Judith Thomson's Blog

Dear Readers,

Please note that all future, and some past, blogs will now be found on my new website http://judiththomson.com

Thank you for your interest and support during the last six years. I hope you will continue to follow me!

Judith

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Samuel Pepys was planning a feast on Sunday the 2nd of September, and was probably none too pleased when their maid, Jane, who was up late preparing the house for it, woke him at 3 in the morning to tell him that she  could see a great fire in the City. He put on his nightgown and went to look out of the window but, dismissing it as too far away to be of much significance, he returned to bed and went back to sleep. He woke up again at 7 and when he looked out this time he thought the fire was a bit further off and seemed less than it had been earlier.

But Jane  went out to learn the news and when she came back she reported that 300 houses had been burned and that the fire had now reached Fish Street, by London Bridge. Pepys decided he had better go out to take a look, especially since he had friends who lived on the bridge. When he got to the Tower, he could see, to his horror, that the bridge was on fire.

He got a boat and took to the river to view it better and he realised that his friends’ house had already gone, as well as everything as far as the Old Swan. He saw people running from their burning houses with what possessions they could carry. Some were putting them into boats, some were just flinging them into the water, whilst others were endeavouring to climb from one set of river stairs to the next to escape. What he also saw was that nobody was actually trying to put the flames out, but only “remove their goods and leave all to the fire”.

Pepys went to Whitehall to tell the King  how bad it was and King Charles instructed him to go to the Lord Mayor tell him to pull down the houses in its path but the Mayor had already ordered houses to be pulled down and the fire was overtaking them faster than they could do it.

Sick people were now being carried out of houses in their beds and goods that had been moved to friends’ houses earlier were now having to be carted out again, as those houses were now in danger of catching alight. The churches were filling up too, for people were bringing in their belongings to store them, as was common during such emergencies. In this case, however, the churches were themselves being put at risk by the combustible nature of some of the goods being placed in them.

Pepys returned home, where his invited guests had arrived and, unbelievably, “had an extraordinary good dinner, and as merry as at this time we could be.” Later, though, when his friend and colleague, Tom Hayter, came around with the few goods he had managed to save from his burning house on Fish Street, Pepys began to consider what he ought to be doing about getting his own possessions to safety!

Fortunately, King Charles had decided it was time to take charge of things himself, before his entire capital was lost. In my novel, ‘Designs of a Gentleman: The Early Years’,  the first book in my Philip Devalle series, Philip was a sixteen-year old courtier and I have attempted to describe the event through his eyes.

             Philip was awakened by Monmouth bursting into his bedroom and pulling him out of bed.

            “But where are we going?” Philip asked as Monmouth, talking excitedly, dived into his closet and threw him some clothes.

            “I’ve just told you, to fight the fire.”

            “What ourselves?”

            “Yes, isn’t it a lark? Everyone is helping, even the seamen from Woolwich and Deptford have been called in to blow up whatever properties must be demolished. What’s that on your shoulder?” He pointed to a livid mark, a souvenir of Philip’s most recent encounter with Barbara.

            “Never mind that.” Philip took the shirt Monmouth was holding and quickly put it on. “But what are we to do? I’ve never put a fire out in my life.”

            “Nor I, but it will be a fine adventure, won’t it?”

            Philip knew that to Monmouth everything in life was an adventure, one he wished Philip to share with him. “Well I suppose I should be grateful,” he said as Monmouth pulled his boots on for him. “After all it is not every day I have a duke to help me dress!”

            “Should we go to waken Lord Rochester, do you think?”

            “Are you mad? It’s bad enough that you have woken me,” Philip said as he was dragged downstairs, still fastening his coat.

            Despite his protestations he was willing enough to assist in whatever way he could and, once outside, he better understood Monmouth’s urgency.

            Although the fire was more than a mile away from Charing Cross they could feel the heat as it carried toward them on a fierce easterly gale, which was whipping the flames to a frenzy. As they hurried closer they heard the crackling of the flames and the shrieks of people scurrying this way and that with bundles of belongings, all making for the river.

            The whole city had taken fright. As they neared Worcester House they saw that Lord Clarendon’s possessions were being thrown into a fleet of lighters. The Thames was cluttered with craft of every size and shape. Some were over laden and Philip saw one capsize into the murky waters, losing forever the precious bundles which contained all that their owners had managed to salvage of their worldly goods.

            There were frequent explosions of gunpowder and the sky was suddenly peppered with sparks from collapsing masonry as the seamen did their work. Soldiers were clearing the old wooden wharves along the sides of the River Fleet, whilst others were hollowing out the trunks of elm trees to carry water from the river.

            As Philip and Monmouth wondered where they should first begin to lend a hand amidst the feverish activity, they saw Charles himself. He was on horseback, riding with his guards through the very middle of the chaos, stopping to encourage workers in their efforts and, from time to time, tossing golden guineas amongst them from a leather pouch slung across his shoulder.

            He caught sight of them and beckoned them over. “Thank you both for coming to help. London needs you.”

            “Is much lost?” Monmouth asked him.

            “Yes, I fear so. The Waterman’s Hall is gone and the Post Office. The blaze has now reached Guildhall and we cannot save the Royal Exchange.”

            Philip was particularly sorry to hear of the loss of the Royal Exchange, for the ‘Change, as it was known, was the gathering place of fashionable folk and Philip had spent many a happy hour there selecting laces, gloves or buckles for his shoes. So much had been destroyed already and he realised, suddenly, that the London he had come to know would never be quite the same again.

            They hastened toward Guildhall but at Cripplegate they encountered a small force labouring hopelessly against the flames that were lighting the overhanging wooden gables all along the street and they decided to lend a hand there instead. They helped form a chain to pass buckets of water along to those who manned the fire squirts, but the squirts held nowhere near enough and were slow to fill.

            Each church was intended to carry a supply of ladders, axes and fire hooks so Philip took some men to the nearby church of Saint Sepulchre’s but the provisions had been neglected and the church offered nothing save a few leather buckets. Philip thought how much more useful it would be to have iron hooks to pull down the burning gables.

            It was many hours before the fire was out in Cripplegate. Philip and Monmouth worked harder than they ever had in their lives. They were both filthy and soaked through to their skins. Cheapside was still engulfed in flames so they set to work again. Just before midnight, the sky seemed to become as light as day when the great cathedral of Saint Paul’s became a fiery torch, its flames rising higher than the rest.

            Images flashed through Philip’s mind as he worked. He recalled the day when he had bought a bunch of lavender upon the steps of the cathedral and looked down Ludgate Hill, amazed at the sights and smells and sounds of the bustling city street. Now it was all gone.

            Charles rode by in the early hours of the morning and stopped to talk to them. His face was black and he was as wet and dirty as they were.

            “You have done well,” he told them, surveying the smouldering remains of Cheapside. The wind stirred the ashes and a flame darted up, but Charles held up his hand as they both made a move toward it. “No more. Let others do it now. Go home and get some rest.”

            “Should you not rest too, father?” Monmouth asked him.

            “I cannot rest,” Charles said, “not whilst my people suffer and my capital is destroyed. The homeless are encamped at Moor Fields and I must visit them to give whatever comfort I can.”

            “We’ll go too,” Monmouth offered. “Shall we Philip?”

            “Yes, of course, if it will help.” Philip wearily pushed a muddy lock of hair out of his eyes. He was aching in every muscle but, like Monmouth, he still had the spirit, if not the strength, to continue the fight.

            Charles smiled at them. “Wait until the morning. Sleep, refresh yourselves and you’ll be worth a dozen of the men you are now. Those are my orders and you must obey them!”

            Monmouth lodged in King Street, nearby, and he insisted Philip came home with him. They stripped off their sodden clothes and threw themselves on his bed, utterly exhausted but content in the knowledge that they had done their very best.

I imagine Pepys voiced the feelings of many hundreds of Londoners when he said, “It made me weep to see it.”

You can find out more about ‘Designs of a Gentleman: The Early Years’, and the others in the series, in the My Books section above or visit my new website:

http://judiththomson.com

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So ended two years of war against the Dutch.

The bells were rung but Samuel Pepys noted that no bonfires were lit, partly, he suspected because of the expense of lighting them, but mainly because most people were not too happy about the peace, which many felt had left them in no better condition than they had been before the war, and in a worse one in the view of the merchants. Clarendon, the Lord Chancellor, was blamed for the events which had led up to it, and it was the end of his days in power.

Many people were pleased to see him fall from favour, especially Lord Ashley, later to be created the Earl of Shaftesbury, who wanted his job, and also many of the courtiers such as the Duke of Buckingham and the King’s mistress, Barbara Palmer.

Pepys was not actually present to see Clarendon hand over his Seal of Office, but Philip Devalle, the lead character in my first novel, ‘Designs of a Gentleman: The Early Years’, was. Below is a short passage, showing Clarendon’s downfall through Philip’s eyes!

            Lord Clarendon was blamed for the humiliation of the Medway, just as Ashley had predicted.

            He had presumed that the Dutch could not afford a war, especially one across the sea whilst King Louis was encroaching upon their boundaries in the Spanish Netherlands. He had been wrong and the peace treaty which Charles’ ambassadors had been forced to conclude in Breda had brought no satisfaction to the English.

            Clarendon had been Charles’ strength in exile and had united the country at his Restoration but he was an old man now, crippled with gout and unpopular with the new members of the administration, who considered that he belonged to the past and not the future. Charles was forced to agree.

            Buckingham was overjoyed. His old enemy was finished at last. “Charles has sent Albemarle and York to relieve him of the Great Seal,” he told Philip.

            Philip was not surprised, although he did wonder at Charles sending the Duke of York to do the dirty deed, for he was Clarendon’s son-in-law.

            In the event Clarendon refused to relinquish his seal of office to any but the King himself and a crowd of courtiers gathered to watch his arrival. To them the strait-laced old Chancellor was little more than a joke and they were relishing his downfall.

            Clarendon had never made any secret of his disapproval of Barbara. He had not even allowed his late wife to visit her, and she and Buckingham were the most jubilant of all, united in the downfall of a common foe. Philip stood back apace and watched them as they both jeered him and shouted insults, for all the world, he thought, like silly children.

            Clarendon bore it all with dignity, though his step faltered as he drew level with Ashley.

            Ashley said not a word; his talking had all been done. He made no display of exaltation, but Clarendon knew this man for his real enemy, far more dangerous than the noisy horde who mocked him. They looked at one another and Philip saw Ashley smile.

            Monmouth, who was holding onto Philip’s arm, saw it too. “I wonder why Lord Ashley is not shouting with the rest.”

            “He has too much sense.” Philip could admire the man for that if nothing else. “Has Ashley talked to you about Clarendon?”

            “Oh yes. He feared that if Clarendon was allowed to remain Lord Chancellor there would be insurrection in my father’s capital.”

            “I meant has he ambitions to succeed him?”

            “How should I know?” Monmouth said. “I suppose he has ambitions to serve the country in the best way that he can. Isn’t this exciting?”

            Philip regarded him with exasperation and a measure of disgust. He suddenly felt disgusted with all of those around him who, in his opinion, demeaned themselves by gloating at a defeated man.

            He noticed that Albemarle stood alone, as if he wished to disassociate himself from all the rest. Philip had great respect for him and decided he could do no better than to follow suit.

Designs of a Gentleman: The Early Years is available from Amazon as both paperback and Kindle.

Buy  a signed copy of DESIGNS OF A GENTLEMAN – EARLY YEARS direct from my new website https://judiththomson.com

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Find out more about Designs of a Gentleman: The Early Years, and the other books in the Philip Devalle series, on my website:

https://judiththomson.com

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Strange, isn’t it, to think that twenty years later we were inviting a Dutchman to come to England to be our King?

Read more about that in ‘The Orange Autumn’, the 4th book in the series!

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King Charles ll died in the February of 1685 and the throne  passed to his brother, James, but James was Catholic and many felt he should not rule a Protestant country. His eldest daughter, Mary, was next in line to the throne and she was Protestant, as was her husband, James’ nephew, William of Orange. Most would have been prepared to wait and let events take their course but then an unfortunate thing happened – James had a son. He was going to be brought up a Catholic and take precedence over his two older sisters. That changed everything and a group of influential people took their life in their hands and secretly invited William to come to England.

The so-called ‘Glorious Revolution’ had begun and it is the basis for the plot of my fourth novel in the Philip Devalle series, ‘The Orange Autumn’.

In August of that year rumours were rife that preparations were being made in Holland for an invasion, indeed in view of the scale of the planned expedition it would have been almost impossible to keep it a secret! An army of 12,000 men was raised and over 200 ships were manned by 7,000 sailors. As well as guns and provisions for the men and horses, there was also a mobile smithy, and a printing press with moulds for striking money.

The French king, Louis XlV, was certainly keeping an eye on what was happening. The official news that reached him at his Court at Versailles was that that fleet was being raised to combat the threat of Algerian pirates. Louis was no fool and he did not believe that for a moment. He suspected the Dutch might be planning to attack France’s northern frontiers and so he reinforced their defences on the Rhine. Louis was James’ cousin and it was very much in his interest for James to keep his throne but, even when word came from a spy in Holland that the expedition was bound for England, it seemed inconceivable that William would be planning to cross the North Sea in the Autumn. In any case, James had a strong Navy with which to defend the English coast.

The problem was that James was not taking the supposed threat seriously. In vain Samuel Pepys, who was the Secretary of the Admiralty, tried to persuade him to fit out the big ships in case of an invasion. James was not prepared to lay out that kind of money on what he insisted was no more than a rumour and he thought it would make him look as though although he had no confidence in his own policies.

James, instead, listened to his ministers, such as Lord Sunderland. They were assuring him there was nothing to fear, possibly because they were afraid that if the invasion really did happen and they had shown themselves too violently against it then they might find themselves in a tricky position if William ever became king! Others, such as Judge Jeffreys, who is arguing with Sunderland in this short extract from ‘The Orange Autumn’, were more realistic.

  “Have you considered the possibility that there are no plans for an invasion?” Sunderland said.

            “No, frankly I have not, my Lord. You may soothe his Majesty’s fears if you wish but it is my belief a watchful eye should be kept upon the ports.”

            “Now you sound like Mr. Pepys”, Sunderland laughed.

            “It is the fashion, I know, to mock him and all those like him who are anxious, but perhaps we should be heeding his warnings and preparing ourselves for an attack.”

            “There is plenty of time for that,” Sunderland said. “If William did decide to act he would not come until the Spring. It would be madness for him to attempt an Autumn crossing.”

            “And if he did we would be powerless to stop him,” Jeffreys said. “We have no adequate navy and too small an army, and a king whose only aim, it seems, is to give more power to his priests.”

            Jeffreys’ last remark was a reference to Sunderland’s own recent conversion, but he ignored the jibe.

“We have nothing to fear,” he insisted.

            “Of course not,” Jeffreys said sarcastically. “What need have we to defend ourselves with guns and ships? The Virgin Mary is to do all!”

Sunderland was wrong, of course. William actually did make the crossing in the Autumn seas, landing in England on the 5th of November – and the rest, as they say, is history!

‘The Orange Autumn’ is available from many good book shops or from

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Orange-Autumn-Judith-Thomson/dp/1788036336/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=Judith+Thomson+The+Orange+Autumn&qid=1596043754&sr=8-2

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With my sixth Philip Devalle book, ‘Flowers of Languedoc’, due out in a few months I’ve been thinking a lot about the books I’ve written and where I want to go from here. I have chatted to some lovely people at book signings (back in the days when such events could be held!) and two of the commonest questions they ask me are:

How long does it take you to write a book?

Where do you get the ideas from?

Well the first question is easy to answer – it takes me a long time! Maybe a year for the first draft, but then the real work starts! I would say I have reread and rewritten each of my books at least 5 times before I am ready to submit it for publication and, even then, I am always reluctant to actually send it on its way. Is it ready? Is it as good as I can possibly make it? In the end, though, you just have to let it go and hope for the best!

The second question is a little more complicated. I don’t actually know where the ideas come from. They just appear in my head. Getting the ideas is not the hard part, the hard part is organising them into some sort of logical progression and recording them on something straight away. Pen and paper are easy enough to always have to hand, whereas my laptop or iPad might not be with me when I work out the solution to a problem I have been wrestling with. This can come at the most inconvenient time. I might be cooking dinner, walking the dog, in my car… anywhere really. The important thing is to get that idea down right now. By the time you get home (or the dinner in the oven!) it may be long gone, never to return in quite the same perfect way that you remember it!

Of course, there needs to be far more method in creating the stage on which my characters will, hopefully, bring the 17th century to life for my readers. That requires research – and quite a lot of it, since I like to base my stories around the actual events of the period. These days the Internet provides quick access to a world of information but, to my mind, if you wish to acquire a deeper knowledge of a period or a person, nothing beats books, preferably good biographies that you can delve into time and again. I have built up quite a little collection over the years, mainly, at the start, through scouring second-hand bookshops wherever I went. I have spent hours sifting through piles of old books!

The other great way to discover the past, as we all know, is to simply visit the places where it was happening. I can assure you that it was absolutely no hardship to walk around the Chateau of Versailles, for example, all in the name of research! The house is magnificent but, for me, the greatest wonders of Versailles are the gardens. Louis XlV loved them so much that he wrote a guide to them, so that visitors might see them to best advantage. It is fascinating to read it and follow his advice today.  Exploring the very gardens he created there brought King Louis to life for me in a way none of the many books I have read about him ever could. He was there – I could almost see him!

Many of the others I write about were also actual people of the 17th century. They are central to my stories and interwoven with them are my own characters, such as Philip, who came to life quite naturally to me. Whilst I have tried to make him a product of the era in which he lived, I do believe that people then were not basically so very different from the way we are now. Just as today, they were motivated by such things as love, fear, hope and ambition.

Where next? Who knows? The 17th century is filled with possibilities, for Philip and for me – and, if I’ve done it right, for my readers, who I hope will want to share this journey of discovery with me.

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All other events in Samuel Pepys’ diary for this month paled into insignificance when the news came which he and every other Londoner had most dreaded – the Dutch were invading.

There had been talk of the possibility since April but it had been thought unlikely to happen, especially since King Charles ll had sent a delegation to begin peace talks. Anyway, the Dutch were here now, and preparing to sail boldly up the Thames. King Charles ordered Prince Rupert to sort out the defences and sent the Duke of Albemarle, who was Lord High Admiral, to Chatham. Fire ships were organised but, in the end, much of the defence on land was left to a volunteer force comprised greatly of gentleman of the Court, under the leadership of King Charles’ illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth. Pepys was very uncharitable about them but, whilst it was certainly a great adventure, these young courtiers did their best to defend our coast.

In ‘Designs of a Gentleman – The Early Years’, my lead character, Philip Devalle, was amongst them. The following is a short excerpt from my novel:

            Charles’ desperate hopes of peace disappeared. The Dutch were planning an invasion.

            There was no battle fleet to dispatch to meet them on the sea, for there was no money to equip it. All that could be done was to defend the coast. Plymouth and Portsmouth were quickly fortified, whilst the Duke of Albemarle and his militia took the guns from the abandoned men-of war and set them up along the shores of Kent. Even then he was hard pressed to find enough men to fire them, for the army, as well as the navy, was in arrears of pay and Albemarle could offer them no reward but glory.

            Monmouth was made Captain of Horse. He was ordered to Harwich and his father requested him to take as many of his friends as he could muster.

            “Shall you ride with me?” he asked Philip, who had recovered from his beating.

            Philip smiled as he thought how well the trip would suit his plans and how furious Lord Ashley would be to learn that he had accompanied Monmouth. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

            A great troop rode to Harwich, mostly formed of gentlemen and nobility, and Philip, for the first time, experienced the camaraderie of war as they set about urgently making preparations for defence. He enjoyed himself immensely.

            His respect for Monmouth increased considerably as he observed him now for, despite his dullness in some other ways, the young Duke was in his element in a position of military command.

            Even so, the task of defending England without a navy was a hopeless one.

            Sheerness was stormed and twenty of the Hollanders sailed down the Medway toward Chatham, their guns blazing. Monmouth and his troop rode furiously the fifty miles to Gravesend, for it was feared the Dutch were impudent enough to attempt to reach London itself.

            The city was in a panic. All day and night there could be heard the sounds of Dutch artillery firing on the Gunfleet. Charles ordered merchantmen to be sunk at Barking Creek to block the river and posted the militia on Tower hill in case they managed to advance that far, but the Londoners were afraid the capital would be taken all the same. No enemy had ever dared to come that close before.

            There was a chain laid ready across the Thames estuary as protection against invasion and, since there was no ammunition for the guard ships at Chatham, Commissioner Pett gave orders for it to be heaved into position. The chain was heavy and sank time and again into the mud. Pett looked on helplessly as the Dutch broke through and seized the flagship, the ‘Royal Charles’.

            There was not a man on board her to offer resistance. It took a boat with only nine men to take the pride of the English fleet in tow. Albemarle quickly scuppered the ‘Royal James’, the ‘Royal London’ and the ‘Royal Oak’, then cut loose all the rest.

            The Dutch sailed for home, towing their prize behind them and firing their cannons in triumph.

            The guns stopped. It was over. Sixteen men-of-war lay grounded on the mudflats and five magnificent ships blazed in the docks. London was safe but England had suffered a bitter defeat.     

And to think that, only twenty-one years later, we invited a Dutch prince to come over and be the ruler of England!

(See one of my later Philip Devalle novels, ‘The Orange Autumn’)

By the way, Pepys priorities certainly came to the fore during this crisis. Fearing that blame for the defeat would be placed upon those in the Navy Office, he made a girdle in which he could carry £300 of his gold with him and got his wife, Elizabeth, to take the rest to his father’s house in the country. Pepys was angry when she told him that they had buried it in his father’s garden in broad daylight!

He was even more angry when he went to retrieve it in October. First of all, they couldn’t remember exactly where they had buried it! (Obviously neither of them had thought to mark the spot!) When they eventually they did find it he discovered that during the four months it had been in the ground the bags containing it had rotted, so he had to dig it up, dirt and all, and take it into the house and set to work with basins of water to wash the dirt off! Even then he was 100 pieces short, and had to go back out in the middle of the night, to look for more.

I don’t suppose Elizabeth would have been allowed to forget that incident for a very long time, do you?

If you would like more information about my books please visit my website: judiththomsonsite.wordpress.com

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This day died Mr. Samuel Pepys, a very worthy, industrious and curious person, none in England exceeding him in the knowledge of the Navy…He was universally beloved, hospitable, generous, learned in many things, skilled in music, a very great cherisher of learned men, of whom he had the conversation.

(Written by Pepys’ friend and fellow-diarist, John Evelyn)

Not a bad epitaph for the son of a tailor! Pepys was well educated, however, attending St. Paul’s School and Cambridge University, and he had the good fortune to be related, through his aunt’s marriage, to the rich and influential Montagu family. It was through the patronage of his cousin, Edward, later to be made the Earl of Sandwich, that Pepys first had the opportunity to rise to greatness, and rise he did. As Edward’s Secretary he was delighted to find himself in the unique position of being amongst the party sent to escort Charles ll back to England for his Restoration (even though Pepys had been a staunch republican during the Civil War and had also, very happily, witnessed the execution of Charles’ father!) Now he had the opportunity to actually meet the future King of England and his brother James, which was to stand him in good stead for the rest of his career. With the influence of Montagu, he managed to obtain the position of Clerk of the Acts to the Navy. His cousin continued to aid his career but, to be fair, it was Pepys own talent and industriousness which eventually advanced him to the lofty position of Secretary to the Admiralty.

Of course, one does not achieve such success without making enemies along the way. Evelyn’s “universally beloved” was not truly accurate. Serving on the Navy Board during the time that the Duke of York, later to become James ll, was Lord High Admiral had its downside, as Pepys discovered to his cost. James openly declared himself to be a Catholic, which put everyone closely associated with him under suspicion during the time of the Popish Plot, which is the main theme of my novel ‘Designs of a Gentleman: The Darker Years’.

(Philip Devalle, my lead character in the book, knew Pepys well – and disliked him intensely! Philip had also attended St. Paul’s school, although at a later date than Pepys and with less impressive results! However, Philip had different talents, some of which got him into serious trouble and into the clutches of the scheming politician, Lord Shaftesbury. Philip was a close friend of the Duke of Monmouth, Charles’ illegitimate son, and when Shaftesbury saw the Plot as a way to block James’ succession to the throne in favour of Monmouth he enlisted Philip’s help.)

Thanks to Shaftesbury, Pepys was actually arrested and falsely accused of treason. He survived that ordeal, although his reputation was somewhat tainted by the affair, and he went on to become one of the most important men of the age when James did become King. After William of Orange took the throne, in 1688, Pepys’ career was finally at an end.

But his name lives on. Pepys will be always remembered, not just for his service to the nation through two reigns, but as a lover of music, art and literature, a member of the Royal Society and, chiefly, as a diarist. In that capacity, he wrote about the minute details of his life, such as what he ate for his dinner and having rows with his wife, as well as recording some of the most fascinating and significant events of our history, including the Great Fire and the Plague. His descriptions of everyday life in the 17th Century truly do allow us to ‘travel back in time’!

https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/historical/designs-of-a-gentleman/

Judiththomsonsite.wordpress.com

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Samuel Pepys was fortunate to be one of those who travelled to The Hague to escort King Charles and his two brothers, the Duke of York and the Duke of Gloucester, back to England after their years spent in exile, following the Civil War. On the journey home he heard Charles recounting the tales of his escape after the battle of Worcester, when he’d had to travel on foot, dressed as a countryman with shoes which hurt his feet. Pepys wrote that “it made me ready to weep to hear the stories that he told of his difficulties that he had passed through.” (I am guessing that Pepys preferred to forget the fact that he had once been a supporter of Oliver Cromwell!)

He got to observe Charles and his brothers eating a traditional seaman’s breakfast of pork, ‘pease’ and boiled beef before leaving the ship at Dover. Pepys came ashore in a smaller boat with a footmen and one of Charles’ favourite dogs, which made a mess in the boat. Pepys found that very amusing and observed that “a King and all that belong to him are but just as others are”!

From Dover, having received a tumultuous welcome from the crowds, they were greeted by General Monck. Monck who would become the Duke of Albemarle and be made Lord High Admiral during Pepys’ time at the Navy, was a soldier who had commanded in the Cromwellian army but who, feeling himself unable to follow Richard Cromwell after Oliver’s death, had been, more than anyone else, instrumental in Charles returning to take the throne. Afterwards the royal party set off for Canterbury and, in Pepys own words, “The shouting and joy expressed by all is past imagination.”

For a description of Charles triumphant entry into London, on the 29th of May, his thirtieth birthday, we must turn to Pepys’ fellow diarist, John Evelyn, who was amongst the spectators that day.

“20,000 horse and foot, brandishing their swords and shouting with inexpressible joy: the ways strewn with flowers, the bells ringing, the streets hung with tapestry, fountains running with wine, the Mayor, Alderman and all companies in their liveries, chains of gold and banners: lords and nobles clad in cloth of silver, gold and velvet: the windows and balconies well set with ladies: trumpets, music and myriads of people flocking even so far as Rochester, so as they were seven hours in passing the city even from two in the afternoon till nine at night.”

Whilst it might have been a slight exaggeration to say that fountains were running with wine, it was certainly flowing pretty freely and the Venetian Ambassador apparently kept it running from a tap outside his house!

A hundred thousand people lined the street that day or watched from those balconies and windows as Charles rode, bare-headed through the crowds, which were cheering so loudly that even the sounds of the church bells were drowned out. One nice little human touch, which I particularly like, was that the wife of the proprietor of the King’s Head Tavern was so excited that she gave birth to her baby, and that, when Charles became aware of it, he stopped the procession and greeted his new subject! A ceremony had been planned at Westminster Abbey, but Charles decided not to attend and instead, chose to enjoy the company of his mistress, the beautiful Barbara Palmer. Well, after all, it had been quite a day!

And that was just the beginning. The austere Puritan age was over. Now the theatres would reopen, music could be written that was not solemn church music, parties could be given, elegant clothes could be worn again, dancing and games would be allowed once more. Even Maypoles and Christmas celebrations would be back! Not only was the King returning, so was a whole, wonderful way of life. Amazingly, too, to quote Evelyn again, “A thing had happened, never read of in history, that, when Monarchy was laid aside at the expense of so much blood, it should return again without the shedding of one drop.”

But I think the best quote comes from Charles himself when he remarked drily that it must have “…been my own fault I have been absent so long, for I see nobody that does not protest he has ever wished for my return!”

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Charles had returned to England the previous May. He had been living in exile in Europe since his miraculous escape after the battle of Worcester and it had seemed unlikely at one time that he would ever regain the throne that had become rightfully his after the execution of his father. But the death of Oliver Cromwell changed everything!

After he landed upon English shores Charles received an enthusiastic welcome wherever he went, so enthusiastic, in fact, that he remarked it must have been his own fault that he had been absent so long, “for I see nobody that does not protest he has ever wished for my return!”

Samuel Pepys would have been a young man of twenty-seven at the time of the Coronation, and coming up in the world. He evidently held very different views then from those he had held when, as a fifteen-year-old boy, he had been happy to witness the old King’s execution!

On the morning of the 23rd of April, Pepys rose at 4 a.m. to go to Westminster Abbey. He was fortunate to be acquainted with Sir John Denham who, as well as being a poet, was the Surveyor-General for the King, and so he managed to get himself into the Abbey with him and up on a scaffold that had been erected at the north end of the building. There he waited “with a great deal of patience” until 11 o’clock, when the King came in.

In the middle of the Abbey a raised platform had been erected and on it were the throne and a footstool. The platform was covered in red cloth, and all the officers, and even the fiddlers, wore red vests, Pepys noted. At last the Dean and the Prebends of Westminster came in with the Bishops, many of them wearing cloth of gold, and after them the nobility, all in their parliament robes which, he said, was a most magnificent sight. After that came the Duke of York and then Charles himself. Next came the sceptre (which was carried by Pepys’ cousin and patron, Lord Sandwich) and also the Sword and Orb and, finally, the Crown. Charles was wearing his ceremonial robes but was bare-headed, which Pepys thought “very fine”.

After they had all got themselves into position there was a sermon and the service, before the actual Coronation Ceremony which, unfortunately, Pepys could not see from his perch upon the scaffold! He knew when the crown had been placed upon Charles’ head, however, as a great shout began. Charles then went to the throne and took the oath. The King-at-Arms went to three different places and proclaimed in each one that if anybody could show any reason why Charles Stuart should not be King of England he should come forth and speak. No-one did.  Lord Cornwallis then flung some silver medals out into the audience, “but I could not come by any”, Pepys said, and there was so much noise that he could not hear any of the music.

At this point nature called, and Pepys was forced to leave the Abbey before the rest of the ceremony! He went around to Westminster Hall afterwards and he said there were 10,000 people lining the route, some up on scaffolds, hoping to glimpse the King, rails holding them back and the ground covered with blue cloth. He managed to get into Westminster Hall, which was “very fine with hangings” and saw his wife, Elizabeth, seated on one of the scaffolds there.

The King entered, wearing the Crown and carrying the sceptre, beneath a canopy held up by six silver staves with bells upon the ends, and carried by the Barons of the Cinque Ports. Charles then sat down to eat, attended by Lord Northumberland, Lord Suffolk and the Duke of Ormond, all on horseback. The King’s Champion, Dymock, also entered on horseback in full armour and carrying his spear, and the herald announced that if anyone dare to deny that Charles Stuart was the lawful King of England then the Champion would fight him, whereupon Dymock flung down his gauntlet. This happened three times and at the end Charles drank to him from a gold cup and then sent the cup over for him to drink from also.

Pepys was wandering around the tables whilst the King and the rest were at dinner and, finding someone he knew, he managed to scrounge four rabbits and a pullet, and some bread to eat with them, which he and his friend, Mr. Creed, managed to consume in a quiet corner, as he said, everybody else did, when they managed to get something! There was music too; Pepys particularly enjoyed the twenty-four violins. He also enjoyed looking upon the ladies at the gathering!

A strange thing happened after the King had left Westminster Hall. The weather having been fair for the past days and all through the ceremony now changed for the worse, with rain, thunder and lightning. Some people saw significance in this, which Pepys reckoned “is a foolery to take too much notice of such things”.

The day was not over of course. There were celebratory bonfires lit in the streets which Pepys could see from his rooftop, although there were no fireworks, which he had been expecting. They went out into Axe Yard where there were three great bonfires and lots of men and women milling around. They insisted upon Pepys and Elizabeth, drinking the King’s health with them, which they did, several times, and Pepys “wondered to see how the ladies did tipple”. After he had sent Elizabeth home to bed Pepys went out to a friend’s house where they drank the King’s health until one gentleman was so drunk that he was sick. Pepys felt alright until he got into bed and then his head began to spin and he, too, was sick!

In his own words – “Thus did the day end, with joy everywhere.”

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It is difficult not to see certain similarities between the current health crisis and the dark days of the Plague in the London of 1665.

What had begun as a sickness affecting a few in the poorer, more overcrowded parts of the city had spread and now no-one felt safe. In his diary for July of that year, Samuel Pepys was still going about his daily business.  His job as Clerk of the Acts for the Navy Office would have been considered an essential one, but he had moved his wife, Elizabeth to lodgings out in Woolwich. He noticed how people he met in the course of his work had begun to react to anyone coming from the plague-ridden city, so he put their minds at rest by telling them that he lived in Woolwich too!

King Charles II moved to Oxford, leaving his capital to its fate. Most of his courtiers went with him, but not all of them deserted London. The Duke of Albemarle remained and kept order on the streets, for the Londoners had more to fear than just catching the plague: looting was rife and some people were prepared to kill for food, which soon ran low. Shops were shut and traders from the country were understandably reluctant to bring their wares into town. On top of that, imagine the sight of red crosses daubed upon your neighbour’s doors, denoting that they had caught the sickness. You can understand the terror and hopelessness of the Londoners, and understand why they did not venture out into the streets if they could help it. Self-isolation must have definitely seemed a safer option.

Also, of course, if you did get sick there was very little that could be done for you. There were pest houses set up, but they would have been overcrowded and unsanitary. Even if you were taken to one, the best they could do was give you a medicine made up of “a handful of mandragories and the same of rue, then featherfew and sorrel burnet, with a quantity of the crops and roots of dragons”.

Nicholas Culpeper, who published his Complete Herbal in the early part of the seventeenth century, also claimed that rue was a good cure for the plague and that sorrel would help plague sores to break. However, I can’t help thinking that, in this instance, herbal cures would have had but little effect.

Some people resorted to trying to catch syphilis as they imagined that would make them immune to the disease. It didn’t!

Philip Devalle, the main character in my historical novel Designs of a Gentleman: The Early Years, ventured out into the streets of London that month. It was not a pleasant experience.

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