"Hacker did not bother to mount a defense; the verdicts were foreordained by political settlement.
"Axtell argued superior orders, a defense best-known to us for its unsuccessful use by Nazis at Nuremberg but one which actually boasts a long history of failing to impress:
"... the Parliament, thus constituted, and having made their Generals, he by their Authority did constitute and appoint me to be an Inferior Officer in the Army, serving them in the quarters of the Parliament, and under and within their power; and what I have done, my Lord, it hath been done only as a Souldier, deriving my power from the General, he had his power from the Fountain, to wit, the Lords and Commons; and, my Lord, this being done, as hath been said by several, that I was there, and had command at Westminster-hall; truly, my Lord, if the Parliament command the General, and the General the inferiour Officers, I am bound by my Commission, according to the Laws and Customs of War to be where the Regiment is; I came not thither voluntarily, but by command of the General, who had a Commission (as I said before) from the Parliament. I was no Counsellor, no Contriver, I was no Parliament-man, none of the Judges, none that Sentenced, Signed, none that had any hand in the Execution, onely that which is charged is that I was an Officer in the Army."
"Sounding equally modern, the court replied: "You are to obey them in their just commands, all unjust commands are invalid. If our Superiours should command us to undue and irregular things (much more if to the committing of Treason) we are in each Case to make use of our passive not active Obedience."*
"The two men were drawn from Newgate to Tyburn this date and hanged.
"Axtell was quartered, the customary fate of those regicides who had been put to death all the week preceding. Hacker, however, enjoyed the favor of hanging only, and was delivered and “was, by his Majesties great favour, given entire to his Friends, and buried” — perhaps because so many of Hacker’s family had remained true to Charles.
"* Axtell’s trial has a good deal of detailed bickering over the superior-orders defense, but the court itself did also take pains to differentiate the things Axtell did as an officer, such as commanding troops (for which Axtell was not charged) — and his going the extra mile and surely beyond his commission to shout for the king’s death."
"On this date in 1660, the English soldiers Francis Hacker and Daniel Axtel(l) were executed for their roles in keeping the captured King Charles I, and for eventually seeing that late king to his beheading.
"No hapless grunt, Hacker was a committed Roundhead although most of his family stayed loyal to the Stuarts. When captured by the royalists at Leicester, Hacker “was so much prized by the enemy as they offered him the command of a choice regiment of horse to serve the king.”
"Hacker disdainfully turned it down.
"And as the wheel of fortune turned, the king would become Hacker’s prize. It was Hacker who commanded the detail of 32 halberdiers who marched the deposed monarch into Westminster Hall on January 20, 1649 to begin a weeklong trial — and a whole new historical era of parliamentary ascendancy.
"Ten days later, when Charles was led out for beheading outside the Banqueting House, it was Hacker who escorted him. Hacker might have escaped even this much participation with his own life after the restoration of Charles’s son and heir, but it came out that he had even written, with Cromwell, the order to the executioner.
"(It was an order that one of his comrades that day had very presciently refused to set his own hand to; come 1660, Hercules Huncks would owe his life to this refusal.) [PICTURE] "Detailed view (click for a larger image) of an illustration of the king’s beheading. On the right of the scaffold, character “D” sporting a natty scabbard is Francis Hacker.
It’s a funny little thing to lose your life over, because — narrowly considered — it was nothing but a bit of bureaucracy. Hacker et al had been given from above a commission for the king’s death. On the occasion of the execution they had to convey from their party to the executioner a secondary writ licensing the day’s beheading.
"But monarchs asserting divine prerogative certainly do not take such a view of mere paperwork.
“When you come to the Person of the King, what do our Law Books say he is? they call it, Caput Reipublicae, salus Populi, the Leiutenant of God”
"Huncks refusing to set his hand to this death warrant, it was Cromwell who personally dashed it off, then handed it to Hacker, who fatally countersigned it, just before the execution proceeded.
"Meanwhile, Hacker’s subaltern Daniel Axtell razzed Huncks for chickening out. Axtell, who seemingly would be right at home in the kit of your most hated sports club, was indicted a regicide for his gauche fan behavior during the king’s trial, several times inciting soldiers (on pain of thrashing, per testimony in 1660) to chant for the king’s condemnation, whilst bullying any onlookers who dared to shout for Charles into silence.
"After the Restoration the estates which the regicides had purchased privately were granted to the Duke of York, who in this way came into possession of Barbers Barn, Col. Okey’s Hackney residence, and of a fourth part of the Lordship of Leighton Buzzard, Bedfordshire in which Okey had an interest.
"In 1663, the Duke of York by indenture gave up his right in the Barbers Barn property to Okey’s widow, Mary."
John Okey was an Anabaptist, London merchant, Parliamentary soldier, active in Parliamentarian politics, a regicide and an MP for Bedfordshire in 1658. This book recounts his life against the backdrop of the Civil Wars and its aftermath. It draws on Okey’s letters to give a vivid first hand account of military campaigns. After he and other colonels published "The Humble Petition of Several Colonels of the Army" in 1654, for which he was disciplined and lost his commission, he retired to his estates in Bedfordshire. He lived in the Round House at Brogborough during the 1650s and his estates included the honour of Ampthill, the manor of Millbrook, Brogborough Park and Lodge and lands in Leighton Buzzard. During this period he was active in Bedfordshire affairs and as a Justice of the Peace. He may have been involved in the establishment of John Bunyan’s first Baptist church in Bedford. After the Restoration he fled abroad, but was betrayed, arrested and returned to England where he was tried and executed as a regicide. Three contemporary accounts of Okey’s speech at his trial are printed side by side, providing an interesting commentary on different methods of reporting – official, friendly and a newspaper account.
L&M Companion: Col. John Okey -- Republican and regicide. A parliamentary colonel, he opposed the Protectorate both of Oliver and of Richard Cromwell. After taking part in Lambert's attempted rising in the spring of 1660, he fled to Germany. In 1662 he was arrested at Delft, Dutch Republic, and executed at Tyburn.
This excerpt is from service in 1722, but Glyn thought it wouldn't have changed much from 1660: "The Post Days to send Letters from London to any part of England and Scotland, are Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays: And the Returns certain on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. But to Wales and Ireland, the Post goes only twice a Week; viz on Tuesdays and Saturdays; and comes from Wales every Monday and Friday: but from Ireland the Return is uncertain, because it (as all other foreign Letters do) depends upon Winds. When the Court is in the Country, the Post goes every Day to the Place where it resides. The same is with Kent, and the usual Stations of the Royal Fleet, as the Downs, Spithead, and other Places: to which we may send every Day but Sunday; and from whence we may also hear every Day but Sunday." So if this is a Tuesday, it counts as a "Post Day" for letters to Cambridge, or wherever Montagu/Sandwich currently is staying.
"... Tom came to me, with whom I made even for my last clothes to this day ..."
His father has been very good about supplying appropriate work clothes. But poor old Pepys also spent a bundle on a velvet coat and mantle from Mr. Pym, only to have the Duke of Gloucester die, and mourning clothes became fashionable, so they are stashed away somewhere awaiting suitable occasions. Probably just as well -- running around Whitehall looking like someone out of GQ Magazine wouldn't have helped his reputation at this stage anyways. https://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/…
Turns out the way they made the lead bullets on campaign was easy, but it involved chewing off the excess lead so the bullet was round -- therefore, the men firing the bullets gave themselves lead poisoning! Of course, I doubt very much that Mr. Sheply made his own bullets. But some poor chump out there was busy doing it ... https://researchworcestershire.wo…
The excerpt which refers to Viscount William Monson is taken from “The lies of the Regicides? Charles I’s judges at the Restoration” -- by Dr Jason Peacey, Senior Lecturer in History at University College, London.
Those involved in the trial of King Charles, and who were still living in 1660, found themselves marked men. Vilified in public and in print, they faced choices about how to behave, and how to respond to the probability that they would be punished by the king or parliament.
Some fled, and some of these lived out their days in relative safety, although others lived troubled lives, either because of the threat of violence or of capture, and some clearly lived in obscurity and sought to cover their tracks and assume new identities.
Others surrendered under the terms of a June 1660 proclamation, either in the hope of securing pardon or of mitigating their guilt, although it was always clear their fates depended upon the attitude of MPs, who were given the power to determine who should be punished and who should be pardoned. As it turned out, MPs proved more vindictive than Charles II, resulting in the trial of 29 men in October 1660, 27 of whom pleaded guilty.
This process must begin with statements made before the trials of October 1660, and in the febrile political atmosphere surrounding the Restoration the process of identifying and vilifying the regicides involved rumors and allegations, fueled by pamphlets, newspapers and broadsides, such that truth was hard to discern. This ensured many former parliamentarians feared their role in the events of January 1649 would be misrepresented, and so there began a process of setting the record straight, of giving explanations, and of making excuses, through petitions and printed pamphlets.
William Monson Jr. MP, Visct. Monson of Castlemaine claimed he had been ‘unhappily nominated’ to the High Court ‘without his knowledge or consent’, and although he ‘did sit at the first’ – ‘unfortunately and contrary to his inclinations’ – he did so ‘with designs of duty and loyalty … to prevent that horrid murder by winning others to oppose it’. Upon finding ‘their violence and bloody design was not to be declined’, Monson ‘withdrew himself with a great abhorrence of it’.
William, Lord Monson’s motives for attending the trial are impossible to test, but he does seem to have become disillusioned with the proceedings, and after attending the first 3 days of the trial (20, 22, 23 January) he disappeared from planning meetings after 26 January, and was absent from Westminster Hall on the day of sentencing.
The excerpt which refers to Mildmay taken from “The lies of the Regicides? Charles I’s judges at the Restoration” -- by Dr Jason Peacey, Senior Lecturer in History at University College, London.
Those involved in the trial of King Charles, and who were still living in 1660, found themselves marked men. Vilified in public and in print, they faced choices about how to behave, and how to respond to the probability that they would be punished by the king or parliament.
Some fled, and some of these lived out their days in relative safety, although others lived troubled lives, either because of the threat of violence or of capture, and some clearly lived in obscurity and sought to cover their tracks and assume new identities.
Others surrendered under the terms of a June 1660 proclamation, either in the hope of securing pardon or of mitigating their guilt, although it was always clear their fates depended upon the attitude of MPs, who were given the power to determine who should be punished and who should be pardoned. As it turned out, MPs proved more vindictive than Charles II, resulting in the trial of 29 men in October 1660, 27 of whom pleaded guilty.
This process must begin with statements made before the trials of October 1660, and in the febrile political atmosphere surrounding the Restoration the process of identifying and vilifying the regicides involved rumors and allegations, fueled by pamphlets, newspapers and broadsides, such that truth was hard to discern. This ensured many former parliamentarians feared their role in the events of January 1649 would be misrepresented, and so there began a process of setting the record straight, of giving explanations, and of making excuses, through petitions and printed pamphlets.
Sir Henry Mildmay MP claimed ‘the only end’ why he attended proceedings was ‘to improve his utmost care and industry … to preserve his said Majesty’s life’. Mildmay is hard to contradict; he attended [planning meetings] with some regularity – including one day of the trial – and although we cannot prove he did so with a view to preserving King Charles’ life, he certainly withdrew from the proceedings in Westminster Hall after 23 January, and stopped attending planning meetings after 26 January.11 11 HMC Seventh Report, pp. 121, 123, 150.
"[My Lord, the 1st Earl of Sandwich] had lately lost a great deal of money at cards, which he fears he do too much addict himself to now-a-days."
The Royalists had been playing cards, drinking and gambling for the last 20 years in France. I'm sure no serious Puritan -- or someone who wanted to be seen as a serious Puritan even if he had reservations -- would have been caught dead gambling in the last 20 years.
Sandwich should have known he was out of his depth with these exoerienced card sharks. But I suspect he wanted to be "one of the boys" and "a good sport" and went along to get along.
Perhaps Lady Jemima has come to town to try and get him to stop?
L&M footnote: "One of the 'novels' of the French writer Paul Scarron (d. 1660). It is clear from the entry at 16 October 1660 that Pepys is referring to an English version: 3 of the tales had been translated and published separately in 1657 by John Davies of Kidwelly."
Why do L&M conclude Pepys read Scarron's 'The Fruitless Precaution' in English? There's nothing 'clear' about that from the Diary IMHO. We know Pepys' French was good enough for business letters from Adm. Montagu. https://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/… And last week he and Sandwich discussed Anne Hyde and the Duke of York's affair in French in front of the servants.
“The Fruitless Precaution,” L&M footnotes this as "One of the 'novels' of the French writer Paul Scarron(d. 1660). It is clear from the entry at 16 October, 1660, that Pepys is referring to an English version: 3 of the tales had been translated and published separately in 1657 by John Davies of Kidwelly. For the editions, see DNB, 'Davies'; A Esdaile, List of Engl. tales ... pub. before 1740, pp 301-3; ... Pepys did not retain any in the Pepysian Library."
London’s coffee craze began in 1652 when Pasqua Rosée, the Greek servant of Daniel Edwards, a coffee-loving Levant merchant, opened London’s first coffee shack against the wall of St. Michael’s churchyard in the labyrinth of alleys off Cornhill.
Coffee was a hit: within a couple of years, Pasqua was selling over 600 dishes of coffee a day. For anyone who’s ever tried 17th-century style coffee, this can be a shock — unless you like your brew “black as hell, strong as death, sweet as love”, as an old Turkish proverb recommends, and shot through with grit.
Our tastebuds have grown more discerning -- accustomed as we are to silky-smooth Flat Whites -- contemporaries also found it disgusting. One early drinker likened it to a “syrup of soot and the essence of old shoes” while others were reminded of oil, ink, soot, mud, damp and shit.
But people loved how the “bitter Mohammedan gruel” (as The London Spy described it in 1701), kindled conversations, fired debates, sparked ideas and, as Pasqua advertised in his handbill "The Virtue of the Coffee Drink" (1652), it made one “fit for business” — his stall was a stone’s throw from that great center of international commerce, the Royal Exchange.
This handbill promoted the launch of Pasqua Rosée’s coffee shack telling people how to drink coffee, and hailing it as the miracle cure for most ailments including dropsy, scurvy, gout, scrofula and “mis-carryings in childbearing women”.
Until the mid-17th century, most people in England were either slightly — or very — drunk all of the time. Drink London’s fetid river water at your own peril; most people wisely favored watered-down ale or beer (“small beer”).
The arrival of coffee triggered a dawn of sobriety which laid the foundations for spectacular economic growth in the following decades as people thought clearly for the first time.
The stock exchange, insurance industry, and auctioneering: all burst into life in 17th-century coffeehouses — in Jonathan’s, Lloyd’s, and Garraway’s — spawning the credit, security, and markets that facilitated the dramatic expansion of Britain’s network of global trade in Asia, Africa and America. The meteoric success of Pasqua’s shack triggered a coffeehouse boom.
By 1656, there was a second coffeehouse at the sign of the rainbow on Fleet Street. By 1663, 82 had sprung up within the crumbling Roman walls, and a cluster further west like Will’s in Covent Garden, a fashionable literary resort where Samuel Pepys found his old college chum John Dryden presiding over “very pleasant and witty discourse” in 1664 and wished he could stay longer — but he had to pick up his wife, who most certainly would not have been welcome.
"4 April, 1663: 'We had a fricassee of rabbits and chicken, a leg of mutton boiled, three carps in a dish, a great dish of a side of lamb, a dish of roasted pigeons, a dish of four lobsters, three tarts, a most rare lamprey pie, - a dish of anchovies - good wine of several sorts; and all things mighty noble and to my great content.'
"Background information:
"This was one of the feasts Samuel Pepys threw to celebrate his survival from being cut for the stone. But it was typical in the amount of protein and the absence of vegetables (this may have caused some of the century's bladder stones).
"Dinner was at midday. It was usual to cover the table with fish and meat and sweet pies, and then 'remove' them and start again with the same mixture. Afterwards, sweetmeats and fruit were served elsewhere, perhaps in the garden or a separate 'banqueting house'. After that lot, you could survive on a simple supper.
"Breakfast hardly existed for most people. Weak beer was the usual drink. Samuel Pepys may have been networking over his breakfast of wine, oysters and anchovies.
"27 March, 1667: 'I did go to the Swan; and there sent for Jervas my old periwig-maker and he did bring me a periwig; but it was full of nits, so as I was troubled to see it (it being his old fault) and did send him to make it clean.'
"Background information:
"Nits, lice, body odours - not glamorous, and not visible in the portraits of the time. Charles II, the 'masquerading monarch', took to wigs when he saw his first grey hairs, and most men followed him.
"He also pioneered the predecessor of the 3-piece suit - knee breeches, waistcoat and long jacket. Women were still encased in stiff corsets, and encumbered with long skirts. Men wore linen drawers, women did not wear knickers.
"Patches - artificial beauty spots - were worn by both sexes. Little bits of mouse skin could replace unfashionable eyebrows. Cosmetics were alarming. Ceruse, containing lead, produced the desirable mat white complexion, even on a smallpox-pitted skin, but it smelt, and cracked, and poisoned the wearer."
From: "Sex, Lice and Chamber Pots in Pepys' London" By Liza Picard Last updated 2011-02-17
"Sanitation: "Diary extract"
20 October, 1660: 'This morning one came to me to advise with me where to make me a window into my cellar in lieu of one that Sir W Batten had stopped up; and going down my cellar to look, I put my foot into a great heap of turds, by which I find that Mr Turner's house of office is full and comes into my cellar, which doth trouble me; but I will have it helped.'
"Background information:
"London had had sewers for centuries but they only carried surface water. Excrement went into the cesspit under the house or in the garden, and was - in theory - regularly emptied. There was a system for rubbish collection, but somehow there were always dead dogs and cats, and food refuse, and an overwhelming amount of animal faeces in the streets.
"Water had to be bought from watercarriers unless you were so poor that you collected your own from the river or one of the few public wells, or so rich that you subscribed to a private water company such as the New River. Their mains were made of elm trunks, and the domestic supply pipes were lead. The supply ran only a few hours at a time, so you had to store your water in lead tanks. No wonder it tasted foul, but it sufficed for boiling meat, and for very limited personal ablutions (Samuel Pepys was sure he caught a cold by washing his feet).
"Household washing used lye made from ashes and urine."
@@@
So Lisa Picard thinks Mr. Turner's cesspit had overflowed? Could be, but I always thought the chamber pots and flues from the House of Office empted into barrels in the basement which were then carried out of the house by the nightsoil men and exchanged for "fresh" ones. In this case, no one had called trhe nightsoil man in time.
How could they dig the waste out in a cellar cesspit? Moving enclosed barrels would be challenge enough. Cesspits would be much easier to deal with in a garden.
"4 May 1662 '...Mr Holliard came to me and let me blood, about 16 ounces, I being exceedingly full of blood, and very good. I begun to be sick; but lying upon my back, I was presently well again and did give him 5s for his pains; and so we parted.'
"Background information:
"Blood-letting had been recommended for centuries. According to the ancient Greeks, there were four 'humours' - blood, choler, and two sorts of bile - which needed to be balanced against each other. Blood-letting dealt with the first. The others might call for enemas, laxatives, and pills made of rare items such as the saliva of a fasting man and the moss that grows on an unburied skull, as well as commonplace snails and woodlice.
"Fashionable physicians could advise, apothecaries could dispense, surgeons could deal with minor ailments, the local wise woman might help, but they all cost money. Magic might work better, Samuel Pepys attributed his good health to wearing a hare's foot around his neck.
"For the poor, there were hospitals. St. Bartholomew's in Smithfield and St. Thomas's south of the river provided basic care, mostly limited to rest and food. The state of medical knowledge was still primitive. There was no antisepsis, no anaesthetic except drink and opium, and little knowledge of human physiology.
"The only surgical intervention was to remove bladder stones, a painful and common complaint. Samuel Pepys was operated on in 1658, and celebrated his survival every year."
@@@
I have also seen reports of 17th century surgeons cutting off breast cancers. Of course, by the time it's large enough to be cut like that, we know that the cancer has spread, so they were not successful in curing the poor women so "treated". https://sites.ualberta.ca/~illnes…
Liza Picard might have meant the only operation which had a limited SUCCESS rate was for bladder stones removal.
This entry was used as an example in "Sex, Lice and Chamber Pots in Pepys' London By Liza Picard Last updated 2011-02-17 https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/bri…
"Diary extract:
"18 August, 1667 '... but being weary, turned into St. Dunstan's church, where I hear an able sermon of the minister of the place. And stood by a pretty, modest maid, whom I did labour to take by the hand and the body; but she would not, but got further and further from me, and at last I could perceive her to take pins out of her pocket to prick me if I should touch her again ...'
"Background information
"Samuel Pepys, who enjoyed many sexual encounters, was not typical of his time. Surprisingly, the Puritan ethos enforced before the return of the "Merry Monarch", Charles II, lingered on. The rate of illegitimate births remained low. This was not achieved by contraception, which didn't exist as we know it. A man hoping for safe sex might tie on to his penis a sheath made of animal gut, or linen, but neither would be reliable as a contraceptive.
"Prostitution was rife. Syphilis had ravaged Europe since the 1500s. The treatment for it was horrific, and unlikely to succeed: mercury, which might well kill the patient before his disease did."
So Liza Picard thinks it likely this young woman -- I think the second one who is not in the excerpt is more likely -- was/were prostitutes!
Comments
Third Reading
About Col. Francis Hacker
San Diego Sarah • Link
PART 2
"Hacker did not bother to mount a defense; the verdicts were foreordained by political settlement.
"Axtell argued superior orders, a defense best-known to us for its unsuccessful use by Nazis at Nuremberg but one which actually boasts a long history of failing to impress:
"... the Parliament, thus constituted, and having made their Generals, he by their Authority did constitute and appoint me to be an Inferior Officer in the Army, serving them in the quarters of the Parliament, and under and within their power; and what I have done, my Lord, it hath been done only as a Souldier, deriving my power from the General, he had his power from the Fountain, to wit, the Lords and Commons; and, my Lord, this being done, as hath been said by several, that I was there, and had command at Westminster-hall; truly, my Lord, if the Parliament command the General, and the General the inferiour Officers, I am bound by my Commission, according to the Laws and Customs of War to be where the Regiment is; I came not thither voluntarily, but by command of the General, who had a Commission (as I said before) from the Parliament. I was no Counsellor, no Contriver, I was no Parliament-man, none of the Judges, none that Sentenced, Signed, none that had any hand in the Execution, onely that which is charged is that I was an Officer in the Army."
"Sounding equally modern, the court replied:
"You are to obey them in their just commands, all unjust commands are invalid. If our Superiours should command us to undue and irregular things (much more if to the committing of Treason) we are in each Case to make use of our passive not active Obedience."*
"The two men were drawn from Newgate to Tyburn this date and hanged.
"Axtell was quartered, the customary fate of those regicides who had been put to death all the week preceding. Hacker, however, enjoyed the favor of hanging only, and was delivered and “was, by his Majesties great favour, given entire to his Friends, and buried” — perhaps because so many of Hacker’s family had remained true to Charles.
"* Axtell’s trial has a good deal of detailed bickering over the superior-orders defense, but the court itself did also take pains to differentiate the things Axtell did as an officer, such as commanding troops (for which Axtell was not charged) — and his going the extra mile and surely beyond his commission to shout for the king’s death."
FROM: https://www.executedtoday.com/tag…
with pictures
"On this date" (at the top) I should have clarified as being October 19, 1660.
About Col. Francis Hacker
San Diego Sarah • Link
"On this date in 1660, the English soldiers Francis Hacker and Daniel Axtel(l) were executed for their roles in keeping the captured King Charles I, and for eventually seeing that late king to his beheading.
"No hapless grunt, Hacker was a committed Roundhead although most of his family stayed loyal to the Stuarts. When captured by the royalists at Leicester, Hacker “was so much prized by the enemy as they offered him the command of a choice regiment of horse to serve the king.”
"Hacker disdainfully turned it down.
"And as the wheel of fortune turned, the king would become Hacker’s prize. It was Hacker who commanded the detail of 32 halberdiers who marched the deposed monarch into Westminster Hall on January 20, 1649 to begin a weeklong trial — and a whole new historical era of parliamentary ascendancy.
"Ten days later, when Charles was led out for beheading outside the Banqueting House, it was Hacker who escorted him. Hacker might have escaped even this much participation with his own life after the restoration of Charles’s son and heir, but it came out that he had even written, with Cromwell, the order to the executioner.
"(It was an order that one of his comrades that day had very presciently refused to set his own hand to; come 1660, Hercules Huncks would owe his life to this refusal.)
[PICTURE]
"Detailed view (click for a larger image) of an illustration of the king’s beheading. On the right of the scaffold, character “D” sporting a natty scabbard is Francis Hacker.
It’s a funny little thing to lose your life over, because — narrowly considered — it was nothing but a bit of bureaucracy. Hacker et al had been given from above a commission for the king’s death. On the occasion of the execution they had to convey from their party to the executioner a secondary writ licensing the day’s beheading.
"But monarchs asserting divine prerogative certainly do not take such a view of mere paperwork.
“When you come to the Person of the King, what do our Law Books say he is? they call it, Caput Reipublicae, salus Populi, the Leiutenant of God”
"Huncks refusing to set his hand to this death warrant, it was Cromwell who personally dashed it off, then handed it to Hacker, who fatally countersigned it, just before the execution proceeded.
"Meanwhile, Hacker’s subaltern Daniel Axtell razzed Huncks for chickening out. Axtell, who seemingly would be right at home in the kit of your most hated sports club, was indicted a regicide for his gauche fan behavior during the king’s trial, several times inciting soldiers (on pain of thrashing, per testimony in 1660) to chant for the king’s condemnation, whilst bullying any onlookers who dared to shout for Charles into silence.
About Wednesday 10 October 1660
San Diego Sarah • Link
Stephane -- we do have a weather encyclopedia page
https://www.pepysdiary.com/encycl…
About John Okey
San Diego Sarah • Link
JSTOR has a lengthy article about Col. John Okey -- you need a subscription to see it all.
This is a nice follow-up to the above stories:
https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ct…
XII. EXILE (pp. 130-139)
https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv2nv8…
"After the Restoration the estates which the regicides had purchased privately were granted to the Duke of York, who in this way came into possession of Barbers Barn, Col. Okey’s Hackney residence, and of a fourth part of the Lordship of Leighton Buzzard, Bedfordshire in which Okey had an interest.
"In 1663, the Duke of York by indenture gave up his right in the Barbers Barn property to Okey’s widow, Mary."
Thank you, James -- a nice touch.
About John Okey
San Diego Sarah • Link
There's a book about Col. Okey:
"Colonel John Okey 1606-1662"
John Okey was an Anabaptist, London merchant, Parliamentary soldier, active in Parliamentarian politics, a regicide and an MP for Bedfordshire in 1658.
This book recounts his life against the backdrop of the Civil Wars and its aftermath. It draws on Okey’s letters to give a vivid first hand account of military campaigns.
After he and other colonels published "The Humble Petition of Several Colonels of the Army" in 1654, for which he was disciplined and lost his commission, he retired to his estates in Bedfordshire.
He lived in the Round House at Brogborough during the 1650s and his estates included the honour of Ampthill, the manor of Millbrook, Brogborough Park and Lodge and lands in Leighton Buzzard. During this period he was active in Bedfordshire affairs and as a Justice of the Peace. He may have been involved in the establishment of John Bunyan’s first Baptist church in Bedford.
After the Restoration he fled abroad, but was betrayed, arrested and returned to England where he was tried and executed as a regicide.
Three contemporary accounts of Okey’s speech at his trial are printed side by side, providing an interesting commentary on different methods of reporting – official, friendly and a newspaper account.
Ebook (EPDF) 9781800107236
January 1955
BUY $24.95 / £19.99
147 Pages
23.4 x 15.6 cm
Series: Publications Bedfordshire Hist Rec Soc
Series Vol. Number: 35
Imprint: Bedfordshire Historical Record Society
https://boydellandbrewer.com/9781…
About Delft, Netherlands
San Diego Sarah • Link
L&M Companion: Col. John Okey -- Republican and regicide. A parliamentary colonel, he opposed the Protectorate both of Oliver and of Richard Cromwell. After taking part in Lambert's attempted rising in the spring of 1660, he fled to Germany.
In 1662 he was arrested at Delft, Dutch Republic, and executed at Tyburn.
About Post Office
San Diego Sarah • Link
In 2003 Glyn explained Post Days like this:
This excerpt is from service in 1722, but Glyn thought it wouldn't have changed much from 1660:
"The Post Days to send Letters from London to any part of England and Scotland, are Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays: And the Returns certain on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
But to Wales and Ireland, the Post goes only twice a Week; viz on Tuesdays and Saturdays; and comes from Wales every Monday and Friday:
but from Ireland the Return is uncertain, because it (as all other foreign Letters do) depends upon Winds.
When the Court is in the Country, the Post goes every Day to the Place where it resides. The same is with Kent, and the usual Stations of the Royal Fleet, as the Downs, Spithead, and other Places: to which we may send every Day but Sunday; and from whence we may also hear every Day but Sunday."
So if this is a Tuesday, it counts as a "Post Day" for letters to Cambridge, or wherever Montagu/Sandwich currently is staying.
About Wednesday 17 October 1660
San Diego Sarah • Link
"... Tom came to me, with whom I made even for my last clothes to this day ..."
His father has been very good about supplying appropriate work clothes. But poor old Pepys also spent a bundle on a velvet coat and mantle from Mr. Pym, only to have the Duke of Gloucester die, and mourning clothes became fashionable, so they are stashed away somewhere awaiting suitable occasions.
Probably just as well -- running around Whitehall looking like someone out of GQ Magazine wouldn't have helped his reputation at this stage anyways.
https://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/…
About Tuesday 23 October 1660
San Diego Sarah • Link
Bullets in those days were made of lead.
Turns out the way they made the lead bullets on campaign was easy, but it involved chewing off the excess lead so the bullet was round -- therefore, the men firing the bullets gave themselves lead poisoning!
Of course, I doubt very much that Mr. Sheply made his own bullets.
But some poor chump out there was busy doing it ... https://researchworcestershire.wo…
About William Monson (1st Viscount Monson)
San Diego Sarah • Link
The excerpt which refers to Viscount William Monson is taken from
“The lies of the Regicides? Charles I’s judges at the Restoration” -- by Dr Jason Peacey, Senior Lecturer in History at University College, London.
https://www.olivercromwell.org/wo…
Those involved in the trial of King Charles, and who were still living in 1660, found themselves marked men. Vilified in public and in print, they faced choices about how to behave, and how to respond to the probability that they would be punished by the king or parliament.
Some fled, and some of these lived out their days in relative safety, although others lived troubled lives, either because of the threat of violence or of capture, and some clearly lived in obscurity and sought to cover their tracks and assume new identities.
Others surrendered under the terms of a June 1660 proclamation, either in the hope of securing pardon or of mitigating their guilt, although it was always clear their fates depended upon the attitude of MPs, who were given the power to determine who should be punished and who should be pardoned.
As it turned out, MPs proved more vindictive than Charles II, resulting in the trial of 29 men in October 1660, 27 of whom pleaded guilty.
This process must begin with statements made before the trials of October 1660, and in the febrile political atmosphere surrounding the Restoration the process of identifying and vilifying the regicides involved rumors and allegations, fueled by pamphlets, newspapers and broadsides, such that truth was hard to discern.
This ensured many former parliamentarians feared their role in the events of January 1649 would be misrepresented, and so there began a process of setting the record straight, of giving explanations, and of making excuses, through petitions and printed pamphlets.
William Monson Jr. MP, Visct. Monson of Castlemaine claimed he had been ‘unhappily nominated’ to the High Court ‘without his knowledge or consent’, and although he ‘did sit at the first’ – ‘unfortunately and contrary to his inclinations’ – he did so ‘with designs of duty and loyalty … to prevent that horrid murder by winning others to oppose it’. Upon finding ‘their violence and bloody design was not to be declined’, Monson ‘withdrew himself with a great abhorrence of it’.
William, Lord Monson’s motives for attending the trial are impossible to test, but he does seem to have become disillusioned with the proceedings, and after attending the first 3 days of the trial (20, 22, 23 January) he disappeared from planning meetings after 26 January, and was absent from Westminster Hall on the day of sentencing.
About Sir Henry Mildmay
San Diego Sarah • Link
The excerpt which refers to Mildmay taken from
“The lies of the Regicides? Charles I’s judges at the Restoration” -- by Dr Jason Peacey, Senior Lecturer in History at University College, London.
https://www.olivercromwell.org/wo…
Those involved in the trial of King Charles, and who were still living in 1660, found themselves marked men. Vilified in public and in print, they faced choices about how to behave, and how to respond to the probability that they would be punished by the king or parliament.
Some fled, and some of these lived out their days in relative safety, although others lived troubled lives, either because of the threat of violence or of capture, and some clearly lived in obscurity and sought to cover their tracks and assume new identities.
Others surrendered under the terms of a June 1660 proclamation, either in the hope of securing pardon or of mitigating their guilt, although it was always clear their fates depended upon the attitude of MPs, who were given the power to determine who should be punished and who should be pardoned.
As it turned out, MPs proved more vindictive than Charles II, resulting in the trial of 29 men in October 1660, 27 of whom pleaded guilty.
This process must begin with statements made before the trials of October 1660, and in the febrile political atmosphere surrounding the Restoration the process of identifying and vilifying the regicides involved rumors and allegations, fueled by pamphlets, newspapers and broadsides, such that truth was hard to discern.
This ensured many former parliamentarians feared their role in the events of January 1649 would be misrepresented, and so there began a process of setting the record straight, of giving explanations, and of making excuses, through petitions and printed pamphlets.
Sir Henry Mildmay MP claimed ‘the only end’ why he attended proceedings was ‘to improve his utmost care and industry … to preserve his said Majesty’s life’.
Mildmay is hard to contradict; he attended [planning meetings] with some regularity – including one day of the trial – and although we cannot prove he did so with a view to preserving King Charles’ life, he certainly withdrew from the proceedings in Westminster Hall after 23 January, and stopped attending planning meetings after 26 January.11
11 HMC Seventh Report, pp. 121, 123, 150.
About Tuesday 16 October 1660
San Diego Sarah • Link
"[My Lord, the 1st Earl of Sandwich] had lately lost a great deal of money at cards, which he fears he do too much addict himself to now-a-days."
The Royalists had been playing cards, drinking and gambling for the last 20 years in France.
I'm sure no serious Puritan -- or someone who wanted to be seen as a serious Puritan even if he had reservations -- would have been caught dead gambling in the last 20 years.
Sandwich should have known he was out of his depth with these exoerienced card sharks. But I suspect he wanted to be "one of the boys" and "a good sport" and went along to get along.
Perhaps Lady Jemima has come to town to try and get him to stop?
About Monday 15 October 1660
San Diego Sarah • Link
L&M footnote: "One of the 'novels' of the French writer Paul Scarron (d. 1660). It is clear from the entry at 16 October 1660 that Pepys is referring to an English version: 3 of the tales had been translated and published separately in 1657 by John Davies of Kidwelly."
Why do L&M conclude Pepys read Scarron's 'The Fruitless Precaution' in English? There's nothing 'clear' about that from the Diary IMHO.
We know Pepys' French was good enough for business letters from Adm. Montagu. https://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/…
And last week he and Sandwich discussed Anne Hyde and the Duke of York's affair in French in front of the servants.
About Scarron's 'The Fruitless Precaution'
San Diego Sarah • Link
Paul Brewster on 13 May, 2003, shared:
“The Fruitless Precaution,”
L&M footnotes this as "One of the 'novels' of the French writer Paul Scarron(d. 1660). It is clear from the entry at 16 October, 1660, that Pepys is referring to an English version: 3 of the tales had been translated and published separately in 1657 by John Davies of Kidwelly.
For the editions, see DNB, 'Davies'; A Esdaile, List of Engl. tales ... pub. before 1740, pp 301-3; ... Pepys did not retain any in the Pepysian Library."
A reference for John Davies can be found at http://www.kidwellyhistory.co.uk/…
A reference for Paul Scarron can be found at https://www.newadvent.org/cathen/…
About General coffee house information
San Diego Sarah • Link
London’s coffee craze began in 1652 when Pasqua Rosée, the Greek servant of Daniel Edwards, a coffee-loving Levant merchant, opened London’s first coffee shack against the wall of St. Michael’s churchyard in the labyrinth of alleys off Cornhill.
Coffee was a hit: within a couple of years, Pasqua was selling over 600 dishes of coffee a day. For anyone who’s ever tried 17th-century style coffee, this can be a shock — unless you like your brew “black as hell, strong as death, sweet as love”, as an old Turkish proverb recommends, and shot through with grit.
Our tastebuds have grown more discerning -- accustomed as we are to silky-smooth Flat Whites -- contemporaries also found it disgusting. One early drinker likened it to a “syrup of soot and the essence of old shoes” while others were reminded of oil, ink, soot, mud, damp and shit.
But people loved how the “bitter Mohammedan gruel” (as The London Spy described it in 1701), kindled conversations, fired debates, sparked ideas and, as Pasqua advertised in his handbill "The Virtue of the Coffee Drink" (1652), it made one “fit for business” — his stall was a stone’s throw from that great center of international commerce, the Royal Exchange.
This handbill promoted the launch of Pasqua Rosée’s coffee shack telling people how to drink coffee, and hailing it as the miracle cure for most ailments including dropsy, scurvy, gout, scrofula and “mis-carryings in childbearing women”.
Until the mid-17th century, most people in England were either slightly — or very — drunk all of the time. Drink London’s fetid river water at your own peril; most people wisely favored watered-down ale or beer (“small beer”).
The arrival of coffee triggered a dawn of sobriety which laid the foundations for spectacular economic growth in the following decades as people thought clearly for the first time.
The stock exchange, insurance industry, and auctioneering: all burst into life in 17th-century coffeehouses — in Jonathan’s, Lloyd’s, and Garraway’s — spawning the credit, security, and markets that facilitated the dramatic expansion of Britain’s network of global trade in Asia, Africa and America.
The meteoric success of Pasqua’s shack triggered a coffeehouse boom.
By 1656, there was a second coffeehouse at the sign of the rainbow on Fleet Street.
By 1663, 82 had sprung up within the crumbling Roman walls, and a cluster further west like Will’s in Covent Garden, a fashionable literary resort where Samuel Pepys found his old college chum John Dryden presiding over “very pleasant and witty discourse” in 1664 and wished he could stay longer — but he had to pick up his wife, who most certainly would not have been welcome.
Much more at http://publicdomainreview.org/201…
Picture of St. Michael's and more local information at https://www.ianvisits.co.uk/artic…
About Other meat
San Diego Sarah • Link
FROM: "Sex, Lice and Chamber Pots in Pepys' London"
By Liza Picard
Last updated 2011-02-17
https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/bri…
"Food:
"Diary extract
"4 April, 1663: 'We had a fricassee of rabbits and chicken, a leg of mutton boiled, three carps in a dish, a great dish of a side of lamb, a dish of roasted pigeons, a dish of four lobsters, three tarts, a most rare lamprey pie, - a dish of anchovies - good wine of several sorts; and all things mighty noble and to my great content.'
"Background information:
"This was one of the feasts Samuel Pepys threw to celebrate his survival from being cut for the stone. But it was typical in the amount of protein and the absence of vegetables (this may have caused some of the century's bladder stones).
"Dinner was at midday. It was usual to cover the table with fish and meat and sweet pies, and then 'remove' them and start again with the same mixture. Afterwards, sweetmeats and fruit were served elsewhere, perhaps in the garden or a separate 'banqueting house'. After that lot, you could survive on a simple supper.
"Breakfast hardly existed for most people. Weak beer was the usual drink. Samuel Pepys may have been networking over his breakfast of wine, oysters and anchovies.
"He did complain of indigestion."
About Wigs
San Diego Sarah • Link
FROM: "Sex, Lice and Chamber Pots in Pepys' London"
By Liza Picard
Last updated 2011-02-17
https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/bri…
"Appearance:
"Diary extract"
"27 March, 1667: 'I did go to the Swan; and there sent for Jervas my old periwig-maker and he did bring me a periwig; but it was full of nits, so as I was troubled to see it (it being his old fault) and did send him to make it clean.'
"Background information:
"Nits, lice, body odours - not glamorous, and not visible in the portraits of the time. Charles II, the 'masquerading monarch', took to wigs when he saw his first grey hairs, and most men followed him.
"He also pioneered the predecessor of the 3-piece suit - knee breeches, waistcoat and long jacket.
Women were still encased in stiff corsets, and encumbered with long skirts.
Men wore linen drawers, women did not wear knickers.
"Patches - artificial beauty spots - were worn by both sexes.
Little bits of mouse skin could replace unfashionable eyebrows.
Cosmetics were alarming. Ceruse, containing lead, produced the desirable mat white complexion, even on a smallpox-pitted skin, but it smelt, and cracked, and poisoned the wearer."
About House of office
San Diego Sarah • Link
From: "Sex, Lice and Chamber Pots in Pepys' London"
By Liza Picard
Last updated 2011-02-17
"Sanitation:
"Diary extract"
20 October, 1660: 'This morning one came to me to advise with me where to make me a window into my cellar in lieu of one that Sir W Batten had stopped up; and going down my cellar to look, I put my foot into a great heap of turds, by which I find that Mr Turner's house of office is full and comes into my cellar, which doth trouble me; but I will have it helped.'
"Background information:
"London had had sewers for centuries but they only carried surface water. Excrement went into the cesspit under the house or in the garden, and was - in theory - regularly emptied. There was a system for rubbish collection, but somehow there were always dead dogs and cats, and food refuse, and an overwhelming amount of animal faeces in the streets.
"Water had to be bought from watercarriers unless you were so poor that you collected your own from the river or one of the few public wells, or so rich that you subscribed to a private water company such as the New River. Their mains were made of elm trunks, and the domestic supply pipes were lead. The supply ran only a few hours at a time, so you had to store your water in lead tanks. No wonder it tasted foul, but it sufficed for boiling meat, and for very limited personal ablutions (Samuel Pepys was sure he caught a cold by washing his feet).
"Household washing used lye made from ashes and urine."
@@@
So Lisa Picard thinks Mr. Turner's cesspit had overflowed? Could be, but I always thought the chamber pots and flues from the House of Office empted into barrels in the basement which were then carried out of the house by the nightsoil men and exchanged for "fresh" ones.
In this case, no one had called trhe nightsoil man in time.
How could they dig the waste out in a cellar cesspit? Moving enclosed barrels would be challenge enough. Cesspits would be much easier to deal with in a garden.
About Thomas Hollier
San Diego Sarah • Link
From: "Sex, Lice and Chamber Pots in Pepys' London"
By Liza Picard
Last updated 2011-02-17
https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/bri…
Medicine
Diary extract:
"4 May 1662 '...Mr Holliard came to me and let me blood, about 16 ounces, I being exceedingly full of blood, and very good. I begun to be sick; but lying upon my back, I was presently well again and did give him 5s for his pains; and so we parted.'
"Background information:
"Blood-letting had been recommended for centuries. According to the ancient Greeks, there were four 'humours' - blood, choler, and two sorts of bile - which needed to be balanced against each other. Blood-letting dealt with the first. The others might call for enemas, laxatives, and pills made of rare items such as the saliva of a fasting man and the moss that grows on an unburied skull, as well as commonplace snails and woodlice.
"Fashionable physicians could advise, apothecaries could dispense, surgeons could deal with minor ailments, the local wise woman might help, but they all cost money. Magic might work better, Samuel Pepys attributed his good health to wearing a hare's foot around his neck.
"For the poor, there were hospitals. St. Bartholomew's in Smithfield and St. Thomas's south of the river provided basic care, mostly limited to rest and food. The state of medical knowledge was still primitive. There was no antisepsis, no anaesthetic except drink and opium, and little knowledge of human physiology.
"The only surgical intervention was to remove bladder stones, a painful and common complaint. Samuel Pepys was operated on in 1658, and celebrated his survival every year."
@@@
I have also seen reports of 17th century surgeons cutting off breast cancers. Of course, by the time it's large enough to be cut like that, we know that the cancer has spread, so they were not successful in curing the poor women so "treated".
https://sites.ualberta.ca/~illnes…
Liza Picard might have meant the only operation which had a limited SUCCESS rate was for bladder stones removal.
About Sunday 18 August 1667
San Diego Sarah • Link
This entry was used as an example in
"Sex, Lice and Chamber Pots in Pepys' London
By Liza Picard
Last updated 2011-02-17
https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/bri…
"Diary extract:
"18 August, 1667 '... but being weary, turned into St. Dunstan's church, where I hear an able sermon of the minister of the place. And stood by a pretty, modest maid, whom I did labour to take by the hand and the body; but she would not, but got further and further from me, and at last I could perceive her to take pins out of her pocket to prick me if I should touch her again ...'
"Background information
"Samuel Pepys, who enjoyed many sexual encounters, was not typical of his time. Surprisingly, the Puritan ethos enforced before the return of the "Merry Monarch", Charles II, lingered on. The rate of illegitimate births remained low. This was not achieved by contraception, which didn't exist as we know it. A man hoping for safe sex might tie on to his penis a sheath made of animal gut, or linen, but neither would be reliable as a contraceptive.
"Prostitution was rife. Syphilis had ravaged Europe since the 1500s. The treatment for it was horrific, and unlikely to succeed: mercury, which might well kill the patient before his disease did."
So Liza Picard thinks it likely this young woman -- I think the second one who is not in the excerpt is more likely -- was/were prostitutes!