Officer of the Excise

I found a book in a local charity shop called The Lawless Coast: Smuggling, Anarchy and Murder in North Norfolk in the 1780s and had my nose in it all day. Norfolk is on the opposite side of the country from here and at that period in history, along with the entire eastern and southern coasts of Britain, riddled with smugglers bent on bringing in contraband goods (mainly alcohol and tea) from the continent. But it was happening all around the southwest and the coast of Wales too, with stuff brought illegally from Spain, Ireland and Isle of Man. (Salt, which was heavily taxed, was particularly sought after for the preservation of herrings in West Wales.

I never knew before the difference between Customs and Excise but the book explains that customs officers were based in ports and had the routine tasks of searching incoming vessels and levying duty on the goods they carried. Some of them, designated Riding Officers, patrolled the coast on horseback to locate illegal cargoes being brought ashore at night via small bays and inlets. In challenging and attempting to arrest and detain the smugglers, who knew the secret paths and hideaways, and had countless local co-conspirators to conceal and defend them, customs officers, and the soldiers detailed to support them, were often involved in bloody nocturnal battles among the dark and dangerous cliffs and coves.

Officers of the Excise had a wider brief, being responsible for collecting duties on all taxable commodities, whether imported or home-produced, and not solely on the coast. Excise men possessed stronger legal powers than customs officers and had the right to enter and search private houses consequently Excise officers were afforded an even greater degree of contempt, hostility and violence ... than their much abused colleagues in the Customs. However a generous salary, with plentiful opportunities for lawful and unlawful cash supplements, were sufficient to induce recruits in adequate numbers to the Excise service on coastal duty despite the social and physical hazards.

And there you have it: smuggling, which has been described as a guerilla war right around the coast of Britain during the 18th century, involved all sectors of society from the landless paupers who struggled to scratch a living as day labourers to the high and mighty in their mansions who enjoyed a good cigar and a bottle of port after dinner, with no questions asked about the provenance. And in between were the respectable vicars, school masters, tavern keepers, farmers and petty officials who all took a cut, hid the goods or their carriers, gave a nod and a wink, turned a blind eye (or informer) in the business of smuggling. It brought prosperity to some and salvation from starvation to multitudes but for the unlucky it brought death in action, prison, transportation or judicial murder.

John Jones was, typically, not a local man (excise officers were generally reviled in the communities to which they were assigned) and there's nothing to suggest he was in any way complicit in smuggling. If he was ever involved in a shoot-out down in Cwm Brandy (Brandy Valley, still so-called, between Fishguard and Goodwick) he came out of it alive and reached a ripe old age and was laid to rest in the churchyard of the town he served. But, born in 1850, he must have been active in his duties during the late 18th century when smuggling in Britain reached a peak of domestic warfare of the most violent and bloody sort. He wouldn't have been popular but he survived - I wonder how?

If you are interested do look at Talpa's 1798 smuggler gravestone and the background story to it.