles II was returned from exile. After he died (a pretty horrible way to go, by the way, which I should probably tell you about one day) his brother took the crown but as a Roman Catholic, he lost it almost immediately and was pretty much kicked out of England. After almost two centuries of kings and queens in religious battles, by the end of the 17^th century, true-blue Protestantism held sway. The rest is history (as I swipe at my sweaty brow). 

During all these different reigns, there was a lot of Espionage.

King Charles II

King Charles II professed to be Protestant and returned to England with great pomp and ceremony. His new populace greeted him with exuberance along the roads and into London. Everyone who hated him last week, loved him today. 

Our new king was not a stupid man.  He understood people are fickle. He fully expected to be assassinated or beheaded as his father was. While in exile, his life was often imperiled. Men had conspired against him. One example: During the Cromwell years, his spymaster orchestrated a plot where Charles and his brother, James, were to be lured out of exile and back to England. The plot was to kill both brothers the minute they disembarked onto home soil. Thankfully this plot failed but espionage in England had turned really devious. 

Men in power used good spymasters. Cromwell’s was John Thurloe, a brilliant man. He created a network of spies (men & women) who infiltrated the most royal of houses. His net was vast. 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. 

John Thurloe

Thurloe compiled lists, sent spies into enemy camps, had men tortured and killed. One such fellow, Samuel Morland, confessed to witnessing a man ‘trepanned to death’ at Thurloe’s word.  (Dictionary.com states the following definition to trepan:  “a tool for cutting shallow holes [in this case the skull] by removing a core.”)  Really really painful and a horrid way to go.   

Commonwealth spies infiltrated homes, churches, and businesses to destroy the royalist enemy, and under Charles II’s, his government did the same.  Their goal was to destroy nonconformists, or “fanaticks”. Plots were a part of political life. 

After the Restoration, Thurloe was dismissed, but not executed for crimes against the monarchy (Charles I and II). He was released in exchange of valuable Commonwealth government documents. 

King Charles II placed Sir Henry Bennet as the Secretary of State and overlord of England’s espionage, who in turn brought in Joseph Williamson, another man born to this work. He took the bull by the horns and enhanced the processes Thurloe had begun. 

Joseph Williamson

Williamson built a brilliant spy network.  He allowed informers who, for money, turned on associates.  He burrowed spies into households, businesses and churches.  He used grocers, doctors and surgeons, anyone who would send him notes against persons who were against the king. He had men overseas watch for any plots. Informants were literally everywhere. 

His tools were numerous.  Williamson loved ciphers and cipher keys.  Known as Mr. Lee in the underworld, he used the Grand Letter Office for ciphered messages to pass back and forth between the undersecretary’s office and spies. He expected his people to keep him informed by ciphered letters at the end of each day, and passed through the post office. 

Williamson obtained ambassador letters, had them opened and searched for underhanded deceit. He developed a system of local informers, letters and money crossing palms.  Under Thurloe, the secret service received £800 per year. Under Bennet, the money doubled. Most of the annual budget was spent on spies to keep them alive. 

As a result, most plots failed. Besides Williamson’s expertise and doggedness, most plotters employed too many people. Everyone around the countryside knew of one plot or another, a family member probably involved. Because of Williamson, these plots dissolved before they were brought to fruition. 

Spies seem to be a part of every decade, every century. Today is no different but electronics have replaced ciphered notes sent to spymasters through the post offices.