Elizabeth I Sent Her Favourite to Crush a Rebellion - But He Returned Without Her Permission

In my last Tudor post, we followed the Battle of the Yellow Ford in August 1598, when Hugh O'Neill and his Irish allies defeated an English army attempting to relieve a fort on the River Blackwater. The defeat was a serious blow to Elizabeth I, and the fighting was spreading beyond Ulster. The queen decided to send one of her most prominent commanders to Ireland.

Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex, had been one of Elizabeth's favourites for years. He had already made a name for himself during the attack on Cádiz in 1596, and another successful military campaign would do his reputation no harm. On the 15th of April 1599, he arrived in Dublin with 16,000 infantry and 1,300 cavalry.

Elizabeth wanted O'Neill's rebellion brought under control, but Essex did not head straight towards Ulster. Instead, he spent much of the following months campaigning through southern Ireland. His soldiers captured Cahir Castle in May, but his main opponent remained undefeated.

Back in England, Elizabeth was growing increasingly impatient. Essex had been given a large army, but months had passed without the result she wanted. When he finally marched north at the end of August, his available force had been reduced to around 4,000 men.

On the 7th of September 1599, Essex met O'Neill at a ford near the Ulster border. The two men spoke privately before further discussions took place. The following day, representatives from both sides agreed to a truce lasting six weeks, with arrangements for extending it.

Elizabeth was deeply dissatisfied. She had expected Essex to confront O'Neill, not negotiate an agreement with him.

Essex received the queen's criticism but decided to return to England without her permission. On the 28th of September, he arrived at Nonsuch Palace and entered Elizabeth's private chamber unexpectedly, hoping to explain himself.

His return did not go as he had hoped. The following day, he appeared before the Privy Council to answer for his conduct in Ireland. He was subsequently placed under house arrest, and his position at court was badly damaged.

Essex had once enjoyed Elizabeth's favour, but that relationship was now falling apart. In our next Tudor post, we will follow how his growing desperation eventually led him to rebellion against the queen's government.

Do you think Elizabeth was right to be angry with Essex, or had he been given an impossible task?

☕ Have a cuppa and let's discover history together!

Image info:

Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex (1565–1601). Portrait after Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger, c.1596. National Portrait Gallery, London. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

A Soviet Spy Was Working at Bletchley Park During WW2 - And Passing Information to Moscow

We've covered quite a few German spies working in Britain during the Second World War, but did you know there were British people spying for the Soviet Union as well? Let's find out about John Cairncross, who actually worked at Bletchley Park.

He was born in Lesmahagow in Scotland, on the 25th of July 1913. He was good at languages and went on to study at Glasgow and Cambridge before joining the Foreign Office in 1936. It was around this time that he was recruited by Soviet intelligence, although his employers knew nothing about it.

In 1940, he became private secretary to Sir Maurice Hankey, who was involved in Britain's early atomic research. This gave John access to government papers, some of which contained information the Soviets were particularly interested in.

Then, in May 1942, he was transferred to Bletchley Park, home of the codebreakers. There he worked in Hut 3, where German military messages were translated and examined after being deciphered. Some of the information concerned German operations against Soviet forces, and John was secretly passing details to Soviet intelligence.

Britain and the Soviet Union were actually allies by then. Germany had invaded the Soviet Union in June 1941, bringing the two countries together. However, there was still a great deal of mistrust between them, and Britain wasn't prepared to hand over all its intelligence to Stalin.

John remained at Bletchley Park until June 1943, when he joined MI6. He returned to the Treasury in 1945 and carried on with his government career.

In 1951, MI5 began questioning him after his name appeared in the diary of Donald Maclean, another Soviet spy. The following year, investigators identified a handwritten report found among Guy Burgess's possessions as John's work. He admitted writing it but denied being a Soviet spy. He left government service in April 1952.

He did eventually admit to working for Soviet intelligence during an interview with an MI5 officer in America on the 16th of February 1964. Even though he confessed, he was never prosecuted, and the full extent of his activities remained largely unknown to the public for years.

In 1990, he was publicly identified as the fifth member of the Cambridge spy ring. John died on the 8th of October 1995, aged 82.

The interesting thing about Cairncross is that he was passing information to a country that Britain was fighting alongside. Some of that information concerned German forces fighting the Soviets, so it could help them defeat a common enemy.

But Britain had never agreed to share those secrets, and Cairncross had taken it upon himself to do so.

Image info:

Bletchley Park, Buckinghamshire. Photograph by Matt Crypto, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

William the Conqueror Marched into Scotland - And the Scottish King Gave Up His Own Son as a Hostage

In my last medieval post, we followed William the Conqueror's campaign against the English rebels at Ely in 1071. Earl Morcar and several other leading rebels surrendered, although Hereward managed to escape. William had defeated another centre of resistance, but he still had enemies beyond England's northern border.

King Malcolm III of Scotland had welcomed Edgar Ætheling, the young English prince who had been considered for the throne after Harold's death in 1066. Edgar had fled to Scotland with members of his family, including his sister Margaret, who married Malcolm around 1070. The Scottish court had become a refuge for Englishmen unwilling to accept Norman rule.

Malcolm had also taken advantage of the disorder following the conquest. His forces had raided northern England, taking prisoners and plundering settlements. William had already spent years trying to bring Northumbria under control, and Malcolm's activities presented another threat to his authority.

In 1072, William gathered an army and a fleet and marched north. According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, his ships sailed along the Scottish coast while his land forces crossed the River Tweed. The chronicler gives remarkably little detail about what happened during the campaign, but records that Malcolm eventually came to negotiate.

The two kings met at Abernethy, near Perth. Malcolm agreed to make peace, gave hostages and became what the Chronicle described as William's man. This was a personal acknowledgement of William's authority, although historians still debate exactly what obligations Malcolm had accepted.

Among the hostages was Malcolm's son Duncan, born during his earlier marriage to Ingibjorg. Sending a royal child into another king's custody was one way of guaranteeing that an agreement would be honoured. Duncan would spend many years away from Scotland, living under Norman supervision.

The agreement also had consequences for Edgar Ætheling. William had good reason to be concerned about the English prince finding protection at the Scottish court, although the surviving accounts do not tell us every condition agreed between the two kings.

William returned south with his army, while Malcolm remained King of Scotland. The campaign had secured William's position for the time being, but it did not mean that Scotland had become part of his kingdom.

Do you think Malcolm was wise to negotiate, even though it meant giving up his son as a hostage?

☕ Have a cuppa and let's discover history together.

Image info:

Malcolm III Canmore, King of Scotland. Engraving by Alexander Bannerman, 18th century. Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

MI5 Arranged an Explosion at a British Power Station - Then Let Germany Believe Its Spies Were Responsible

In August of 1943, an explosion happened at an electricity generating station in Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk. German intelligence believed that two of its agents had successfully sabotaged a British installation. A German radio broadcast even claimed that more than 150 workers had been killed. But in reality, the explosion had caused only minor damage, and British intelligence had arranged it themselves.

It all started in April 1941, when two Norwegians, Helge John Moe and Tor Glad, arrived off the Scottish coast in a German seaplane. They had been trained by German military intelligence, the Abwehr, to carry out sabotage and gather information in Britain. After reaching the shore near Crovie, Aberdeenshire, they approached a local fisherman and asked for directions to the police. Rather than carry out their mission, they surrendered.

MI5 decided to use the men as double agents, giving them the codenames MUTT and JEFF, after characters from an American newspaper cartoon. However, British intelligence soon became concerned about Glad's reliability, and he was interned. Moe continued working under British supervision, while communications maintained the impression that both men were still operating for Germany.

There was one problem. The Germans expected their agents to carry out sabotage, not simply send wireless reports. In November 1941, MI5 arranged a small explosion and fire at a food store in Wealdstone, north London. The operation, known as GUY FAWKES, helped restore German confidence in the agents.

Two years later came an even more elaborate deception. Under Operation BUNBURY, British intelligence arranged a controlled explosion at the electricity generating station in Bury St Edmunds. The damage was deliberately limited, but German intelligence believed its agents had successfully attacked an important target.

The German reaction was extraordinary. Their propaganda claimed the explosion had destroyed a major installation and caused hundreds of casualties. None of those deaths had actually occurred.

The operation helped maintain the agents' credibility, allowing British intelligence to continue passing misleading information to Germany. Their communications also contributed to efforts to convince German commanders that Allied forces might invade occupied Norway.

The Germans believed they had successfully established a sabotage network in Britain. In fact, MI5 had been controlling the information reaching them.

Did you know British intelligence had arranged explosions on British soil to fool German spies during the Second World War?

Image info:

‘Ware Spies! You Didn’t Oughter Said It! British Second World War propaganda artwork by Bert Thomas, 1939-1945. The National Archives, INF 3/240. Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

Prince Albert Was Only Five When His Mother Was Sent Away - And He Never Saw Her Again

In my last Victorian post, we looked at Queen Victoria's wedding to Prince Albert in 1840 and how her choice of a white dress influenced bridal fashion. But there was a rather sad story behind Albert's own childhood. His mother, Princess Louise of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg, had been separated from her children following the breakdown of her marriage.

Louise was just 16 when she married Ernest, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, on the 31st of July 1817. Her husband was seventeen years older, and within two years they had two sons. Ernest was born in June 1818, followed by Albert on the 26th of August 1819. At first, the marriage appeared reasonably happy, but that soon changed.

Ernest was well known for his affairs, and Louise became increasingly unhappy. There were also accusations that she had been unfaithful, although historians have questioned the reliability of some of these claims. What is certain is that by 1824, the marriage was falling apart, and arrangements were made for Louise to leave Coburg.

In September 1824, Louise was sent to St Wendel, away from the ducal court. Her two sons remained with their father. Ernest was six years old, while Albert had only just turned five. Despite her affection for the boys, she would never be permitted to see them again.

The marriage formally ended in divorce in 1826, and Louise subsequently married Alexander von Hanstein. She remained separated from her children, and although she had begun a new chapter in her life, her health eventually deteriorated.

On the 30th of August 1831, Louise died in Paris following a long illness. She was only 30 years old, and Albert had celebrated his twelfth birthday just four days earlier.

Albert never forgot his mother. Years later, after marrying Queen Victoria, he gave his wife a small pin that Louise had given him when he was a child. It was one of the few personal reminders he still possessed of her. He also named his fourth daughter Louise, after the mother he had lost.

When Albert married Victoria in 1840, his mother had already been dead for nearly nine years. She never lived to see him become the husband of the British Queen or the father of nine children.

Did you know that Prince Albert had been separated from his mother at such a young age?

Image info:

Princess Louise of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg with her sons Ernest and Albert, c.1823-1824. Ludwig Döll. Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

A British Spy Was Working for Germany - Then MI5 Put Him in Prison and Asked Him to Carry On

On the 4th of September 1939, just one day after Britain declared war on Germany, a Welsh electrical engineer named Arthur Owens contacted Special Branch. British intelligence already knew he had been passing information to the Germans, and he was promptly detained. What happened next was rather unusual. Instead of ending his spying career, MI5 decided to put his German connections to work.

Owens owned a business supplying batteries for ships, and his work had taken him to German naval shipyards during the 1930s. He had originally supplied information about what he saw to Britain's Secret Intelligence Service. However, he had also established a relationship with the Abwehr, Germany's military intelligence organisation. The Germans knew him as JOHNNY.

In January 1939, Owens received a wireless transmitter from his German contacts. He informed the British authorities about the equipment, but there were already serious doubts about his loyalty. He had been dealing with both sides for years, and nobody could be entirely certain whose interests he was serving.

After his detention in September, MI5 arranged for Owens to continue communicating with Germany under British supervision. Remarkably, some of his earliest wartime wireless messages were transmitted from inside Wandsworth Prison, where he was being held. The Germans believed they were receiving information from one of their agents in Britain, unaware that British intelligence was involved.

Owens was given the British codename SNOW, and his work soon proved useful. During 1940, his contacts provided advance warning about German agents being sent to Britain. Among them were Gösta Caroli and Wulf Schmidt, who were captured and subsequently recruited as double agents under the codenames SUMMER and TATE who we have learned about over the past few days.

But Owens was becoming a problem for MI5. His behaviour remained unpredictable, and the intelligence officers handling him could never be completely confident that he was telling them the truth. By 1941, his usefulness had been outweighed by concerns about his reliability, and he was imprisoned again.

Despite this troubled beginning, Owens had helped lay the foundations of Britain's Double Cross System, which would eventually play an important role in misleading German intelligence.

Arthur Owens had helped Britain catch enemy spies, yet the British authorities never fully trusted him.

Do you think MI5 was right to use a man whose loyalty was so uncertain?

Image info:

What I Know – I Keep to Myself. Careless Talk Costs Lives. British Ministry of Information wartime poster, 1939-1945. Artist unknown. Imperial War Museums, Art.IWM PST 13941. Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

An Army of 4,000 Men Marched Out to Rescue a Fort - But Many Would Never Return

In my last Tudor post, we followed the Spanish Armada of 1597, which was scattered by storms before it could reach Cornwall. While Elizabeth I was dealing with the threat from Spain, she was also fighting a war in Ireland. One of her main opponents was Hugh O'Neill, the Earl of Tyrone, who had at one time been on good terms with the English government but was now leading a rebellion.

O'Neill had spent years building up his position in Ulster, and by 1598 he had become a serious problem. His men were besieging an English fort on the River Blackwater, where the garrison was running short of supplies. The authorities in Dublin decided that something had to be done, and an army of around 4,000 men was assembled under Sir Henry Bagenal.

Bagenal and O'Neill already knew one another, although they were certainly not friends. In 1591, O'Neill had married Bagenal's sister, Mabel, despite her brother's strong objections. The marriage had caused a great deal of ill feeling between the two men, and their differences had only grown worse over the following years.

On the 14th of August 1598, Bagenal left Armagh with his army and headed towards the Blackwater fort. Unfortunately for him, O'Neill knew he was coming and had prepared for his arrival. Along with his allies, including Red Hugh O'Donnell and Hugh Maguire, he had positioned his men along the route and prepared obstacles to make the march more difficult.

The English army had trouble moving through the uneven, boggy ground, particularly once the fighting began. Irish musketeers fired on the advancing soldiers, and the different sections of Bagenal's force became separated. Bagenal was shot and killed during the battle, while an explosion among the army's gunpowder supplies made matters worse.

The surviving soldiers eventually withdrew to Armagh, having suffered heavy casualties. The attempt to relieve the fort had failed, and the garrison surrendered soon afterwards. The battle became known as the Battle of the Yellow Ford, and it was one of the worst defeats suffered by Elizabeth's forces during the war in Ireland.

O'Neill's victory encouraged further rebellion, particularly in Munster, and Elizabeth's government now had an even bigger problem on its hands. The following year, she sent Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, to Ireland with a large army and instructions to bring the rebellion under control.

Essex had been one of Elizabeth's favourites for years, but his time in Ireland would do little to improve their relationship.

Had you heard of Hugh O'Neill and the Battle of the Yellow Ford?

☕ Have a cuppa and let's discover history together!

Image info:

Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone. Engraving by William Holl (before 1871). Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.