MANNERS.
“The king’s most faithful subjects we,
In’s service are not dull,
We drink to show our loyalty,
And make his coffers full.
Would all his subjects drink like us,
We’d make him richer far,
More powerful and more prosperous
Than all the Eastern monarchs are.”
SHADWELL’S _The Woman Captain_.
No passages in the “Diary” are more valuable than those from which
we can gather some idea of the manners of the time in which Pepys
lived. It is chiefly, in fact, on account of the pictures of the mode
of life among the men and women of the middle classes portrayed in
those passages that the book has attained its immense popularity.
History instructs, while gossip charms, so that for hundreds who desire
to learn the chronicle of events, thousands long to hear how their
ordinary fellow creatures lived, what they ate, what they wore, and
what they did.
Pepys liked good living, and he was careful to set down what he ate,
so that we are able to judge of his taste. This is what he calls a
“pretty dinner”--“a brace of stewed carps, six roasted chickens and
a jowl of salmon hot, for the first course; a tanzy and two neats’
tongues, and cheese the second.”[311] A good calf’s head boiled with
dumplings he thought an excellent dinner,[312] and he was very proud
of a dinner he gave to some friends, which consisted of “fricasee of
rabbits and chickens, a leg of mutton boiled, three carps in a dish, a
great dish of a side of a lamb, a dish of roasted pigeons, a dish of
four lobsters, three tarts, a lamprey pie (a most rare pie), a dish of
anchovies, good wine of several sorts and all things mighty noble and
to my great content.”[313] He was very indignant when Sir W. Hickes
gave him and his fellows “the meanest dinner (of beef, shoulder and
umbles of venison, which he takes away from the keeper of the forest,
and a few pigeons, and all in the meanest manner) that ever I did see,
to the basest degree.”[314] Pepys liked all kinds of pies, whether they
contained fish or swan, but there was one pie in particular that was
filled with such a pleasant variety of good things that he never tasted
the like in all his life.[315] On two several occasions he records his
appreciation of a joint which sounds strange to modern ears--viz.,
boiled haunch of venison.[316] At special seasons he was in the habit
of partaking of the diet appropriate to the festival: thus on Shrove
Tuesday he ate fritters,[317] and at Christmas mince pies[318] or plum
porridge,[319] plum pudding not having been at that time invented.
The meat taken with these sweets was sometimes the orthodox beef, but
it was more often something else, as on Christmas day, 1660, when it
consisted of shoulder of mutton and chicken.
Breakfast was not formerly made an ordinary meal, but radishes were
frequently taken with the morning draught. On May 2nd, 1660, Pepys
had his breakfast of radishes in the Purser’s cabin of the “Naseby,”
in accordance with the rule laid down by Muffet in his “Health’s
Improvement” (1655), that they “procure appetite and help digestion;”
which is still acted upon in Italy.
Ale-houses, mum-houses, and wine-houses abounded in all parts of
London, and much money must have been spent in them. The charges seem
to have been high, for Pepys relates how on one occasion the officers
of the navy met the Commissioners of the Ordnance at the Dolphin
Tavern, when the cost of their dinner was 34_s._ a man.[320] We are not
told how much Sir W. Batten, Sir W. Penn, and Pepys had to pay when
they ordered their dinner at the Queen’s Head at Bow, and took their
own meat with them from London.[321]
There is abundant evidence in the “Diary” of the prevalent habits of
deep drinking, and Pepys himself evidently often took more than was
good for him. Men were very generally unfit for much business after
their early dinners; thus Pepys tells of his great speech at the bar of
the House of Commons that it lasted so long that many of the members
went out to dinner, and when they came back they were half drunk.[322]
Sir William Penn told an excellent story which exhibits well the habits
of the time. Some gentlemen (?) drinking at a tavern blindfolded the
drawer, and told him that the one he caught would pay the reckoning.
All, however, managed to escape, and when the master of the house came
up to see what was the matter, his man caught hold of him, thinking
he was one of the gentlemen, and cried out that he must pay the
reckoning.[323] Various drinks are mentioned in the “Diary,” such as
mum (an ale brewed with wheat), buttered ale (a mixture of beer, sugar,
cinnamon, and butter), and lamb’s wool (a mixture of ale with sugar,
nutmeg, and the pulp of roasted apples), among other doctored liquors.
Such stuff as this does not indicate a refined taste, and the same may
be said when we find that wine was also made up for vitiated palates.
On June 10th, 1663, Pepys goes with three friends to the Half Moon
Tavern, and buys some sugar on the way to mix with the wine. We read of
Muscadel, and various kinds of sack, as Malago sack, raspberry sack,
and sack posset, of Florence wine, and of Navarre wine. Rhine wines
must have been popular at this time, if we may judge from the numerous
Rhenish wine-houses spread about the town. Amongst Pepys’s papers was
found a memorandum on the dangers England might experience in the event
of a war with France. Lord Dartmouth proposed that we might ruin the
French by forbidding their wines, “but that he considers, will never
be observed with all our heat against France. We see that, rather than
not drink their wine, we forget our interest against it, and play
all the villanies and perjuries in the world to bring it in, because
people will drink it, if it be to be had, at any rate.”[324] What Lord
Dartmouth thought to be impossible was practically effected by the
Methuen treaty in 1703, after the signing of which French wines were
driven out of the English market for many years by Spanish wines, and
it was long thought patriotic to drink port.
Pepys liked to be in the fashion, and to wear a newly-introduced
costume, although he was displeased when Lady Wright talked about the
great happiness of “being in the fashion, and in variety of fashions
in scorn of others that are not so, as citizens’ wives and country
gentlewomen.”[325] The Diary is full of references to new clothes, and
Pepys never seems so happy as when priding himself upon his appearance
and describing the beauties of velvet cloaks, silk coats, and gold
buttons. In 1663, he found that his expenses had been somewhat too
large, and that the increase had chiefly arisen from expenditure
on clothes for himself and wife, although, as already remarked, it
appears that Mrs. Pepys’s share was only _£_12, against her husband’s
_£_55.[326] In fact, our Diarist was at one time rather mean in
regard to the money he allowed his wife, although afterwards he was
more generous, and even gave _£_80 for a necklace of pearls which he
presented to her.
One of the strangest attempts to fix a fashion was made by Charles
the Second, who soon, however, tired of his own scheme. In 1661, John
Evelyn advocated a particular kind of costume in a little book entitled
“Tyrannus, or the Mode.” Whether the King took his idea from this book,
or whether it originated in his own mind we cannot tell, but at all
events, on the 17th of October, 1666, he declared to the Privy Council
his “resolution of setting a fashion for clothes which he will never
alter.” Pepys describes the costume in which Charles appeared on the
15th of October in the following words:--“A long cassock close to
the body, of black cloth and pinked with white silk under it, and a
coat over it, and the legs ruffled with black rib and like a pigeon’s
leg, ... a very fine and handsome garment.” Several of the courtiers
offered heavy bets that Charles would not persist in his resolution
of never altering this costume, and they were right, for very shortly
afterwards it was abandoned. The object aimed at was to abolish the
French fashion, which had caused great expense, but in order to
thwart his brother of England’s purpose, the King of France ordered
all his footmen to put on the English vests.[327] This impertinence
on the part of Louis XIV., which appears to have given Steele a hint
for his story of Brunetta and Phillis in the “Spectator,” caused the
discontinuance of the so-called Persian habit at the English Court.
There are occasional allusions in the “Diary” to female dress. Thus, on
October 15th, 1666, Lady Carteret tells Pepys that the ladies are about
to adopt a new fashion, and “wear short coats above their ancles,”
in place of the long trains, which both the gossips thought “mighty
graceful.” At another time Pepys was pleased to see “the young, pretty
ladies dressed like men, in velvet coats, caps with ribands, and with
laced bands, just like men.”[328] Vizards or black masks appear to
have come into general use, or rather were revived by the ladies about
1663. By wearing them women were able to sit out the most licentious
play with unblushing face. We read that Pepys and his wife went to
the Theatre Royal on June 12th of that year:--“Here I saw my Lord
Falconbridge and his Lady, my Lady Mary Cromwell, who looks as well as
I have known her, and well clad; but when the House began to fill she
put on her vizard, and so kept it on all the play; which of late is
become a great fashion among the ladies, which hides their whole face.”
After the play Pepys and Mrs. Pepys went off to the Exchange to buy a
vizard, so that the latter might appear in the fashion.
The custom of wearing the hat indoors is more than once alluded to in
the “Diary,”[329] and on one occasion Pepys was evidently much elated
by the circumstance that he was in a position to wear his hat--“Here
it was mighty strange to find myself sit here in Committee with my hat
on, while Mr. Sherwin stood bare as a clerk, with his hat off to his
Lord Ashly and the rest, but I thank God I think myself never a whit
the better man for all that.”[330] This practice, which still exists
in the House of Commons, was once universal, and in the statutes of
the Royal Society the right of addressing the meeting with his hat
on was reserved to the president, the other members being expected
to uncover on rising to speak. A few years after the above committee
meeting, it became the fashion of the young “blades” to wear their hats
cocked at the back of their heads.[331] This obtained the name of the
“Monmouth cock,” after the popular Duke of Monmouth, and according to
the “Spectator,” it still lingered in the west of England among the
country squires as late as 1711. “During our progress through the most
western parts of the kingdom, we fancied ourselves in King Charles the
Second’s reign, the people having made little variations in their dress
since that time. The smartest of the country squires appear still in
the Monmouth cock.”[332]
Gloves were then, as now, looked upon as an appropriate present to a
lady, and Pepys often bought them for this purpose. On October 27th,
1666, he gave away several pairs of _jessimy_ or jessemin gloves, as
Autolycus says, “gloves as sweet as damask roses;” and on January 25th,
1668–69, he was vexed when his wife wanted him to buy two or three
dozen perfumed gloves for her. Those who did not wear these useful
coverings laid themselves open to remark, as we read of Wallington, a
little fellow who sang an excellent bass, that he was “a poor fellow, a
working goldsmith, that goes without gloves to his hands.”[333] The use
of muffs by men became common after the Restoration, and continued till
Horace Walpole’s day, and even later. November, 1662, was a very cold
month, and Pepys was glad to wear his wife’s last year’s muff, and to
buy her a new one. The long hair worn by the cavaliers was superseded
soon after the Restoration by the use of wigs. Pepys went on the 29th
of August, 1663, to his barber’s to be trimmed, when he returned a
periwig which had been sent for his approval, as he had not quite
made up his mind to wear one, and “put it off for a while.” Very soon
afterwards, however, he ordered one to be made for him;[334] and then
he had his hair cut off, which went against his inclination. The new
wig cost three pounds, and the old hair was used to make another.[335]
This last only cost twenty-one shillings and sixpence to make up, and
the peruque-maker promised that the two would last for two years.[336]
The Duke of York very soon followed the fashion set by his subordinate,
and put on a wig for the first time on February 15th, 1663–4. These
magnificent ornaments, which look so grand in the portraits, were very
apt to get out of order, and on one occasion Pepys had to send his
wig back to the barber’s to be cleansed of its nits. No wonder he was
vexed at having had it sent to him in such a state.[337] On May 30th,
1668, he came to an agreement with his barber to keep his wigs in good
order for twenty shillings a year. It is remarkable that people did
not return to the sensible fashion of wearing their own hair after the
plague, when there must have been great dread of infection from this
source. Pepys bought a wig at Westminster during the sickness, and
was long afraid to wear it. He adds, “it is a wonder what will be the
fashion after the plague is done, as to periwigs, for nobody will dare
to buy any hair, for fear of the infection, that it had been cut off
the heads of people dead of the plague.”[338]
Before passing on to consider some other customs, a word should be
said on the practice of wearing mourning. When the Duke of Gloucester
died, it is related that the King wore purple, which was used as royal
mourning. At the same time Mrs. Pepys spent _£_15 on mourning clothes
for herself and husband.[339] We are told how the whole family went
into black on the death of the elder Mrs. Pepys,[340] and we have very
full and curious particulars of the funeral of Thomas Pepys. For this
occasion Samuel had the soles of his shoes blacked, which seems a
rather odd kind of mourning![341]
The engagement between Philip Carteret and Lady Jemimah Montagu gave
the Diarist considerable employment, and from the long account he has
written on it we gather that he was very proud of such assistance as
he was able to give. Carteret was a shy young man, and needed much
instruction, as to how he should take the lady’s hand, and what he
should do. The whole description is very droll, but too long to quote
here. Pepys made the best of the affair, but he evidently thought his
_protégé_ a very insipid lover. The wedding took place on July 31st,
1665, the bride and bridegroom being in their old clothes, but Pepys
was resplendent in a “new coloured suit and coat trimmed with gold
buttons, and gold broad lace round his hands, very rich and fine.” This
is the account of what occurred after supper:--“All of us to prayers
as usual, and the young bride and bridegroom too; and so after prayers
soberly to bed; only I got into the bridegroom’s chamber while he
undressed himself, and there was very merry till he was called to the
bride’s chamber, and into bed they went. I kissed the bride in bed, and
so the curtains drawn with the greatest gravity that could be, and so
good night. But the modesty and gravity of this business was so decent
that it was to me, indeed, ten times more delightful than if it had
been twenty times more merry and jovial.”
There are several allusions in the “Diary” to the custom of scrambling
for ribbons and garters at weddings, and Pepys expresses himself as not
pleased when favours were sent to others after Lord Hinchingbroke’s
wedding, and he was overlooked.[342] At this time wedding rings were
not the plain and inelegant things they are now, but were frequently
ornamented with precious stones, and almost invariably had a motto
engraved upon them. Pepys’s aunt Wight was “mighty proud” of her
wedding ring, which cost her twelve pounds, and had been lately set
with diamonds.[343]
It is not necessary to remark that there was a considerable laxity
of manners during the period with which we are now dealing, as this
is pretty well known, but one or two passages in the “Diary” may,
perhaps, be alluded to here. On one occasion Mrs. Turner, the wife of a
serjeant-at-law, while dressing herself in her room by the fire, took
occasion to show Pepys her leg, which she was very proud of, and which
he affirms was the finest he had ever seen.[344] At another time, Pepys
went to Lady Batten’s, when he found her and several friends very merry
in her chamber; Lady Penn flung him down upon the bed, and then herself
and the others came down one after another upon him. He might well add,
“and very merry we were.”[345]
This laxity of manners is invariably laid to the demoralizing effect of
the Restoration, but it is evident from this portion of the “Diary,”
which was written before that event, that it was as usual for men to
visit ladies in their bedrooms before Charles II. “returned to take
possession of his birthright,” as it was afterwards. Thus we read that
on February 24th, 1659–60, Pepys took horse at Scotland Yard, and rode
to Mr. Pierce, “who rose, and in a quarter of an hour, leaving his wife
in bed (with whom Mr. Lucy, methought, was very free as she lay in
bed); we both mounted and so set forth about seven of the clock.” This
remark probably offended Lord Braybrooke’s modesty, for it appears for
the first time in Mr. Mynors Bright’s edition.
There are several passages in the “Diary” which are of interest, as
showing how our ancestors travelled. Although travelling by coach was a
very slow operation, much ground could be got over in a short space of
time on horseback. On the 6th of July, 1661, Pepys set out for Brampton
about noon, and arrived there at nine o’clock at night; having ridden
at the rate of about nine miles an hour, with allowance for stoppages
for refreshment.
The first great improvement in coach-building was made soon after the
Restoration, when glass-coaches were introduced. The Comte de Grammont
did not approve of the coach made for the King, and therefore ordered
from Paris an elegant and magnificent calash, which was greatly
admired, and cost him two thousand louis.
There were some who did not appreciate the improved carriages, and
were alive to the evils that were caused by the change. “Another
pretty thing was my Lady Ashly’s speaking of the bad qualities of
glass-coaches, among others the flying open of the doors upon any
great shake; but another was that my Lady Peterborough being in her
glass-coach with the glass up, and seeing a lady pass by in a coach
whom she would salute, the glass was so clear that she thought it had
been open, and so ran her head through the glass!”[346]
It is a curious instance of the survival of terms in popular language
that certain carriages were styled glass-coaches even within living
memory.
Although the hours kept by “society” in Charles II.’s reign were
considerably earlier than those now adopted, and Pepys often went to
bed by daylight,[347] yet people did sit up very late sometimes. On
the 9th of May, 1668, the House of Commons sat till five o’clock in
the morning to discuss a difference that had arisen between them and
the House of Lords. One night Pepys stayed at the office so late that
it was nearly two o’clock before he got to bed,[348] and at another
time the servant got up at the same hour to do the week’s washing.[349]
The watchman perambulated the streets with his bell and called out the
hours, so that when Pepys was sitting up to fill up the entries in the
“Diary,” he often heard the cry “Past one of the clock, and a cold,
frosty, windy morning,”[350] or some similar information.
It is not easy to settle with any great accuracy the respective values
of money at that time and at present, as many things were considerably
cheaper, but others were dearer. Bab May said that _£_300 per annum was
an ample income for a country gentlemen; a remark that was repeated
by Marvell, and increased by him to _£_500. The gentry did not like
this criticism, but it shows at least that money had a much greater
purchasing power then than now. In the winter of 1666–67 the farmers
were very unfortunate, and many were forced to become bankrupts, so
that property previously bringing in _£_1,000[351] suddenly became
worth only _£_500. The wages of a cookmaid were _£_4 a year, which
Pepys thought high,[352] and a coach cost _£_53,[353] but a beaver hat
was charged as high as _£_4 5_s._[354] Twenty-five pounds was paid for
a painted portrait, and _£_30 for a miniature, and _£_80 for a necklace
of pearls. Cherries were sold at two shillings a pound,[355] oranges
at six shillings a dozen, and dinners at an ordinary varied from seven
shillings to a guinea.
There are so many little items in the “Diary” which are of interest as
illustrating old customs, some of which still exist, and others which
have died out, that it would be quite impossible to allude here even
to a fraction of them. One or two instances, therefore, gathered at
random, must be sufficient. Pepys on several occasions mentions the
custom of “beating the bounds” in the various parishes on Ascension
Day or Holy Thursday, when a boy was in some cases beaten, or, as in
Dorsetshire, tossed into a stream, in order to impress very forcibly
upon his memory the locality of the parish boundaries. At one time
he writes, “This day was kept a holy-day through the town; and it
pleased me to see the little boys walk up and down in procession with
their broomstaffs in their hands, as I had myself long ago gone,”[356]
and at another, “They talked with Mr. Mills about the meaning of
this day, and the good uses of it; and how heretofore, and yet in
several places, they do whip a boy at each place they stop at in their
procession.”[357] Allusion has already been made to the mixed motives
that drew Pepys to church, and how he often attended more to the pretty
faces in the congregation than to the words of the preacher. He had
high authority for his conduct in the demeanour of the court, and he
himself tells us how, while Bishop Morley (of Winchester) was preaching
on the song of the angels, and reprehending the mistaken jollity of
the court, the courtiers “all laugh in the chapel when he reflected on
their ill actions and courses.”[358]
There is comparatively little in the “Diary” about the Nonconformists,
although in the early part of his career Pepys was more favourable
to their claims than to those of the conforming clergy. He was once
induced to give five shillings to a parson among the fanatics, who said
a long grace like a prayer, and was in great want, although he would
willingly have done otherwise. His aunt James, “a poor, religious,
well-meaning, good soul,” told him that the minister’s prayers had
helped to cure him when he was cut for the stone.[359]
We have a curious peep into a rustic church which Pepys and his cousin
Roger attended on the 4th of August, 1662: “At our coming in, the
country people all rose with so much reverence; and when the parson
begins, he begins ‘Right worshipful and dearly beloved,’ to us.”
There are several allusions in the “Diary” to various punishments in
vogue at the time. In 1663, the parish of St. Olave’s was supplied
with a new pair of stocks “very handsome,” and one Sunday, a poor boy
who had been found in a drunken state by the constable, was led off
“to handsel them.”[360] It was formerly the custom to punish offenders
on the spot where their crimes had been committed; thus, on February
18th, 1659–60, two soldiers were hanged in the Strand for their mutiny
at Somerset House. The bodies of the criminals were frequently allowed
to hang in some conspicuous spot until they rotted away; and on April
11th, 1661, Pepys and “Mrs. Anne” “rode under the man that hangs upon
Shooter’s Hill, and a filthy sight it is to see how his flesh is shrunk
to his bones.” London must have exhibited a ghastly appearance when
the heads of traitors were stuck up on the city gates, on Temple Bar,
Westminster Hall, and other public places. The heads and the limbs were
covered with pitch, and remained in their elevated position for years,
until in many cases they were blown down by the wind. Pepys once found
the head of a traitor at the top of one of the turrets of Westminster
Abbey.[361] Some of Charles I.’s judges received an easier punishment.
William Monson, the “degraded” Earl of Castlemaine, Sir Henry Mildmay,
and Robert Wallop were sentenced to imprisonment for life, and to be
drawn on sledges with ropes round their necks from the Tower to Tyburn
and back, on the anniversary of the late King’s execution. Pepys met
the three sledges on Tower Hill on the 27th of January, 1661–62.
If called upon in the character of a judge to sum up the case
against the people of England in respect to their manners after the
Restoration, I think it would be but fair to say that these were better
than those of their rulers. It was not until after the Revolution, when
the vices of Charles’s court had had time to pollute the children of
the men who brought him back, that the lowest depths of immorality were
reached.
FOOTNOTES:
[311] “Diary,” March 26, 1662.
[312] Nov. 1, 1663.
[313] April 4, 1665.
[314] Sept. 13, 1665.
[315] Nov. 14, 1661.
[316] Sept. 9, 1662; Dec. 28, 1667.
[317] “Diary,” Feb. 26, 1660–61.
[318] Dec. 25, 1666.
[319] Dec. 25, 1662.
[320] June 20, 1665.
[321] March 14, 1667.
[322] “Diary,” March 5, 1667–68.
[323] Oct. 9, 1660. This is one of the additions in Mr. Mynors Bright’s
edition.
[324] Smith’s “Life, Journals, &c., of Pepys,” vol. ii. p. 202.
[325] “Diary,” Dec. 3, 1661.
[326] “Diary,” Oct 31, 1663.
[327] “Diary,” Nov. 22, 1666.
[328] July 27, 1665.
[329] Jan. 21, 1660–61.
[330] “Diary,” Jan. 17, 1664–65.
[331] June 3, 1667.
[332] “Spectator,” No. 129.
[333] “Diary,” Sept. 15, 1667.
[334] Oct. 30, 1663.
[335] Nov. 3, 1663.
[336] Nov. 13, 1663.
[337] “Diary,” July 18, 1664.
[338] Sept. 3, 1665.
[339] Sept. 17, 1660.
[340] March 27, 1667.
[341] March 18, 1663–64.
[342] “Diary,” Jan. 17, 1667–68.
[343] Dec. 4, 1668.
[344] Jan. 3, 1664–65.
[345] April 12, 1665.
[346] “Diary,” Sept. 23, 1667.
[347] June 12, 1662; July 1, 1662.
[348] Jan. 30, 1664–65.
[349] March 12, 1659–60.
[350] Jan. 16, 1659–60.
[351] “Diary,” Feb. 27, 1666–67.
[352] March 26, 1663.
[353] Oct. 24, 1668.
[354] June 27, 1661.
[355] “When cherries were first introduced into England they cost as
much as 20_s._ a pound.”--Buckle’s “Common-place Book,” vol. ii. p. 395.
[356] “Diary,” May 23, 1661.
[357] April 30, 1668.
[358] Dec. 25, 1662.
[359] May 30, 1663.
[360] “Diary,” April 12, 1663.
[361] Oct. 21, 1660.
[Illustration: Decoration]
[Illustration: Decoration]