England Had Defeated the Spanish Armada - But Its Own Fleet Was About to Suffer a Disastrous Failure

England Had Defeated the Spanish Armada - But Its Own Fleet Was About to Suffer a Disastrous Failure

In my last Tudor post, we followed the remains of the Spanish Armada as its ships struggled to return home in 1588. Storms, shipwrecks and exhaustion had taken a terrible toll, while England was celebrating its escape from invasion.

But the war between England and Spain was far from over. The following year, Elizabeth I supported an expedition intended to take advantage of Spain’s weakened position and strike another blow against Philip II.

In 1589, a large English fleet sailed under the command of Sir Francis Drake, with Sir John Norris leading the soldiers. The expedition, that is usually known today as the English Armada or Counter-Armada, was financed by Elizabeth and private investors.

Its objectives were ambitious. The English intended to attack surviving Spanish warships, particularly those sheltering at Santander, support António, Prior of Crato, in his attempt to claim the Portuguese throne, and potentially capture valuable Spanish treasure ships returning from overseas.

The expedition did not go according to plan.

Rather than proceeding directly to Santander, the fleet attacked the Spanish port of A Coruña in May 1589, partly attracted by reports of ships and valuable cargo there.

The English captured and plundered part of the town, but its defenders resisted fiercely when they attempted to take the fortified old town. Among those remembered for their courage was María Pita, a local woman who became a celebrated figure in the city’s defence.

After days of fighting, the English withdrew without capturing the whole town.

The fleet then continued towards Portugal, where its commanders hoped the population would rise against Spanish rule and support António as their king.

But the widespread uprising they had hoped for never came. Some Portuguese supporters assisted António, but nowhere near enough to secure the English expedition’s success.

English troops approached Lisbon, but shortages of supplies, poor coordination between the army and fleet, and resistance from forces loyal to Philip II made their position increasingly difficult. Eventually, they abandoned the attempt and withdrew.

By the time the expedition returned to England, disease, hunger and fighting had claimed thousands of lives. The principal objectives had not been achieved, and the financial losses were considerable.

For Elizabeth, it was disappointing so soon after the celebrations of 1588.

I had heard so much about the Spanish Armada long before I learnt about the English expedition that followed. It is interesting how two such enormous campaigns, taking place only a year apart, have been remembered so differently.

England had successfully resisted invasion in 1588, but its own attempt to weaken Spain the following year had ended badly. Both kingdoms had suffered considerable losses, and the war between them would continue until 1604, after Elizabeth’s death.

Had you heard about the English Armada of 1589, or is this a chapter of Tudor history that’s new to you?

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

Image info:

María Pita defending A Coruña, 1589. Painting by Arturo Fernández Cersa, 1889. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

They Thought They Were Spying for Germany - But Their Secret Contact Was Working for MI5

They Thought They Were Spying for Germany - But Their Secret Contact Was Working for MI5

Not everyone who tried to help Germany during the Second World War had arrived from abroad. Some were already living in Britain, going about their lives while looking for ways to help the enemy.

In early 1942, MI5 gave Eric Roberts, who had already been involved in undercover intelligence work, a new assignment. He was to pose as a representative of the German secret police and identify people who were willing to help Germany.

Roberts had previously worked as a clerk for Westminster Bank and he lived in Epsom, Surrey. Using the name Jack King, he pretended to be organising a network of people who could secretly help Germany.

One of the people he contacted was Marita Perigoe, a woman with strong pro-German sympathies. She was eager to help the German war effort and believed Roberts was genuine. She introduced him to other people.who shared her views.

Roberts began meeting his contacts at a flat in London's Edgware Road, where MI5 had secretly installed microphones to record their conversations.

One of those contacts was Hans Kohout, an Austrian-born naturalised British citizen who worked for John Dickinson, a company involved in secret Admiralty and Air Ministry contracts.

Kohout supplied information about 'Window', a wartime development that used strips of metallic foil to confuse German radar. He had also managed to obtain details about the Mosquito aircraft. At the same time, he was serving in Civil Defence, helping with Britain's wartime protection efforts.

Other contacts supplied information about fuel storage sites, aircraft technology and an amphibious tank undergoing secret trials.

The people handing over these details believed they were helping German intelligence. Instead, their information was reaching MI5, which could investigate those involved and prevent the material from reaching Germany.

Roberts had been instructed not to encourage people to commit acts against Britain. His job was to identify individuals already willing to assist the enemy.

Although the operation continued for several years, MI5 concluded, after consulting the police, that prosecutions were not feasible. Defence lawyers could argue that the undercover methods had encouraged the very activities being investigated.

I find it particularly disturbing that people like Hans Kohout could be carrying on with their ordinary lives, even serving in Civil Defence, while secretly trying to pass British military information to Germany. It makes me wonder how many people living alongside them had any idea what they were doing.

Had you heard about this MI5 operation and the people involved?

Source: MI5 - Eric Roberts' Undercover Work in World War II.

Image info:

British Ministry of Information wartime poster, The National Archives, INF 3/270. Public domain.

THEY HAD ACCEPTED WILLIAM AS KING. BUT TWO POWERFUL ENGLISH EARLS WERE ABOUT TO TURN AGAINST HIM

THEY HAD ACCEPTED WILLIAM AS KING. BUT TWO POWERFUL ENGLISH EARLS WERE ABOUT TO TURN AGAINST HIM

By the summer of 1068, William the Conqueror had been King of England for more than a year. But he was having difficulty establishing his authority. He had recently had to deal with resistance at Exeter, and trouble was starting in the Midlands and the north.

It was two brothers that were causing it. Edwin, Earl of Mercia, and Morcar, Earl of Northumbria. Both had been important before the Norman Conquest. They had led English forces against the Norwegian invasion at the Battle of Fulford, near York, in September 1066.

Following Harold Godwinson’s defeat at Hastings, the brothers had accepted William. They had even accompanied him to Normandy in 1067, along with several other leading English nobles. But accepting William did not mean they were happy.

The arrival of Norman lords and the redistribution of English lands were already starting to change the balance of power. 

There may also have been a more personal grievance. The medieval chronicler Orderic Vitalis wrote that Edwin had been promised marriage to one of William’s daughters, but the marriage had not happened. We can’t be sure how much this actually influenced Edwin’s decision to rebel, but it may well have added to his growing dissatisfaction.

In 1068, Edwin and Morcar challenged William’s rule. They were not the only English nobles who were unhappy with the situation. Edgar Ætheling, who had been considered for the throne following Harold’s death, remained a possible rival to William.

William gathered his forces and marched north, establishing a castle at Warwick as he advanced. Faced with the king’s army, Edwin and Morcar eventually submitted again, and the immediate rebellion ended without a major battle between them.

William continued through Nottingham and on to York, establishing castles and leaving soldiers behind to hold these important locations.

When we think of Norman castles, we usually imagine enormous stone buildings. But many of William’s earliest castles were much simpler structures, built using earth and timber. They had defensive ditches, banks and wooden palisades, and could be built relatively quickly.

These castles allowed Norman soldiers to maintain a presence in towns and surrounding areas, even after William had moved on with his army.

York was especially important because it had long been a major centre of power in northern England. Establishing a garrison there was an important part of William’s attempt to bring the region under his control.

Their rebellion had ended, but the troubles in northern England were far from finished. In 1069, William would have to face another challenge. This time his response would have terrible consequences for the people living there.

Do you think Edwin and Morcar were right to submit again, or do you think they should have continued to resist William while they still had the chance?

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

Image info:

 Warwick Castle, engraving by William Miller after Clarkson Stanfield, 1844. A later view of the castle established by William the Conqueror in 1068. Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

A French Woman Handed a British Prisoner a Napkin - and His Mother Finally Learnt He Was Alive

A French Woman Handed a British Prisoner a Napkin - and His Mother Finally Learnt He Was Alive

In June 1940, thousands of British soldiers were returning home following the evacuation from Dunkirk. But others were still fighting in France. Among them were the men of the 51st (Highland) Division, who had remained alongside French forces as the German army continued its advance. Their situation was becoming increasingly desperate, and by the 12th of June 1940, the division had been surrounded at St Valéry-en-Caux in Normandy.

Attempts to evacuate most of the division by sea had failed. Supplies and ammunition were running dangerously low, so Major-General Victor Fortune ordered their surrender. Thousands of British servicemen became prisoners of war that morning, including Gunner Henry Owens, whose experiences would later give us an amazing account of their experience.

Henry described the exhausting marches, as prisoners were forced through France and Belgium in the summer heat. Food and water were often desperately short, and he recalled that the guards beat some of the men to keep them moving. Despite the dangers, French civilians tried to offer the prisoners something to eat or drink. Henry also remembered one French woman who had found another way to help.

During the march, she pushed a napkin into his hand. Inside was a message containing news from the BBC, together with instructions asking him to write down the name and address of his next of kin. He was then to pass the information to another woman waiting farther along the road, who would also have a napkin so that he could recognise her.

Henry followed the instructions, although he had little confidence that anything would come of it. With thousands of prisoners being moved across occupied Europe, the chances of a message reaching Britain must have seemed very small. But through the efforts of the Comité de Béthune Red Cross Women’s Section, the information did reach his mother.

According to Henry’s account, this was the first news she had received confirming that her son was alive. She had been waiting to discover what had happened to him, and now, thanks to the efforts of strangers in France, she finally knew he had survived his capture. She subsequently informed Army Records herself that Henry was alive and being held prisoner.

Unfortunately, Henry’s ordeal was far from over. After further journeys by rail and barge, he eventually reached Toruń, in what was then German-annexed Poland, where he received prisoner number 14704. He still faced years of captivity, separated from his family and uncertain about when he might return home.

Does anyone in your family have letters, postcards or memories of a relative who was held as a prisoner of war?

Image info:

51st Highland Division, France, June 1940. Photograph: Capt. Geoffrey Keating / War Office / IWM F 4743. Public domain.

The Victorians Could Listen to Live Theatre at Home - Decades Before Radio Broadcasting

The Victorians Could Listen to Live Theatre at Home - Decades Before Radio Broadcasting

When I think about listening to a concert or a theatrical performance at home, I automatically think about the radio, TV or streaming. But I was actually quite surprised to find out that some Victorians were already able to enjoy something similar.

In 1895, the London Electrophone Company began to offer a service that allowed people to listen to live entertainment without actually going to the performance.

Microphones were installed in theatres, music halls and other venues around London. The sound was carried along telephone lines to subscribers, who listened through special earpieces. Customers could contact an operator and ask to be connected to a particular performance, including opera at Covent Garden.

There were no recordings involved. Whatever the audience heard was happening live, somewhere else in the city.

Some subscribers even had special listening tables fitted with several sets of earpieces, that allowed families or friends to enjoy a performance together. 

The service wasn't just in private homes either. Electrophones could also be found in clubs and public listening rooms, and there were also church services transmitted for those who wanted to listen.

Subscriptions were, as you would expect, expensive, particularly in the earlier years, and even when the annual price was later reduced to around £5, it remained far beyond the reach of many families.

By 1908, several hundred people were subscribing to the Electrophone. The service continued well into the 20th century, but when the radio became more common its popularity waned. The London service eventually closed in 1925.

Would you have enjoyed listening to a live performance from home, or would you rather have experienced the atmosphere of the theatre itself?

And there's another fascinating side to this invention, including a rather unusual connection to Queen Victoria and her birthday celebrations. I've explored that story in today's extended subscriber feature.

Image info:

The Electrophone listening salon in Garrard Street, London, c. 1901. From Living London, edited by George R. Sims, Vol. 3, p. 115. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The War Had Ended - So Why Were 400,000 German Prisoners Still in Britain?

The War Had Ended - So Why Were 400,000 German Prisoners Still in Britain?

When the Second World War ended in Europe on the 8th of May 1945, millions of people were hoping to be able to return home and start rebuilding their lives. But for thousands of German servicemen being held as prisoners of war in Britain, going home was not an option straight away. In fact, the number of German prisoners in Britain actually continued to rise after the fighting had ended.

By September 1946, approximately 400,000 German prisoners were being held across the country. Many had been transferred from prisoner-of-war camps in the United States and Canada. Rather than being sent directly home, they stayed in captivity, with thousands put to work helping Britain overcome its labour shortages.

Agriculture was one of the areas where their help was needed. Britain still had to feed its population, rationing continued, and farmers were struggling to find enough workers. German prisoners helped with harvesting, looking after livestock and other agricultural jobs. Some lived in established prisoner-of-war camps, others were accommodated in smaller hostels or on farms.

For many British families, having German prisoners working in their fields must have felt rather strange. These were men who had recently been fighting against Britain, but they were now helping to produce the country's food.

Attitudes towards them varied. Some people remained resentful after everything the war had brought, but others gradually came to see the prisoners as individuals, many of whom were longing to return to their families.

Although the prisoners received some payment for their work, it was considerably less than British agricultural workers earned. This became another source of criticism, particularly as their captivity continued long after the fighting had ended.

In December 1946, restrictions on contact with British civilians were relaxed, allowing well-behaved prisoners to accept invitations into private homes with permission. This gave some prisoners the opportunity to spend Christmas with British families rather than in their camps.

One German prisoner, Walter Klemenz, was working on a farm in Kent when the Duke family, who owned the farm, invited him to spend Christmas with them.

As a way of thanking the family Walter made a wooden toy dog for their children, using wood from an old apple crate and scraps of metal.

It shows how relationships could change when people had the opportunity to get to know one another.

Of course, not every prisoner had such an experience. Many were frustrated by the delays in returning home, and the continued use of German prisoners as agricultural workers became a subject of debate in Britain.

Repatriation took place gradually, and by July 1948 the main programme had been completed. Although most prisoners returned to Germany, some were allowed to remain in Britain as civilian agricultural workers. For some, this eventually meant settling permanently in the country where they had once been held captive.

We tend to think of prisoners going home once the fighting was over, but for thousands of Germans held in Britain, it wasn't nearly that simple. 

Did anyone in your family ever talk about German prisoners of war working on British farms? I'd love to hear their stories.

Image info:

German prisoners of war helping with the harvest on a British farm, 1945. Ministry of Information Photo Division / Imperial War Museums (D 26735). Public domain — expired Crown copyright. Via Wikimedia Commons.

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?

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

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