Spies and Underhanded Dealings during the 17th Century by Katherine Pym

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

King Charles II

King Charles II did not trust anyone. When in exile, and after the Restoration, his life was often imperilled. There were several assassination attempts on his and his brothers’ lives.  

During the Cromwell days, John Thurloe was head of espionage. As Secretary of State, 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 Americas, and the far Indies. 

The king and company considered the spies ardent Royalists and frolicked with the best of them. Everyone played as well as they could considering how poor the king was. He went from one royal house to another, hoping for shelter and sustenance. He had mistresses and already fathered the 1^st Duke of Monmouth.

Mr. John Thurloe, Cromwell's Spymaster

Apparently, Cromwellian spies had too good a time or perhaps they worked too slowly. Thurloe decided it was time to murder the king and his brothers. He orchestrated the Sir Richard Willis Plot, where the brothers would be lured out of exile to the Sussex coast.  Once the brothers disembarked on shore, they would be instantly murdered.  It failed because Thurloe and Cromwell discussed this in front of the clerk, Mr Morland, whom they thought slept. Morland listened to everything the men said. As soon as he could, the clerk informed the king’s court, then located in in Bruges.   

Mr Morland, a clerk under Thurloe

Even as this plot failed, Commonwealth spies infiltrated homes, churches and businesses to destroy the royalist enemy. Thurloe compiled lists, sent spies into enemy camps, had men tortured and killed. Mr Morland confessed to witnessing a man ‘trepanned to death’ at Thurloe’s word.  

Trepanned Skull

It did not matter who was in power, plots were part of the political life. Under Charles II’s, his government did the same.  Their goal was to destroy nonconformists, or fanaticks.

The king inherited a land filled with restless people and bitter malcontents. 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 secrets.

Charles II replaced Thurloe with Sir Henry Bennet and appointed him as Secretary of State. Bennet brought on board Joseph Williamson who was born to this work.

Mr Joseph Williamson, King Charles II Spymaster

Williamson took the bull by the horns and enhanced the processes Thurloe had begun.  He built a brilliant spy network. An attractive man, he persuaded men and women to turn on associates.  He burrowed spies into households, businesses, and churches.  He used grocers, doctors and surgeons, anyone who would send him notes on persons who were against the king. He had men overseas watching for any plots against the crown.

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 his spies. He expected them to keep him informed by ciphered letters at the end of each day, and passed through the post office.

Williamson obtained letters from ambassadors of other countries living in England. His clerks int he post office opened and searched the letters for underhanded deceit. Williamson 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.

It was an underhanded world in the 17^th century but I can probably say, and be correct, almost every king and queen in every century had their spy networks. It was precarious business to sit on a throne and watch your back for daggers and pistols pointing at it. 

Life is tenuous at the top. 

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Many thanks to Henry Bennet, earl of Arlington by Violet Barbour, Historian of Vasser, 1914, & wikicommons public domain for the pictures. 

For more on spies and underhanded deeds, please see my Jasper's Lament, a story of the 2nd Anglo/Dutch war buildup. 

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When to Bend the Rules by J. S. Marlo

J. S. Marlo BWL Author Page

Most publishers have one thing in common. They like unusual settings or characters. To be honest, it never occurred to me an election office could be considered an “unusual” setting. I worked Canadian elections for more than twenty years—inside polling stations and election offices—and they hold no secrets for me, but then it struck me how often strangers had asked “What do you do in there for two months?”

Well, we perform many different tasks, and in northern and remote districts, these tasks are wrapped in a few extra layers of complications. We have to find polling stations in the middle of nowhere and secure leases. We often have to order our ballots through out-of-town printers, wait to receive them, and then rush to deliver them to these polling stations by car, by plane, by helicopter, by boat...or by snowmobile. It takes days to reach all the stations—and longer if the weather isn’t cooperating. We fear winter elections and snowstorms. If our fax machine dies, it takes a week to get a new one, and we can’t function without a fax for a week—we tried, but we ended up borrowing one from a school. We hire 400 to 600 workers, train them in a few weeks, and pray to every God that they will show up to work on Election Day. We register electors, update their information, and let any eligible electors vote in the office ahead of time even if they don’t live in our district. Did I forget to mention every task is governed by a series of rules? There are even rules about rules. And don’t get me going about the paperwork we have to fill and the authorizations we have to obtain.

Many years ago, on the last evening of special voting, an elector came in our election office. He didn’t live in our district—he lived seven provinces and four time zones away—and his driver’s license listed a post office box, not a real physical address. We need a real address to place the elector in the right district. I suggested a utility bill—gas or electrical bills always mention the address of the dwelling for which the service is provided—but he didn’t carry any with him. As you can imagine, there are rules about acceptable documents an elector can show to vote. We went through the list of documents twice, but he didn’t have any of them with him. The man really wanted to vote, and above all, we have to ensure that every eligible elector is given the opportunity to vote.

In the spirit of “giving him the opportunity to vote”, I asked him to Skype his wife back home in front of me. It was midnight over there and he woke her up.  She rummaged through the kitchen drawers in her nightgown looking for a bill. She was a good sport, and once she found a utility bill, she showed it to me. The name of her husband was on it along with the physical address of their home. The elector received a ballot—and he owed his wife a dozen roses.

On a different occasion, we lost a remote polling station a couple days before the election. An elderly person had died, and the wake and funeral were taking place inside the community hall we’d leased. We struggle to find an empty place. In normal times, every polling station has to be pre-approved and meet a long list of requirements before we can use it. If the place doesn’t meet all these requirements, we need to request a special exemption. In the end, the only place available in the small village was a lodge without running water. The toilet was an outhouse behind the lodge. Needless to say, we didn’t have time to fill any paperwork or request any exemption. The two workers who manned that polling station for thirteen hours on Election Day went above and beyond the call of duty.

During the course of an election, many challenging situations arise and decisions must be made. Returning officers are dedicated men and women who sometimes are caught between a rock and a hard place and forced to bend certain rules in order to fulfill their obligations. Problems are rarely black and white, but we all do our very best to solve them the right way.

In my latest novel “Voted Out”, Thomas is a devious, sleazy, and despicable returning officer, the type of character you wouldn't encounter in an election office. I had a blast creating him. He doesn’t bend a few rules to get the job done, he breaks as many as he can for his enjoyment and personal gain. He crosses all the lines for all the wrong reasons. And he doesn't get caught...or does he?

“Voted out” is a romantic suspense that takes place inside an election office. It’s a tale of betrayal, deceit, extortion, blackmail, sex, murder, justice, integrity, dedication, passion, and love. It will make you laugh, growl, blush, shake your head, pull your hair, and leave you guessing until the last chapter.

Warning: this author assumes no responsibility if you stay up all night reading.

 J. S. Marlo's Website

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The Arc of the Story..."Where the River Narrows"

Billie Burke as Glinda, the Good Witch of the North

“It’s always best to start at the beginning.” Wise words from the Good Witch of the North in one of my all-time favorite movies, The Wizard of Oz.

Then again, I doubt old Glinda ever wrote a novel or she probably would have come up something a bit less confusing. Unlike Dorothy, I would have asked, “What is the beginning?”

Okay, in the context of the movie, this is pretty much self-explanatory: If you’re heading from Munchkin Land to the Emerald City, you start out on the Yellow Brick Road and keep going until you reach the big gate with the broken door bell. But with a novel, it ain’t that easy. You can start in media res (in the middle of the action) or at square one, as in Tom Jones, by Henry Fielding, with the lead character as a baby. You can start at the end and work backwards, or with a prologue…. The possibilities are nearly endless.

Today’s readers are not so forgiving as Mr. Fielding’s in the middle of the 18^th century, or Charles Dickens’s in the 19^th  or even Margaret Mitchell’s in the early 20^th century. They want something more fast-paced. They want to jump into a book without the long preambles and slow development our pre-multimedia-consuming ancestors found so appealing. Gone are the days of the family sitting around the fire, by candle- or lamplight after supper on a long winter night, reading aloud as the sole form of entertainment.

The fact that I write historicals places certain restrictions on how I approach the arc of a book. The characters are vital to the plot, and the setting has nearly equal weight when planning how the book will be structured. I like the deep third person point of view that allows the reader to see through the eyes of more than one character, and I try to include just enough details of time and place without them being overwhelming.

In Where the River Narrows (with fellow BWL author Ron Ady Crouch, to be published

cover photo © Janice Lang

         cover photo © Janice Lang

by in July 2018), I’ve chosen to begin the book at a what I consider to be a logical start-off point. The Exposition introduces the characters (Elisabeth Van Alen, her family, servants and neighbors, and Gerrit Bosch, the groom-to-be in this “Brides” story) without a lot of preamble. The goal is to show them going about their normal lives while painting in the features and subtleties of the era as a natural offshoot of their daily activities. But to simply present a bunch of people running around in costumes performing out-dated tasks would be boring without a hint of something about to happen. Something is brewing that will upset this idyllic scene and have far-reaching consequences.

Before the proverbial cart is overturned, relationships between the characters are established, the groundwork laid for the “bride” aspect of the book, and the external conflicts put in place that are responsible not only for capsizing the wagon but for trampling its contents under foot.

Following the “Exposition,” we move on to the “Rising Action.” After the inciting incident (the event that sets the wheels turning), the story takes on an entirely different feel. What had been normal and comfortable no longer is so. War does this, and war, in the form of the American Revolution, has dire consequences for Elisabeth and Gerrit. There are losses and separations. Loved ones die, confidences are betrayed, and the survivors are forced to carry on amid harsh and forbidding circumstances. In this part of the book, Elisabeth and the remnants of her family and servants make a perilous trek to Canada where they hope to seek asylum among the British troops and loyalists to wait out the conclusion of the war. On the way, they meet up with an assortment of colorful characters based on historical accounts from a variety of sources. Once they arrive in Quebec Province, they need to survive further hardship and privation.

The Climax, Falling Action, and Denouement haven’t been written yet. (Neither, for that matter, has much of the Rising Action). But the arc of this story plays out nightly in my mind before I fall asleep. Even though I do not “plot” per se, this book is already as indelible as it could be. There is room for change…but not much. That depends on the research materials I continue to pore over. As anyone who’s ever written a historical novel will tell you, there are gold nuggets waiting to be mined from some dusty old tome that can put a new spin on even those story elements that today seem untouchable.

We shall see….

~*~

Kathy Fischer Brown is a BWL author of historical novels, Winter Fire, Lord Esterleigh’s Daughter, Courting the Devil, The Partisan’s Wife, and The Return of Tachlanad,  an epic fantasy adventure for young adult and adult readers. Check out her BWL Author page for more information and links to order, or visit her website. All of Kathy’s books are available in e-book from a variey of online retailers, and in paperback.

Syllabub & Candy Memories

  http://amzn.to/1YQziX0  A Master Passion   ISBN: 1771456744
Alexander and his Betsy

A delicious 18th Century treat with which our Founders--and their wives--were entirely familiar.  I'm sure the Hamiltons served this at their dinner parties, especially during the spring, when the cows have freshened and the cream is at its thickest.

Here's a recipe, a variant of many to be found on the web or, yesterday, in what are now historic cookbooks. 

1/4 cup sweet white wine such as Riesling or Gewurztraminer, or, if you want it less sweet, Chablis
2 TBS Brandy (Golden Brandy gives a paler color)
1/2 cup of sugar
1/2 vanilla bean seeded
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 tsp. lemon zest


4 wine glasses

In a small nonreactive bowl, mix wine, sugar, zest from lemon and the vanilla bean. Let this stand over night in the fridge.

12 hours later, remove the vanilla bean. Using another chilled bowl, take the heavy cream and  using a whisk + elbow grease or an electric mixer, whip 'till it forms soft peaks. (Take care not to over work it and turn the cream into butter.)  When the peaks form, spoon into glasses and let stand.

As the picture above, I use wine glasses (these look like Colonial Williamsburg glasses to me) filled 1/2 to 3/4 full, then covered with plastic film and stored in the fridge. After an overnight, the mixture will separate, leaving a layer of cream on top of a liquid. The longer it stands, the more separation you get. The bottom liquid will show the color of whatever wine + brandy was used. Use any brandy you like.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/mozarts-wife/id442899071?mt=11

This is a modern recipe. No fridge or plastic film in the 18th Century. They simply stood the glasses on a table, covering them with a clean cloth to keep would-be buggy diners from drowning themselves. The acidic nature of the dessert would preserve it at room temperature for some days. I've seen some 18th Century sieve gizmos which they used to lift the head of cream from the glass, then they'd serve the syllabub as a two-parter, using the wine/brandy liquid for a chaser.  (I prefer to spoon a little of both out of a wine glass, and then, child-like, slap the cream straight down on my tongue. (Many years ago I knew a little girl who turned her jelly sandwiches jelly side down each time she took a bite. I think I got the idea of eating Syllabub that way from her.) Another method was to use the cream as a topper for fresh fruit, while enjoying the liquid in a separate glass.

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A Sugary Digression:  

In my grade school days, I lived in Skaneateles, NY, where we were snowed in for what felt like eons. Sometimes I entertained myself with a candy recipe book that had been written before World War One; it had my Grandma Liddle's name inside the front flap. 

The directions said things like: "Take a piece of butter about the size of your thumb..." (My thumb? Your thumb? All of my thumb? To the first joint?") I'd just have to guess. This was, in a way, a great cook book for a kid in a way because it made me think and also try to learn more about ingredients. I'd also ask my adults questions, something that my parents thought was mostly a good thing.

What I created sometimes worked--consistency is a hob-goblin of mine--but sometimes I'd end up with chocolate cement or--if you yanked it off the fire prematurely-- syrup. The last could be poured over ice cream, which wasn't a bad option, but let's face it, a lump of sugar + cocoa makes a great "gateway" drug for most kids. It wasn't a bad way to spend some of a snowy Sunday.
                                                              ***

Syllabub is very sweet, so something plain, like crackers or tinned biscuits or good homemade rolls may be served with it.  You'll often see plates of these items in period pictures of Syllabub parties.

The excerpt which follows is taken from Hannah Wooley's "The Queen-like Closet" recipe book, (London; 1674)

Take one Quart of cream, one Pint and an half of Wine or Sack, the Juice of two Limons with some of the Pill, and a Branch of Rosemary, sweeten it very well, then put a little of this Liquor and alittel of the Cream into a Basin and beat them till it froth, put that Froth into the Sillibub pot and so do till the Cream and Wine be done, then cover it close and set it in a cool Cellar for twelve hours, then eat it.

This lady appears to be having her arm yanked right out of her sleeve in this  

scene depicting events in Richardson's 1740 novel, "Pamela." 

I do approve of this recipe's final instruction. 


~~Juliet Waldron

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