The Piccadilly Plot: Chaloner's Seventh Exploit in Restoration London (The Exploits of Thomas Chaloner)

by Susanna Gregory

  ‘Luckily for me.’ The Earl cleared his throat. ‘Henry has shown me every one of these sly secret passages, but they are all in the wrong places.’

  Chaloner frowned. ‘I do not understand.’

  The Earl waved a sheaf of papers at him. ‘They are in the main reception rooms, but these are large chambers, and experiments have shown that if you stand in the middle and mutter seditious remarks, a spy cannot hear you.’

  Chaloner took the plans and studied them. ‘There are no devices in the bedrooms – other than yours – either. That is where most confidences will be whispered. You are right: I doubt they will serve you very well. Hyde … whoever designed them did not know what he was doing.’

  ‘Speaking of my son, Williamson came to see me yesterday. He had information that indicates Henry lied – that it was one of my enemies who arranged to have these spyholes installed, not him. I asked Henry about it, but he says Williamson is mistaken. What do you think?’

  ‘That you should never invite Secretary Leighton here for dinner.’

  The Earl stared at him. ‘These spyholes were Leighton’s idea?’

  ‘Yes – because he dislikes your opposition to the Adventurers, although when I confronted him, he claimed he never intended the matter to end in the attempted murder of your son.’

  ‘Did you believe him?’ asked the Earl, round-eyed.

  ‘No. Had his plan worked, he would have wanted the devices kept secret – but Hyde knew about them, so of course he would have killed him to ensure his silence.’

  ‘I shall issue a warrant for his arrest,’ said Clarendon. ‘And see what he has to say for himself once he is in the Tower. You can lay hold of him tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The Earl sighed softly. ‘So Henry did lie to me. I thought as much. He is not a brave boy and I was sceptical of him tackling gun-wielding villains. But we shall say no more about it. His mother thinks him a hero, and I would rather not distress her with the truth.’

  ‘Very well, sir.’

  ‘But the affair will not be entirely forgotten, either. I shall send him to Sweden on a diplomatic mission soon. You will accompany him.’

  ‘Are you punishing him or me?’ asked Chaloner, appalled by the notion of spending what might be weeks in the company of such a man.

  ‘Do not look so gloomy, lad,’ said the Earl, rather more kindly than was his wont. ‘I have some news you might find cheering. From Williamson.’

  Chaloner doubted it, but listened politely.

  ‘It involves a fellow called Lester. Apparently, he managed to jump overboard before the flames caught Jane’s gunpowder. A Queenhithe family nursed him until he regained his wits, and he is now well on the road to recovery.’

  Chaloner stared at him. ‘Lester is alive?’

  The Earl smiled. ‘Williamson said you would welcome the news. He is being tended by his sister in the Crown tavern, and says he would like to play his flute to your viol, if you have time.’

  Chaloner felt his spirits lift at last. ‘May I …’

  ‘Go,’ said the Earl, waving a chubby hand.

  Tangier, April 1665

  George breathed in deeply, relishing the scent of sun-baked earth, the stew that was cooking, and the familiar, dusty odour of the cows he had purchased with the money Chaloner had given him. He stared up at the vast night sky, millions of stars flickering like diamonds suspended in nothingness.

  He was content for the first time since Fitzgerald had enticed him to sea with promises of easy wealth and a life of adventure, and knew he had made the right decision to return home. He had not liked London’s filthy, crowded streets, and nor had he enjoyed life as a servant. Moreover, he had certainly not appreciated being hired because it was fashionable to employ black retainers.

  He remembered the ones he had met at White Hall – not free men like him, but slaves taken from the Gold Coast. They had been resigned to their lot, telling him it was a better fate than the plantations in Barbados, but he had railed on their behalf, silently and bitterly, deploring the vile trade in human souls.

  An evening in Tothill Street flashed into his mind, when he had eavesdropped on a discussion between Chaloner and Wiseman. Chaloner had said little, but the surgeon had made it clear who had been responsible for the infamous attack on Henrietta Maria. George had decided then that he would repay the good deed one day, although he had not been sure how – devoted servitude was certainly not on the cards. He was not a deferential man.

  Then news had come of Fitzgerald’s promotion, and Chaloner had taken him to watch the pirate strut about on Queenhithe. Seeing him had angered George on two counts: because of the callous way Fitzgerald had abandoned him in a foreign city after ten years of loyal service; and because he knew Fitzgerald would dabble in the slave trade again when he reached Africa. He had vowed not to let that happen.

  It had not been possible to tip him overboard on the voyage, as he had intended, because Fitzgerald had kept to his cabin, only emerging when Katherine had docked in Tangier. And after that, George had been more concerned with adapting to his new life than in monitoring his former master. But the day had come when he had gone to town to sell some livestock, and then he had made his move.

  He had acquired more of the yellow dust he had used in the past, and it had not been difficult to gain access to Fitzgerald’s bedroom: the man was so certain that no one would dare move against him that security was minimal. He had blown the powder into Fitzgerald’s face, and when the pirate had been blinded by the sneezing that followed, he had plunged a knife into his black heart.

  As he stared at the stars, George thought about Chaloner. Would he know who had delivered the fatal blow, or would he assume that robbers were responsible, which was the tale that was flying around Tangier? George smiled. Chaloner would guess, and perhaps sleep a little easier at night because of it. George hoped so. 480

  Historical Note

  When the Portuguese Infanta Katherine de Braganza married Charles II in 1662, she brought with her a dowry that included the ports of Bombay and Tangier. Tangier was thought at the time to have the greater significance, and the Navy Board intended to develop it as a base from which to fight the pirates that infested the north African coast. In the event, it was Bombay that transpired to be the real catch – it was developed into a major commercial centre, and played a pivotal role in the later British Empire.

  Tangier, on the other hand, proved to be expensive. A fortune was poured into making it a viable port, mostly by constructing a mole. This was the biggest marine engineering project attempted by the British to date, and comprised a sea wall that was a quarter of a mile long. Contemporary engravings show houses and other buildings on it, as well as guns and their embrasures.

  Twenty years later, the government decided to cut its losses and abandon the port. The diarist Samuel Pepys was there to supervise its evacuation; his ‘Tangier Diary’ recalls his horror at a town that was dirty, corrupt and full of vice. The mole was blown up, although parts of it can still be seen at low tide today.

  Tangier had a number of governors. One of the last Portuguese colonial heads was Fernando de Meneses, Conde de Ericeira (he left in 1661, by which time discussions to pass it to the British were well underway). Lord Teviot was governor in 1664. He was not an effective leader, and was probably corrupt. On 3 May 1664, he went out to inspect his defences and cut wood, having been assured by his scouts that the area was free of Barbary corsairs. But either the scouts lied or were inept, because a much larger enemy force (some accounts say it was ten thousand strong) was lying in wait, and Teviot and all but thirty of his five hundred men were massacred.

  His post was taken by Tobias Bridge, notable for being one of Cromwell’s major generals. Colonel John Fitzgerald was appointed to succeed Bridge, although he held power only until April 1665. As a rule, good people did not want to go to Tangier: it was a long way away from any political power, and its climate was considered unhealthy.

  Th
e Company of Royal Adventurers Trading into Africa was founded in 1660, and its charter granted it a complete monopoly of any goods coming out of Africa, including precious metals, ivory and slaves. The vast amount of money poured into Tangier would have suited the Adventurers, who would have benefited from a British-controlled harbour near the Mediterranean – and what they wanted went, as its members included the King, his Queen, his mother, his sister, his brother, the Duke of Buckingham, several earls, Peter Proby, Sir Edward Turner, Lord Lucas, James Congett and Thomas Grey. Its secretary was Ellis (or Elisha) Leighton, a brazenly villainous character who was known to be devious and dishonest.

  The Adventurers’ corporation did not survive long. It suffered during the Second Anglo-Dutch War, and was deeply in debt by 1667. Its successor, the Royal African Company, was founded in 1674 with a new charter – and fewer courtiers and more merchants as investors – and by the eighteenth century it was making a fortune in the slave trade.

  Most of the people in The Piccadilly Plot were real. Reverend John Addison was chaplain to Tangier in the 1660s. John Dugdale, William Edgeman and Thomas Kipps were the Earl of Clarendon’s Chief Usher, secretary and Seal Bearer, respectively. The Earl’s (second) wife was called Frances, and she was the mother of Henry. Henry Hyde, Viscount Cornbury, became the Queen’s private secretary in 1662, a post he held until he was appointed her chamberlain in 1665.

  John Oliver, first mentioned in documents of 1667–8, was Master Mason to the King. John Vere was a woodmonger in the 1670s, and was convicted of theft. William Prynne was a pamphleteer in Lincoln’s Inn, who hated virtually everything about the world in which he lived, and Robert Lydcott was John Thurloe’s brother-in-law, and did indeed take advantage of his kinsman’s influence during the Commonwealth, when Thurloe was Secretary of State and Spymaster General. Thurloe often used cipher to communicate with his spies, and hired John Wallis, a famous mathematician, to decode documents for him.

  Early in 1664, John Cave, a gentleman of His Majesty’s Chapel Royal, was killed outside the New Exchange by one James Elliot. The argument was said to be about who was to take the wall.

  The Collection of Curiosities, on display at the Mitre near St Paul’s Cathedral throughout 1664, really did contain a mummy, a moon fish, a torpedo, a remora and other objects and animals that were virtually unknown to London at the time.

  Records show that at the Restoration, Piccadilly was a hamlet set in open countryside. It comprised a few cottages, a windmill and the famous Gaming House. A survey of 1651 shows local residents to include William Reyner and Robert Newell. John Marshall owned a tenement called the Crown, which boasted ‘drinking rooms’ on the ground floor. Brilliana Stanley and her brother Colonel Edward Harley had moved to Piccadilly by 1658.

  Joseph Williamson, one of those who stepped into Thurloe’s shoes as Spymaster, really did marry Catherine O’Brien (here called Kitty to avoid confusion with Queen Katherine), who was the wife of a friend from his Oxford days. The speed of their marriage after Henry O’Brien’s death has led to the speculation that they had been lovers beforehand. Documents in Williamson’s handwriting dating to the 1660s show he made payment to spies called Captain Lester, William Doines and Josiah Brinkes.

  Royal Katherine was launched on 26 October 1664 in Woolwich, an occasion that was attended by the King, the Queen and Samuel Pepys, who records the bad weather and the King’s teasing of the Queen’s ladies over their seasickness. I have taken the liberty of moving it forward a few months for The Piccadilly Plot. Henrietta Maria was a slaving ship, and Eagle was a merchantman trading to and from Tangier in the 1660s; one of her captains was Anthony Young. Captain Pepperell was the master of an Adventurer-owned ship; he fought and seized a privateer vessel called Jane.

  Clarendon House was designed by Roger Pratt in 1664. It was a massive H-plan structure costing some £40,000 to build, plus the cost of interior furnishings. This was wildly extravagant, even by Restoration standards, and Londoners resented it. It stood roughly where Albemarle Street is today, and faced down St James’s Street. It was said to have led the way in English domestic architecture, and stood in an eight-acre site amid open countryside.

  The house contributed to the Earl’s downfall, and was demolished less than twenty years after its completion. Pratt retired to his country estate in Norfolk, where he built himself Ryston Hall. He was awarded a knighthood, and lived in quiet obscurity for the rest of his life, playing the role of a country squire. Only two of the five houses he designed still survive – Ryston Hall and Kingston Lacy – although both were extensively remodelled in the nineteenth century.