‘Unnecessarily gruesome and brutal”, “sickening” and “gore-filled” are just some of the ways Kit Harington’s new BBC series, Gunpowder, has been described by viewers and critics.

The series follows the events of the plot to blow up the House of Lords in 1605 and, during the first episode, we saw a Catholic woman crushed to death as punishment for her faith, and a Jesuit priest hanged, drawn and quartered. We saw the blood. We saw the guts. We saw the pain. Unsurprisingly, some viewers were shocked, and have argued that the explicit violence was gratuitous and too much for a Saturday night TV show.

But when it comes to history on television, too often the brutal reality of everyday life is brushed under the sumptuous carpets of romantic period dramas – from the endless productions of Jane Austen novels to comfortable Sunday evening shows such as Downton Abbey, Poldark and Victoria. Dramas such as Gunpowder (and, indeed, Peaky Blinders and Harlots) provide a crucial insight into a violent past that modern Brits need to confront.

What’s more, it is only by understanding this past that we can begin to fully understand the religious persecutions of our history and the country we live in today. That Gunpowder is shockingly violent is undeniable, but what is also undeniable is that it provides an authentic glimpse into the real, raw world that 17th-century people had to endure.

This was a century of fierce religious conflict that was defined by rivalry between the competing powers of state battling for supremacy. The capital was a place in which alehouses lined the route to Tyburn and public executions were a regular (and arguably incidental) part of life.

Alehouses lined the route to Tyburn and public executions were a regular (and arguably incidental) part of life

Samuel Pepys noted in his diary in 1660 that he had been unable to find his friend, so instead travelled “to Charing Cross, to see Major-General Harrison hanged, drawn, and quartered … he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that condition. He was presently cut down, and his head and heart shown to the people, at which there was great shouts of joy.”

It was also a century where a stroll through London would include passing numerous cages, erected throughout the city, containing people swept up by authorities and accused of “nightwalking” or committing a nuisance; where the rotting heads of traitors were impaled on spikes outside state buildings; where a generation of young men were killed, maimed or mentally scarred by the civil war; where spectators witnessed the beheading of King Charles I and then dabbed their handkerchiefs in his blood; where dozens of women were hanged for murdering their own children. According to historian JR Dickinson, infanticide sent more women to the gallows during early modern times than witchcraft did.

News reports at the time fed an appetite for appalling violence. Perhaps one of the most striking examples was literature surrounding the Irish uprising of 1641. Pamphlets depicted Catholic Irish “rebels” thrusting pitchforks into the bellies of Protestant children, before throwing them into water; English people being stripped naked and sent out into the cold; and children being roasted on the spit while their tied-up parents watched in horror.

On stage, there were the blood-soaked plays of John Webster and Christopher Marlowe at the beginning of the century and the rape scenes written into Shakespeare after the Restoration. The latter were acted out by actresses who were subjected to physical abuse when they refused the advances of lustful courtiers. Shining a light on violence against women is a tract from 1682 that laments the widespread acceptance of spousal abuse and argues that husbands were often found to be “more savage and barbarous than very beasts”. This was a time when punishment such as branding, the pillory and the ducking stool were used to shame the perpetrators and frighten the populace. This is not to mention the atrocities conducted in the name of Britain further afield.

Within the first episode of Gunpowder, Liv Tyler’s character Anne Vaux asks: “What world is this?” Not only was 17th-century Britain a place of brutal religious fundamentalism, it was also a place where violence – from duelling playwrights to women burned at the stake – was a part of people’s everyday lives, and it is only through recognising this that our own history begins to make sense.

From political parties and colonialism to banking and trade, much of what we recognise as our modern state was forged during the 17th century. Ours is a state erected on the blood of rebels, soldiers, religious dissidents, enslaved people and the countless victims of punitive laws. Britain has a history of industrialism, enlightenment, romance and ingenuity – but it is also a history of violence.

• Rebecca Rideal is a historian, former TV producer and author of 1666: Plague, War and Hellfire