The Queen's Ass ... or how the donkey earned its stripes!

By Mike Rendell

Standing in the dappled shade on the edge of a woodland  a zebra looks majestically ... around the gardens of Buckingham House. The scene was painted by George Stubbs in 1763 and the picture, shown courtesy of the Yale Center for British Art, is one of a number of exotic wild animals painted by Stubbs. Normally this artist was known for his equine paintings, and he achieved his amazing lifelike studies by spending hours dissecting dead horses. By revealing the muscles and ligaments and by attaching weights and pulleys, he was able to see how the animal moved. But this time the subject, a zebra, was still very much alive and kicking. Besides, its owner was no less a person than Her Majesty the Queen and she was rather fond of her zebra, or she-ass as it was known, on account of the fact that it/she was a wedding present.

The Queen, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, had married King George III on 8 September 1761 in the Chapel Royal, St James's Palace and of course that raised an immediate problem for all the officials, diplomats, courtiers and hangers-on: what to give the royal couple as a wedding present? For the governor of the Cape in far off South Africa it was simple - round up a couple of Cape zebras, one male and one female, load them on board HMS Terpsichore under the command of Sir Thomas Adams, and pack them off to London. Unfortunately the male zebra died on the way, but the "Queen's Ass" (as she was rudely known from the outset) was a favourite of the young Queen. The year was 1762 and a constant stream of visitors called to see the beast, reputedly the first such zebra ever seen in Great Britain. As one observer noted: "The Queen's she-ass was pestered with visits, and had all her hours employed from morning to night in satisfying the curiosity of the public. She had a sentinel and guard placed at the door of her stable. . . . The crowds that resorted to the Asinine palace were exceeding great.”  Was the zebra lonely for company? Apparently not, because she was given the company of a royal elephant (my, how those royals must have loved opening their presents from far away countries!).

I rather like the story recounted by Sir David Attenborough to the effect that the Queen wished to breed from the zebra, and in the absence of a male of the species resorted to the ploy of getting a male donkey, painting white stripes across its backside, and introducing it to the "Queen's Ass". Incredibly the ruse worked - the zebra became pregnant and in due course gave birth to a "zebroid".

The Queen's Ass lived until 3 April 1773, having been moved to the Royal Menagerie at the Tower of London. Apparently the taxidermists then got to work and before long the stuffed remains were on display at The Leverian, after it had moved for Leicester Square to its new home at the end of Blackfriars Bridge.

In its lifetime the poor animal became a pseudonym for any of the Queen's favourites, most notably the Prince of Wales, shown here with his striped jacket, waistcoat and stockings. In time the epithet was applied to others such as William Pitt and a number of other sycophantic politicians. It became an easy symbol for caricaturists. The public were quickly familiar with the expression "The Queen's Ass" especially after this rude ditty was published: 
Ye Bucks and ye Jemmies who amble the Park,
Whose Hearts and whose Heads are as lightsome as Cork,
Through “Buckingham Gate”, as to “Chelsea” you pass,
Without Fee or Reward, you may see the Q---‘s A--.
“See the Q---‘s A--. See the Q---'s A--, Without Fee or Reward”, &c.

 (The Queen’s Ass. A new humorous allegorical song . . . By H. Howard, To the Tune of “Stick a Pin There”. Broadsheet, shown courtesy of the British Museum). 

'The Queens Female Zebra'  shown on the Lewis Walpole Library site and appearing first in 1762 in The London magazine; or, Gentleman's monthly intelligencer.

Other caricatures lampooned a variety of political allies of the Queen, as here in 'The Asses of Great Britain' (also via Lewis Walpole Library). It came out in 1764 and was drawn and published by John Jones, and is having a go at the Earl of  Bute, George Whitefield,  the magistrate Sir John Fielding, Irish writer Arthur Murphy,  and the Scottish poet and author Tobias Smollett.

Sometimes the Queen's Ass was a metaphor for the Queen herself, as with this caricature, apparently  by Thomas Rowlandson, from December 1788 and entitled 'The Q.A. loaded with the spoils of India and Britain". It is shown on the British Museum site who describe it as "Pitt rides (right to left) a zebra; he sits on the animal's hind quarters, flourishing a whip; before him are two panniers filled with jewels...The zebra (the Queen) is led by Dundas (left) ... and urged on by Richmond (right), who prods it with a goad. It says, "What are Childrens rights to Ambition - I will rule in spite of them if I can conceal things at Q." [Kew.] In front of Dundas (left) is a signpost: "To Tower Hill by B------m [Buckingham] house".

So, the zebra became a shorthand for  royal greed and stupidity. In Return to the Political Ark, also on the British Museum site, we see William Pitt as the Queen's Ass: 

He is shown as one of a procession of Members of Parliament heading for the ark (representing the House of Commons). The British Museum commentary states: "In the lower left corner is Pitt as a zebra on his hind-legs ; he holds a bunch of grapes to his mouth, in his other forefoot is a paper inscribed 'Pay to my Order on Demand five Millions for Bouncing. P. To John Bull'; beside it is a paper inscribed 'Open to future Insult'. On his back is a saddle-cloth inscribed 'Art of preventing War'. He excretes 'Convention Drops' which are eagerly devoured by geese, dogs, a cock, and two asses with human profiles"

Given that this was supposedly the very first time a zebra had been seen in the country these caricatures give some idea how quickly the exotically marked animal captured the human imagination. Others quickly followed - in 1779 one was being exhibited at Astley's Amphitheatre near Westminster Bridge. I came across the occasion when researching for my book "Astley's Circus - the Story of an English Hussar" about the great exhibitionist Philip Astley. Mind you, Astley was keen to get rid of the creature and advertised that it was available for purchase for 400 guineas. I suspect that he would have despaired of training the animal, since obedience was the keystone of the Astley act. A disobedient zebra, however pretty, was never going to make it as a star. It was never going to rival General Jackoo, his performing monkey, and so the zebra went the way of the ostrich, another of Astley's exotica ...

Another zebra collector was Robert Clive. I am not quite sure why "Clive of India" chose an African animal but presumably no self respecting nabob wanted to be upstaged by the Queen. Apparently he had his own private menagerie - and the same story is told that he successfully introduced his (female) zebra to a paint-striped male donkey, with successful results. When Clive died in 1774 an inventory of the livestock at his home showed a zebra and foal, two small cows, two spotted deer,  two antelopes, six hog deer and, bracketed together as "very troublesome", seven goats and an African bull. The running and grazing of the young zebra cost 3s. a week, while in 1777 £18 8s.6d. was spent on sending the zebra into Shropshire. Quite what happened after it got to Shropshire I do not know - perhaps it got sold to Astley.

Years later, George III was presented with a quagga. A sub-species of the Plains Zebra, the quagga was extinct by the late 1870s, but for some years  a royal specimen was kept at Kew. This is shown courtesy of the Yale Center for British Art and was drawn by James Sowerby in 1824..

Rather more about the exotic animals collected by the Georgians can be found in Christopher Plumb's excellent book "The Georgian Menagerie: Exotic Animals in Eighteenth-Century London."

None of the above has anything whatsoever with what Mike is currently working on! His new book, "In bed with the Georgians - Sex Scandal and Satire in the 18th Century" is due to be published by Pen & Sword books in November. His following book will be "Petticoat Pioneers" and will be the story of women  in the Georgian era who broke all the rules - and succeeded in a man's world.

Giveaway - Hope for Fitzwilliam by Jeanna Ellsworth

All this week, from August 8th - August 14th, Jeanna Ellsworth is offering two e-book copies of her new release, Hope for Fitzwilliam:

Colonel Fitzwilliam has always been a ladies’ man, confident and suave. But when his heart falls for the recently widowed Charlotte Collins, he discovers all of his experience does him little good. And as he prepares to depart for war in the Americas, he fears he is leaving Charlotte behind at Pemberley with a more dangerous foe—one he does not know how to fight. 

Charlotte Collins, ill prepared to understand the workings of a heart that has been touched, is determined to find a way to provide a new life for her and her unborn child. But as she quietly observes the daily, tender expressions of love between Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, she is forced to reexamine her own beliefs about love and marriage. 

With battles looming inside them both, Colonel Fitzwilliam prepares to fight the greatest battle he has ever faced. As the conflict unfolds, even a decorated colonel finds himself helpless against the foe. He can only hope for something greater than himself to intervene—for more than one person has hope for Fitzwilliam to return home safely and secure Charlotte’s fragile, independent heart. 

*Please note - this book contains a brief flashback of physical abuse of a spouse and may not be appropriate for all ages

For a chance to win, leave a comment below. Don't forget to add your contact details! Offer closes midnight Central Pacific time Sunday 14th August.

When the Duke wasn’t the Duke

By Lindsay Downs

Several years ago I was writing a tome and wished to reference Arthur, 1st Duke of Wellington, in a selected passage. The story was set in 1812. Needing to know what his peerage title was at the time, I started searching out information of him. What I learned could take up several posts. However, I will be limiting this one to his early life and military career until 1812. What I learned in the course of my research came as quite a surprise.

The Honorable Arthur Wesley was born on 1 May 1769 in Dublin to the 1st Earl of Mornington and Anne, eldest daughter of the 1st Viscount Dungannon. The exact location is uncertain but the most likely place was his parents’ house, 24 Upper Merrion Street. On the death of his father in 1781, Arthur's elder brother, Richard, assumed the title and was beneficial in Arthur’s early advancement within the military.

The ancestral home, Dangan Castle, engraving 1842

Arthur’s early schooling was at Trim, when living at the family’s castle in Dangan, and Mr. Whyte’s Academy when in Dublin. When he was of age Arthur was sent to Eton. The loneliness of being there caused him to dislike the school very much, and, since at the time Eton didn’t have playing fields, it’s doubtful whether he ever said, “The Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton”.

In 1784, with funds growing tight, his mother, Anne, withdrew him from school. Together they traveled to Brussels where they stayed until his early twenties. Then in either 1785 or 1786 (Different sources differ) he enrolled in the French Royal Academy of Equitation. While there he improved his French and was very popular with the neighbors.

1787 saw Arthur entering the military. With assistances from Richard, Lord Mornington, Arthur was gazetted as an ensign to the 73rd Regiment of Foot on 7 March. Then in November of the same year he was assigned as aide-de-camp to Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Marquis of Buckingham. He held this position until March 1793, having also served under the Earl of Westmorland. At some point during this year he transferred to the 76th Regiment and was promoted to lieutenant on Christmas Day.

23 January 1788 saw Arthur transferring again, this time to the 41st Regiment of Foot. He didn’t stay but a year and a half; on 25 June 1789, still a lieutenant, he went to the 12th (Prince of Wales's) Regiment of (Light) Dragoons.

He stayed with the 12th until 1791 where on 30 June he was given a company of soldiers in the 58th Regiment of Foot.

Kitty Pakenham by J. R. Swinton c.1850
from early sketch c.1810

Then on 31 October 1792 he moved once again, this time to the 18th Light Dragoons. Shortly afterwards, in 1793, he became enamored with Catherine (Kitty as she preferred) Pakenham. Arthur approached her brother Thomas, Earl of Langford. The earl turned him down, citing him to be 'a young man, in debt, with very poor prospects’. Arthur was so upset by the rejection that he, an aspiring amateur musician, burned his violins and vowed to pursue a military career. On a happier note he did marry Kitty on 10 April 1806. However, they lived apart even in the same house, only to become close on her deathbed on 24 April 1831. Kitty gave Arthur two children, Arthur and Charles.

Depending on the source, it was either 1793 or 1794 when on 30 April Arthur purchased a majority with the 33rd Foot and was soon sent to Antwerp. He joined up with the army on 10 July. 14-15 September saw him in his first engagement at the Battle of Boxtel. Soldiers in front of the 33rd were retreating towards his line. He ordered it opened to allow the English to escape through them to the rear. Arthur then ordered volleys of rifle fire which drove the enemy back. They were later to be forced back to the Waal River. On December 20 he wrote, “We turn out once, sometimes twice, every night; the officers and men are harassed to death. I have not had my clothes off my back for a long time, and generally spend the greatest part of the night upon the bank of the river”.
(This would have such an impact on him that, even when returning home, he would sleep on a camp cot.)

Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Wellesley,
aged c. 26, in the 33rd Regiment.

Finally driven out of the United Provinces into Germany after a disastrous expedition, Wellesley later said of his time in the Netherlands, “At least I learned what not to do, and that is always a valuable lesson”.

In March of 1795 he returned, with the 33rd , to England, then a year later rejoined the regiment in Southampton. The intention was to make for the West Indies. Weather was not in their favor. After seven weeks the ships were forced to return, landing at Poole, England. Arthur and the men recuperated for several months then on 3 May he was promoted to full Colonel. A few weeks later the 33rd set sail for Calcutta.

February 1797 saw Arthur and the 33rd arrive in India. After spending several months there he, along with the soldiers, were sent to the Philippines. As, unsurprisingly, neither he nor the men had ever lived in a tropical climate, Arthur quickly established rules for dealing with hygiene. November saw them back in India.

Here we have another discrepancy between my sources. According to ‘A Web of English History’ Wellesley strongly urged his brother, Richard, Earl of Mornington, to come and take up the position of governor-general, while Wikipedia says that Arthur learned his brother had taken up the position. I leave it to you good readers to decide.

It was also in 1798 that Arthur changed the spelling of his surname from Wesley to Wellesley. In December of this year he was given command of troops near Vellore.

February of 1799 saw the arrival of General Harris who commended Wellesley for his “judicious and masterly arrangement in respect of supplies.” (Once again, Arthur had proven himself not only a excellent senior officer but was also aware of how to care for those under him. This trait would continue for years to come and serve him well as he continued to learn the craft of being a leader of men.)

Having distinguished himself so well at several battles, on 17 July 1801 Arthur was promoted to Brigadier-general. Three years later, June 1804, he applied for and was granted permission to return to England. In the meanwhile he returned to Madras where he was invested with the Order of Bath (K.B.). This was conferred upon him on 1 September 1804. During his tenure in India he amassed a fortune of £42,000 mostly from prize money.*

Three years after returning to England, in May 1807 Arthur stepped down from a political appointment when word reached him about an expedition going to Denmark. In August of that year he participated in the Second Battle of Copenhagen. If the city rather than the battle sounds familiar, that’s because later in Wellesley’s military career he rode a horse of the same name not only in Spain but more famously at the Battle of Waterloo for over fifteen hours. It is said that when Wellington dismounted after Waterloo he gave Copenhagen a pat and was almost kicked in the head by the beast. Copenhagen retired to Stratfield Saye House, the duke’s estate, and died on 12 February 1836 at 28 years of age.

Copenhagen

On 25 April 1808 Wellesley returned to England where he was promoted to Lieutenant-general. July 12 saws him departing from Cork for the Iberian Peninsula to fight the French. By now, having served in the Netherlands, India and Denmark Arthur was a battle-tested commander.

Historian Robin Neillands says it best.
“Wellesley had by now acquired the experience on which his later successes are founded. He knew about command from the ground up, about the importance of logistics, about campaigning in a hostile environment. He enjoyed political influence and realized the need to maintain support at home. Above all, he had gained a clear idea of how, by setting attainable objectives and relying on his own force and abilities, a campaign could be fought and won”.

With several successes in Spain and Portugal, Arthur was elevated to the peerage as Viscount Wellington on 29 August 1809. The name Wellington was selected by his brother Lord Mornington to minimize the change in name. On 26 January then again a few days later on 1 February 1810 he received the thanks of Parliament and an annuity of £2,000 per annum.

From then until 1812, Viscount Wellington had a few setbacks but more advances against the French in Portugal and Spain drawing rewards and accolades from the peers and citizens of England. On 28 February 1812 Arthur was elevated to the Earl of Wellington then with more successes on 18 August 1812 he was made Marquis of Wellington.”

Now, with this information at hand, I needed to decide at what point in my story, as yet untitled, I wanted to have my hero fighting in Spain. I chose spring of 1812, thus being able to refer to Arthur as the Earl of Wellington.
It is amazing sometimes what we will go through to obtain the most accurate information. Hours of research for a fine point of a proper title.

References-
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Wellesley,_1st_Duke_of_Wellington
http://www.historyhome.co.uk/pms/wellingt.htm
*See more about Prize money here
[all above images are in the Public Domain]

Lindsay Downs has been  an avid reader since he first held a red leather bound first edition copy of Sir Walter Scott’s The Lady of the Lake.
Since 2012 when his debut regency romantic suspense was released, he has written several Regency mystery novels. The latest (and last book in the series) is The Hunt Ends, released today, and will be offered as a giveaway next week. Since 2012 He has lived in central Texas. He is also a member of Romance Writers of America and the Austin, TX chapter.

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Editors Weekly Round Up: August 7, 2016

by the EHFA Editors

Enjoy this week's wrap up of posts on the blog:

The Royal Spy ~ Prince William Henry

by M.M. Bennetts

(an Editors Choice archives post)

The Christians Are Coming! (The islands of Iona and Lindisfarne)

by Matthew Harffy

Ann Fanshawe: A Memoir of Love

by Cryssa Bazos 

(an Editors Choice archives post)

Legend or Fiction: The Historical Evidence for Arthur

by Richard Denning

(an Editors Choice archives post)

Crime and Punishment the Medieval Way

by Jeri Westerson 

Dorothy Bentinck, Duchess of Portland

by Lauren Gilbert 

Dorothy Bentinck, Duchess of Portland

By Lauren Gilbert

Portrait of Dorothy Bentinck, c 1772
by George Romney

She was born Dorothy Cavendish, daughter of William Cavendish IV, the Duke of Devonshire, and his wife Charlotte Elizabeth Boyle, on August 17, 1750, in Devon. On November 8, 1766, at age 16, Dorothy married William Henry Bentinck, who was already the third Duke of Portland, in St. James, Westminster. He was 12 years her senior. You can read more about the Duke (here) and (here). Dorothy brought 30,000 pounds to the marriage.

The Duke of Portland was a Whig politician who held multiple offices, including two terms as Prime Minister (1783-1784 and 1807-1809). It is interesting to note that William Bentinck had his name legally changed to Cavendish-Bentinck in 1801. They had several children, four boys and two or three girls. Dorothy died June 3, 1794, at the age of 43, in London and was buried at St. Marylebone Churchyard, also in London. These are the facts most often found when Dorothy, the Duchess of Portland is mentioned. And yet... There are circumstances that make me believe there is more to Dorothy than her birth, marriage, children and death. 

Family correspondence is maintained at the University of Nottingham, which has an on-line search feature. Unfortunately, the actual letters themselves are not available. There is a very brief summary of the material covered in each of the letters in the collection, which is tantalizing.

William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck
3rd Duke of Portland
by John Powell after Joshua Reynolds

Dorothy’s mother-in-law was Margaret Cavendish Harley, wife of the second Duke of Portland. By all accounts, this duchess was a woman of wide interests: art, botany, books, sea shells, bees and gardens, especially roses. She was quite wealthy so was able to indulge her passions, and she formed friendships within the scientific community. She was also known in court circles and close friends with Mary Delany (see the earlier post: Mary Delany, Artist and Personality). 

Margaret’s home was open to scholars, artists and others of wide-ranging interests. Her collections were legendary. Margaret was a member of the Blue Stocking Society, a group of upper class women interested in education, literature and the arts, which included Fanny Burney, Elizabeth Montagu, Mary Delany, Hannah Moore and others. 

Letters from Margaret, 2nd Duchess of Portland to her son, in the collection at the University of Nottingham indicate Margaret approved of Dorothy, and accepted the invitation to attend their wedding. It is impossible to believe that her son’s wife would have had no exposure to the dowager duchess’s interests and acquaintances.

Duke and Duchess of Portland and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
by George Vertue 1739

Another circumstance was a matter of family. Dorothy’s brother William Cavendish became Duke of Devonshire in 1764. He married Lady Georgiana Spencer June 7, 1774 in a secret ceremony. Dorothy was one of the five people in attendance. 

It appears that she and Georgiana became friendly; they certainly shared an interest in Whig politics. She is known to have canvassed for votes with Lady Jersey, the Duchess of Devonshire, and other ladies, dressed in the Whig colours of blue and buff with Fox regalia. Dorothy was included in at least one lampoon by Rowlandson: one entitled “The Two Patriotic Duchess’s on their Canvass” done in 1784 definitely included her (Dorothy was the one being rejected, while Georgiana was being kissed). 

Although I found no indication that Dorothy, Duchess of Portland, was an active social member of the Devonshire House set, as a family member, she was certainly “in the know” and involved in intimate family concerns to some degree. She wrote quite firmly to Lord Duncannon’s behaviour to his wife Harriet (Georgiana’s sister), an action that would seem most inappropriate unless there was a significant personal connection, and one that required a level of personal confidence and courage, given that husbands could legally treat their wives almost any way they chose at this time.

Ironically, most of the information I found about Dorothy Bentinck, Duchess of Portland, was indirect. I can’t help but speculate on her thoughts, opinions and interests. The letters suggest she enjoyed life in the country. She liked to ride when her health permitted. She was interested in cattle, and was involved in the decision to enclose common land on one of their estates (which apparently caused grave concerns among local people). 

She was also a social person; she and her husband entertained the Walpoles and others in their home, and visited them as well. She was a woman of means and privilege, surrounded by fascinating people. Her husband’s position as a Whig politician and her relationship with the Devonshire set gave her insight and access to some of the most interesting and influential politicians of her day. 

One can't help but feel that the hints provided in the summaries of the letters are just the tip of the ice berg.

Sources include:

The Things That Catch My Eye. “Regency Personality Series-William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck 3rd Duke of Portland 14 April 1738-30 October 1809” by David William Wilkin. March 23, 2014. HERE

English Historical Fiction Authors. “Mary Delany, Artist and Personality” by Lauren Gilbert. May 4, 2012. HERE

University of Nottingham UK. “Biography of Margaret Cavendish-Bentinck, Duchess of Portland (1715-1785).” No author or date. HERE

University of Nottingham UK. Manuscripts and Special Collections. Correspondence concerning the 3rd Duchess of Portland HERE

Hayden, Ruth. MRS DELANY Her life and her flowers. London: British Museum Press, 1980.

Foreman, Amanda. GEORGIANA Duchess of Devonshire. New York: Random House, 1988.

The Peerage. “Lady Dorothy Cavendish.” Last edited June 2, 2014. HERE

The Peerage. “William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck, 3rd Duke of Portland.” Last edited May 6, 2011. HERE

Victorian Web. “William Henry Cavendish Bentinck, 3rd Duke of Portland (1738-1809)” by Marji Bloy, PhD. HERE

Pictures from Wikimedia Commons:

Dorothy: HERE

William: HERE

The Duke & Duchess of Portland and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu HERE

~~~~~~~~
Lauren Gilbert lives in Florida with her husband, where she is working on the completion of her second novel, A RATIONAL ATTACHMENT. Her first, HEYERWOOD A Novel, was released in 2011. Visit her website HERE for more information.

Crime and Punishment the Medieval Way

by Jeri Westerson

Fourteenth century London wasn’t any more dangerous than life on the streets today. Oh, the weapons might be different, but the people who were “dead of a death other than their rightful death” were much the same as in the twenty-first century. You likely knew your killer, and that’s because you lived in such close proximity, worshipping in the same parish church (of which there were many), fetched water from the same cisterns, shopped at the same shops, and generally knew one another intimately. There were over thirty churches in London and the city was divided into these parishes or neighborhoods. It took a village, and these parishes did serve as little villages in the vastness of London. The city was a pretty big place, by medieval standards. The second largest city in the medieval world, with Paris being first. These parishes were strung together into larger districts called wards, twenty-five of them. This division made it easier for the justice system to take care of business when there was a death.

So just what did happen when a body was found?

This unlucky person is called the “First Finder.” It’s up to him to call the “hue and cry”, literally crying out to the parish. He gets neighbors to help him investigate. Now, if you are the First Finder and you don’t do these things, you can be fined pretty stiffly. So as you can imagine, many a First Finder simply backed carefully out of the room and left it all for the next poor schlub.

But let us suppose that the nosy neighbors turned up a likely suspect—and in many cases this happens because Man “A” was heard arguing with Man “B” the night before, and if Man “B” suddenly turns up dead, then you’d naturally go to Man “A”…and you’d most likely be right. Same as today.

Anyway, you’ve got a suspect. He is arrested and indicted by judges. Depending on his status in society he might very well languish in prison until it comes to trial and that could be a year or more. In the meantime a jury is chosen from the people in the parish who knew the suspect and from the ward in which the crime was committed—which might be the same area--and they investigate it, talking to witnesses.

Finally it comes to trial, but it’s mostly decided before the trial begins.

In a medieval courtroom there is the bar that the prisoner stands against facing the judge or judges on a bench. You’ve heard these terms before. A lawyer arguing before the bar. The judge serving on the bench. These terms that we still use today are very old and came from these literal sources. The bar—originally from the architectural structure of inns in which the law was taught—came to mean the law itself, a tribunal, the physical place in the court. It was the actual barrier or wooden rail marking off the judge's seat—a bench—the place at which prisoners stand for arraignment, trial, or sentence.

The lawyer, if you can afford one, comes with you to your trial. However, it isn’t the lawyer who speaks for the prisoner. He isn’t allowed to. The prisoner must speak and defend himself. Silence is construed as guilt.

And by the way, neither the prisoner nor the witnesses are sworn in as we do today, because it is assumed that they might lie and the state didn’t want to be responsible for their blaspheming.

As for a jury, King Henry II in the twelfth century brought us this unique judicial system. This isn’t the kind of jury we know. This jury knows you. Today the lawyers try to make certain that no one on the jury knows you and can influence the trial, but in medieval times it was important that they did know you and could influence the trial. And it made sense. Remember the parishes that people lived in, in close proximity? That guaranteed that nothing could be devious and in secret. If everyone knows each other’s business then it’s easy to point a finger and say, “He did it!”

Choosing a jury was important because it is essentially this jury—made up of at least nine to twelve and sometimes more men—would do the lion share of investigating. They would talk to witnesses, they would examine evidence. It was pretty much a done deal when you got to trial—in a year or two—what the verdict would be.

Now the prisoner and the lawyer may question witnesses brought forth and, of course, the lawyer can advise his client and file writs, but that’s all he can do.

In terms of a murder trial, there were two kinds of murder in the beginning: Murdrum—the slaying in secret, what we might call murder in the first degree today. This is murder that is planned, carried out, and hidden.

Then there was Simplex Homicedrum—unplanned, or murder in self-defense, or accidental. Later was added Manslaughter, the slaying in “hot blood” as in a duel or if you caught your wife in bed with another man. Usually that counted when you slew the man, but sometimes it counted, too, when you murdered your wife.

The degree of murder then, as it does now, depends on intention. Here’s a quote from Henry de Bracton a thirteenth century jurist who wrote about the law and how to interpret it. Here he’s talking about “homicide through misadventure”:

“…as with where one intending to cast a spear at a wild beast or does something of the sort, as where playing with a companion he has struck him in thoughtless jest, or when he stood far off when he drew his bow or threw a stone--he has struck a man he did not see, or where playing with a ball it has struck the hand of a barber he did not see so that he has cut another’s throat, and thus has killed a man, not however with the INTENTION of killing him; he ought to be absolved, because a crime is not committed unless the INTENTION to injure exists…” (my emphasis.)

Was the justice system fair? Well, in 200 cases of homicide between 1281 and 1290 brought up from Newgate prison in London, only 21% were found guilty. This is either the result of some good detective work…or the meting out of excellent bribes. You decide.

For further reading (and I warn you, most of it is pretty dry), try The Criminal Trial in Later Medieval England by J. G. Bellamy, Public Order and Law Enforcement: The Local Administration of Criminal Justice, 1294-1350 by Anthony Musson, Crime and Conflict in English Communities, 1300-1348 by Barbara A. Hanawalt, Crime and Public Order in England in the Later Middle Ages by John Bellamy, and Verdict According to Conscience: Perspectives on the English Criminal Trial Jury, 1200-1800 by Thomas Andrew Green.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeri Westerson writes the Crispin Guest Medieval Noir Mysteries. The series has been nominated for twelve national awards from the Agatha to the Shamus. Her ninth book, A MAIDEN WEEPING —dealing with a medieval murder trial — was released August 1, 2016. See Jeri’s website for book discussion guides, her character’s blog, excerpts, maps, and many other fascinating things.

Legend or Fiction: The Historical Evidence for Arthur

by Richard Denning

King Arthur, the Round Table and Camelot hold a central place in British mythology thanks to the 11th and 12th century romances/ fantasy stories penned by  Geoffrey of Monmouth  and Chretien de Troyes. It was these works that created a world filled by Chivalry, heroic quests, Merlin, Guinevere and  the Holy Grail.

Historians differ on the likelihood of a historical Arthur ever existing, but they generally agree that if he did exist he was not a figure from the age of chivalry but rather a warlord from the Dark Ages, desperately fighting battles to hold back the tide of the encroaching Anglo-Saxons whose spread across what is now England threatened to sweep all of the Celtic Britons away.

Today I am going to look at what evidence there is for an historical Arthur. When you begin to look into this period a reader or writer is immediately presented with an immense problem. That is that the mentions of Arthur refer back to that period between the departure of the Romans in the early 5th Century and the Establishment of a degree of order and organisation, and with that a return of literacy during the 7th Century. It is these - the Darkest Years of the Dark ages - as I tend to refer to them to which Arthur belongs if he did exist.

Let us look then at the evidence in a roughly chronological order.

De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae (On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain).

Gildas wrote this in the mid 6th Century (he died around 570). He records the coming of the Saxon invaders and their temporary defeat and the turning back (for a while) of the tide of conquest at a very significant battle.

...sometimes our countrymen, sometimes the enemy, won the field, ... until the year of the siege of Bath-hill, when took place also the last, though not the least slaughter of our cruel foes, which was ... forty-four years and one month after the landing of the Saxons, and also the time of my own nativity. 

Gildas does not mention Arthur but does record the date, fairly precisely to the  late 490's of a terrible battle and slaughter of the invaders. He says it was at Bath Hill. This has generally been identified as the Battle of Badon c500.

Historia Brittonum

The Historia Brittonum, usually attributed to Nennius, is a Welsh ecclesiastic writing  around the year 828 and the earliest work that clearly refers to Arthur. It lists twelve battles when the Britons were commanded by Arthur, using the title 'dux bellorum' or 'war commander'. The Historia Brittonum does not say that Arthur was a king - indeed it implies that he was not, but that he was appointed the role of commander, presumably due to his prowess.

Then it was, that the magnanimous Arthur, with all the kings and military force of Britain, fought against the Saxons. And though there were many more noble than himself, yet he was twelve times chosen their commander, and was as often conqueror. The first battle in which he was engaged, was at the mouth of the river Gleni. The second, third, fourth, and fifth, were on another river, by the Britons called Duglas, in the region Linuis. The sixth, on the river Bassas. The seventh in the wood Celidon, which the Britons call Cat Coit Celidon. The eighth was near Gurnion castle, where Arthur bore the image of the Holy Virgin, mother of God, upon his shoulders, and through the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the holy Mary, put the Saxons to flight, and pursued them the whole day with great slaughter. The ninth was at the City of Legion, which is called Cair Lion. The tenth was on the banks of the river Trat Treuroit. The eleventh was on the mountain Breguoin, which we call Cat Bregion. The twelfth was a most severe contest, when Arthur penetrated to the hill of Badon. In this engagement, nine hundred and forty fell by his hand alone, no one but the Lord affording him assistance. In all these engagements the Britons were successful. For no strength can avail against the will of the Almighty.

It is this entry from which we can draw out certain facts; Arthur was a warrior and commander rather than a king. He fought battles across the length and breadth of Britain - implying a general alliance of the British tribes against the Saxons (that list of battles has been identified with locations as far apart as Cornwall and Carlisle.) The final battle listed here - Badon - has been associated with various locations including Bath (here relying on the words of Gildas). It is seen as being the critical battle that led to the turning back of the Saxon tide for as long as two generations.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Ecclesiastical History of the English People

It may seem strange that Arthur is not mentioned at all in The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (c. 890s), nor in Bede's Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum (Ecclesiastical History of the English People) (c. 731). However there is perhaps an explanation. Gildas and Nennius were both Britons. To them Arthur and the struggle against the invader were to be respected and celebrated whilst the ASC was penned by Saxon scribes, and of course Bede was also a Anglo-Saxon, and their version of history to some extent wanted to portray the Britons as being the enemy and not worthy of praise. Maybe there was no place for a great Celtic warlord in that version of history, so maybe he was ignored.

Annales Cambriae

The Annales Cambriae are chronicles of events recorded in Welsh monasteries. The earliest surviving versions date to the 10th century, and we do not know when they were recorded.

516 The Battle of Badon, in which Arthur carried the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ for three days and three nights on his shoulders and the Britons were the victors.

537 The battle of Camlann, in which Arthur and Medraut fell: and there was plague in Britain and Ireland.

The date for Badon is somewhat adrift of that given by Gildas, but one has to remember that they were written at least four hundred years later than the events to which they refer. That said, here again are TWO references to the existence of Arthur.

Welsh Poetry

Y Gododdin, written by the poet Aneirin around the year 600  survives from an 11th-century manuscript. In it is a reference to a warrior who "...glutted black ravens [i.e., killed many men] on the rampart of the stronghold, although he was no Arthur ..."

Saint's Lives or Vitas

The Legenda Sancti Goeznovii is a saint's life or hagiography of Saint Goeznovius. It appears to date back to 1019 and includes a segment dealing with Arthur and Vortigern:

..In the course of time, the usurping king Vortigern, to buttress the defence of the kingdom of Great Britain ... summoned warlike men from the land of Saxony and made them his allies in the kingdom. Since they were pagans and of devilish character, lusting by their nature to shed human blood, they drew many evils upon the Britons.

Presently their pride was checked for a while through the great Arthur, king of the Britons. They were largely cleared from the island and reduced to subjection. 

The significance of this Vita and those of six others is that they all mention in passing the existence of Arthur. Their dating implies that they were independent of Geoffrey of Monmouth's invention of a fantastical Arthur in Historia Regum Britanniae.

The significance of the name: Arthur.

The historian John Morris wrote a book last century called The Age of Arthur which was criticized by other historians in attempting to lay out a chronology for a historical Arthur.  One therefore has to read it with a degree of caution. Nevertheless Morris argued that the name Arthur became popular in the 6th and 7th centuries whilst it does not seem to have been popular before. Several significant individuals from the period bore the name. Could it be that they were named after a figure who was already a hero and significant individual in their recent past?

So did he exist?

If we peel away the confusion and distraction caused by the evolution of the post 11th century Arthur with its enchanting legends and tales of chivalry, I believe we can argue that there are enough references to a historical figure who lived in the later 5th and early 6th century perhaps called Arthur. He won a series of battles against the Saxons and in particular crushed them in a decisive victory at Mons Badonicus or Badon Hill, possibly near Bath.

This post is an Editors' Choice and was originally published on 19th Jan 2015
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richard Denning is a historical fiction author whose main period of interest is the Early Anglo-Saxon Era. His Northern Crown series explores the late 6th and early 7th centuries through the eyes of a young Saxon lord.

Explore the darkest years of the dark ages with Cerdic.


www.richarddenning.co.uk

Ann Fanshawe: A Memoir of Love

By Cryssa Bazos

Journaling became fashionable during the 17th century. Well-known diarists, such as Samuel Pepys, and John Evelyn documented the affairs of the day, but the memoirs of Ann Fanshawe are a charming testimony of her love for her husband, Richard Fanshawe. She wrote it for her only surviving son, Richard, who was only ten months old when his father died. Ann wanted him to know the character of his father and achievements during his lifetime.

Cornelis Janssens van Ceulen
via Wikimedia Commons

Ann Harrison Fanshawe was born in London on March 25, 1625, the eldest daughter of Sir John Harrison of Balls (Hertfordshire). She had a carefree childhood, and although she was taught the necessary skills expected of one in her station, she was high-spirited:

I learned as well as most did, yet was I wild to that degree, that the hours of my beloved recreation took up too much of my time, for I loved riding in the first place, running, and all active pastimes; in short, I was that which we graver people call a hoyting girl; but to be just to myself, I never did mischief to myself or people, nor one immodest word or action in my life, though skipping and activity was my delight.

Throughout her life, she never lost her passionate and spirited nature. If her words mirrored her essence, she was an engaging and charming woman. There is no doubt that this is one of the traits that endeared her to Richard Fanshawe.

Had it not have been for the English Civil War, Ann and Richard may never have become acquainted. Although Ann was related to the Fanshawes through her mother’s side, Richard, who was seventeen years her senior, spent years abroad on the Crown’s business, only returning before the war.

By Unknown painter (British school)
(BBC Paintings [1] date: 2012-01-19 01:47:52)
[Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons

Richard Fanshawe was born in June 1608 to an ancient family whose lineage traced back to the time of William of Normandy. Richard’s great-grandfather improved the family fortunes when he became a respected civil servant during the reign of Henry VIII. Richard followed in his ancestor’s footsteps. He attended Cambridge for law, but the subject did not suit him, and instead travelled to Paris and Madrid where he became secretary to the English Ambassador to Spain. When the English Civil War broke, King Charles I appointed Richard Secretary of War to the Prince of Wales (future Charles II).

He was ever much esteemed by his two masters, Charles the First and Charles the Second, both for great parts and honesty, as for his conversation, in which they took great delight, he being so free from passion, that made him beloved of all that knew him.

The couple was married on May 18, 1644. Even though they had good prospects, this was a time of war and uncertainty so had very little resources to get them settled.

We might truly be called merchant adventurers, for the stock we set up our trading with did not amount to twenty pounds betwixt us;

In her memoirs, Ann described Richard’s personality with a great deal of affection. She took joy in remembering their special times together.

He never used exercise but walking, and that generally with some book in his hand, which oftentimes was poetry, in which he spent his idle hours; sometimes he would ride out to take the air, but his most delight was, to go only with me in a coach some miles, and there discourse of those things which then most pleased him.

Here was an intelligent and reserved man, a complimentary opposite to Ann’s more vivacious nature. Ann’s love for her husband remained undimmed after twenty-two years of marriage. Theirs was a perfect match:

Glory be to God, we never had but one mind throughout our lives. Our souls were wrapped up in each other's; our aims and designs one, our loves one, and our resentments one. We so studied one the other, that we knew each other's mind by our looks. Whatever was real happiness, God gave it me in him;

Over the course of their marriage, there were times when they had to be apart due to Richard’s work, and Ann felt those separations keenly. The first time, and possibly the most difficult, was after the birth of their first son, when Richard left to join the Prince of Wales in Bristol as his personal secretary. The child was sickly and did not survive.

I then lying-in of my first son, Harrison Fanshawe, who was born on the 22nd of February [1645], he left me behind him. As for that, it was the first time we had parted a day since we married; he was extremely afflicted, even to tears, though passion was against his nature; but the sense of leaving me with a dying child, which did die two days after, in a garrison town, extremely weak, and very poor, were such circumstances as he could not bear with, only the argument of necessity;

Richard sent for her as quickly as he could and in May of that year, Ann joined him in Bristol. By then, the war was not going in the King’s favour, and the Fanshawe’s were forced to move around as dictated by the changes in Royal fortune. They lived one year in Ireland, when Richard was Treasurer of the King’s navy, but were forced to leave for the continent when Cromwell arrived with an invading army.

They set sail on a sixty-gun merchant ship, laden with rich goods, and encountered a Turkish galley. Fearing to be taken as a prize if the Turks realized they were not a man o’ war, the captain locked the women in their cabins and prepared for battle. Ann was beside herself with worry for Richard, who joined the ship’s crew armed with gun and sword. As a true heroine, Ann was determined to meet this enemy by her husband’s side. Resourceful woman that she was, she bribed a cabin boy to release her:

I, all in tears, desired him [the cabin boy] to be so good as to give me his blue thrum cap he wore, and his tarred coat, which he did, and I gave him half-a-crown, and putting them on and flinging away my night clothes, I crept up softly and stood upon the deck by my husband's side, as free from sickness and fear as, I confess, from discretion; but it was the effect of that passion, which I could never master.

Richard must have been shocked when she appeared on deck dressed as a cabin boy. The first chance he could, he “snatched me up in his arms, saying, ‘Good God, that love can make this change!’ and though he seemingly chid me, he would laugh at it as often as he remembered that voyage.”

The next years were financially difficult for them, and rather than live on credit, Ann made frequent trips to England to obtain funds for her husband. In 1650, a year after the execution of Charles I, Richard left for Scotland to join Charles II in his bid to win back his father’s throne.

Richard fought at Worcester on September 3, 1651, the fateful battle of the civil war when the King lost to Cromwell and barely escaped with his life. Ann went wild with worry not knowing what happened to her husband.

When the King being missed, and nothing heard of your father being dead or alive, for three days it was inexpressible what affliction I was in. I neither eat nor slept, but trembled at every motion I heard, expecting the fatal news, which at last came in their news-book, which mentioned your father a prisoner.

She wasted no time and left for London. By chance, she met an acquaintance who gave her information about Richard and promised to make arrangements for her to meet him. She arrived at a Charing Cross inn with her father and the friends, not knowing if that would be the last time she would see him. When Richard saw Ann crying, he said, “Cease weeping, no other thing upon earth can move me.”

After this, Richard was taken to Whitehall and held prisoner in isolation for ten weeks. Not even Ann was allowed to visit him, but every day she would go to Whitehall and see him at his window:

During the time of his imprisonment, I failed not constantly to go, when the clock struck four in the morning, with a dark lantern in my hand, all alone and on foot, from my lodging in Chancery Lane, at my cousin Young's, to Whitehall, in at the entry that went out of King Street into the bowling-green. There I would go under his window and softly call him: he, after the first time excepted, never failed to put out his head at the first call: thus we talked together, and sometimes I was so wet with the rain, that it went in at my neck and out at my heels.

It was Oliver Cromwell who was instrumental in gaining his release. Richard’s health was poor, and he advised Ann to get a doctor’s certificate stating that her husband was near death. Cromwell argued in favour of his release so he could receive treatment, and Richard was released on £4,000 bail.

Richard was now on parole and would continue to be until the death of Oliver Cromwell. When he was released from his bond, he relocated his family to Paris where he remained with the exiled King until the Restoration. At Charles II’s coronation, Richard occupied a place of honour, riding upon the King’s left hand with “rich foot-clots, and four men in rich liveries.” Ann’s pride in her husband could not be surpassed.

On June 26, 1666, Richard fell ill of the ague and died abroad, leaving Ann to raise their son and four daughters alone. She made arrangements to bring him home for burial where he was eventually laid to rest at St. Mary’s in Ware.

Ann included a lengthy prayer in her memoirs that spoke of her grief, even eleven years after Richard’s death. She admitted that she considered withdrawing from society in Richard’s memory but her duties as mother prevented her from doing so.

Ann Fanshawe passed away on January 20, 1679 at the age of 55, just over twelve years after Richard died. I believe that she was at peace in her final moments with the knowledge that she would soon be reunited with her love.

CC BY 4.0
(http://creativecommonsorg/licenses/by/4.0)
via Wikimedia Commons

[This article is an Editors' Choice post and was originally published on 15th March 2015]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

References:
Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe, Wife of Sir Richard Fanshawe
Complete Baronetage, Volume III, 1649-1664, by George Edward Cokayne.

Bio:
Cryssa Bazos is a historical fiction writer and 17th Century enthusiast with a particular interest in the English Civil War. For more stories about that period, visit her blog.

The Christians Are Coming! (The islands of Iona and Lindisfarne)

by Matthew Harffy

The early seventh century was a time of military and religious upheaval in Britain. The different rulers of the small kingdoms across the island vied for supremacy, and violence and death were never far away. Unsurprisingly, most kings of the day died in battle and few reigned for more than a few years at best, some only for months before meeting their bloody ends.

By portableantiquities [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

As Angles, Saxons and Britons fought for the land, so different religions battled for the souls of the populace. Christianity resurged on the island, pushing the older religions back into the darkest recesses of mountain valleys and deep forests. By the middle of the century Christianity had been adopted by most of the nations of Britain (or at least by their nobles and royal families). From the south came missionaries sent from Rome; Europeans such as Augustus, Paulinus, Birinus and Felix. From the north came a different flavour of Christianity, not Roman in background, but Irish.

The story of this northern Christianity is one of two islands. Iona in the west and Lindisfarne in the east.

By Jan Smith from Brisbane, Australia (First glimpse of Iona) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Iona became the centre of the Irish Christian mission in the sixth century when Colm Cille (more commonly known as Columba), an Irish noble, was exiled. He settled on the small island of Iona, which was probably known as Hii at the time and almost certainly gaining its modern name from a transcription error of Ioua Insula (“Island of the yews”) to Iona sometime in the thirteenth century. Iona was then part of the Irish kingdom of Dál Riata and Columba was given it as a base for him and his brethren of monks from whence to preach to the people of Dál Riata and the Picts.

The mission was very successful and Iona became a Christian stronghold in the northwest of the British Isles. The expansion from the west to the east coast came as a result of another exiled noble taking up residence in Iona. This time it was Oswald, the offspring of Æthelfrith, the king of Northumbria.

In 633, after spending his formative years on Iona, Oswald, son of Æthelfrith, was presented the opportunity to take back the throne that had been his father’s. His father’s killer, Edwin, had in turn been slain by an alliance of Penda of Mercia and Cadwallon of Gwynedd. Oswald brought a warband south and confronted Cadwallon near Hadrian’s Wall. Before the battle, Oswald ordered a great cross to be erected and had his men kneel and pray to God for victory.

In the ensuing battle, Oswald’s warhost crushed Cadwallon’s force, slaying the Welsh king and cementing Oswald as the ruler of Northumbria. Christ had granted Oswald victory, and he vowed to bring Christ to the people.

Christine Matthews [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

As soon as he was settled on his new throne, Oswald sent to Iona for a bishop to guide his pagan people to Christ. The brethren of Iona eventually sent Aidan, a gentle and patient man who believed in engaging all people, even slaves, in discourse about Christ. He set up a monastery on the island of Lindisfarne, also known now as Holy Island. From that tidal island base, which in many ways mirrored Iona in the west, Aidan set about bringing Christianity to Northumbria.

Aidan travelled the land, founding churches and monasteries throughout the north, and Lindisfarne became famous as a place of religious teaching and great learning. And all the while, the bishops of Lindisfarne worked alongside the kings of Northumbria to bring the word of Christ to a land that had all but forgotten that religion after the Romans had left the island some two centuries before.

By mattphotos (Flickr) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Oswald was followed on the throne by his brother Oswiu, who continued to champion Christianity and was responsible for convening the Synod of Whitby in 664. The Synod is important, for it was there that the two competing forms of the faith – Roman and Irish – were debated and one chosen. Such intricacies as the way monks' hair should be tonsured and how the date of Easter should be calculated were discussed. It might not sound like much, but the ramifications of the decision were far-reaching. The Roman way was decided upon, which ultimately saw Lindisfarne, with its Irish roots, fall out of favour.

It was still a place of great learning, however, and the following decades would see the creation of wonderful treasures such as the Lindisfarne Gospels. This period of cultural flowering is known as the Golden Age of Northumbria. Monks sought peaceful meditation of the will of God, praying and working diligently over beautiful manuscripts that would become famous all over the known world. For a hundred years or more the island of Lindisfarne was a beacon of education and culture.

St. Matthew - Lindisfarne Gospels (710-721), f.25v - BL Cotton MS Nero D IV, via Wikimedia Commons

Little did those scholarly scribes know that one day Northmen would descend upon their island retreat, smashing the peace and tranquillity in a welter of blood. For one of the things that Lindisfarne is now famous for is that, in 793, it became the location of the first recorded Viking raid in Britain. Those treasures that were so well-known to be guarded only by peaceful monks proved too much temptation to raiders from across the North Sea.

But for those decades in the seventh and eighth centuries, Lindisfarne was a centre of learning and wisdom that saw Northumbria become one of the most important kingdoms of Britain, whose influence was felt across the continent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matthew Harffy is the author of the Bernicia Chronicles, a series of novels set in seventh century Britain. The first of the series, The Serpent Sword, was published by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus on 1st June 2016. The sequel, The Cross and The Curse was released on 1st August 2016. Book three, Blood and Blade, is due for publication in December 2016.

The Serpent Sword and The Cross and the Curse are available on Amazon, Kobo, Google Play, and all good online bookstores.

Blood and Blade is available for pre-order on Amazon and all good online bookstores.

Website: www.matthewharffy.com

Twitter: @MatthewHarffy

Facebook: MatthewHarffyAuthor

The Royal Spy ~ Prince William Henry

by M.M. Bennetts

Spies.  We love them.  We love the idea of them.  So daring.  So intelligent.  So clever.  So wily.  What's not to love?  From Walsingham in the 16th century to Sidney Reilly in the early 20th (credited with being the first modern spy) to the world of John le Carre's George Smiley to Ian Fleming's James Bond, we cannot get enough of them.

Yet, for a long period, there was almost an official denial about not just their role in war or international relations but about their very existence--a very British stiff upper lip "we would never do anything so dishonourable as spying..." response to any attempt to properly investigate the subject.

However, over the last two decades, a great deal of new information has been fossicked out by some very determined historians leading to the conclusion that not just were the British spying their cotton socks off over the centuries, they were good at it--excellent at it, one might say.  Moreover, as with the 18th and early 19th century Russians, individuals of the highest birth were employed by the British government to act as spies.  And the highest ranking of them all was Prince William Henry, third son of King George III.

In 1778, when he was twelve, Prince William's concerned parents conceived the idea that he should be educated at sea in the service of the Royal Navy, as a sort of royal "leading from the front" kind of exercise.  As a dutiful parent, King George visited Portsmouth and boarded the 90-gun flagship, Prince George, to see for himself the accommodation; he "visited the three Decks to see the Men exercise as in action..." and decided firmly that the Navy was an ideal environment for the education of this starting-to-be-dangerously-wild third son.

Coincidentally, Prince William's embarkation on a naval career would also have the effect of stirring up patriotic support for the Navy during this awkward period of war with the American colonies.  A win-win situation in the king's mind.

Thus on 15 June 1779, Prince William Henry boarded the Prince George to begin his new life at sea.  He'd been kitted out with the finest naval uniform by his father--including some 3 dozen shirts and stocks, a mattress, bolster and pillows, pens, ink powder and paper, log books and journal books and a number of weighty tomes on navigation and mathematics--and a special tutor, a Cantabrigian, by the name of Mr. Majendie.  Both the Prince and his tutor were given the rank of Midshipman.

The Prince was, by all accounts, quite eager to fit in with his fellows, learning their slang and fulfilling his duties with the all the application and occasional silliness one expects from a 12-year old.  If his father had thought that the Navy would cure all Prince William's wayward tendancies, he was to be disappointed.  Even so, within two months of being at sea, William was pleased to write in his logbook that at last he had seen the decks "cleared for action," though that came to nothing as the Spanish fleet avoided them and confrontation.

Again on 8 January 1780, more enemy ships were sighted and this time Prince William was not disappointed.  He took his place beside Admiral Digby on the Quarterdeck and saw action against a Spanish fleet of merchantmen.  The Royal Navy gave chase and took prizes, much to William's glee as he "received from Captain MacBride the Colours and Pendant of the Spanish 64-gun ship named the Prince William Henry..." [It was customary to rename the ships taken as prizes...]

A few days later, his logbook recorded another encounter with a Spanish ship, this time a full-scale bombardment which led to total disintegration of the ship.  He wrote: "a most shocking and dreadful sight. Being not certain whether it was enemy or friend, I felt horror all over me..." 

Yet the Prince had just seen action in one of the great naval victories of the day, the Battle of Cape St Vincent!  During the course of the action, seven Spanish ships had surrendered to the British fleet, whilst several others had been blown up or sunk, and the Spanish admiral, Don Juan de Langara, had been taken prisoner.  And when the Prince returned home two months later, the public saw him as having led the fleet to victory and he was the hero of the hour--a very young one at that.

However, at home, the King and Queen were having to digest the unpleasant information that was filtering through about their heroic son's less-than-heroic behaviour during shore leave, which included tales of carousing and brawling in the streets of Gibralter, spending the night in the town lock-up, arrest by military patrol...And of course, now the young tearaway was starting to keep company with his dangerously dissolute elder brother, the Prince of Wales.

So his father conceived of a new plan for Prince William Henry: the war with the Colonies in North America had been dragging on now for several years and the British weren't doing all that well, so sending the young hero there would allow for the young hothead to see further action, which he craved, and rally the loyalists with the royal presence.

And, significantly, the prince was now to embark upon a further mission--after a brief schooling in the art of intelligence gathering courtesy of Mr. Majendie and others--he was to provide his father with reliable intelligence on everything he saw and everyone he met and all that he read... (Remember, the Prince was only 16...)

On 24 September 1781, the British fleet, with the Prince aboard the Prince George, arrived at Sandy Hook, the gateway to the harbour of New York.

Prince William Henry was the first member of the royal family ever to visit North America and the loyalists received him with rapturous delight, and indeed--just as the king had hoped--rallied to the royal banner.  He was feted and flocked to, he attended a council of war, and by the 28th he was dispatching to his father the following intelligence:

"...they had intelligence that Mon. de Graves' fleet from the West Indies were anchored in order to assist and cooperate with the Rebel Army against Earl Cornwallis [and] would soon reduce Lord Cornwallis to the utmost distress if he were not soon relieved...There is but one Church, all the others being converted either into magazines or Barracks...[the navy is] in a most wretched condition...The inhabitants of the town are in number 25,000.  They have 3,000 Militia, besides which there are about 1000 men raised at their own expense...There is a very great disunion between the French and American...the French treat the Americans with a great deal of hauteur."

A fortnight later, the Prince was back aboard the Prince George as the fleet was sailing to relieve Yorktown, having learned that Lord Cornwallis had surrendered on the 19th...

But still, the war dragged on and the loyalists in New York were not ready to yield.  The Prince, meanwhile, had returned to New York and was frequently to be seen over the winter, on or near "a small freshwater lake in the vicinity of the city, which presented a frozen sheet of many acres: and was thronged by the younger part of the population for the amusement of skating."  A pastime at which the young Prince apparently didn't excel, hence "as the Prince was unskilled in that exercise, he would sit in a chair fixed on runners, a crowd of officers environed on him, and the youthful multitude made the air ring with their shouts for Prince William Henry."

And then, things got interesting.  By March 1782, General George Washington was tired of waiting, tired of the winter, tired of the long war and was looking for some way to finish it and throw the British out of North America once and for all.  Across the river from New York, one Colonel Ogden, commander of the 1st Jersey regiment, conceived the breathtaking plan:

"First -- Two men with a guide, seconded by two others, for the purpose of seizing the sentinels, these men to be armed with naked bayonets and dressed in sailors' habits: they are not to wait for anything but immediately to execute their orders.

"Second -- Eight men, including guides, with myself, preceded by two men with each a crow-bar, and two with each an axe --  these for the purpose of forcing the doors, should they be fast -- and followed by four men entering the house and seizing the young Prince, the Admiral..."

It was a brilliant if daring plan.  But Washington thought it just might work.  And, he was ready to try anything.  And if it succeeded, he would trade the life of the Prince for the liberty of the American colonies. Win-win.

Unfortunately for Washington--remember those British spies that allegedly didn't exist?--the British spy network got wind of Ogden's plan and doubled the guard assigned to protecting the Prince.  With some reluctance, Washington abandoned the plot to seize the Prince...

With the signing of the Peace of Versailles in January 1783 and the freeing of the American colonies, Prince William Henry returned home to Britain, his fighting and spying career at an end. Still, no doubt it served him well in preparing him for his future as King William IV.

This Editor's Choice Post was originally published on July 19, 2013. Sadly, M.M. Bennetts is no longer with us to share her immense erudition and wit - but her words still live on! 



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M.M. Bennetts was a specialist in early 19th century British and European history and the Napoleonic wars and is the author of two novels (both coincidentally about spies), May 1812 and Of Honest Fame set during the period.