The Spanish Armada Had Left England Behind - But Its Greatest Disaster Was Still to Come

The Spanish Armada Had Left England Behind - But Its Greatest Disaster Was Still to Come

In my last Tudor post, I looked at Elizabeth I’s famous visit to Tilbury in August 1588, when she addressed the soldiers who had gathered to defend England against a possible Spanish invasion.

By then, the Spanish Armada had already been driven from the English Channel. England had escaped the immediate threat of invasion, but for the Spanish sailors trying to return home, their troubles were far from over.

The Armada had failed to join forces with the Duke of Parma’s army in the Netherlands. With English ships pursuing them and the winds making a return through the Channel difficult, the Spanish commanders decided to take their remaining fleet northwards.

Their plan was to sail around the north of Scotland, pass to the west of Ireland and eventually return to Spain. They hoped to keep well clear of the dangerous coastline, but following that route would prove extremely difficult.

It was an enormous journey, particularly for ships that had already suffered damage during the fighting. Supplies were running low, crews were exhausted, and the unfamiliar waters, limited navigational information and condition of the ships made the voyage even more dangerous.

As the fleet made its way into the Atlantic, severe weather made an already difficult situation much worse. Ships were scattered, driven off course or wrecked along the Irish coastline. More than twenty Spanish vessels were lost around Ireland, and thousands of men never returned home.

One of the worst disasters happened in September 1588, when three Armada ships were wrecked at Streedagh Bay in County Sligo during a violent storm.

The ships were La Lavia, La Juliana and Santa Maria de Visón. An estimated 1,100 men lost their lives in the wrecks and their aftermath, but a small number managed to survive.

Among them was a Spanish captain named Francisco de Cuéllar, who later described how he managed to reach the shore after his ship was destroyed. Even after escaping the sea, however, Cuéllar still faced considerable danger.

Some survivors encountered hostility from local inhabitants and English Crown forces. Many were killed, while others attempted to escape further inland. Cuéllar was eventually sheltered by Gaelic Irish leaders who helped him avoid capture.

After spending months trying to find a way to safety, he reached Scotland and eventually made his way to the Spanish Netherlands. In October 1589, while in Antwerp, he wrote an account of his experiences. His remarkable letter has survived and remains one of the most valuable eyewitness accounts of the Armada’s disastrous journey home.

Other Spanish ships were lost elsewhere along the Irish coast. Among them was the Girona, which sank near the Giant’s Causeway in County Antrim in October 1588. Centuries later, archaeologists recovered coins, jewellery and other belongings from the wreck, offering a glimpse of the people who had travelled aboard her.

Back in England, the failure of the invasion was celebrated as a great victory. Elizabeth’s kingdom had survived one of the greatest threats of her reign, but for the families waiting in Spain, the news was very different.

When we talk about the Spanish Armada, we often concentrate on England’s victory. Yet I can’t help thinking about the sailors who survived the fighting, only to lose their lives while trying to get home. Many had travelled hundreds of miles, enduring battle, hunger, exhaustion and storms, without ever seeing their families again.

Did you know that some of the Armada’s greatest losses happened after the fleet had already left the English Channel?

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The wreck of the Girona, 1588. Nineteenth-century engraving, artist unknown, published 1897. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Italian Prisoners of War Turned Two Army Huts into a Beautiful Chapel - And It Still Stands Today

Italian Prisoners of War Turned Two Army Huts into a Beautiful Chapel - And It Still Stands Today

During the Second World War, thousands of Italian prisoners were brought to Britain. Some worked on farms, others on construction projects, and many found themselves living a long way from the homes and families they had left behind.

Among them were Italian prisoners sent to the Orkney Islands, off the northern coast of Scotland. While they were there, they built a little chapel that still stands today.

To understand why these prisoners were in Orkney, we need to go back to the 14th of October 1939, when a German submarine entered the British naval anchorage at Scapa Flow and sank HMS Royal Oak. A total of 835 men lost their lives as a result of the attack.

Following the sinking, work began on a series of causeways known as the Churchill Barriers. These were designed to close off vulnerable sea passages and protect the naval anchorage from further attacks. They would also eventually provide road connections between several of the islands.

In 1942, Italian prisoners captured during the fighting in North Africa were brought to Orkney to help with the construction. Some were housed at Camp 60 on the small island of Lamb Holm, where they faced the unfamiliar Scottish weather and the restrictions of life as prisoners of war.

Following Italy's surrender in September 1943, life began to change for the Italian men in Orkney. Those who remained to work on the barriers were no longer held as prisoners of war. They received wages and were allowed greater freedom of movement, although returning to their families in Italy was still not possible.

For many of these men, their Catholic faith was an important part of their lives. They wanted somewhere suitable to attend Mass and pray, and in 1943 permission was given for two Nissen huts to be joined together and converted into a chapel.

Among the Italians was a talented artist named Domenico Chiocchetti, who took a leading role in decorating the building. Working alongside other men with skills in metalwork and construction, he set about turning the two ordinary army huts into a proper place of worship.

They had very little in the way of building materials, so they made use of whatever they could find. Concrete left over from the construction of the barriers was used to make the altar, while scrap metal was turned into decorative fittings. The interior walls were carefully painted to give the appearance of brickwork and carved stone.

Chiocchetti also painted a beautiful image of the Madonna and Child above the altar. He based it on a picture by the Italian artist Nicolò Barabino, which appeared on a prayer card his mother had given him before he left Italy.

Here was a man who was far from his family and living through a war, using something his mother had given him to help create a place where he and his fellow Italians could worship.

By September 1944, the men were being transferred away from Orkney. Chiocchetti remained for another two weeks to finish the chapel's font before joining the others in Yorkshire.

After the war, the camp buildings were eventually removed, but the chapel was spared. Local people recognised that it was worth preserving, and in 1958 a committee was established to look after it.

In 1960, Chiocchetti returned to Orkney to help restore the chapel he had worked on during the war. It must have been quite an experience to return to a place where he had once been held as a prisoner and find that something he had created was still being cared for.

Today, the Italian Chapel remains on Lamb Holm, with its painted walls, beautiful altar and decorations still there for visitors to see.

When I think about the Italian Chapel, I think about how much these men managed to achieve with so little. They were far from their families and living through a very uncertain time, yet they used their skills to create a place that is still appreciated today.

We hear a lot about the hardships of prisoners of war, and rightly so, but I think stories like this deserve to be remembered as well.

Had you heard of the Italian Chapel in Orkney, or perhaps even visited it yourself?

Image credit: Interior of the Italian Chapel, Lamb Holm, Orkney. Photograph by Joe deSousa (2018), via Wikimedia Commons. CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication.

WILLIAM HAD WON THE CROWN - THEN HE LEFT ENGLAND

WILLIAM HAD WON THE CROWN - THEN HE LEFT ENGLAND

On the 25th of December 1066, William of Normandy was crowned King of England at Westminster Abbey. He had defeated Harold Godwinson at Hastings and secured the submission of leading English figures, but his hold over much of the country was still uncertain.

Yet in March 1067, only a few months after his coronation, William sailed back to Normandy.

He was still Duke of Normandy, with responsibilities and interests across the sea. His return also gave him the opportunity to celebrate his victory, and before sailing from Pevensey, he appears to have made a show of rewarding some of the men who had helped him conquer England.

Before leaving, William had attempted to reach an understanding with several leading English nobles. Earls Edwin, Morcar and Waltheof had initially been allowed to keep their lands and titles. Edgar Ætheling, whom English leaders had chosen as king following Harold’s death but who had never been crowned, had also received favourable treatment.

However, William did not leave these powerful men behind in England.

Edgar, Edwin, Morcar and Waltheof all accompanied him to Normandy, along with Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury. Keeping them close meant that some of the most influential English figures were away from their own supporters during William’s absence.

Back in England, the king left his half-brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and William fitzOsbern, one of his closest supporters, to oversee the government of his new kingdom.

Although some English officials remained in their positions, the changes brought by the conquest were already being felt. Lands belonging to Harold’s family and others who had fought against William were being confiscated, while Norman castles and garrisons helped the new rulers establish their authority.

And while William was away, resistance began to emerge.

In Kent, Eustace, Count of Boulogne, who had fought alongside William at Hastings, joined forces with English opponents of Norman rule. Together they attempted to capture Dover Castle, but the attack was repelled by its garrison.

Further west, Eadric the Wild joined forces with Welsh allies and attacked the Norman defenders at Hereford. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that they inflicted considerable harm on the castle’s men.

William returned to England in December 1067, but the unrest was far from over. In 1068, he faced further resistance at Exeter, where the inhabitants held out against him before eventually surrendering after a siege.

It is easy to think of the Battle of Hastings as the moment England was conquered. But William’s departure and the fighting that followed show just how much remained unsettled.

He had been crowned King of England, but the struggle to bring the country under Norman control would continue for years.

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Image info:

The South-East View of Pevensey Castle, Sussex, engraving by Samuel and Nathaniel Buck, 1737. Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

They Had Fought Against Britain - Now They Were Working on British Farms

They Had Fought Against Britain - Now They Were Working on British Farms

In 1940, Britain had sent thousands of civilian internees and some prisoners of war overseas, partly because of growing fears about invasion. But by the following summer, Italian prisoners were being brought into Britain to work on the land. Many were soldiers captured during the fighting in North Africa, and the British government had plans to put them to work.

By 1941, British agriculture was under enormous pressure. Thousands of men were serving in the armed forces, while farmers were being encouraged to produce as much food as possible to help feed the country. With fewer experienced workers available, extra labour was badly needed.

On the 7th of August 1941, the Minister of Agriculture told Parliament that the first 2,000 Italian prisoners intended for agricultural work had arrived in Britain, with more expected over the following months. Initially, much of their work involved digging ditches, improving drainage and reclaiming land. These were important jobs when every available acre of farmland mattered, but as the scheme expanded, prisoners also began working directly on farms, helping with harvesting and other agricultural tasks.

In villages and farming communities across Britain, Italian prisoners gradually became a familiar sight. Men who had been captured while serving in an army fighting against Britain were now helping to produce food for British families.

The prisoners remained under military authority, even while working outside their camps. Some travelled to their jobs in supervised groups, while others were eventually accommodated in smaller hostels or allowed to live on farms. Farmers couldn’t simply employ them as ordinary workers, as arrangements had to be made through the wartime agricultural authorities.

Their pay was also very different from that of British farmworkers. In February 1942, Parliament was told that Italian prisoners doing unskilled work received three farthings an hour, up to a maximum of sixpence a day. Those doing skilled work could receive one and a half pence an hour, up to a shilling a day.

When prisoners were sent out from camps, farmers paid the county war agricultural executive committee for their labour. The prisoners themselves received their much smaller payments through the War Office.

In September 1943, Italy agreed an armistice with the Allies, but this didn’t mean that Italian prisoners in Britain were immediately allowed to return home. They remained prisoners of war, although their circumstances would begin to change.

During 1944, arrangements were introduced for prisoners who agreed to cooperate with the Allied war effort. These men could be granted greater freedom of movement, although they were still subject to restrictions. From August 1944, cooperating Italian prisoners could travel without an escort within five miles of their camp or billet during permitted off-duty hours, provided they returned by 10pm.

By the end of 1944, around 157,000 Italian prisoners of war were being held in Britain. Their labour had become an important part of wartime agriculture, particularly at a time when Britain was trying to grow more of its own food.

Some of these men spent years working on British farms, often becoming familiar faces in the communities around them. Yet even after Italy changed sides in 1943, they remained prisoners, separated from their families and uncertain when they would return home.

Did anyone in your family ever mention Italian prisoners of war working on local farms? Perhaps you remember stories of prisoners living or working near your village. I’d love to hear them.

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Image info:

Michael Ford, Italian Prisoners-of-War Working on the Land, 1942. Imperial War Museums, Art.IWM ART LD 1833. Public domain (expired Crown copyright).

They Paid a Penny to Hear Stories - And Even a Hall for 1,500 Wasn’t Big Enough

They Paid a Penny to Hear Stories - And Even a Hall for 1,500 Wasn’t Big Enough

Imagine arriving for an evening out and finding an enormous crowd already waiting outside. The hall could hold 1,500 people, but there seemed to be even more than that trying to get in.

They hadn’t come to see a famous singer or an elaborate stage production. They had come for an evening of penny readings.

During the 1860s, penny readings became a popular form of entertainment across Victorian England. For just one penny, people could listen to stories, poetry, humorous readings and music, often performed by local people giving their time voluntarily.

In 1867, Thomas Wright published an account of his experiences in a book called Some Habits and Customs of the Working Classes. He described attending a penny reading where the crowd rushed through the doors as soon as they opened, desperate to find seats.

The hall quickly filled, with some people still left outside. One woman sitting nearby remarked that she was glad she hadn’t worn her steel crinoline, as she was convinced it would have been damaged in the crush.

The evening’s entertainment included readings from Shakespeare, Walter Scott and Charles Dickens, along with songs, piano music and a flute performance.

But the greatest success was a reading from The Pickwick Papers.

A reader Wright calls Mr Smith had become such a favourite with the audience that they greeted him with cheers. His performance was so entertaining that the hall was repeatedly filled with laughter.

Of course, not every reader was quite so successful. Wright also described audiences at other penny readings becoming impatient with poor performances, sometimes coughing, stamping their feet or interrupting.

Penny readings were organised in towns and villages, often with the involvement of churches, schools and local societies. Some raised money for charitable causes, while others aimed to provide affordable entertainment and encourage an interest in literature.

For people who couldn’t afford many books, or who struggled with reading themselves, these evenings offered an opportunity to enjoy stories they might otherwise never have encountered.

And I rather like the thought of a whole hall laughing together at the adventures of Mr Pickwick. It reminds us that the Victorians enjoyed a good story and a good laugh just as much as we do.

All for the price of a penny.

Would you have enjoyed an evening of penny readings, or would you have preferred the Victorian music hall?

Image info:

A Penny Reading at the Quarters of the 91st Highlanders, Aldershot, 1871. Engraving from The Graphic, after a sketch by Captain Robley. Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

Britain Feared a German Invasion - So It Began Sending Prisoners Thousands of Miles Away

Britain Feared a German Invasion - So It Began Sending Prisoners Thousands of Miles Away

In my last post, we looked at the first German prisoners of war arriving in Britain during September 1939, when the conflict was barely three weeks old. At that stage, the numbers were relatively small, and the authorities were using places such as Grizedale Hall and Glen Mill to accommodate them. But less than a year later, Britain's situation had changed dramatically, and the government was becoming increasingly concerned about keeping enemy prisoners in the country.

By June 1940, German forces had swept through much of western Europe, British troops had been evacuated from Dunkirk, and France was facing defeat. With the possibility of invasion becoming a very real concern, the authorities feared that captured German servicemen might escape or be freed if enemy forces landed. Sending prisoners overseas seemed a sensible precaution, and Canada agreed to help.

In June 1940, Britain asked Canada to accommodate 3,000 German prisoners of war and 4,000 civilian internees. However, there was an important difference between these two groups, because not everyone selected for transportation had actually fought against Britain. Alongside captured German servicemen were civilians who had been living in Britain, some for many years.

These included German, Austrian and Italian residents who had been detained as potential security risks. Some were refugees who had originally sought safety in Britain after escaping persecution in Europe, while others had established businesses, jobs and families here. In the anxious atmosphere of 1940, people who had previously been considered harmless could suddenly find themselves detained because of their nationality.

Ships began carrying prisoners and internees across the Atlantic, but these voyages presented dangers of their own. German submarines were already attacking shipping, and on the 2nd of July 1940, the Arandora Star was torpedoed by U-47 while sailing towards Canada. The vessel was carrying more than 1,200 internees, predominantly Italian and German civilians, together with military guards and crew members. More than 800 people lost their lives when she sank.

The disaster raised serious questions about Britain's policy of deporting civilian internees and how those selected for transportation had been treated. An official inquiry later uncovered serious problems with the selection procedures, including cases where men appeared to have been sent overseas in error. Nevertheless, further transfers took place, and thousands of prisoners and internees eventually reached Canadian camps.

By October 1944, nearly 34,000 military prisoners were being held in Canada, while Britain was also receiving German prisoners in large numbers following the Allied landings in Normandy. But the events of 1940 reveal a very different side of the story, when fear of invasion led Britain to send captured servicemen and detained civilians thousands of miles across the sea.

Had you heard about these early wartime transfers to Canada, or the tragic sinking of the Arandora Star? I would be interested to know whether anyone in your family ever mentioned them.

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Image info:

Royal Navy, 1940 - SS Arandora Star. Public Domain (expired UK Crown copyright). Via Wikimedia Commons.

The Spanish Armada Had Turned Away - So Why Was Elizabeth I Still Preparing for Invasion?

The Spanish Armada Had Turned Away - So Why Was Elizabeth I Still Preparing for Invasion?

In my last Tudor post, I looked at the Spanish Armada of 1588 and how England faced the threat of invasion from one of Europe’s most powerful kingdoms.

But one of the most famous moments of Elizabeth I’s reign actually happened after the Armada had sailed away.

In August 1588, Elizabeth travelled to Tilbury in Essex, where English soldiers had gathered to defend the country against a possible Spanish invasion.

By then, the Armada had already been driven from the English Channel. But that did not mean England was completely safe.

The Spanish army stationed in the Netherlands, commanded by the Duke of Parma, had been preparing to cross to England. With the Armada driven away, that plan had suffered a serious setback, but English forces remained on alert.

Thousands of soldiers were still waiting, uncertain whether they would soon be called upon to fight.

At Tilbury, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, had been placed in command of the English land forces. He was one of Elizabeth’s oldest and most trusted favourites, and it was under his command that the men had assembled.

Elizabeth was 54 years old when she visited the camp.

She rode among her soldiers and addressed the men who had gathered to defend her kingdom.

England was ruled by a woman at a time when military leadership was overwhelmingly associated with men. Yet rather than remaining safely away from the threatened coast, Elizabeth had chosen to appear before her army herself.

In the best-known surviving account of her speech, Elizabeth is said to have declared:

“I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too.”

She also expressed her willingness to live and die alongside her people if England were invaded.

Those words would become some of the most famous associated with her reign.

But how certain can we be that she actually said them?

The version of the speech most familiar to us today was preserved by Dr Leonel Sharp, who claimed to have witnessed the occasion. He recorded his account years later, in 1623, so we cannot be completely certain that every word was spoken exactly as written.

The visit itself, however, is well documented.

Although the immediate threat from the Armada had passed, the wider war with Spain was far from over. Fighting between the two kingdoms would continue until 1604, more than a year after Elizabeth’s death.

Elizabeth never had to lead those soldiers into battle.

But her appearance at Tilbury would be remembered for centuries, and her words became part of the story of how England faced the threat of invasion in 1588.

I think that is what makes this moment so interesting. Elizabeth’s greatest display of courage may not have been on a battlefield at all, but in the decision to stand before her soldiers when the future of her kingdom had seemed so uncertain.

Did you know that Elizabeth’s famous speech at Tilbury took place after the Spanish Armada had already left the English Channel?

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#TudorHistory #ElizabethI #SpanishArmada #TudorEngland #BritishHistory #HistoryLovers #HistoryFacts

Elizabeth I addressing her troops at Tilbury, 1588. Later historical engraving, artist unknown. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.