present needs, the poorer class had to be maintained. The corporation
set thousands to work clearing rubbish, carting it way, pulling down the
shaky walls, and throwing open the streets. When the quays were cleared,
the business of the port was resumed. Then the houses and the shops
began to rise. The former were built on credit, and the latter stocked
on credit. Very likely the companies or the corporation itself became to
a large extent security, advancing money to the builders and making easy
terms about rent. Naturally, it was a time of enormous activity, every
trader making up for lost time, and especially such trades as concerned
the building, furnishing, or fitting of houses--a time of good wages and
constant work. Indeed, it is stated that the prosperity of the West
Country cloth-making business was never so great as during the years
following the Fire, which had destroyed such a prodigious quantity of
material. The City in time resumed its old aspect; the ruined thousands
had sunk out of sight; and nothing could replace the millions that had
been lost.
The manners of the City differed little in essentials from those of
Queen Elizabeth's time. Let us note, however, two or three points, still
keeping the unspeakable court out of sight, and confining ourselves as
much as possible to the City. Here are a few notes which must not be
taken as a finished picture of the time.
It was a great time for drinking. Even grave divines drank large
quantities of wine. Pepys is constantly getting "foxed" with drink; on
one occasion he is afraid of reading evening prayers lest the servants
should discover his condition. Of course they did discover it, and went
to bed giggling; but as they kept no diary the world never learned it.
London drank freely. Pepys tells how one lady, dining at Sir W.
Bullen's, drank at one draught a pint and a half of white wine. They all
went to church a great deal, and had fast days on every occasion of
doubt and difficulty; on the first Sunday in the year the longest Psalm
in the book (I suppose the 119th) was given out after the sermon. This
took an hour to say or sing, and all the while the sexton went about the
church making a collection. On Valentine's Day the married men took each
other's wives for valentines. Public wrestling matches were held,
followed by bouts with the cudgels.
They still carried on the sport of bull and bear baiting, and on one
occasion they baited a savage horse to death. That is, they attempted
it, but he drove off all the dogs, and the people insisting on his
death, they stabbed him to death. The King issued two patents for
theatres, one to Henry Killigrew, at Drury Lane, whose company called
themselves The King's Servants; the other to Sir William Davenant, of
Dorset Gardens, whose company was The Duke's Servants. There were still
some notable superstitions left. These are illustrated by the remedies
advertised for the plague and other diseases. A spider, for instance,
placed in a nutshell and wrapped in silk will cure ague. They believed
in the malignant influence of the planets. One evening at a dancing
house half a dozen boys and girls were taken suddenly ill. Probably they
had swallowed some poisonous stuff. They were supposed to be
planet-struck. And, of course, they believed in astrology and in
chiromancy, the latter of which has again come into fashion.
Saturday was the day of duns. Creditors then went about collecting their
money. In the autumn the merchants rode out into the country and looked
after their country customers.
The social fabric of the time cannot be understood without remembering
that certain nominal distinctions of our generation were then real
things, and gave a man consideration. Thus, there were no peers left
living in the City. But there were a few baronets and many knights.
After them in order came esquires, gentlemen, and commoners. Those were
entitled to the title of esquire who were gentlemen of good estate, not
otherwise dignified, counsellors-at-law, physicians and holders of the
King's commission. Everybody remembers Pepys's delight at being for the
first time, then newly made Secretary to the Admiralty, addressed as
esquire, and his irrepressible pride at being followed into church by a
page. A younger brother could call himself a gentleman, and this, I take
it, whether he was in trade or not. About this time, however, younger
sons began leaving off going to the City and embarking in trade, and
that separation of the aristocracy from the trade of the country, which
made the former a distinct caste and has lasted almost until the present
day, first began. It is now, however, so far as one can perceive the
signs of the times, fast disappearing. The younger son, in fact, began
to enter the army, the navy, or the Church. From the middle of the
seventeenth century till the battle of Waterloo, war in Europe was
almost continuous. A gentleman could offer his sword anywhere and was
accepted. There were English gentlemen in the service of Austria,
Russia, Sweden--even in that of France or Spain. Unfortunately, however,
in this country we generally had need of all the gentlemen we could find
to command our own armies. The title of gentleman was also conceded to
attorneys, notaries, proctors, and other lesser degrees of the law;
merchants, surgeons, tradesmen, authors, artists, architects, and the
like, had then, and have now, no rank of any kind in consideration of
their employments.
Tea, which at the Restoration was quite beyond the means of private
persons, became rapidly cheaper and in daily use among the better class
in London, though not in the country. Thus, in Congreve's "Way of the
World," Mrs. Millamant claims to be "Sole Empress of my tea-table." Her
lover readily consents to her drinking tea if she agrees to a
stipulation which shows that the love of tea was as yet more fashionable
than real, since it could be combined with that of strong drinks. He
says that he must banish from her table "foreign forces, auxiliaries to
the tea-table, such as orange brandy, aniseed, cinnamon, citron, and
Barbadoes water, together with ratafia and the most noble spirit of
clary."
The favorite places of resort in the City were the galleries of the
Royal Exchange, filled with shops for the sale of gloves, ribbons,
laces, fans, scent, and such things. The shops were kept by young women
who, like the modern bar-maid, added the attraction of a pretty face to
the beauty of their wares. The piazza of Covent Garden was another
favorite place, but this, with Spring Gardens, Vauxhall, was outside
the City. The old desecration of Paul's was to a great extent stopped by
the erection of the West Porch, designed for those who met here for
purposes of business.
[Illustration: OLD ST. PAUL'S, WITH THE PORCH OF INIGO JONES]
Coffee-houses were first set up at this time, and at once became
indispensable to the citizens, who before had had no other place of
evening resort than the tavern. The City houses were "Dick's" and the
"Rainbow," in Fleet Street; "Tom's," of Birchin Lane (not to speak of
the more classic "Tom's," of Covent Garden). Nearly all the old inns of
the City have now been destroyed. Fifty years ago many were still
standing, with their galleries and their open courts. Such were the
"Bell," of Warwick Lane; the "Belle Sauvage," of Ludgate Hill; the
"Blossom," Laurence Lane; the "Black Lion," Whitefriars Street; the
"Four Swans," Bishopsgate Street; the "Saracen's Head," Friday Street,
and many others.
It is, I suppose, pretty clear that the songs collected by Tom d'Urfey
are a fair representation of the delectable and edifying ditties sung in
taverns, and when the society was "mixed." It would be easy to preach
against the wickedness of the times which could permit the singing of
such songs, but in reality they are no worse than the songs of the
preceding generation, to which, indeed, many of them belong. And,
besides, it does not appear that the better sort of people regaled
themselves with this kind of song at all, and even in this collection
there are a great many which are really beautiful. The following pretty
lines are taken almost at random from one of the volumes of the _Pills
to Purge Melancholy_. They are called a "Description of Chloris:"
"Have you e'er seen the morning Sun
From fair Aurora's bosom run?
Or have you seen on Flora's bed
The essences of white and red?
Then you may boast, for you have seen
My fairer Chloris, Beauty's Queen.
"Have you e'er pleas'd your skilful ears
With the sweet music of the Spheres?
Have you e'er heard the Syrens sing,
Or Orpheus play to Hell's black King?
If so, be happy and rejoyce,
For thou hast heard my Chloris' Voice.
"Have you e'er tasted what the Bee
Steals from each fragrant flower or tree?
Or did you ever taste that meat
Which poets say the Gods did eat?
O then I will no longer doubt
But you have found my Chloris out."
Many of the poems are patriotic battle-pieces; some present the shepherd
in the usual fashion as consumed by the ardor of his love, being wishing
and pining, sighing and weeping. That seeming extravagance of
passion--that talk of flames and darts--was not entirely conventional:
"How charming Phillis is, how fair!
O that she were as willing
To ease my wounded heart of care,
And make her eyes less killing!"
It was not only exaggeration. I am quite certain that men and women were
far less self-governed formerly than now: when, for instance, they were
in love, they were much more in love than now. The passion possessed
them and transported them and inflamed them. Their pangs of jealousy
tore them to pieces; they must get their mistress or they will go mad.
Nay, it is only of late--say during the last hundred years--that we have
learned to restrain passions of any kind. Love, jealousy, envy, hatred,
were far fiercer emotions under the Second Charles--nay, even under the
Second George--than they are with us. Anger was far more common. It does
not seem as if men and women, especially of the lower classes, ever
attempted in the least to restrain their passions. To be sure they could
at once have it out in a fight--a thing which excuses wrath. To inquire
into the causes of the universal softening of manners would take us too
far. But we may note as a certain fact that passions are more restrained
and not so overwhelming: that love is milder, wrath more governed, and
that manners are softened for us.
One must not, again, charge the City at this time with being more than
commonly pestered by rogues. The revelations of the Elizabethan
moralists, and the glimpses we get of mediæval rogues, forbid this
accusation. At the same time there was a good standing mass of solid
wickedness. Contemporary literature proves this, if any proof were
wanted, abundantly. There is a work of some literary value called the
_Life of Meriton Latroon_, in which is set forth an immense quantity of
rogueries. Among other things the writer shows the tricks of trade,
placing his characters in many kinds of shops, so as to give his
experiences in each. We are thus enabled to perceive that there were
sharpers and cheats in respectable-looking shops then, as now. And there
seems no reason to believe that the cheats were in greater proportion to
the honest men than they are now. Besides the tricks of the masters, the
honest Meriton Latroon shows us the ways of the London prentice, which
were highly promising for the future of the City. He robbed his master
as much as he dared: he robbed him of money; he robbed him of stuffs and
goods; he ruined the maids; he belonged to a club which met on Saturday
nights, when the master was at his country-box, and exchanged, for the
common good, the robberies of the week. After this they feasted and
drank with young Bona Robas, who stole from them the money they had
stolen from their shops. It is a beautiful picture, and would by some
moralists be set down to the evil example of King Charles, who is
generally held responsible for the whole of the wickedness of the people
during his reign. But these prentices knew nothing of the court, and the
thing had been going on all through the Protectorate, and, for that
matter, I dare say as far back as the original institution of
apprenticeship. One would fain hope that not all the City apprentices
belonged to this club. Otherwise, one thinks that the burning of London
ought to have been the end of London.
The worst vice of the age seems to have been gambling, which was as
prevalent in the City as at the court; that is to say, one does not
accuse sober merchants of gambling, but in every tavern there were cards
and dice, and they were in use all day long. Now, wherever there is
gambling there are thieves, sharpers, and cheats by profession, and in
every age these gentry enjoy their special names, whether of opprobrium
or of endearment. They were then called Huffs, Rooks, Pads, Pimpinios,
Philo Puttonists, Ruffins, Shabbaroons, Rufflers, and other endearing
terms--not that the number of the names proves the extent of the evil.
Whatever they were called, the whole object of their lives--their only
way of living--was to trick, extort, or coax money out of flats. Very
often they were gentlemen by birth, younger sons of good families, who
scorned any honest way of making their living. By their good manners,
fashionable appearance, pleasing address, and known connections they
often succeeded in getting hold of unsuspecting gentlemen from the
country. It is the old, old story. Captain Hawk is always on the
lookout for Master Pigeon, and too often catches him. The story that
Thackeray has told belongs not to one period, but to all. Of course
there was the lower class of rogues: the sturdy beggar, the man who
cannot work because he has in his blood the taint of whole generations
of idleness; the nomad, who would die unless he were always roving about
the country; the outcast, who delights in pitting his wits against the
law. A few of these I have chosen from the long lists. They are as
follows:
The "Ruffler," who pretended to be an old soldier of Naseby or Marston
Moor.
The "Angler," who carried a stick with a hook at the end of it, and
found it useful when the window was left open.
The "Wild Rogue," used for boys and girls, children of thieves, who made
a good living for their parents by hanging about the doors of crowded
churches, and cutting off gold buttons from the coats of the merchants.
The "Clapperdozen," a woman who begged about the streets with stolen
children.
The "Abram Man," a sham madman.
The "Whip Jack," a counterfeit sailor who pretended to be shipwrecked.
The "Mumpus," who pretended to be a decayed merchant or a sequestered
clergyman.
The "Dommerer," who shammed dumb.
Let us turn from general statements to the consideration of a single
family. That of Samuel Pepys might be taken as an example, and his
Journal is by no means well-trodden and familiar ground. In fact, he is
generally read in bits, for half an hour's amusement. Yet it is better
to take a case not before the public at all. Besides, even a minute
diary such as that of Pepys, kept day by day, leaves, when you come to
construct the daily life out of it, great gaps here and there. Less
literary documents may sometimes yield richer results. Even the most
careful diarist scorns to speak of details. For them we must look into
the humble papers of the household. For instance, I have before me a
bundle of documents on which I lighted by accident, containing the
household accounts of a respectable family for the years 1677-1679, and
I propose by means of these accounts to reproduce the household daily
life of a bourgeois well-to-do family of the time.
This family consisted of the master, the mistress, and "Mr. Arthur," who
was probably the master's brother. The two former were at this time a
young married couple, whose joys and anxieties are presently increased
by the arrival of a baby. Their residence is a short distance from
London, and their way of life may be taken to illustrate that of the
general run of London citizens. The occupation of the master is not
stated, but he appears to be a man following no profession or trade:
perhaps a gentleman with a small estate. They seem to have kept no
horses, so that their means were certainly narrow. Their nearest
market-town was Hertford, whither they went by coach (fare one shilling)
to buy what they wanted. Their house-keeping was conducted with an eye
to economy, yet there is no stint, and occasionally there occurs an
entry--quite inexplicable--of wild extravagance. They lived in the
country, about fifteen miles from London, and presumably had a garden,
yet they did not grow enough vegetables, herbs, and fruit for their own
consumption. The household consisted, besides the family and the nurse,
of a cook, two maids, and a gardener, or man of all work. The accounts
are partly kept by the mistress and partly by a servant--perhaps a
house-keeper. Remembering that Pepys consented to receive his sister
"Pall" into his house only on the footing of a servant, the keeper of
the accounts may very well have been a poor relation.
The rent of the house was £26 a year. It contained two sitting-rooms and
four bedrooms, with a kitchen. The parlor, or best sitting-room, was
hung with five pieces of fine tapestry; the other sitting-room with gray
linsey-woolsey and gilt leather; the bedrooms had hangings of striped
cloth. Curtains of green cloth with a green carpet decorated the parlor;
the other rooms had green, say, or "sad color" striped curtains. The
best bedroom contained a magnificent "wrought"--_i.e._, carved--bedstead
with a canopy, curtains, a valance, and chairs all of the same material.
There were three other bedrooms, one for Mr. Arthur, one for the nurse
and the baby, unless they slept at the foot of the big bed, and one for
the maids. The gardener slept out of the house. The furniture of the
parlor consisted of one central table--the dining-table--a table with a
drawer, a cupboard, a clock case, a leather chair, a plush chair, six
green cloth chairs, and two green stools. The carpet and curtains have
been already mentioned; there were no pictures, no cabinets, no
book-shelves, no mirrors, no sofas. The other room was more simply
furnished with a Spanish table, a plain table, and a few chairs. Two of
the bedrooms had looking-glasses, and there was a very generous
provision of feather-beds, bolsters, pillows, and blankets, which speaks
of comfort for the night.
The inventory of the kitchen furniture is, unfortunately, incomplete.
There is no mention at all made of any china-ware. Yet porcelain was by
this time in common use. It was made at Bow and at Chelsea. In
middle-class houses the master and mistress used it at table, while
servants and children still had pewter or even wooden platters. The
inventory speaks of porringers, doubtless of wood, of pewter
candlesticks--there are no brass candlesticks--of a three-pint pewter
pot, of a great and little bowl--for possets and hot spiced ale--and of
wooden platters. Nothing is said of silver; there are no silver cups--in
the century before this no respectable householder was without one
silver mazer at least; there are no silver candlesticks; there is no
mention of forks. Now the two-pronged fork of steel was made in
Sheffield certainly in the middle of the century. It would be curious if
the ordinary household still kept up the old fashion of eating without
forks so late as 1677.
Such was the equipment of the house, one sitting-room, and one bedroom
handsomely, the rest plainly, furnished.
The first thing which strikes one in the accounts is the enormous
consumption of beer. The household drank two kilderkins, or thirty-six
gallons, of beer every week! One hundred and forty-four quarts a week!
Twenty-one quarts a day! It means nearly three quarts a head. This seems
impossible. There must have been some external assistance. Perhaps the
master had some kind of farm, or employed other servants. But it is not
really impossible. We must remember that there was no tea, that people
would not drink water if they could get anything else, and that small
beer was the national beverage, taken with every meal, and between
meals, and that the allowance was practically _à discretion_. It was
certainly quite possible, and even common, for a man to drink three
quarts a day. A hundred years later Benjamin Franklin describes the
daily beer-drinking in a London printing-house. The men took a pint
before breakfast, a pint with breakfast, a pint between breakfast and
dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint at six, and a pint when work was
knocked off. This makes three quarts, without counting any beer that
might be taken in the evening. In the well-known and often-quoted
account of Mr. Hastings (Hutchin's _History of Dorsetshire_), who lived
over a hundred years, it is recorded of him that he would take his glass
or two of wine or strong ale at dinner, but that he always had beside
him his great "tun-glass" filled with small beer, which he stirred with
rosemary. But, even if the men drank three quarts a day, the women could
not.
In addition to the small beer, which cost threepence a gallon, there are
continual entries of ale at twopence a quart. This was bought at the
tavern. There were many kinds of ale, as cock ale, college ale, wormwood
ale, sage ale, and scurvy-grass ale, some of them medicated, to be taken
at certain seasons of the year. There was also wine, but not much.
Occasionally they bought a cask--a tierce of forty-two gallons--and
bottled it at home. The kind of wine is not stated. Sometimes they send
out to the nearest tavern for a bottle, and it cost a shilling.
The accounts seem to set down everything wanted for the conduct of a
house; every week, however, there is an unexplained item, called "cook's
bill." This, I think, is the separate account of the servants' table.
The "cook's bill" amounts every week to a good sum, a little above or a
little below a pound. Perhaps it contained the wages as well as the
board. The amount of food entered certainly does not seem enough for the
servants as well as the family.
During the winter they bought no fresh beef at all. In November they
bought great pieces, thirty, forty, even seventy pounds at a time. This
was for the pickling-tub. Boiled beef played a great part in the
winter's dinners. If they drank enormous quantities of beer they managed
with very little bread. I find that, taking ten consecutive weeks, they
spent no more than eight shillings upon bread. The price of wheat was
then subject to very great variations. For example:
In the year 1675 it was £3 4_s._ 8_d._ the quarter.
" 1676 " 1 18 0 "
" 1677 " 2 2 0 "
" 1678 " 2 19 0 "
In other words, it was dearer in 1678 than it is in 1890, and that when
the purchasing power of money was four times what it is now. Now it may
be reckoned that in a house where there are children the average
consumption of bread is at this day ten pounds weight a head. In this
household of seven the average consumption was no more than eight pounds
altogether. Setting aside the servants, the family had no more than two
pounds of bread apiece every week, or four and a half ounces a day,
which is one slice not too thick. Oat cake, however, they used in good
quantity, so that the bread would be considered as a luxury.
The old vice of the English in eating vast quantities of meat to very
little bread or vegetable could no longer be a reproach to them. By this
time there was abundance of vegetables of every kind. We are especially
told that in the serving of the boiled beef great quantities of
vegetables, carrots, parsnips, cauliflowers, cabbage, spinach, beans,
peas, etc., were served with it, and so also with other meat. There is
no mention of potatoes, though one had always thought that they were
firmly established in the country by this time. Their own garden was not
able to furnish them with enough fruit or vegetables, which they have to
buy constantly. They also buy nosegays in the summer.