Nonsuch Palace is in Nonsuch Park Cheam.
Stane Street to Chichester is a 91km Roman Road from Noviomagus Reginorum aka Chichester to London crossing the land of the Atrebates in use by 70AD. Its route took it from London Bridge along Newington Causeway past Merton Priory to Ewell, through Sutton, past the boundary of Nonsuch Palace to Thirty Acre Barn, then near to Juniper Hall Field Centre near Mickleham, then crossing the River Mole near to Burford Bridge southwards to Dorking (although the route here is vague) to North Holmwood, Ockley, Rowhook after which it crossed the River Arun at Alfodean Bridge where some of the timber piles on which the bridge was built are still present in the river bed. Thereafter the road travels broadly straight to Billingshurst, Pulborough where it crosses the River Arun again, then passing the Roman Villa at Bignor before entering the East Gate at Noviomagus Reginorum aka Chichester.
In 1543 Thomas Cawarden of Bletchingly and Nonsuch -1559 was appointed Keeper of Nonsuch Palace which post he held until Nov 1556.
Diary of Henry Machyn August 1559. 05 Aug 1559. The v day of August the Quen('s) (25) grace removyd from Eltham unto Non-shyche, my lord of Arundell('s) (47), and ther her grace had as gret cher evere nyght, and bankettes [banquets]; but the sonday at nyght my lord of Arundell('s) howse mad her a grett bankett [banquet] at ys cost, the wyche kyng Henry the viij (68) byldyd, as ever was sene, for soper, bankett, and maske, with drumes and flutes, and all the mysyke that cold be, tyll mydnyght; and as for chere has nott bene sene nor hard. [On monday] the Quen('s) grace stod at her standyng [in the further park,] and ther was corse [coursing] after; and at nyght the Quen .... and a play of the chylderyn of Powlles and ther master Se[bastian], master Phelypes, and master Haywod, and after a grett bankett as [ever was s[ene, with drumes and flutes, and the goodly banketts [of dishes] costely as ever was sene and gyldyd, tyll iij in mornyng; and ther was skallyng of yonge lordes and knyghtes of the ....
My lord of Arundell gayffe to the Quen('s) grace a cubard of platt.
The sam day was browth to the Towre Sthrangwys, the rover of the see, and serten odur.
Diary of Henry Machyn August 1559. 25 Aug 1559. The xx .. day of August ded at Non-shyche ser Thomas Carden knyght, devyser of all bankettes [banquets] and bankett-howses [banquet-houses], and the master of reyvelles and serjant of the tenttes.
The tyme afor Bathellmuwtyd and after was all the rodes and Mares (and) John, and mony odur of the chyrche gudes [goods], bowth copes, crosses, sensors, alter-clothes, rod clothes, bokes, baners, bokes, and baner-stays, waynskott, with myche odur gayre, abowt, London .... and the xxv day of August, at saint Botulph's with-owt Bysshyope-gatt the rod, Mare and John [patron of that] chyrche, and bokes; and ther was a felow within the chyrche [wall] mad a sermon at the bornyng [burning] of the chyrche goodes ... thruw in serten bokes in-to the fyre, and ther thay [took away the] crosse of wod that stod in the chyrche-yerde, of master ... cost, a tawhear of skynnes.
On 25 Aug 1559 Thomas Cawarden of Bletchingly and Nonsuch -1559 died at East Horsley or Nonsuch Palace.
On 02 Aug 1591 Queen Elizabeth I of England and Ireland (57) left at Nonsuch Palace to commence her Royal Progress. She travelled south to Mansion House Leatherhead; the home of Edmund Tilney 1536-1610 (55).
In Sep 1599 when the Queen (65) moved her Court to Nonsuch Palace. Margaret Radclyffe of Ordsall Hall 1573-1599 (26) returned to her childhood home of Ordsall Hall where her condition continued to deteriorate.
On 28 Sep 1599 Robert Devereux 2nd Earl Essex 1565-1601 (33) presented himself to Elizabeth (66) in her bedchamber at Nonsuch Palace where he found the queen newly up, the hair about her face. Elizabeth had just a simple robe over her nightdress, her wrinkled skin was free of cosmetics and, without her wig. Essex saw her bald head with just wisps of thinning grey hair 'hanging about her ears'. The Queen confined the Earl to his rooms with the comment that "an unruly beast must be stopped of his provender.".
Before 24 Jul 1601. Joris Hoefnagel Painter 1542-1601 (59). Drawing of Nonsuch Palace
Diary of Samuel Pepys 26 July 1663. 26 Jul 1663. Lord's Day. Up and to the Wells1, where great store of citizens, which was the greatest part of the company, though there were some others of better quality. I met many that I knew, and we drank each of us two pots and so walked away, it being very pleasant to see how everybody turns up his tail, here one and there another, in a bush, and the women in their quarters the like.
Thence I walked with Creed to Mr. Minnes's house, which has now a very good way made to it, and thence to Durdans and walked round it and within the Court Yard and to the Bowling-green, where I have seen so much mirth in my time; but now no family in it (my Lord Barkeley (61), whose it is, being with his family at London), and so up and down by Minnes's wood, with great pleasure viewing my old walks, and where Mrs. Hely and I did use to walk and talk, with whom I had the first sentiments of love and pleasure in woman's company, discourse, and taking her by the hand, she being a pretty woman.
So I led him to Ashted Church (by the place where Peter, my cozen's man, went blindfold and found a certain place we chose for him upon a wager), where we had a dull Doctor, one Downe, worse than I think even parson King was, of whom we made so much scorn, and after sermon home, and staid while our dinner, a couple of large chickens, were dressed, and a good mess of cream, which anon we had with good content, and after dinner (we taking no notice of other lodgers in the house, though there was one that I knew, and knew and spoke to me, one Mr. Rider, a merchant), he and I to walk, and I led him to the pretty little wood behind my cozens house, into which we got at last by clambering, and our little dog with us, but when we were among the hazel trees and bushes, Lord! what a course did we run for an hour together, losing ourselves, and indeed I despaired I should ever come to any path, but still from thicket to thicket, a thing I could hardly have believed a man could have been lost so long in so small a room. At last I found out a delicate walk in the middle that goes quite through the wood, and then went out of the wood, and holloed Mr. Creed, and made him hunt me from place to place, and at last went in and called him into my fine walk, the little dog still hunting with us through the wood. In this walk being all bewildered and weary and sweating, Creed he lay down upon the ground, which I did a little, but I durst not long, but walked from him in the fine green walk, which is half a mile long, there reading my vows as I used to on Sundays. And after that was done, and going and lying by Creed an hour, he and I rose and went to our lodging and paid our reckoning, and so mounted, whether to go toward London home or to find a new lodging, and so rode through Epsum, the whole town over, seeing the various companys that were there walking; which was very pleasant to see how they are there without knowing almost what to do, but only in the morning to drink waters. But, Lord! to see how many I met there of citizens, that I could not have thought to have seen there, or that they had ever had it in their heads or purses to go down thither.
We rode out of the town through Yowell beyond Nonesuch House a mile, and there our little dogg, as he used to do, fell a-running after a flock of sheep feeding on the common, till he was out of sight, and then endeavoured to come back again, and went to the last gate that he parted with us at, and there the poor thing mistakes our scent, instead of coming forward he hunts us backward, and runs as hard as he could drive back towards Nonesuch, Creed and I after him, and being by many told of his going that way and the haste he made, we rode still and passed him through Yowell, and there we lost any further information of him. However, we went as far as Epsum almost, hearing nothing of him, we went back to Yowell, and there was told that he did pass through the town. We rode back to Nonesuch to see whether he might be gone back again, but hearing nothing we with great trouble and discontent for the loss of our dogg came back once more to Yowell, and there set up our horses and selves for all night, employing people to look for the dogg in the town, but can hear nothing of him. However, we gave order for supper, and while that was dressing walked out through Nonesuch Park to the house, and there viewed as much as we could of the outside, and looked through the great gates, and found a noble court; and altogether believe it to have been a very noble house, and a delicate park about it, where just now there was a doe killed, for the King (33) to carry up to Court. So walked back again, and by and by our supper being ready, a good leg of mutton boiled, we supped and to bed, upon two beds in the same room, wherein we slept most excellently all night.
Note 1. Epsom medicinal wells were discovered about 1618, but they did not become fashionable until the Restoration. John Toland, in his "Description of Epsom", says that he often counted seventy coaches in the Ring (the present racecourse on the Downs) on a Sunday evening; but by the end of the eighteenth century Epsom had entirely lost its vogue.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 11 August 1665. 11 Aug 1665. Up, and all day long finishing and writing over my will twice, for my father and my wife, only in the morning a pleasant rencontre happened in having a young married woman brought me by her father, old Delkes, that carries pins always in his mouth, to get her husband off that he should not go to sea, 'une contre pouvait avoir done any cose cum else, but I did nothing, si ni baisser her1'. After they were gone my mind run upon having them called back again, and I sent a messenger to Blackwall, but he failed. So I lost my expectation.
I to the Exchequer, about striking new tallys, and I find the Exchequer, by proclamation, removing to Nonesuch2. Back again and at my papers, and putting up my books into chests, and settling my house and all things in the best and speediest order I can, lest it should please God to take me away, or force me to leave my house. Late up at it, and weary and full of wind, finding perfectly that so long as I keepe myself in company at meals and do there eat lustily (which I cannot do alone, having no love to eating, but my mind runs upon my business), I am as well as can be, but when I come to be alone, I do not eat in time, nor enough, nor with any good heart, and I immediately begin to be full of wind, which brings my pain, till I come to fill my belly a-days again, then am presently well.
Note 1. I would have been able to have done the thing with her but I did nothing except kiss her.
Note 2. Nonsuch Palace, near Epsom, where the Exchequer money was kept during the time of the plague.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 20 September 1665. 20 Sep 1665. Called up by Captain Cocke (48) (who was last night put into great trouble upon his boy's being rather worse than better, upon which he removed him out of his house to his stable), who told me that to my comfort his boy was now as well as ever he was in his life.
So I up, and after being trimmed, the first time I have been touched by a barber these twelvemonths, I think, and more, went to Sir J. Minnes's (66), where I find all out of order still, they having not seen one another till by and by Sir J. Minnes (66) and Sir W. Batten (64) met, to go into my Lord Bruncker's (45) coach, and so we four to Lambeth, and thence to the Duke of Albemarle (56), to inform him what we have done as to the fleete, which is very little, and to receive his direction.
But, Lord! what a sad time it is to see no boats upon the River; and grass grows all up and down White Hall court, and nobody but poor wretches in the streets! And, which is worst of all, the Duke (31) showed us the number of the plague this week, brought in the last night from the Lord Mayor; that it is encreased about 600 more than the last, which is quite contrary to all our hopes and expectations, from the coldness of the late season. For the whole general number is 8,297, and of them the plague 7,165; which is more in the whole by above 50, than the biggest Bill yet; which is very grievous to us all.
I find here a design in my Lord Bruncker (45) and Captain Cocke (48) to have had my Lord Bruncker (45) chosen as one of us to have been sent aboard one of the East Indiamen, and Captain Cocke (48) as a merchant to be joined with him, and Sir J. Minnes (66) for the other, and Sir G. Smith (50) to be joined with him. But I did order it so that my Lord Bruncker (45) and Sir J. Minnes (66) were ordered, but I did stop the merchants to be added, which would have been a most pernicious thing to the King (35) I am sure. In this I did, I think, a very good office, though I cannot acquit myself from some envy of mine in the business to have the profitable business done by another hand while I lay wholly imployed in the trouble of the office.
Thence back again by my Lord's coach to my Lord Bruncker's (45) house, where I find my Lady Batten, who is become very great with Mrs. Williams (my Lord Bruncker's (45) whore), and there we dined and were mighty merry.
After dinner I to the office there to write letters, to fit myself for a journey to-morrow to Nonsuch to the Exchequer by appointment.
That being done I to Sir J. Minnes (66) where I find Sir W. Batten (64) and his Lady gone home to Walthamstow in great snuffe as to Sir J. Minnes (66), but yet with some necessity, hearing that a mayde-servant of theirs is taken ill. Here I staid and resolved of my going in my Lord Bruncker's (45) coach which he would have me to take, though himself cannot go with me as he intended, and so to my last night's lodging to bed very weary.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 28 September 1665. 28 Sep 1665. Up, and being mightily pleased with my night's lodging, drank a cup of beer, and went out to my office, and there did some business, and so took boat and down to Woolwich (having first made a visit to Madam Williams, who is going down to my Lord Bruncker (45)) and there dined, and then fitted my papers and money and every thing else for a journey to Nonsuch to-morrow.
That being done I walked to Greenwich, and there to the office pretty late expecting Captain Cocke's (48) coming, which he did, and so with me to my new lodging (and there I chose rather to lie because of my interest in the goods that we have brought there to lie), but the people were abed, so we knocked them up, and so I to bed, and in the night was mightily troubled with a looseness (I suppose from some fresh damp linen that I put on this night), and feeling for a chamber-pott, there was none, I having called the mayde up out of her bed, she had forgot I suppose to put one there; so I was forced in this strange house to rise and shit in the chimney twice; and so to bed and was very well again, and
Diary of Samuel Pepys 29 September 1665. 29 Sep 1665. To sleep till 5 o'clock, when it is now very dark, and then rose, being called up by order by Mr. Marlow, and so up and dressed myself, and by and by comes Mr. Lashmore on horseback, and I had my horse I borrowed of Mr. Gillthropp, Sir W. Batten's (64) clerke, brought to me, and so we set out and rode hard and was at Nonsuch by about eight o'clock, a very fine journey and a fine day. There I come just about chappell time and so I went to chappell with them and thence to the several offices about my tallys, which I find done, but strung for sums not to my purpose, and so was forced to get them to promise me to have them cut into other sums. But, Lord! what ado I had to persuade the dull fellows to it, especially Mr. Warder, Master of the Pells, and yet without any manner of reason for their scruple.
But at last I did, and so left my tallies there against another day, and so walked to Yowell, and there did spend a peece upon them, having a whole house full, and much mirth by a sister of the mistresse of the house, an old mayde lately married to a lieutenant of a company that quarters there, and much pleasant discourse we had and, dinner being done, we to horse again and come to Greenwich before night, and so to my lodging, and there being a little weary sat down and fell to order some of my pocket papers, and then comes Captain Cocke (48), and after a great deal of discourse with him seriously upon the disorders of our state through lack of men to mind the public business and to understand it, we broke up, sitting up talking very late. We spoke a little of my late business propounded of taking profit for my money laid out for these goods, but he finds I rise in my demand, he offering me still £500 certain. So we did give it over, and I to bed. I hear for certain this night upon the road that Sir Martin Noell (65) is this day dead of the plague in London, where he hath lain sick of it these eight days.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 20 November 1665. 20 Nov 1665. Up before day, and wrote some letters to go to my Lord, among others that about W. Howe, which I believe will turn him out, and so took horse for Nonsuch, with two men with me, and the ways very bad, and the weather worse, for wind and rayne. But we got in good time thither, and I did get my tallys got ready, and thence, with as many as could go, to Yowell, and there dined very well, and I saw my Besse, a very well-favoured country lass there, and after being very merry and having spent a piece I took horse, and by another way met with a very good road, but it rained hard and blew, but got home very well. Here I find Mr. Deering come to trouble me about business, which I soon dispatched and parted, he telling me that Luellin hath been dead this fortnight, of the plague, in St. Martin's Lane, which much surprised me.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 27 November 1665. 27 Nov 1665. Up, and being to go to wait on the Duke of Albemarle (56), who is to go out of towne to Oxford to-morrow, and I being unwilling to go by water, it being bitter cold, walked it with my landlady's little boy Christopher to Lambeth, it being a very fine walke and calling at half the way and drank, and so to the Duke of Albemarle (56), who is visited by every body against his going; and mighty kind to me: and upon my desiring his grace to give me his kind word to the Duke of Yorke (32), if any occasion there were of speaking of me, he told me he had reason to do so; for there had been nothing done in the Navy without me.
His going, I hear, is upon putting the sea business into order, and, as some say, and people of his owne family, that he is agog to go to sea himself the next year. Here I met with a letter from Sir G. Carteret (55), who is come to Cranborne, that he will be here this afternoon and desires me to be with him. So the Duke would have me dine with him.
So it being not dinner time, I to the Swan, and there found Sarah all alone in the house.... So away to the Duke of Albemarle (56) again, and there to dinner, he most exceeding kind to me to the observation of all that are there. At dinner comes Sir G. Carteret (55) and dines with us.
After dinner a great deal alone with Sir G. Carteret (55), who tells me that my Lord hath received still worse and worse usage from some base people about the Court. But the King (35) is very kind, and the Duke do not appear the contrary; and my Chancellor (56) swore to him "by—-I will not forsake my Lord of Sandwich (40)". Our next discourse is upon this Act for money, about which Sir G. Carteret (55) comes to see what money can be got upon it. But none can be got, which pleases him the thoughts of, for, if the Exchequer should succeede in this, his office would faile. But I am apt to think at this time of hurry and plague and want of trade, no money will be got upon a new way which few understand. We walked, Cocke (48) and I, through the Parke with him, and so we being to meet the Vice-Chamberlayne to-morrow at Nonsuch, to treat with Sir Robert Long (65) about the same business, I into London, it being dark night, by a hackney coach; the first I have durst to go in many a day, and with great pain now for fear. But it being unsafe to go by water in the dark and frosty cold, and unable being weary with my morning walke to go on foot, this was my only way. Few people yet in the streets, nor shops open, here and there twenty in a place almost; though not above five or sixe o'clock at night.
So to Viner's (34), and there heard of Cocke (48), and found him at the Pope's Head, drinking with Temple. I to them, where the Goldsmiths do decry the new Act, for money to be all brought into the Exchequer, and paid out thence, saying they will not advance one farthing upon it; and indeed it is their interest to say and do so.
Thence Cocke (48) and I to Sir G. Smith's (50), it being now night, and there up to his chamber and sat talking, and I barbing [shaving] against to-morrow; and anon, at nine at night, comes to us Sir G. Smith (50) and the Lieutenant of the Tower (50), and there they sat talking and drinking till past midnight, and mighty merry we were, the Lieutenant of the Tower (50) being in a mighty vein of singing, and he hath a very good eare and strong voice, but no manner of skill. Sir G. Smith (50) shewed me his lady's closett, which was very fine; and, after being very merry, here I lay in a noble chamber, and mighty highly treated, the first time I have lain in London a long time.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 28 November 1665. 28 Nov 1665. Up before day, and Cocke (48) and I took a hackney coach appointed with four horses to take us up, and so carried us over London Bridge. But there, thinking of some business, I did 'light at the foot of the bridge, and by helpe of a candle at a stall, where some payers were at work, I wrote a letter to Mr. Hater, and never knew so great an instance of the usefulness of carrying pen and ink and wax about one: so we, the way being very bad, to Nonsuch, and thence to Sir Robert Longs (65) house; a fine place, and dinner time ere we got thither; but we had breakfasted a little at Mr. Gawden's, he being out of towne though, and there borrowed Dr. Taylor's (52) sermons, and is a most excellent booke and worth my buying, where had a very good dinner, and curiously dressed, and here a couple of ladies, kinswomen of his, not handsome though, but rich, that knew me by report of The. Turner (13), and mighty merry we were.
After dinner to talk of our business, the Act of Parliament, where in short I see Sir R. Long (65) mighty fierce in the great good qualities of it. But in that and many other things he was stiff in, I think without much judgement, or the judgement I expected from him, and already they have evaded the necessity of bringing people into the Exchequer with their bills to be paid there. Sir G. Carteret (55) is titched [fretful, tetchy] at this, yet resolves with me to make the best use we can of this Act for the King (35), but all our care, we think, will not render it as it should be. He did again here alone discourse with me about my Lord, and is himself strongly for my Lord's not going to sea, which I am glad to hear and did confirm him in it. He tells me too that he talked last night with the Duke of Albemarle (56) about my Lord Sandwich (40), by the by making him sensible that it is his interest to preserve his old friends, which he confessed he had reason to do, for he knows that ill offices were doing of him, and that he honoured my Lord Sandwich (40) with all his heart.
After this discourse we parted, and all of us broke up and we parted. Captain Cocke (48) and I through Wandsworth. Drank at Sir Allen Broderick's (42), a great friend and comrade of Cocke's (48), whom he values above the world for a witty companion, and I believe he is so.
So to Fox-Hall and there took boat, and down to the Old Swan, and thence to Lombard Street, it being darke night, and thence to the Tower. Took boat and down to Greenwich, Cocke (48) and I, he home and I to the office, where did a little business, and then to my lodgings, where my wife is come, and I am well pleased with it, only much trouble in those lodgings we have, the mistresse of the house being so deadly dear in everything we have; so that we do resolve to remove home soon as we know how the plague goes this weeke, which we hope will be a good decrease. So to bed.
Mr. Packer's (47), and took an exact view of the plaster statues and bass-relievos inserted between the timbers and puncheons of the outside walls of the Court; which must needs have been the work of some celebrated Italian. I much admired how they had lasted so well and entire since the time of Henry VIII., exposed as they are to the air; and pity it is they are not taken out and preserved in some dry place; a gallery would become them. There are some mezzo-relievos as big as the life; the story is of the Heathen Gods, emblems, compartments, etc. The palace consists of two courts, of which the first is of stone, castle like, by the Lord Lumleys (of whom it was purchased), the other of timber, a Gothic fabric, but these walls incomparably beautiful. I observed that the appearing timber-puncheons, entrelices, etc., were all so covered with scales of slate, that it seemed carved in the wood and painted, the slate fastened on the timber in pretty figures, that has, like a coat of armor, preserved it from rotting. There stand in the garden two handsome stone pyramids, and the avenue planted with rows of fair elms, but the rest of these goodly trees, both of this and of Worcester Park adjoining, were felled by those destructive and avaricious rebels in the late war, which defaced one of the stateliest seats his Majesty (65) had.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 06 September 1666. 06 Sep 1666. Up about five o'clock, and where met Mr. Gawden at the gate of the office (I intending to go out, as I used, every now and then to-day, to see how the fire is) to call our men to Bishop's-gate, where no fire had yet been near, and there is now one broke out which did give great grounds to people, and to me too, to think that there is some kind of plot1 in this (on which many by this time have been taken, and, it hath been dangerous for any stranger to walk in the streets), but I went with the men, and we did put it out in a little time; so that that was well again. It was pretty to see how hard the women did work in the cannells, sweeping of water; but then they would scold for drink, and be as drunk as devils. I saw good butts of sugar broke open in the street, and people go and take handsfull out, and put into beer, and drink it. And now all being pretty well, I took boat, and over to Southwarke, and took boat on the other side the bridge, and so to Westminster, thinking to shift myself, being all in dirt from top to bottom; but could not there find any place to buy a shirt or pair of gloves, Westminster Hall being full of people's goods, those in Westminster having removed all their goods, and the Exchequer money put into vessels to carry to Nonsuch; but to the Swan, and there was trimmed; and then to White Hall, but saw nobody; and so home. A sad sight to see how the River looks: no houses nor church near it, to the Temple, where it stopped.
At home, did go with Sir W. Batten (65), and our neighbour, Knightly (who, with one more, was the only man of any fashion left in all the neighbourhood thereabouts, they all removing their goods and leaving their houses to the mercy of the fire), to Sir R. Ford's (52), and there dined in an earthen platter—a fried breast of mutton; a great many of us, but very merry, and indeed as good a meal, though as ugly a one, as ever I had in my life.
Thence down to Deptford, and there with great satisfaction landed all my goods at Sir G. Carteret's (56) safe, and nothing missed I could see, or hurt. This being done to my great content, I home, and to Sir W. Batten's (65), and there with Sir R. Ford (52), Mr. Knightly, and one Withers, a professed lying rogue, supped well, and mighty merry, and our fears over. From them to the office, and there slept with the office full of labourers, who talked, and slept, and walked all night long there. But strange it was to see Cloathworkers' Hall on fire these three days and nights in one body of flame, it being the cellar full of oyle.
Note 1. The terrible disaster which overtook London was borne by the inhabitants of the city with great fortitude, but foreigners and Roman Catholics had a bad dime. As no cause for the outbreak of the fire could be traced, a general cry was raised that it owed its origin to a plot. In a letter from Thomas Waade to Williamson (dated "Whitby, Sept. 14th") we read, "The destruction of London by fire is reported to be a hellish contrivance of the French, Hollanders, and fanatic party" (Calendar of State Papers, 1666-67, p. 124).
Diary of Samuel Pepys 27 September 1666. 27 Sep 1666. A very furious blowing night all the night; and my mind still mightily perplexed with dreams, and burning the rest of the town, and waking in much pain for the fleete. Up, and with my wife by coach as far as the Temple, and there she to the mercer's again, and I to look out Penny, my tailor, to speak for a cloak and cassock for my brother, who is coming to town; and I will have him in a canonical dress, that he may be the fitter to go abroad with me. I then to the Exchequer, and there, among other things, spoke to Mr. Falconbridge about his girle I heard sing at Nonsuch, and took him and some other 'Chequer men to the Sun Taverne, and there spent 2s. 6d. upon them, and he sent for the girle, and she hath a pretty way of singing, but hath almost forgot for want of practice. She is poor in clothes, and not bred to any carriage, but will be soon taught all, and if Mercer do not come again, I think we may have her upon better terms, and breed her to what we please.
Thence to Sir W. Coventry's (38), and there dined with him and Sir W. Batten (65), the Lieutenant of the Tower (51), and Mr. Thin, a pretty gentleman, going to Gottenburgh. Having dined, Sir W. Coventry (38), Sir W. Batten (65), and I walked into his closet to consider of some things more to be done in a list to be given to the Parliament of all our ships, and time of entry and discharge. Sir W. Coventry (38) seems to think they will soon be weary of the business, and fall quietly into the giving the King (36) what is fit. This he hopes.
Thence I by coach home to the office, and there intending a meeting, but nobody being there but myself and Sir J. Minnes (67), who is worse than nothing, I did not answer any body, but kept to my business in the office till night, and then Sir W. Batten (65) and Sir W. Pen (45) to me, and thence to Sir W. Batten's (65), and eat a barrel of oysters I did give them, and so home, and to bed. I have this evening discoursed with W. Hewer (24) about Mercer, I having a mind to have her again; and I am vexed to hear him say that she hath no mind to come again, though her mother hath. No newes of the fleete yet, but that they went by Dover on the 25th towards the Gunfleete, but whether the Dutch be yet abroad, or no, we hear not. De Ruyter (59) is not dead, but like to do well. Most think that the gross of the French fleete are gone home again.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 23 August 1667. 23 Aug 1667. Up, and Greeting comes, who brings me a tune for two flageolets, which we played, and is a tune played at the King's playhouse, which goes so well, that I will have more of them, and it will be a mighty pleasure for me to have my wife able to play a part with me, which she will easily, I find, do.
Then abroad to White Hall in a Hackney-coach with Sir W. Pen (46): and in our way, in the narrow street near Paul's, going the backway by Tower Street, and the coach being forced to put back, he was turning himself into a cellar1, which made people cry out to us, and so we were forced to leap out—he out of one, and I out of the other boote2 Query, whether a glass-coach would have permitted us to have made the escape?3 neither of us getting any hurt; nor could the coach have got much hurt had we been in it; but, however, there was cause enough for us to do what we could to save ourselves.
So being all dusty, we put into the Castle tavern, by the Savoy, and there brushed ourselves, and then to White Hall with our fellows to attend the Council, by order upon some proposition of my Lord Anglesey (53), we were called in.
The King (37) there: and it was about considering how the fleete might be discharged at their coming in shortly (the peace being now ratified, and it takes place on Monday next, which Sir W. Coventry (39) said would make some clashing between some of us twenty to one, for want of more warning, but the wind has kept the boats from coming over), whether by money or tickets, and cries out against tickets, but the matter was referred for us to provide an answer to, which we must do in a few days.
So we parted, and I to Westminster to the Exchequer, to see what sums of money other people lend upon the Act; and find of all sizes from £1000 to £100 nay, to £50, nay, to £20, nay, to £5: for I find that one Dr. Reade, Doctor of Law, gives no more, and others of them £20; which is a poor thing, methinks, that we should stoop so low as to borrow such sums. Upon the whole, I do think to lend, since I must lend, £300, though, God knows! it is much against my will to lend any, unless things were in better condition, and likely to continue so.
Thence home and there to dinner, and after dinner by coach out again, setting my wife down at Unthanke's, and I to the Treasury-chamber, where I waited, talking with Sir G. Downing (42), till the Lords met. He tells me how he will make all the Exchequer officers, of one side and t'other, to lend the King (37) money upon the Act; and that the least clerk shall lend money, and he believes the least will £100: but this I do not believe. He made me almost ashamed that we of the Navy had not in all this time lent any; so that I find it necessary I should, and so will speedily do it, before any of my fellows begin, and lead me to a bigger sum.
By and by the Lords come; and I perceive Sir W. Coventry (39) is the man, and nothing done till he comes. Among other things, I hear him observe, looking over a paper, that Sir John Shaw is a miracle of a man, for he thinks he executes more places than any man in England; for there he finds him a Surveyor of some of the King's woods, and so reckoned up many other places, the most inconsistent in the world. Their business with me was to consider how to assigne such of our commanders as will take assignements upon the Act for their wages; and the consideration thereof was referred to me to give them an answer the next sitting: which is a horrid poor thing: but they scruple at nothing of honour in the case. So away hence, and called my wife, and to the King's house, and saw "The Mayden Queene", which pleases us mightily; and then away, and took up Mrs. Turner (44) at her door, and so to Mile End, and there drank, and so back to her house, it being a fine evening, and there supped. The first time I ever was there since they lived there; and she hath all things so neat and well done, that I am mightily pleased with her, and all she do. So here very merry, and then home and to bed, my eyes being very bad. I find most people pleased with their being at ease, and safe of a peace, that they may know no more charge or hazard of an ill-managed war: but nobody speaking of the peace with any content or pleasure, but are silent in it, as of a thing they are ashamed of; no, not at Court, much less in the City.
Note 1. So much of London was yet in ruins.—B.
Note 2. The "boot" was originally a projection on each side of the coach, where the passengers sat with their backs to the carriage. Such a "boot" is seen in the carriage [on th every right] containing the attendants of Queen Elizabeth, in Hoefnagel's well-known picture of Nonsuch Palace, dated 1582. Taylor, the Water Poet, the inveterate opponent of the introduction of coaches, thus satirizes the one in which he was forced to take his place as a passenger: "It wears two boots and no spurs, sometimes having two pairs of legs in one boot; and oftentimes against nature most preposterously it makes fair ladies wear the boot. Moreover, it makes people imitate sea-crabs, in being drawn sideways, as they are when they sit in the boot of the coach". In course of time these projections were abolished, and the coach then consisted of three parts, viz., the body, the boot (on the top of which the coachman sat), and the baskets at the back.
Note 3. See note on introduction of glass coaches, September 23rd, 1667.