Ooh, I'd forgotten that now is Bonfire Night, @Sarah! Good catch, presuming you really are in California. (If you're secretly English, well...)
As for how he got it, modern smokeless power is an industrial product, but old-fashioned black powder is famously easy to make, requiring one completely common ingredient, one which is not that hard to get, and one which is doable. Charcoal is, obviously, easy. Saltpetre would have been readily available just for curing meat. You'd have to buy it, but it would have been sold in shops. Pure sulphur doesn't have any other domestic (!) uses, but surely apothecaries would have it? Alchemy and early (pseudo-) medicine used it. And then it's just a matter of taking the right proportions, and a pestle and mortar.
What puzzles me is why Wayneman would have gunpowder just randomly in his pocket, whether loose or as a packet. It's not as if he is expected to load a pistol any moment of the day.
- There may in fact have been a plot, but if so it was a minor one (it doesn't even appear on Wikipedia, only as a vague note on Yarranton's own page), it got nowhere, and neither Vane nor Lambert was involved; - However, they got them out of the way and separated (Vane to the Scillies, Lambert Guernsey) to make sure they couldn't communicate either with the plotters or with one another; - The Venetian ambassador believes they were in fact involved (but seems to have been wrong; - Samuel was wrong about only two people being involved and both of them being sent to the Scillies.
Note that (as also mentioned somewhere in those pages on mourning) the periods for mourning were not nearly as long yet, and not nearly as strictly held to, as in Victorian times. For instance, there would be a mass said one month after a person's burial, but by that time only the closest relatives would still be in full or even half mourning.
@David G: the vow was not so much not to go to the theatre, as not to go to the theatre *on his own*. He's taken his wife, and friends, several times, but AFAICT this is the first time he's been there alone all this month.
@Annie: it was probably to do with the reputation singing (and dancing) masters had at the time: that they would try to have a fling with every single one of their students. Sam probably thought that as long as Elizabeth had her lessons together with him, it was OK.
@Sarah: more likely that daily prayer was a personal matter, but on Sunday it was a family affair. Though to be honest, that's speculation, albeit based on a bit of experience.
Another argument for the later birth date is that her parents only married in 1643, and her brother, William Penn of Pennsylvania fame, was born in 1644. It looks likely that William was born of his parents' marital bliss, and therefore unlikely that Margaret was born out of wedlock.
@San Diego Sarah: your source must have its references mixed up, because Justus and the count are two different persons.
The count of Egmont at this point was Lodewijk Filips, who is not very interesting.
Justus van Egmont, /suo ipso dictu/ "Verus", was a painter who was in no way related to the nobleman who got his head chopped off and thereby inspired a Beethoven overture, but who was himself rather more notable than his contemporary count.
Interestingly, Pepys *could* have met either of them, but probably didn't. Both lived in Flanders, rather than around The Hague; but both of them would have travelled, as Sam did.
The trepan "controversy" is easily solved these days by looking a Wiktionary, but by the way also by looking into a 1968 SOED (which I happen to have): there are *two different words* trepan, with completely separate etymologies.
The surgical / ground-boring instrument comes originally from Greek trupanon. The meaning "ensnare, inveigle, cheat", also spelt trapan, is pure English and highly likely related to trap.
If you ask me, Pepys was using the second word. No skull drilling was intended, but putting one over on the woman was.
Wikipedia claims - I do not know on what authority, as the sentence does not have one of that site's famous reference notes attached - that Thomas Fuller, at least, died of typhus. It also mentions *that* Dean Nicholas died, the day before this one, in fact, but not what of.
Note that the Savoy mentioned here is not what we would now call The Savoy, to wit, the Savoy Hotel or the Savoy Theatre. Those were both built centuries after Pepys. Nor is it the originator of the name, the Savoy Palace. That had been destroyed several centuries before.
It's either the Liberty of the Savoy, comprising the lands on which the palace stood; or the Savoy Chapel or the Savoy Hospital, which had both been built in that area about a century and a half before. The Liberty has been abolished, the Hospital torn down, but we can still visit the Chapel that Sam may have gone to. (The Hotel and Theatre were also built in the same area, hence their name.)
Given the size, and at that time rural setting, of Huntingdon, I would be surprised if Mother ——'s house were an actual, organised brothel. I don't think they'd go there in a party like that, either. Two boys together, maybe, but a crowd of at least six men together? Not discreet. Not when you've just been discussing an inheritance.
More likely, I think, is that it was a public house of ill repute - and that repute for being somewhat more rough than the average and not having the best of ale, and *possibly* a, let's call her in the good tradition of The Eye of Argon, "complying wench". But not a brothel in the true meaning of that word.
As an indication how well regarded this site is: I went on a wikiramble from Portholme, and discovered that the article on Brampton cites pepysdiary.com as a respected source on Pepys information. Well done!
If the song dirk posted is indeed the one Sam was learning, it can be listened to on YouTube. The top one by Gudrun Anders is very good, but this - like Sam's - is a male voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e… It was apparently written by one Sigismondo d'India (never heard of him, which surprises me a bit) in the early 1600s, so at least the timing works out.
I suspect that another reason Sam doesn't want to give away his books is that he knows lent books have a tendency to go astray. And it doesn't even have to be intentional - people are simply less careful with other people's property. They may be shoved onto a side shelf with a note "To be returned to Pepys" and then forgotten about.
If he brings them along himself and lets the Lords make the required copies, he can make sure he takes them back to the office in safety and keep his own records complete. If he lets any two random footmen carry them away, he has no such guarantee. I commend the good care he takes of his administration.
@Barbara (2004): nightingales in Berkeley Square would be a slight surprise, but not unbelievable. They do live in southern England. A city square would not be their most beloved habitat, but it's not quite unlikely. Richmond Park, sure, much *more* likely; but Berkeley Square, not impossible for one to stray there.
Nevertheless, Sam would not have heard them there. That, however, is only because the square was laid out a century or so after his life. He may well have heard them in whatever landscape there was there in his day.
(What there definitely has never been is a bluebird over the White Cliffs of Dover. The bluebird is an American species. That one's the completely wrong song.)
@john... possibly. Or he could just be rubicund and merry. After all, with his red sash, he does sound like a bit of a man-about-town, albeit in a harmless manner.
@Ruben (2004): hospital is certainly not from "Ushpezin". It comes - and this is exensively documented - from Latin hospes: host. It is cognate with many other Indo-European words. In fact, the most likely etymology of ushpizin is that it itself comes from a loanword from Persian into Aramaic! It's not English borrowing from Hebrew, it's Aramaic borrowing from Indo-European, and hospital has most certainly been Latinate all along.
Comments
Third Reading
About Saturday 2 November 1661
RLB • Link
Ooh, I'd forgotten that now is Bonfire Night, @Sarah! Good catch, presuming you really are in California. (If you're secretly English, well...)
As for how he got it, modern smokeless power is an industrial product, but old-fashioned black powder is famously easy to make, requiring one completely common ingredient, one which is not that hard to get, and one which is doable.
Charcoal is, obviously, easy. Saltpetre would have been readily available just for curing meat. You'd have to buy it, but it would have been sold in shops. Pure sulphur doesn't have any other domestic (!) uses, but surely apothecaries would have it? Alchemy and early (pseudo-) medicine used it.
And then it's just a matter of taking the right proportions, and a pestle and mortar.
About Saturday 2 November 1661
RLB • Link
What puzzles me is why Wayneman would have gunpowder just randomly in his pocket, whether loose or as a packet. It's not as if he is expected to load a pistol any moment of the day.
About Wednesday 30 October 1661
RLB • Link
So, if I get it correctly:
- There may in fact have been a plot, but if so it was a minor one (it doesn't even appear on Wikipedia, only as a vague note on Yarranton's own page), it got nowhere, and neither Vane nor Lambert was involved;
- However, they got them out of the way and separated (Vane to the Scillies, Lambert Guernsey) to make sure they couldn't communicate either with the plotters or with one another;
- The Venetian ambassador believes they were in fact involved (but seems to have been wrong;
- Samuel was wrong about only two people being involved and both of them being sent to the Scillies.
About Sunday 27 October 1661
RLB • Link
Note that (as also mentioned somewhere in those pages on mourning) the periods for mourning were not nearly as long yet, and not nearly as strictly held to, as in Victorian times. For instance, there would be a mass said one month after a person's burial, but by that time only the closest relatives would still be in full or even half mourning.
About Monday 21 October 1661
RLB • Link
@David G: the vow was not so much not to go to the theatre, as not to go to the theatre *on his own*. He's taken his wife, and friends, several times, but AFAICT this is the first time he's been there alone all this month.
About Tuesday 1 October 1661
RLB • Link
@Annie: it was probably to do with the reputation singing (and dancing) masters had at the time: that they would try to have a fling with every single one of their students. Sam probably thought that as long as Elizabeth had her lessons together with him, it was OK.
About Sunday 29 September 1661
RLB • Link
@Sarah: more likely that daily prayer was a personal matter, but on Sunday it was a family affair. Though to be honest, that's speculation, albeit based on a bit of experience.
About Margaret Lowther (b. Penn)
RLB • Link
Another argument for the later birth date is that her parents only married in 1643, and her brother, William Penn of Pennsylvania fame, was born in 1644. It looks likely that William was born of his parents' marital bliss, and therefore unlikely that Margaret was born out of wedlock.
About Thursday 26 September 1661
RLB • Link
@San Diego Sarah: your source must have its references mixed up, because Justus and the count are two different persons.
The count of Egmont at this point was Lodewijk Filips, who is not very interesting.
Justus van Egmont, /suo ipso dictu/ "Verus", was a painter who was in no way related to the nobleman who got his head chopped off and thereby inspired a Beethoven overture, but who was himself rather more notable than his contemporary count.
Interestingly, Pepys *could* have met either of them, but probably didn't. Both lived in Flanders, rather than around The Hague; but both of them would have travelled, as Sam did.
About Wednesday 11 September 1661
RLB • Link
The trepan "controversy" is easily solved these days by looking a Wiktionary, but by the way also by looking into a 1968 SOED (which I happen to have): there are *two different words* trepan, with completely separate etymologies.
The surgical / ground-boring instrument comes originally from Greek trupanon.
The meaning "ensnare, inveigle, cheat", also spelt trapan, is pure English and highly likely related to trap.
If you ask me, Pepys was using the second word. No skull drilling was intended, but putting one over on the woman was.
About Tuesday 20 August 1661
RLB • Link
@Australian Susan: I get the impression that he didn't mention it simply because he had been expecting it for some time.
About Friday 16 August 1661
RLB • Link
Wikipedia claims - I do not know on what authority, as the sentence does not have one of that site's famous reference notes attached - that Thomas Fuller, at least, died of typhus. It also mentions *that* Dean Nicholas died, the day before this one, in fact, but not what of.
About Thursday 8 August 1661
RLB • Link
Note that the Savoy mentioned here is not what we would now call The Savoy, to wit, the Savoy Hotel or the Savoy Theatre. Those were both built centuries after Pepys. Nor is it the originator of the name, the Savoy Palace. That had been destroyed several centuries before.
It's either the Liberty of the Savoy, comprising the lands on which the palace stood; or the Savoy Chapel or the Savoy Hospital, which had both been built in that area about a century and a half before. The Liberty has been abolished, the Hospital torn down, but we can still visit the Chapel that Sam may have gone to. (The Hotel and Theatre were also built in the same area, hence their name.)
About Saturday 20 July 1661
RLB • Link
Given the size, and at that time rural setting, of Huntingdon, I would be surprised if Mother ——'s house were an actual, organised brothel. I don't think they'd go there in a party like that, either. Two boys together, maybe, but a crowd of at least six men together? Not discreet. Not when you've just been discussing an inheritance.
More likely, I think, is that it was a public house of ill repute - and that repute for being somewhat more rough than the average and not having the best of ale, and *possibly* a, let's call her in the good tradition of The Eye of Argon, "complying wench". But not a brothel in the true meaning of that word.
About Sunday 14th July 1661
RLB • Link
As an indication how well regarded this site is: I went on a wikiramble from Portholme, and discovered that the article on Brampton cites pepysdiary.com as a respected source on Pepys information. Well done!
About Tuesday 25 June 1661
RLB • Link
If the song dirk posted is indeed the one Sam was learning, it can be listened to on YouTube. The top one by Gudrun Anders is very good, but this - like Sam's - is a male voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e…
It was apparently written by one Sigismondo d'India (never heard of him, which surprises me a bit) in the early 1600s, so at least the timing works out.
About Wednesday 15 May 1661
RLB • Link
I suspect that another reason Sam doesn't want to give away his books is that he knows lent books have a tendency to go astray. And it doesn't even have to be intentional - people are simply less careful with other people's property. They may be shoved onto a side shelf with a note "To be returned to Pepys" and then forgotten about.
If he brings them along himself and lets the Lords make the required copies, he can make sure he takes them back to the office in safety and keep his own records complete. If he lets any two random footmen carry them away, he has no such guarantee. I commend the good care he takes of his administration.
About Sunday 5 May 1661
RLB • Link
@Barbara (2004): nightingales in Berkeley Square would be a slight surprise, but not unbelievable. They do live in southern England. A city square would not be their most beloved habitat, but it's not quite unlikely. Richmond Park, sure, much *more* likely; but Berkeley Square, not impossible for one to stray there.
Nevertheless, Sam would not have heard them there. That, however, is only because the square was laid out a century or so after his life. He may well have heard them in whatever landscape there was there in his day.
(What there definitely has never been is a bluebird over the White Cliffs of Dover. The bluebird is an American species. That one's the completely wrong song.)
About Saturday 4 May 1661
RLB • Link
@john... possibly. Or he could just be rubicund and merry. After all, with his red sash, he does sound like a bit of a man-about-town, albeit in a harmless manner.
About Saturday 4 May 1661
RLB • Link
@Ruben (2004): hospital is certainly not from "Ushpezin". It comes - and this is exensively documented - from Latin hospes: host. It is cognate with many other Indo-European words. In fact, the most likely etymology of ushpizin is that it itself comes from a loanword from Persian into Aramaic! It's not English borrowing from Hebrew, it's Aramaic borrowing from Indo-European, and hospital has most certainly been Latinate all along.