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The Time Traveller’s Guide to Restoration Britain

Page 51

by Ian Mortimer


  At the start of this book I posed another important question: is it true that ‘the changes in English society … between the reign of Elizabeth and the reign of Anne were not revolutionary’? The quotation comes from Peter Laslett’s highly popular and influential book, The World We Have Lost (1966). Laslett was a historical demographer, and many of the research questions he asked were thus of a quantitative nature: how many people were there in a household, what proportion of the population was illegitimate, at what age did men and women marry, how many children did they have, and so on. However, he failed to give sufficient weight to some profound aspects of life that could not be so easily measured. For example, seventeenth-century people experienced a great shift in understanding how the world works – from a belief system rooted in superstition, religion and magic to one underpinned by scientific experimentation and rationalism – but that does not show up in a table of household sizes or population growth. The decline in hanging people for witchcraft in England is just one example of how this shift in understanding had a practical effect on everyone, not just the intellectuals. Another example is the end of hanging heretics and nonconformists and allowing the latter to worship in their own churches. Another is the fact that educated people became increasingly humanitarian in outlook, abhorring ‘cruel and unnatural punishments’. People started to believe that the plague had ceased to kill with its old regularity. They became much less ideological and more frequently chose paths that led to earthly pleasures rather than Heavenly rewards – such as wandering in the New Spring Gardens or going to Newmarket, drinking champagne or travelling across the country to see Stonehenge or the Lake District. Most of all, they increasingly saw themselves as individuals, and not mere elements of larger religious and social entities – hence the increase in the number of diaries written in this period.

  Over the fifty years since Laslett’s book came out, social historians have been able to measure a far wider range of social phenomena. The resulting data show that society did indeed undergo a series of profound revolutions in the seventeenth century. In chapter 10 we saw how no more than 5 per cent of dying men sent for a doctor in 1603; in 1702 the majority did so. The implication of those figures is that people no longer simply looked to divine powers for their physical well-being, they looked to educated and professional men. If that shift in life-preserving power, from Christ to the professional, is not revolutionary, then nothing is. Similarly, people understood by 1700 that mathematics was essential to a huge number of social functions, from calculating life tables to answering specific scientific and economic questions, such as the weight of air or the balance of trade with other nations, or the size and wealth of the population. They no longer had to rely purely on vague philosophical theories. These developments illustrate the profound effect that the intellectual changes of the seventeenth century had on people’s daily lives. You cannot calculate fire-insurance premiums on the strength of a theological argument about God’s destruction of evil-doers’ property. You can if you employ mathematicians to establish the risk.

  Enough of the past, it is time to return to our own world. But that involves saying goodbye not just to the changes and chances of the Restoration period but also to its people. In writing this book I have grown familiar with many characters, and I hope you have come to appreciate the finer points of some of them too. I am sad to say goodbye to the intrepid Celia Fiennes and the heavy-smoking earl of Bedford; the straight-talking Edward Barlow; the maverick Lord Rochester; and even the dry Ralph Thoresby. I will also miss the sesquipedalian Ned Ward and the sociable Willem Schellinks; the refined Italian Lorenzo Magalotti and the Anglophile Monsieur Misson. But I will miss even more listening to our two great diarists: Samuel Pepys, the foremost exponent of the medium, and his friend John Evelyn, the most erudite and sympathetic gentleman to have left a personal record of the period. Saying goodbye to them all is hard. In finally closing the door that leads to their world, I know that their opinions, jokes, insights and reminiscences are all going to be replaced with an unending silence. So, as I do close it, I find myself straining to hear a final word from one of them. And a voice does reach me. To my surprise, it does not belong to one of these characters. Nor is it that of King Charles II whispering sweet nothings to one of his mistresses, nor Milton calling out in his blindness, nor the London theatregoers shouting for an encore from Mrs Barry. Instead it is that of humble Joseph Pitts of Exeter, the fourteen-year-old boy who was captured in the English Channel by Barbary pirates in 1678 and sold in the slave markets of Algiers. If you remember, after fifteen years of slavery, he made the pilgrimage to Mecca and, after another year or so, managed to return to England. He was thus thirty when he returned, the same age as the king at his Restoration. What you don’t know is that, when he finally came home, Joseph learnt that his mother had died and his friends had given up all hope of ever seeing him again. But his much-loved father was still alive. Joseph himself tells the story best:

  I thought it would not be prudent to make myself known to my father at once, lest it should quite overcome him; and therefore went to a public house not far from where he lived and inquired for some who were playmates before I went to sea. They told me there was one Benjamin Chapel lived near there with whom I had been very intimate while a lad. I sent for him and acquainted him who I was, desiring that he would go to my father and bring it out to him by degrees. This he readily undertook, well knowing he should be a most welcome messenger, and in a little time brought my father to me. The house was soon filled with the neighbourhood, who came to see me. What joy there was at such a meeting I leave the reader to conceive of, for it is not easily expressed. The first words my father said to me were ‘Art thou my son Joseph?’ with tears. ‘Yes, father, I am,’ said I. He immediately led me home to his house, many people following us, but he shut the door against them and would admit no one until, falling on his knees, he had returned hearty thanks to God for my signal deliverance.

  If you listen carefully at the door to the past, what you hear most – above all the distant sounds of daily life and death – is the beating of the most unstoppable heart.

  1. Charles II, painted by John Michael Wright. It is easy to underestimate Charles as a monarch, especially with regard to his scandalous private life. But his political flexibility is what makes the Restoration of the monarchy a success, and his patronage of the arts and sports transform social life in Britain.

  2. James II, portrayed by Sir Peter Lely. A great patron and a noble prince but a failure as a king. His determination to pursue a policy of tolerance towards Catholics turns a loyal nation against him within four years of his accession.

  3. Queen Catherine of Braganza. You have to feel sorry for her, married to the openly adulterous Charles II. She also fails in her one constitutionally vital role of providing an heir. After a serious illness, in which she is delirious, she recovers and asks ‘How are the children?’ only to be told she does not actually have any.

  4. William III, prince of Orange and nephew of Charles II. The country flocks to support him as the Protestant defender against his cousin James II in 1688.

  5. Queen Mary II, daughter of James II, painted by William Wissing. She reigns jointly with her husband, William III, until her death in 1694.

  6. Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine and duchess of Cleveland. Charles II’s first mistress after his return to England – and later the mistress to several other gentlemen mentioned in this book.

  7. Louise de Kéroualle, duchess of Portsmouth, arrives from France in the train of the duchess of Orléans and soon is made a duchess herself – for services rendered to the king.

  8. Nell Gwynn. Not considered the most attractive of the king’s mistresses but probably the woman who inspires the most affection in him and among her fellow Londoners. It’s her personality that makes the difference. Honestly.

  9. In the Restoration period, London dominates England more than at any other time in history. Here it is viewed from the south bank
of the Thames, before the Great Fire.

  10. According to Pepys, who watches the Great Fire from the south bank, it consumes the heart of the city in a single ‘malicious bloody flame’.

  11. Covent Garden, designed by Inigo Jones for the earl of Bedford, sets the pattern for town planning in Britain. An elegant arcade and some of the finest houses in the city surround the central piazza, which becomes home to an extensive market around 1670. Note the yellow hackney carriages carrying fare-paying passengers.

  12. Golden Square, laid out in the 1670s, is just one of many well-proportioned squares constructed as London expands westwards.

  13. Michael Dahl’s portrait of Sir George Rooke shows the classic coat and waistcoat design of the 1690s that sets the standard for English gentlemen for the next century.

  14. Lord Mungo Murray, painted by John Michael Wright, is shown dressed in the full Scottish plaid as worn in the 1690s.

  15. Bridget Holmes, depicted by John Riley, is a royal ‘necessary woman’ who lives to 100 years of age. Here she is shown in her working clothes in 1686, at the age of 95.

  16. Lady Anne de Vere Capel here models a fine dress for her portrait by Michael Dahl, showing the fashionable gown of the 1690s.

  17. Robert Hooke’s book Micrographia causes a sensation when it appears in 1665. The image of a flea, engraved by Hooke himself, is 18 inches across. It introduces people for the first time to a new microscopic world they have not even imagined.

  18. The agony of toothache is easy to imagine in an age without anaesthetics. But the pain is not half the problem. Abscesses in rotten teeth kill about 6 per cent of the urban population in these years.

  19. The earliest surviving cheque, drawn on the bank of Clayton and Morris in the year 1659/60. The Restoration sees a series of revolutions in the financial world – from the development of the Stock Exchange to recoinage, fire insurance and the establishment of the Bank of England.

  20. The Thames freezes during the Long Frost of 1683–4 – so much so that a fair is held on its surface. It remains the coldest winter on record.

  21. The King’s Bath at Bath. All social ranks take the waters regularly – drinking them, bathing in them and having them sprayed over them. However, as Pepys notes, the communal bathing probably spreads as many diseases as the mineral waters cure.

  22. The process of executing traitors differs between men and women. Men are drawn to the gallows, hanged, cut down while still alive, disembowelled and then beheaded and their bodies cut into quarters, as shown here. Women are simply burnt at the stake.

  23. Titus Oates is responsible for spreading fear stories about a Catholic plot in 1678–81. Thirtyfive innocent men are executed as a result. When he himself is tried, his penalty is to be fined, imprisoned for life, unmercifully flogged and annually exhibited in the pillory. Here the crowds are turning out to witness the 1687 pillorying outside Westminster Hall.

  24. An elegant new country house in Belsize, Middlesex, and an equally elegant coach, painted by Jan Siberechts in 1696.

  25. Dating from 1655, the sign of the White Hart Inn in Scole, Norfolk, is adorned with coats of arms, biblical scenes, angels, shepherds and figures from classical mythology. The marketing of inns takes off with the development of coach travel.

  26. Clarendon House, designed by Sir Roger Pratt, stands on Piccadilly in West London. Despite being hailed by John Evelyn as ‘the best contrived, the most useful, graceful and magnificent house in England’, it is demolished in 1683, just sixteen years after its completion.

  27. The remodelling of Chatsworth in Derbyshire is begun by the duke of Devonshire in 1686. Not only is the house an architectural triumph, the gardens and fountains astound all those who see them.

  28. Grinling Gibbons’s ability to carve the most exquisite forms in wood is unprecedented and unparalleled. This typical example of his work is to be seen in Petworth House, in Sussex.

  29. Chintz – elaborated multi-coloured painted or stained calico from India – starts to arrive in England in the seventeenth century, and proves very popular with the wealthy for upholstery, bed curtains and similar draperies.

  30. This table clock looks ‘timeless’, if you’ll pardon the pun: a design that hardly betrays its origins in Thomas Tompion’s workshop. But nothing like it existed before the 1660s, and even then the early clocks had only one hand. This example also chimes the hour and quarter-hour.

  31. Antonio Verrio is considered by many to be ‘the finest hand in England’. His work at Burghley, especially the Heaven Room, shown here, is incredible. It does not just dominate the room, it causes everyone who enters to fall silent in admiration.

  32. Even the wealthy consume many animal parts that we regard as unpalatable. The wine is more likely to be to your taste: in the 1660s the French start to produce fine clarets, which are imported by the English at enormous expense.

  33. Edward Barlow comes from a background of grinding poverty but heads to sea at the age of thirteen and, most remarkably, teaches himself to read, write and draw. His life is recorded in his journal: this is his ship, the Sampson, caught in a hurricane in 1694.

  34. William Dampier is the third Englishman to circumnavigate the globe – he goes on to repeat the feat twice more. Immensely curious, his career is that of an explorer, writer, collector, merchant and part-time pirate.

  35. The Chinese scholar Shen Fuzong, who visits England in 1687, painted by Godfrey Kneller. With Shen’s help, the Frenchman Philippe Couplet introduces the works of Confucius to the West the same year.

  36. Mary Beale has a good claim to call herself the first professional female artist in Britain …

  37. … and Aphra Behn can call herself the first professional female writer. Here Behn appears painted – fittingly – by Beale.

  38. The earl of Rochester is bold, intelligent and inspired but utterly outrageous: he is the archrake in the golden age of rakes. His behaviour and his poetry upset almost everyone. But it is not simply libertinism: it serves the purpose of helping to destroy the vestiges of puritanism.

  39. Two great diarists: Samuel Pepys …

  40. … and John Evelyn both painted by Godfrey Kneller. Of all the literary genres, it is the art of self-awareness that reaches its apogee in this period, and these two men are its greatest exponents.

  41. And here is a page from the greatest literary artefact of the age, the diary of Samuel Pepys, showing his shorthand – by which means he conceals the astonishing honesty from his wife and servants.

  Picture Acknowledgements

  Portrait of Charles II by John Michael Wright (Royal Collection Trust; © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, 2016/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of James II by Peter Lely (© Boston Museum and Art Gallery, Lancashire/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Queen Mary II by William Wissing (Kenwood House, London; photo © Historic England/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of William III, prince of Orange, by Godfrey Kneller (Bank of England, London; photo © Heini Schneebel/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Queen Catherine of Braganza, studio of Peter Lely (private collection; photo © Philip Mould Ltd, London/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Barbara Villiers, after Peter Lely (Geffrye Museum of the Home, London/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Louise de Kéroualle, duchess of Portsmouth, by Godfrey Kneller (Sudbury Hall, Derbyshire; National Trust Photographic Library/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Nell Gwynn, after Peter Lely (Army and Navy Club, London/Bridgeman Images).

  View of London from Southwark, Anglo-Dutch school (Chatsworth House, Derbyshire, © Derbyshire Collection, Chatsworth, reproduced by permission of the Chatsworth Settlement Trustees/ Bridgeman Images).

  The Great Fire of London in 1666, by Lieve Verschuier (Museum of Fine Arts, Szepmuveszeti, Budapest/ Bridgeman Images).

  The piazza in Covent Garden, hand-coloured etching (© Victoria and Albert Museum, London).

  Golden Square, engraving by John Bowles (
private collection/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Sir George Rooke by Michael Dahl (private collection; photo © Philip Mould Ltd, London/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Lord Mungo Murray by John Michael Wright (private collection; photo © Christie’s Images/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Bridget Holmes by John Riley (Royal Collection Trust; © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, 2016/Bridgeman Images).

  Portrait of Lady Anne de Vere Capel by Michael Dahl (Petworth House, West Sussex; National Trust Photography Library/Bridgeman Images).

  Image of a flea, from Robert Hooke’s Micrographia, 1665 (Bridgeman Images).

 

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