English Civil Wars: The Women of Espionage

As England erupted into turmoil at the outbreak of the Civil Wars, the need for spies on both sides of the conflict arose. Someone had to acquire military intelligence, distribute clandestine correspondence, and arrange risky escapes. Who better, then, to undertake covert operations than members of the one group almost guaranteed to escape suspicion? The invisibility of women operating as intelligencers during the English Civil Wars has worked almost too well—they are rarely found in modern narratives of the conflict, and many find it hard to believe that women played key roles in 17th-century espionage. However, both Parliament and the Crown utilized female agents in their underground operations. From working-class couriers to ladies of the court, women from every station took part in this hidden side of the wars.

"...there might be many of these Female Intelligencers found about London, and in the Lines of Communication, who are capable of doing as much mischief in that kind as any man whatsoever."

(Parliamentarian news pamphlet, 1645, warning of Royalist spies; quoted in Akkerman 2018, 64-5)

Charles I and his court were not averse to using female intelligencers during the wars; indeed, these "she-intelligencers" were closely involved with and even led many of the attempts to break the king out of his prisons, in addition to transporting considerable amounts of information. Women working for the Crown ranged from noblewomen like Lady d'Aubigny to members of the working class, such as the women in John Barwick's network of couriers.

Lady d'Aubigny is perhaps best known for her involvement in the failed "Waller's Plot" of 1643, a plan for an armed uprising in London in support of the Royalists. After meeting Charles I in Oxford, she smuggled a royal commission of array to Nathaniel Tompkins in London, achieving her goal by concealing the commission in her hair (Akkerman 2018, 28-9). Upon discovery of her role in the plot, she attempted to seek sanctuary at the French embassy, but was eventually turned over and imprisoned in a prison in Aldersgate Street for over a year. She ultimately escaped to Oxford, and would later become involved in the king's affairs again (Akkerman 2018, 30).

Katherine was the child of Theophilus Howard, 2nd Earl of Suffolk, and Lady Elizabeth Home. She eloped in May 1638 with Lord George Stewart, 9th seigneur d'Aubigny, of whom Charles was guardian. In October 1642, Katherine was tragically widowed when George was killed in the Battle of Edgehill; it was shortly thereafter that she met Charles in Oxford and became an intelligencer in his service (Akkerman 2018, 28).

Lady d'Aubigny continued her intelligencing work while Charles was imprisoned, and was involved with one of the several failed escape attempts leading up to his eventual execution. While Charles was being transported to Hurst Castle in December 1648, he called upon Katherine and her new husband, James Livingston, Viscount Newburgh, at their home in Bagshot, Surrey. Surprisingly, Parliament had allowed Charles to dine with them, despite the knowledge that Katherine was a Royalist agent; however, the window of opportunity did not close in their favor. The Newburghs' plan to give Charles one of their horses, the fastest in England, did not fool his captor. The king failed to escape, and went on to his impending doom (Akkerman 2018, 27-8).

Jane Whorwood is one of the best-known female Royalist agents, who acted as smuggler, intelligencer, and mistress to Charles I. Her parents were William Ryder, who managed the stables of James VI and I, and Elizabeth de Boussy, laundress to Queen Anna of Denmark. William Ryder died in 1617, and her mother married James Maxwell in 1619, who was a jewel-smuggling gentleman of Charles' Bedchamber. Jane married Brome Whorwood in 1634; unfortunately, her husband soon became abusive, and eventually left her to be with another woman. After her husband's desertion in 1643, Jane became a smuggler for the Royalists (Akkerman 2018, 34). She excelled in her new covert position, smuggling at least £83,041 for Sir Paul Pindar from 1642-4. At some point, she moved in with Lady Ursula, her mother-in-law, at Holton (Akkerman 2018, 35).

"...the most Loyal person to King Charles I in his Miseries, as any Woman in England."

(Anthony à Wood on Jane Whorwood; quoted in Akkerman 2018, 54)

Eventually, Jane turned to the intelligence trade. She was involved in courier work, particularly conveying correspondence to Charles while he was imprisoned. Sir Lewis Dyve, a Royalist intelligencer, names Jane and a "Mistress Windam" as rwo agents that he used to send letters to the king while imprisoned in the Tower of London (Akkerman 2018, 39-40). Jane would also become a key figure in Charles' numerous escape attempts, planning and participating in many of them herself.

Anne Halkett was born around 1622 to Thomas Murray and Jane Drummond. Her father was the uncle of the Earl of Dysart, as well as Charles I's tutor; he died in 1623. Her mother served as governess to Mary, Princess Royal, and Henry, Duke of Gloucester. Anne herself likely served as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Henrietta Maria from 1642; her entire family was very closely connected to the Crown (Akkerman 2018, 182). She was given a typical upper-class education, alongside learning the ways of court and perhaps even espionage. Her mother's cousin, the Countess of Roxburghe, was a spy for the Spanish, as well as a governess to Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Gloucester (Akkerman 2018, 188). Anne's brother, William, was also a spy (Akkerman 2018, 189).

She fell in love with the Royalist spy Colonel Joseph Bampfield in 1647, and they were "married" from around 1648 to 1653, when she discovered that he was, in fact, already married to Catherine Sydenham (Akkerman 2018, 182-3). Before the revelation of his infidelity, Anne assisted him in clandestine operations. She played a significant role in the liberation of James Stuart (the future James II) from St. James' Palace in 1648; she dressed him in women's clothing, helping him escape to Holland undetected (Akkerman 2018, 189). After that episode, Anne started working as an intelligencer in London. Bampfield was too well-known as a spy and needed someone on the ground to do his day-to-day work. Anne most likely filled this role as a courier (Akkerman 2018, 191). In the end, however, Bampfield was revealed as a double agent working for John Thurloe, Parliament's spymaster, shortly after his first wife was revealed. Anne went on to marry Sir James Halkett, a fellow Royalist conspirator and a true widower, in March 1656 (Akkerman 2018, 183).

While many Royalist agents were ladies of the court, they also employed lower-class women. John Barwick, an Anglican clergyman and Royalist spy, ran a clandestine ring of female couriers who transported illicit materials between Oxford and London (Smith 2011, 42-4). These women smuggled letters concealed in books between the two cities. Barwick's brother Peter made note of the "Meanness" of the women's conditions, which made them less conspicuous than the high-profile ladies serving the king (Akkerman 2018, 29). One of the possible routes used by Barwick's couriers involved traveling up the Thames to the town of Henley, and from there proceeding overland to Oxford. Two women named by the Mercurius Civicus, Mrs. Penyall and Mistress Guy, served similar courier functions between Oxford and London, although likely not employed by Barwick (Smith 2011, 44). Richard Royston, a collaborator of Barwick's, also organized the distribution of the Royalist publication Mercurius Aulicus by female couriers in London (Smith 2011, 44-5).

After the Battle of Worcester, the Royalists still had to pull off one last scheme: getting Charles II out of England and transporting him to safety in France. While history has remembered the role of the Royal Oak, less well-known are the many women involved in Charles' flight from the country. The most prominent female figure in his escape was Jane Lane, with whom he rode from Bentley to Trent disguised as her servant; she also falsified documents to ensure his escape. When her role was eventually discovered, she disguised herself and followed the king to France. After the Restoration, Jane was rewarded for her part in the plan. In the following decades, a substantial number of women would receive payment for their assistance. Ann, the wife of Colonel Francis Wyndham, Wyndham's niece Juliana Coningsby, Ann Bird, Catherine Gunter, Joan Harford, Ann Rogers, and Eleanor Sampson all received varying sums of money for their collaboration in the escape (Akkerman 2018, 95-6).

The Parliamentarians viewed female intelligencers far less favorably than their Royalist counterparts, and appear to have used far fewer of them. The noble ladies that served as Royalist spies were not paid directly for their services, primarily receiving payment in the form of courtly favor and pensions granted post-Restoration. They also tended to have personal relationships with the spymasters they reported to as a result of familial history at court. By contrast, the spies employed by Parliament were given a salary, and did not interact in a personal manner with the Council of State. They were deliberately paid poorly to prevent an influx of false or exaggerated information (Akkerman 2018, 66-7). It stood to reason that these informants could theoretically be bought, and were therefore less trustworthy. The combination of poor reimbursement and Parliament's additional distrust of female spies meant that their female informants had to fight vigorously for fair compensation(Akkerman 2018, 67).

By far the most notable of Parliament's female intelligencers was Elizabeth Alkin, also known as Parliament Joan. Elizabeth first appears in the records in 1645. She was a widow whose husband, Francis Alkin, had been hanged as a spy in the early 1640s (Akkerman 2018, 69). By 1649, Royalist publications were aware of her activities, and put out scathing attacks against her; clearly, she was doing her job for Parliament well. Among other discoveries of her career, she uncovered the location of William Dugard's presses (Akkerman 2018, 70). Dugard printed texts supporting both the Parliamentarians and the Royalists, but was eventually arrested after printing Claudius Salmasius' condemnation of the regicide. Her reward for this finding was evidently good enough to allow her to move to Whitehall in March 1650 (Akkerman 2018, 71).

Soon afterwards, Alkin took on the moniker "Parliament Joan", alongside her codename of Mrs. Strof/Stroffe. She took up writing and published her intelligence in Parliamentarian publications; at the same time, she printed pro-Parliament editorials in Royalist pamphlets like the Mercurius Anglicus (Akkerman 2018, 71). Continuing her work after the wars, she requested in February 1653 to become a nurse at Dover, during the First Anglo-Dutch War. Alkin spent her time traveling between Ipswich and Harwich, visiting the latter when the Commissioner of the Navy needed her help for still-unknown purposes. She contributed intelligence to the Council of State yet again in November of 1653 (Akkerman 2018, 71-3).

Two other female informers for Parliament exist in the historical record, although neither was as prolific as Elizabeth Alkin. Susan Bowen appears initially in 1650, receiving payments for intelligence delivered to Parliament through 1655. Like Alkin, her husband was most likely dead or, at the very least, severely injured in the wars. The official books make it appear as though she was possibly a nurse; clear attempts were made to conceal her real work for Parliament (Akkerman 2018, 68-9). The other woman is Constance Stringer, about whom little information is recorded. From the information in her reports, we know that she provided military intelligence to Parliament concerning the wars (UK National Archives). Beyond that, however, Stringer's life remains a secret.

Lucy Percy, Lady Carlisle, was one of the most formidable spies of the English Civil Wars; her exploits were so prolific that she was likely the inspiration for Milady de Winter in Alexandre Dumas' The Three Musketeers. Like Milady de Winter, she was what many might consider a femme fatale, and incredibly efficient in her work. However, she was no assassin, and in the end escaped the grim fate of her fictional counterpart (Akkerman 2018, 7).

Lucy Percy was born to Henry, the 9th Earl of Northumberland, and Dorothy Devereux. In 1617, at the age of 18, she married James Hay, the future Earl of Carlisle (Akkerman 2018, 7). She began an affair with George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham, around 1619. Her husband not only knew, but used the affair to increase his own social capital. Buckingham placed her in the Queen's household as a personal spy in 1626. A decade later, Lucy would be free from the influence of both men; Buckingham was assassinated in 1628, and James died in 1636. The freedom afforded to her by widowhood allowed her to meddle with the political scene, including sending state secrets to France (Akkerman 2018, 8).

During the First Civil War, Lady Carlisle appears to have played both sides of the conflict. She worked closely with John Pym, warning him in advance of Charles' attempt to arrest him and his fellow MPs; he even openly declared her to be a spy for Parliament. At the same time, she used her London residence, Little Salisbury House, as a gathering place for Royalist plotters (Akkerman 2018, 9). She was eventually imprisoned for treason in the Tower of London and then moved to house arrest, but even captivity could not stop her. Lucy continued to send intelligence through the end of the wars from within her prisons. Ultimately, her true allegiances and motivations are still uncertain (Akkerman 2018, 10). She certainly aided both sides of the war, as well as other nations. We may never know who she was truly working for, whether the Crown, Parliament, or herself.

After the English Civil Wars, female agents continued to operate in the interests of the Cromwellian regime and the underground Royalist movement. Susan Bowen and Elizabeth Alkin gave intelligence to the Commonwealth government for several years after the wars ended. Secret Royalist organizations like the Sealed Knot and the Great Trust had numerous female members, including Susan Hyde; Elizabeth Murray, Countess of Dysart; and Elizabeth Carey, Lady Mordaunt, among others. After the Restoration, the playwright Aphra Behn served as a spy for the Crown in mainland Europe (Akkerman 2018).

Contemporaries of female intelligencers never seem to have fully come to terms with their existence. The legacies of these women have been reworked to be more palatable; much of their involvement in espionage has been covered up or minimized (Akkerman 2018, 219-20). Many women's records have been lost to time because they were considered less valuable than men's. The records that do exist are more difficult to follow; women changed their names significantly more often than men because of marriage (Akkerman 2018, 221). And, of course, the best spies are never caught. Nevertheless, there is much that can be learned from the evidence that remains. Rather than allow women to be erased from the history of the English Civil Wars, we can reconstruct their activities and see that all kinds of women participated in all kinds of enterprises. Female intelligencers did some of the most important espionage work in the wars, and sometimes even put their lives on the line to do what men could not. Far from being passive observers, women changed the fate of the kingdom through their actions. Perhaps we will eventually discover female spies who were even more influential than those whose lives and work are described here. Or, perhaps, they did their jobs well enough to remain a mystery forever.

"Independent, invisible, apparently impossible to punish, it seems obvious with hindsight that women should make excellent spies: the only question that remains is why there were not more of them. The answer, of course, is surely that there were, we simply have not caught them yet."

(Akkerman 2018, 225)

The references for all sources used in this project can be found  here .