We have been slightly stumped at this letter from Sir W. Coventry, riffled today from Sam's desk:
-- "Mrs. Pley has written in despair of her assignments at Guildhall, on the Navy tallies; hopes there is not cause for so much despair as she shows; the burning of London cannot go so deep in the Royal Aid (for Guildhall is not concerned in the additional aid) as to hazard her money. Pray (...) inquire how much she is likely to lose." [State Papers No. 81.]
Guildhall is where tallies are paid (Sam has been there a couple times), and we take the reference to the Fire to mean that things aren't so bad that the trivial sums due Mrs. Pley can't be paid. The Royal Aid sounds like a welfare program but appears in other sources as the term for budget appropriations to Offices (e.g. at https://www.british-history.ac.uk… and https://www.british-history.ac.uk…). The "additional aid" that Guildhall won't deal with is a bit obscure. And Coventry seems to think that poor fidgeting Mrs. Play still won't get the full value of her tallies anyway.
Mrs. Pley doesn't seem to have left another trace, unless she's related to George Pley, a sailcloth maker involved in the contract Sam was espied drafting just a couple days ago, which would be quite a strange coincidence. Amusingly in the html version of the State Papers she is mis-scanned as "Mrs. Pepys" - fancy that. The printed version scanned at https://play.google.com/books/rea… has to be the correct record; hurray for the printed version.
Tonyel and Elissa, you are both correct that our tongue was indeed in our cheek, and that it had such a jolly time there that it didn't realize, the silly tongue, that "paying off" has, especially in a naval context and since the mid-17th century according to www.lexico.com for instance, not only the meaning of clearing their debt as we thought, but also that of discharging, laying off, seeing off, casting off, seeing on their way, showing the door, and generally saying adios to "a good part of the men" at the Deptford yard.
Our tongue is now chastised, but that letter, apart from making more sense, is now an even more consequential piece of business on Sam's desk. Indeed it continues on how Sam should send the matter to the King's Council - a good idea, imagine if some future Commission nosed into who harmed England's defense industry when the French Peril was so pressing.
The letter also didn't come from nowhere. On March 7 two Deptford officials, W. Fownes and master shipwright Jonas Shish, had written the Commissioners to ask what to do with the "230 shipwrights on the book, though there is no vessel to build or repair but the Loyal London, and no timber nor plank in the yard, if required". Other letters occasionally complain of the workers not sticking around anyway and going off to better jobs, but formally they're apparently not free to do so. But worry not for the Deptford Dockyard, which will endure for 200 years and in 30 years is where tsar Peter the Great will come to learn shipbuilding (check out https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dep…).
In the URL we like to quote for the State Papers, because it links to scans of the lovely 1893 edition, the last three digits are the page number. Controls to navigate to the preceding or next page appear discreetly at the lower right. An html alternative is https://www.british-history.ac.uk….
Also interesting today, a letter (at https://play.google.com/books/rea…) from the mayor of Falmouth, Thomas Holden to "Hickes" (maybe James, of the Inland Office), who "asks if he hears anything of a war with France". Always good to ask. He's seen instructions to a Dutch captain to avoid the Channel, and ripples may still be spreading from the La Roche/Allin affair of two weeks ago. And so there's unease in the air.
Today a "M. Wren" - presumably Matthew, of the Society - writes to Sam:
"Found Sir Wm. Coventry very well persuaded of the success of his project of wholly paying off a good part of the men belonging to the Deptford yard, and very desirous that the Navy Commissioners should make the experiment; told him their unwillingness to be responsible for an action of so doubtful an event (...)" (State Papers No. 56, https://play.google.com/books/rea…)
So once again Sam is at the cutting edge. Clearly the only way out of this crisis is to pay as many people as possible, but it's never been done before on this scale and at this speed, and there are risks to control: A very small fraction of the people actually are allergic to money. The Society (perhaps led in this by Mr. Wren, significantly an Oxford graduate) to devise a prudent and deliberate Clinical Triall, to ascertain effectiveness and possible side effects such as the recipient turning to drink, and separately to recommend in what order payment should be made (e.g., starting with the oldest, those with vulnerabilities such as large families or proficiency in French or Dutch, and critical professions like rope-makers). Note that nearly half of the workers may also have to be persuaded, as they fear that salaries could harm their Religion or the modesty of their wives.
Sam is now the town's hottest new celeb. Through powerful telescopes, he is tracked to glittering East End dinners by the engravers of gossip broadsheets such as "Good Morrow!" and "The Illustrated Advisements of the World", who remark on the subdued elegance of his camelott coat, rumors of his Speech being turned to a play, and his seemingly infinite collection of coaches. Why, he came yesterday to Lincoln's Inn Fields in one of the latest Glass Chariots - only the Lord Lieutenant has the same! There, he was seen, oblivious to the revels around him, at a side table with beautiful ladies and Vice-Chamberlain Baronet Sir George Carteret MP, hunched over some papers - "what prodigies of eloquence were flowing then from the quill of our new Bard of the Acts?"
Duh. It's the daily grind. He's onto "the contract for west-country canvas", about which Col. B. Reymes wrote to Sam yesterday, "I desire you to reduce it to writing by Tuesday, when I will subscribe my part". Can't Reymes just draft it himself? He wants a bigger contract too, "if it can be increased to more than 50L. per week, you will add greater encouragement to the manufactory" (State Papers No. 28, https://play.google.com/books/rea…).
Interestingly, yesterday Treasury secretary Downing also wrote up an invite to the Commissioners, "the Treasury Commissioners desire to speak with you on Monday at 8 a.m. about the business of tickets" (S.P., No. 33, same page).
Speaking of preachers? News flash: The authentic introduction and soaring conclusion of Sam's great Speech have been found, preserved in formalin in the braines of a Dogg, in which Mr. Boyle had, as an Expt., recorded it live on the House floor. Hark then:
(...) It is obvious today that England has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her seamen are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, England has given the seagoing people a bad ticket, a ticket which has come back marked insufficient funds. (Applause)
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. (Laughter)
(...) I have a dream that one day on the green hills of Sussex, the widows of pressed seamen and the widows of officers will be able to sit down together at the table of sisterhood and to pay for their meals in cash. (Applause)
(...) I have a dream that my 90,000 little seamen will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their tickets but by the content of their purse. I have a dream today. (Standing ovation; many MPs suddenly wake up and start clapping too; not a dry eye in the House, except perhaps Lord Gerard's)
(An eerily similar and even more powerful speech, for which we affirm our immense respect, can be read or re-read with much profit at www.npr.org/2010/01/18/122701268/…).
It seems unbelievable, as well as unfair, that a long, official speech, given in Parliament no less, admired by all London, on politically red-hot matters, full of crunchy bits about corruption, at a time when everyone trafficked in pamphlets, and in a Kingdome with some of the best record-keeping in the World, has utterly vanished and that not one paragraph of it has surfaced in centuries of pepsyontological excavations. Could there have been only one copy, vanished in '73 with the Office itself? Did everyone else recycle or lose their copies?
Could Sam have spoken for three hours without a text? He certainly likes the art oratory. Apart from the theater, he is a keen critic of preachers and their dull sermons, and didn't he recently (we can't find the entry) visit Temple Bar just to enjoy the pleadings?
And that's it. Yes, it's "Pepes" in the original manuscript (de Beer says), an indication of how Milward may have heard it in the pronounciation of the time.
Tickets may be extremely abused if not well looked to both in counterfeiting tickets, and some may by cheating get double tickets. But it is not in the power of the commissioners of the Navy to increase or diminish the number of tickets. It is ordinary for a ship that is well manned with 700 men to have 1500 or 2000 names in the muster book, because of the several ways of altering and changing men: as by the death of some, the removing of others, and cashiering of others, and taking new men into all their places.
Of 55 ships there was not in two years' war above 5000 men paid by rickets by the Officers of the Navy: whereas treble that number have been paid by the admirals.
It may be there hath been some irregularity in paying with tickets and some that have been paid before others, that were in due order to be paid not so soon.
It was judged necessary by his Royal Highness and so judged by him being our High Admiral, that payment should not be bound up to time and order but that upon some great necessity some may be paid now, that in due order ought to stay until some others should be first paid. And that this should be left to the discretion of the Officers of the Navy: nor can that be called irregular that never was regular; and therefore those officers are not to be condemned, if the pitiful necessity of some have been relieved before others out of the strict order.
Whereas it was objected against those Officers that they had made an order for the due payment of seamen but did not keep and observe that order above one week: Mr Pepys said that such an order was only spoke of and designed, but was never ratified nor signed; nor were any future orders (though some were made) strictly obliging, nor the regularity of them strictly kept.
These commissioners do altogether justify themselves from any indirect or partial paying by tickets, but only where mere necessity did compel them.
The third charge was their discharging men and ships by tickets, to which he answered, that they were so far from doing it to the disadvantage of the men, that because they had not ready money to pay them (which they say was the only reason why they paid by tickets) they victualled some ships that were to be laid up, only to keep the men in pay until they were in capacity to pay them.
Then the House went upon the business of the day, to hear the defence of the Commissioners and Officers of the Navy in the paying of seamen by tickets. They came to the bar and one Pepes undertook the whole business for all the rest. He made a narrative of almost three hours long: in answer to these particulars.
First that it was Lord Brunkard that paid seamen at Chatham by tickets.
Secondly my lord being asked why he did so, made this answer I know what I have to do.
Thirdly that in paying by tickets they did it irregularly: as that they paid tickets that. were bought, before those that brought their own tickets and had done the service.
Fourthly, there being an order made for the regular paying of the seamen and soldiers yet they kept not that order.
Pepes divided his narrative into these three heads.
First he showed the usefulness and necessity of tickets.
Secondly concerning the charge of irregular paying by tickets.
Thirdly concerning the paying of seamen and ships by tickets.
For the first that tickets were useful and necessary.
First in regard of men that are dead, to whose widows and executors they give tickets, by which they may receive the pay of those that are dead. And upon the death of a commander of one ship and a new commander placed in his room, it may be he may bring with him 20 or 40 soldiers or seamen and so it is necessary to give them tickets.
Secondly tickets are necessary upon the change of men, as if they put out unserviceable and take in more serviceable men.
Thirdly tickets are necessary where there is not ready money. He said that no tickets were granted but such as were signed by the commander of the ship.
So, three hours of juicy scandalous stuff, and Sam emerged from it in squeaky-clean glory. Bravo indeed. We can imagine him, outside the hearing room, as MPs emerge yawning and muttering on their way to lunch (and drink). The Commissioners, who "stood" at the bar for 3 hours, gracefully sit at last on a bench. Sam is besieged by newsmen from the Gazettes, whose portraitists jostle furiously to capture him on their easels and woodcuts, amid the flash of lanterns and sprays of woodchips. "Mr. Peeps, is it true that ..?" "Mr. Peeps, we understand you said that ..?" And from the painters, trying to get the angle: "Mr. Peeeps!" "Mr. Clerk of the Acts!" And from one: "Mr. Secretary, look this way please".
Our bookseller Mr. Google, of Scanning Lane near the Cloud, let us have enough of a peek at the diary of Mr John Milward MP to Discover that notes taken by (or at least attributed to) the latter on this Glorious Day were reproduced in a trade journal, The Mariner's Mirror, in 1928. And yes, that source is online (under doi:10.1080/00253359.1928.10655451). The article is "Reports of Pepys's Speech in the House of Commons, March 5th, 1668, Communicated by Mr E. S. de Beer", The Mariner's Mirror, vol. 14, No. 1 (January 1928), pp. 55-63.
Whether it is the same content as appears in the member's Diary, we know not, but it adds valuable detail to the summary in Grey's Debates and, touchingly (at least for Pepsyans) it says the Commissioners "came to the bar and one Pepes undertook the whole business for all the rest. He made a narrative of almost three hours long".
De Beer's article also reproduces Grey's Debates. On Milward, he describes his source as "from British Museum Additional MS. 334I3, ff. 55, 56. This manuscript contains reports of debates from September 18th, 1666, until May 8th, 1668, when it breaks off." [This is also the period covered by Milward's diary, so we suspect it's the same stuff in a nicer binding]. "The reporting is not very good; the manuscript was apparently compiled outside the House from rough notes, not from shorthand notes, but it is valuable on account of the reports of numerous debates which are not reported elsewhere, such as those on the charges against Peter Pett. The British Museum Catalogue of MSS. associates it with John Milward or Millward, member for Derby from 1665 to 1670."
Milward (if it's him) adds to Grey's in relating the myriad ways tickets have been abused, by Admirals declaring triple the headcount known to the Commissioners, counterfeiting and the like, all adding to the complication of changes and turnover in the crews which the ticket system just couldn't handle, since "it is not in the power of the commissioners of the Navy to increase or diminish the number of tickets" - an almost open incitation to just bending the rules. He notes also that the resourceful Commissioners "victualled some ships that were to be laid up, only to keep the men in pay until they were in capacity to pay them".
Sam wasn't the only one to speak but not everyone had his eloquence (or sheer, opposition-crushing stamina and command of detail). Milward notes that "First that it was Lord Brunkard that paid seamen at Chatham by tickets. Secondly my lord being asked why he did so, made this answer I know what I have to do."
Alone now in the tavern after the others went off to see their mistresses, John Downing tries to puzzle out, if he can after all, the discussion at the Commission of the Treasury.
Nah. Wasn't ever good at calculus. Especially after a bottle of sack, heh heh. What's the point anyway, if Pepys redoes everything overnight. I liked Downing's wig, though. Gotta have the same. So something will remain of these 3 hours in a stuffy room.
And now that the beancounters have their teeth into the Navy, you can expect more why-this and why-that. Today Sir G. Downing (secretary to the Treasury Commision) sent an invitation "to the Navy Commissioners (...) to speak with them on Monday [the 9th] to know why they charged so great a sum in their weekly credits due to the seamen" (State Papers No. 2, https://play.google.com/books/rea…).
Every question, if answered, can lead to another question, especially from titled gentlemen who, themselves, happily live on credit they repay once a year, if ever and, for the luckiest of them, get paid for so-called "charges" by a government that can always press for what it cannot buy ("do you really have to pay the seamen? I mean, they get food and board, no?") But, apart from not enjoying the liberties of that plane of existence, Sam is also a perfectionist, he likes the books to be exactly balanced and people to do their jobs and be paid on time. One wonders if Coventry, Duncombe and the Admiral, repairing to a tavern after today's hearing, couldn't have had this exchange:
Coventry: So, John, did you understand what this was all about?
Duncombe: Not a word. Meself, I leave the money stuff to the wife, and am the better for it. But our Mr. Pepys is always agitated about it, isn't he. Hey, Admiral, since he's your neighor - why does he do like that, y'know, the midnight oil and all?
Penn: Who knows. Do normal people work at midnight? Best case, the fellow's a worrier. He's making himself sick with all that crazy scratching in books. Worst case, it's to sidetrack us away from the real stuff. Like, you know [in a low tone] he's a p-a-p-i-s-t.
Sam is, of course, not the only honest and conscientious professional around, but in 1668 almost everyone cuts corners, and those who don't could pass for maniacs, or be suspect of just hiding it really well. Another vignette from the State Papers (No. 3, same page), from a Wm. Bodham of Woolwich, whose job is to inspect deliveries of hamp (from Flanders, of all places, in an "age of sail" that could be properly called The Age of Rope): "We must open every bundle of it, knowing what cheats are usually packed up in the midst of it. This is an impartial report, although we have been terrified by menaces, and tempted by allurements, to take it in, right or wrong."
And today Sam will likely have received a letter from Mr Sherburne of the Ordnance Office (we assume that interoffice stuff within London was couriered on the day). It reports on storing ordnance at Chatham Dock and isn't particularly noteworthy except where the writer asks for the goods to be put under guard, as (you know what these docks are like), they are...
"liable to be damnified by embezzlements".
Huzzah for 17th century convoluted business lingo! Now, our highly literate Sam doesn't write like that, so we wonder if he also smiled at the turn of phrase. But we should challenge ourselves to use, at least once a year, "damnified by embezzlements" in conversation. Our excuse in this case would be State Paper No. 211, at https://play.google.com/books/rea….
Confirming some of this Society's discussion of 2006 re. Master Shish, https://www.namespedia.com/detail…, one of the multitude of genealogical websites now at our disposal, finds a prevalence of Shishes in Russia, Ukraine and Belarus. None survives in England, so it seems not an indigenous name. Emigration to Russia seems unlikely (though Peter the Great did go shopping for European tradesmen a century after Sam), so Eastern Europe may be where their roots are. One can imagine the family having started in shipbuilding as the Hanseatic League was in bloom, and made their way to England as one declined and the other's naval power grew.
So here we are on the De la Roche business: it gets its 7 lines of fame in the Diary. Tracking all these shenanigans was worth it after all. Though Sam doesn't seem too preoccupied with "everybody's" opinion that war will follow, and quickly moves on to tickets and bookbinding.
The main piece of news is that Charles wrote to Louis to complain. So far the King's only personal appearance in this affair had been his instructions of February 23 to York (De la Roche's raid to retrieve the St. Mary's sails and ammunitions from its fleeing crew had been on the 14th). If he sent his démarche on the same day, it should have reached Versailles a few days ago, assuming the weather allowed the mails to cross the Channel. We would love to see that letter, if it did exist.
Note that Allin's meeting with De la Roche, which we surmised on Thursday to have been quite icy, will come across in the Gazette's version for the publick (in No. 239, published on or about March 2) as much more of an Entente Cordiale between gentlemen: on the 27th, "after the usual salutation and Ceremonies upon such occasions", Allin "prevailed with [De la Roche] to dismiss an Ostender [the captured St. Mary] and to discharge above an hundred English which he had aboard him". De la Roche nods his head, sees the wisdom of backing down, shakes hands with Sir Thomas, has another one for the road. Not something to make "everybody" cry war about.
It seems however that a bit more happened in the Spithead today, February 29, as a violent storm (reported in which various dispatches) kept ships and likely the French fleet from getting away. Tomorrow (March 1), Allin (our spy on the Monmouth tells us) will write to Williamson that he "has taken the Mary of Ostend and 4 other Ostenders from Monsieur De la Roche" -- so now there's five Ostenders, not just the one -- and "will send all the English they had aboard on shore at Portsmouth" -- seemingly "all" of up to 300 who had been reported, not just the 103 he had persuaded to leave (State Paper No. 175, https://play.google.com/books/rea…).
And now De la Roche would end up with zero prize, and zero mercenary. Poor De la Roche! More tea? Or would you have war? Tea? War? We wager that De la Roche will, instead, wisely leave English waters, indeed losing his English crew along the way, and sail on to his other current assignment in the Straits. But remember, in State Paper No. 126 which San Diego Sarah copied yesterday, it was said the "ominous drumming" had sounded out of the "strange well at Oundle", a habitual portent of great disaster and sorrow!
And today Sam also got a note from Coventry (State Paper No. 108), adding to the heap that "the Committee on miscarriages intend to send for the commissioners and victualler on Monday, to inquire into the want of victuals complained of by Prince Rupert. Pray prepare for both". Oh joy, now they'll get into all the rotten biscuits and undrinkable beer.
A couple of other documents in today's mailbag further document the chaos. A Mr. Fownes (in No. 134) asks the Commissioners for an additional clerk to manage the books, and for leave to pay him more than "labourer's pay", so he's able to do more than file receipts. Sam's colleague Edw. Gregory, Clerk of the Cheque, notes (in No. 135) that the lax security on ships is an invitation to thievery; it is so rife that "a fellow from the Defiance", found "leaving the yard with a new coil of rope in a biscuit bag", pleaded, as his defence, that he had "helped to the discovery of more ropes and other goods purloined".
A quick word search in the State Papers, in the html version (at https://www.british-history.ac.uk…) which allows such sport, reveals that the evil of Nonconformity, or at least the perception of it by the writers whose letters are at our disposall, indeed seems to be encreasing lately in a most concerning manner. Counting occurrences of words starting in "fanat-" (e.g. fanatique, fanatick) or in "noncon-", we find on a monthly basis from July 1667 through Feb. 1668: 2 - 3 - 4 - 3 - 1 - 1 - 2 (this in January) - 6 (this in February, and all in separate documents). It's not extremely robust statistics but it does suggest a recent uptick in fanaticks.
Two of the ticks are in an undated and unsigned letter, filed (at https://play.google.com/books/rea…) under "Feb[ruary]?" and tentatively attributed to "Viscount Conway". The author supplies a field guide to the Court to his in-law, ahead of his coming there. He doesn't much like the scene, and asserts that "the Duke of Buckingham (...) heads the fanatics"; he also makes "the king compl[y] with him out of fear", and "thinks to arrive to be another Oliver, and the fanatics expect a day of redemption under him".
The editors of the State Papers think it "a curious letter". Is it useful decoding of what the word "fanatique" may have also (or really) meant in political terms? The viscount is on the Irish Privy Council, a F.R.S. and rather on the ascent (see his rise at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edw…), so the letter could reflect the opinion of others at Court, rather than just his personal fancy. "I have here in my hand the proof that..." indeed.
Meanwhile, while Sam was drifting on the wind music's wings, it's been a busy day in the Spithead, the channel between Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight, where the instrument of choice was fifes, if not percussions. Two (and possibly more) dispatches, written in near-real time and sent at a gallop from Portsmouth to Joseph Williamson (and preserved at https://play.google.com/books/rea…), relate that Sir Thomas Allin, last heard a few days ago exchanging gunfire with Captain De la Roche, has made contact "and commanded him aboard, where he now remains; he is stayed for having Capt. Skelton and 200 or 300 English sailors aboard him". We know not this Capt. Skelton (who may in fact be an Army lieutenant-colonel). The meeting on Allin's flagship (presumably the Monmouth, whence he's been writing lately) is said to have been cordial and gentlemanly (full of "great civility and favor" is how later dispatches will put it) and Sir Thomas himself wasn't so busy that he didn't also take time to send to London (though perhaps earlier in the day) an order for "small nails" and other supplies.
However we doubt if M. De la Roche much enjoyed being "commanded aboard". Once the tea and sconces had run out he returned to his ship full of English mercenaries, only, to his dismay no doubt, to be forced back to the coast within 2 hours by contrary winds ("palsambleu" is the least he would have said), and there to be relieved by Allin (no doubt giving thanks for the weather) of 103 of his Englishmen, and of the St. Mary, the Ostend privateer he had lately captured. The latter is described as "small", and was known to be full of holes, but De la Roche had worked hard to get it and so far it's been his only trophy in the Ostend compartment of his mission, so he must be miffed. That not all Englishmen came out suggests that their extraction was not all "great civility and favor". It's a good thing M. De la Roche did not have a radio at his disposal to tell Versailles what a bad day he's had, but a miffed French admiral (more or less his rank) is still a dangerous thing, given how delicately balanced the situation is in the Channel. We also expect this to cause quite a hoo-hah when the news reach London in the next couple days.
Comments
Second Reading
About Wednesday 11 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
We have been slightly stumped at this letter from Sir W. Coventry, riffled today from Sam's desk:
-- "Mrs. Pley has written in despair of her assignments at Guildhall, on the Navy tallies; hopes there is not cause for so much despair as she shows; the burning of London cannot go so deep in the Royal Aid (for Guildhall is not concerned in the additional aid) as to hazard her money. Pray (...) inquire how much she is likely to lose." [State Papers No. 81.]
Guildhall is where tallies are paid (Sam has been there a couple times), and we take the reference to the Fire to mean that things aren't so bad that the trivial sums due Mrs. Pley can't be paid. The Royal Aid sounds like a welfare program but appears in other sources as the term for budget appropriations to Offices (e.g. at https://www.british-history.ac.uk… and https://www.british-history.ac.uk…). The "additional aid" that Guildhall won't deal with is a bit obscure. And Coventry seems to think that poor fidgeting Mrs. Play still won't get the full value of her tallies anyway.
Mrs. Pley doesn't seem to have left another trace, unless she's related to George Pley, a sailcloth maker involved in the contract Sam was espied drafting just a couple days ago, which would be quite a strange coincidence. Amusingly in the html version of the State Papers she is mis-scanned as "Mrs. Pepys" - fancy that. The printed version scanned at https://play.google.com/books/rea… has to be the correct record; hurray for the printed version.
About Monday 9 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Tonyel and Elissa, you are both correct that our tongue was indeed in our cheek, and that it had such a jolly time there that it didn't realize, the silly tongue, that "paying off" has, especially in a naval context and since the mid-17th century according to www.lexico.com for instance, not only the meaning of clearing their debt as we thought, but also that of discharging, laying off, seeing off, casting off, seeing on their way, showing the door, and generally saying adios to "a good part of the men" at the Deptford yard.
Our tongue is now chastised, but that letter, apart from making more sense, is now an even more consequential piece of business on Sam's desk. Indeed it continues on how Sam should send the matter to the King's Council - a good idea, imagine if some future Commission nosed into who harmed England's defense industry when the French Peril was so pressing.
The letter also didn't come from nowhere. On March 7 two Deptford officials, W. Fownes and master shipwright Jonas Shish, had written the Commissioners to ask what to do with the "230 shipwrights on the book, though there is no vessel to build or repair but the Loyal London, and no timber nor plank in the yard, if required". Other letters occasionally complain of the workers not sticking around anyway and going off to better jobs, but formally they're apparently not free to do so. But worry not for the Deptford Dockyard, which will endure for 200 years and in 30 years is where tsar Peter the Great will come to learn shipbuilding (check out https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dep…).
In the URL we like to quote for the State Papers, because it links to scans of the lovely 1893 edition, the last three digits are the page number. Controls to navigate to the preceding or next page appear discreetly at the lower right. An html alternative is https://www.british-history.ac.uk….
About Monday 9 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Also interesting today, a letter (at https://play.google.com/books/rea…) from the mayor of Falmouth, Thomas Holden to "Hickes" (maybe James, of the Inland Office), who "asks if he hears anything of a war with France". Always good to ask. He's seen instructions to a Dutch captain to avoid the Channel, and ripples may still be spreading from the La Roche/Allin affair of two weeks ago. And so there's unease in the air.
About Monday 9 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Today a "M. Wren" - presumably Matthew, of the Society - writes to Sam:
"Found Sir Wm. Coventry very well persuaded of the success of his project of wholly paying off a good part of the men belonging to the Deptford yard, and very desirous that the Navy Commissioners should make the experiment; told him their unwillingness to be responsible for an action of so doubtful an event (...)" (State Papers No. 56, https://play.google.com/books/rea…)
So once again Sam is at the cutting edge. Clearly the only way out of this crisis is to pay as many people as possible, but it's never been done before on this scale and at this speed, and there are risks to control: A very small fraction of the people actually are allergic to money. The Society (perhaps led in this by Mr. Wren, significantly an Oxford graduate) to devise a prudent and deliberate Clinical Triall, to ascertain effectiveness and possible side effects such as the recipient turning to drink, and separately to recommend in what order payment should be made (e.g., starting with the oldest, those with vulnerabilities such as large families or proficiency in French or Dutch, and critical professions like rope-makers). Note that nearly half of the workers may also have to be persuaded, as they fear that salaries could harm their Religion or the modesty of their wives.
About Sunday 8 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Sam is now the town's hottest new celeb. Through powerful telescopes, he is tracked to glittering East End dinners by the engravers of gossip broadsheets such as "Good Morrow!" and "The Illustrated Advisements of the World", who remark on the subdued elegance of his camelott coat, rumors of his Speech being turned to a play, and his seemingly infinite collection of coaches. Why, he came yesterday to Lincoln's Inn Fields in one of the latest Glass Chariots - only the Lord Lieutenant has the same! There, he was seen, oblivious to the revels around him, at a side table with beautiful ladies and Vice-Chamberlain Baronet Sir George Carteret MP, hunched over some papers - "what prodigies of eloquence were flowing then from the quill of our new Bard of the Acts?"
Duh. It's the daily grind. He's onto "the contract for west-country canvas", about which Col. B. Reymes wrote to Sam yesterday, "I desire you to reduce it to writing by Tuesday, when I will subscribe my part". Can't Reymes just draft it himself? He wants a bigger contract too, "if it can be increased to more than 50L. per week, you will add greater encouragement to the manufactory" (State Papers No. 28, https://play.google.com/books/rea…).
Interestingly, yesterday Treasury secretary Downing also wrote up an invite to the Commissioners, "the Treasury Commissioners desire to speak with you on Monday at 8 a.m. about the business of tickets" (S.P., No. 33, same page).
About Friday 6 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Speaking of preachers? News flash: The authentic introduction and soaring conclusion of Sam's great Speech have been found, preserved in formalin in the braines of a Dogg, in which Mr. Boyle had, as an Expt., recorded it live on the House floor. Hark then:
(...) It is obvious today that England has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her seamen are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, England has given the seagoing people a bad ticket, a ticket which has come back marked insufficient funds. (Applause)
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. (Laughter)
(...) I have a dream that one day on the green hills of Sussex, the widows of pressed seamen and the widows of officers will be able to sit down together at the table of sisterhood and to pay for their meals in cash. (Applause)
(...) I have a dream that my 90,000 little seamen will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their tickets but by the content of their purse. I have a dream today. (Standing ovation; many MPs suddenly wake up and start clapping too; not a dry eye in the House, except perhaps Lord Gerard's)
(An eerily similar and even more powerful speech, for which we affirm our immense respect, can be read or re-read with much profit at www.npr.org/2010/01/18/122701268/…).
About Friday 6 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
It seems unbelievable, as well as unfair, that a long, official speech, given in Parliament no less, admired by all London, on politically red-hot matters, full of crunchy bits about corruption, at a time when everyone trafficked in pamphlets, and in a Kingdome with some of the best record-keeping in the World, has utterly vanished and that not one paragraph of it has surfaced in centuries of pepsyontological excavations. Could there have been only one copy, vanished in '73 with the Office itself? Did everyone else recycle or lose their copies?
Could Sam have spoken for three hours without a text? He certainly likes the art oratory. Apart from the theater, he is a keen critic of preachers and their dull sermons, and didn't he recently (we can't find the entry) visit Temple Bar just to enjoy the pleadings?
About Thursday 5 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
And that's it. Yes, it's "Pepes" in the original manuscript (de Beer says), an indication of how Milward may have heard it in the pronounciation of the time.
About Thursday 5 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
[Part 2]
Tickets may be extremely abused if not well looked to both in counterfeiting tickets, and some may by cheating get double tickets. But it is not in the power of the commissioners of the Navy to increase or diminish the number of tickets. It is ordinary for a ship that is well manned with 700 men to have 1500 or 2000 names in the muster book, because of the several ways of altering and changing men: as by the death of some, the removing of others, and cashiering of others, and taking new men into all their places.
Of 55 ships there was not in two years' war above 5000 men paid by rickets by the Officers of the Navy: whereas treble that number have been paid by the admirals.
It may be there hath been some irregularity in paying with tickets and some that have been paid before others, that were in due order to be paid not so soon.
It was judged necessary by his Royal Highness and so judged by him being our High Admiral, that payment should not be bound up to time and order but that upon some great necessity some may be paid now, that in due order ought to stay until some others should be first paid. And that this should be left to the discretion of the Officers of the Navy: nor can that be called irregular that never was regular; and therefore those officers are not to be condemned, if the pitiful necessity of some have been relieved before others out of the strict order.
Whereas it was objected against those Officers that they had made an order for the due payment of seamen but did not keep and observe that order above one week: Mr Pepys said that such an order was only spoke of and designed, but was never ratified nor signed; nor were any future orders (though some were made) strictly obliging, nor the regularity of them strictly kept.
These commissioners do altogether justify themselves from any indirect or partial paying by tickets, but only where mere necessity did compel them.
The third charge was their discharging men and ships by tickets, to which he answered, that they were so far from doing it to the disadvantage of the men, that because they had not ready money to pay them (which they say was the only reason why they paid by tickets) they victualled some ships that were to be laid up, only to keep the men in pay until they were in capacity to pay them.
At three of the clock we attended the king ....
About Thursday 5 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
[And here's the text attributed to Milward]:
[Part 1]
March 5•••
Then the House went upon the business of the day, to hear the defence of the Commissioners and Officers of the Navy in the paying of seamen by tickets. They came to the bar and one Pepes undertook the whole business for all the rest. He made a narrative of almost three hours long: in answer to these particulars.
First that it was Lord Brunkard that paid seamen at Chatham by tickets.
Secondly my lord being asked why he did so, made this answer I know what I have to do.
Thirdly that in paying by tickets they did it irregularly: as that they paid tickets that. were bought, before those that brought their own tickets and had done the service.
Fourthly, there being an order made for the regular paying of the seamen and soldiers yet they kept not that order.
Pepes divided his narrative into these three heads.
First he showed the usefulness and necessity of tickets.
Secondly concerning the charge of irregular paying by tickets.
Thirdly concerning the paying of seamen and ships by tickets.
For the first that tickets were useful and necessary.
First in regard of men that are dead, to whose widows and executors they give tickets, by which they may receive the pay of those that are dead. And upon the death of a commander of one ship and a new commander placed in his room, it may be he may bring with him 20 or 40 soldiers or seamen and so it is necessary to give them tickets.
Secondly tickets are necessary upon the change of men, as if they put out unserviceable and take in more serviceable men.
Thirdly tickets are necessary where there is not ready money. He said that no tickets were granted but such as were signed by the commander of the ship.
About Thursday 5 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
So, three hours of juicy scandalous stuff, and Sam emerged from it in squeaky-clean glory. Bravo indeed. We can imagine him, outside the hearing room, as MPs emerge yawning and muttering on their way to lunch (and drink). The Commissioners, who "stood" at the bar for 3 hours, gracefully sit at last on a bench. Sam is besieged by newsmen from the Gazettes, whose portraitists jostle furiously to capture him on their easels and woodcuts, amid the flash of lanterns and sprays of woodchips. "Mr. Peeps, is it true that ..?" "Mr. Peeps, we understand you said that ..?" And from the painters, trying to get the angle: "Mr. Peeeps!" "Mr. Clerk of the Acts!" And from one: "Mr. Secretary, look this way please".
About Thursday 5 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Our bookseller Mr. Google, of Scanning Lane near the Cloud, let us have enough of a peek at the diary of Mr John Milward MP to Discover that notes taken by (or at least attributed to) the latter on this Glorious Day were reproduced in a trade journal, The Mariner's Mirror, in 1928. And yes, that source is online (under doi:10.1080/00253359.1928.10655451). The article is "Reports of Pepys's Speech in the House of Commons, March 5th, 1668, Communicated by Mr E. S. de Beer", The Mariner's Mirror, vol. 14, No. 1 (January 1928), pp. 55-63.
Whether it is the same content as appears in the member's Diary, we know not, but it adds valuable detail to the summary in Grey's Debates and, touchingly (at least for Pepsyans) it says the Commissioners "came to the bar and one Pepes undertook the whole business for all the rest. He made a narrative of almost three hours long".
De Beer's article also reproduces Grey's Debates. On Milward, he describes his source as "from British Museum Additional MS. 334I3, ff. 55, 56. This manuscript contains reports of debates from September 18th, 1666, until May 8th, 1668, when it breaks off." [This is also the period covered by Milward's diary, so we suspect it's the same stuff in a nicer binding]. "The reporting is not very good; the manuscript was apparently compiled outside the House from rough notes, not from shorthand notes, but it is valuable on account of the reports of numerous debates which are not reported elsewhere, such as those on the charges against Peter Pett. The British Museum Catalogue of MSS. associates it with John Milward or Millward, member for Derby from 1665 to 1670."
Milward (if it's him) adds to Grey's in relating the myriad ways tickets have been abused, by Admirals declaring triple the headcount known to the Commissioners, counterfeiting and the like, all adding to the complication of changes and turnover in the crews which the ticket system just couldn't handle, since "it is not in the power of the commissioners of the Navy to increase or diminish the number of tickets" - an almost open incitation to just bending the rules. He notes also that the resourceful Commissioners "victualled some ships that were to be laid up, only to keep the men in pay until they were in capacity to pay them".
Sam wasn't the only one to speak but not everyone had his eloquence (or sheer, opposition-crushing stamina and command of detail). Milward notes that "First that it was Lord Brunkard that paid seamen at Chatham by tickets. Secondly my lord being asked why he did so, made this answer I know what I have to do."
About Wednesday 4 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Alone now in the tavern after the others went off to see their mistresses, John Downing tries to puzzle out, if he can after all, the discussion at the Commission of the Treasury.
Nah. Wasn't ever good at calculus. Especially after a bottle of sack, heh heh. What's the point anyway, if Pepys redoes everything overnight. I liked Downing's wig, though. Gotta have the same. So something will remain of these 3 hours in a stuffy room.
About Wednesday 4 March 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
And now that the beancounters have their teeth into the Navy, you can expect more why-this and why-that. Today Sir G. Downing (secretary to the Treasury Commision) sent an invitation "to the Navy Commissioners (...) to speak with them on Monday [the 9th] to know why they charged so great a sum in their weekly credits due to the seamen" (State Papers No. 2, https://play.google.com/books/rea…).
Every question, if answered, can lead to another question, especially from titled gentlemen who, themselves, happily live on credit they repay once a year, if ever and, for the luckiest of them, get paid for so-called "charges" by a government that can always press for what it cannot buy ("do you really have to pay the seamen? I mean, they get food and board, no?") But, apart from not enjoying the liberties of that plane of existence, Sam is also a perfectionist, he likes the books to be exactly balanced and people to do their jobs and be paid on time. One wonders if Coventry, Duncombe and the Admiral, repairing to a tavern after today's hearing, couldn't have had this exchange:
Coventry: So, John, did you understand what this was all about?
Duncombe: Not a word. Meself, I leave the money stuff to the wife, and am the better for it. But our Mr. Pepys is always agitated about it, isn't he. Hey, Admiral, since he's your neighor - why does he do like that, y'know, the midnight oil and all?
Penn: Who knows. Do normal people work at midnight? Best case, the fellow's a worrier. He's making himself sick with all that crazy scratching in books. Worst case, it's to sidetrack us away from the real stuff. Like, you know [in a low tone] he's a p-a-p-i-s-t.
Sam is, of course, not the only honest and conscientious professional around, but in 1668 almost everyone cuts corners, and those who don't could pass for maniacs, or be suspect of just hiding it really well. Another vignette from the State Papers (No. 3, same page), from a Wm. Bodham of Woolwich, whose job is to inspect deliveries of hamp (from Flanders, of all places, in an "age of sail" that could be properly called The Age of Rope): "We must open every bundle of it, knowing what cheats are usually packed up in the midst of it. This is an impartial report, although we have been terrified by menaces, and tempted by allurements, to take it in, right or wrong."
About Tuesday 3 March 1668
Stephane Chenard • Link
And today Sam will likely have received a letter from Mr Sherburne of the Ordnance Office (we assume that interoffice stuff within London was couriered on the day). It reports on storing ordnance at Chatham Dock and isn't particularly noteworthy except where the writer asks for the goods to be put under guard, as (you know what these docks are like), they are...
"liable to be damnified by embezzlements".
Huzzah for 17th century convoluted business lingo! Now, our highly literate Sam doesn't write like that, so we wonder if he also smiled at the turn of phrase. But we should challenge ourselves to use, at least once a year, "damnified by embezzlements" in conversation. Our excuse in this case would be State Paper No. 211, at https://play.google.com/books/rea….
About Tuesday 3 March 1668
Stephane Chenard • Link
Confirming some of this Society's discussion of 2006 re. Master Shish, https://www.namespedia.com/detail…, one of the multitude of genealogical websites now at our disposal, finds a prevalence of Shishes in Russia, Ukraine and Belarus. None survives in England, so it seems not an indigenous name. Emigration to Russia seems unlikely (though Peter the Great did go shopping for European tradesmen a century after Sam), so Eastern Europe may be where their roots are. One can imagine the family having started in shipbuilding as the Hanseatic League was in bloom, and made their way to England as one declined and the other's naval power grew.
About Saturday 29 February 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
So here we are on the De la Roche business: it gets its 7 lines of fame in the Diary. Tracking all these shenanigans was worth it after all. Though Sam doesn't seem too preoccupied with "everybody's" opinion that war will follow, and quickly moves on to tickets and bookbinding.
The main piece of news is that Charles wrote to Louis to complain. So far the King's only personal appearance in this affair had been his instructions of February 23 to York (De la Roche's raid to retrieve the St. Mary's sails and ammunitions from its fleeing crew had been on the 14th). If he sent his démarche on the same day, it should have reached Versailles a few days ago, assuming the weather allowed the mails to cross the Channel. We would love to see that letter, if it did exist.
Note that Allin's meeting with De la Roche, which we surmised on Thursday to have been quite icy, will come across in the Gazette's version for the publick (in No. 239, published on or about March 2) as much more of an Entente Cordiale between gentlemen: on the 27th, "after the usual salutation and Ceremonies upon such occasions", Allin "prevailed with [De la Roche] to dismiss an Ostender [the captured St. Mary] and to discharge above an hundred English which he had aboard him". De la Roche nods his head, sees the wisdom of backing down, shakes hands with Sir Thomas, has another one for the road. Not something to make "everybody" cry war about.
It seems however that a bit more happened in the Spithead today, February 29, as a violent storm (reported in which various dispatches) kept ships and likely the French fleet from getting away. Tomorrow (March 1), Allin (our spy on the Monmouth tells us) will write to Williamson that he "has taken the Mary of Ostend and 4 other Ostenders from Monsieur De la Roche" -- so now there's five Ostenders, not just the one -- and "will send all the English they had aboard on shore at Portsmouth" -- seemingly "all" of up to 300 who had been reported, not just the 103 he had persuaded to leave (State Paper No. 175, https://play.google.com/books/rea…).
And now De la Roche would end up with zero prize, and zero mercenary. Poor De la Roche! More tea? Or would you have war? Tea? War? We wager that De la Roche will, instead, wisely leave English waters, indeed losing his English crew along the way, and sail on to his other current assignment in the Straits. But remember, in State Paper No. 126 which San Diego Sarah copied yesterday, it was said the "ominous drumming" had sounded out of the "strange well at Oundle", a habitual portent of great disaster and sorrow!
About Friday 28 February 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
And today Sam also got a note from Coventry (State Paper No. 108), adding to the heap that "the Committee on miscarriages intend to send for the commissioners and victualler on Monday, to inquire into the want of victuals complained of by Prince Rupert. Pray prepare for both". Oh joy, now they'll get into all the rotten biscuits and undrinkable beer.
A couple of other documents in today's mailbag further document the chaos. A Mr. Fownes (in No. 134) asks the Commissioners for an additional clerk to manage the books, and for leave to pay him more than "labourer's pay", so he's able to do more than file receipts. Sam's colleague Edw. Gregory, Clerk of the Cheque, notes (in No. 135) that the lax security on ships is an invitation to thievery; it is so rife that "a fellow from the Defiance", found "leaving the yard with a new coil of rope in a biscuit bag", pleaded, as his defence, that he had "helped to the discovery of more ropes and other goods purloined".
About Friday 28 February 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
A quick word search in the State Papers, in the html version (at https://www.british-history.ac.uk…) which allows such sport, reveals that the evil of Nonconformity, or at least the perception of it by the writers whose letters are at our disposall, indeed seems to be encreasing lately in a most concerning manner. Counting occurrences of words starting in "fanat-" (e.g. fanatique, fanatick) or in "noncon-", we find on a monthly basis from July 1667 through Feb. 1668: 2 - 3 - 4 - 3 - 1 - 1 - 2 (this in January) - 6 (this in February, and all in separate documents). It's not extremely robust statistics but it does suggest a recent uptick in fanaticks.
Two of the ticks are in an undated and unsigned letter, filed (at https://play.google.com/books/rea…) under "Feb[ruary]?" and tentatively attributed to "Viscount Conway". The author supplies a field guide to the Court to his in-law, ahead of his coming there. He doesn't much like the scene, and asserts that "the Duke of Buckingham (...) heads the fanatics"; he also makes "the king compl[y] with him out of fear", and "thinks to arrive to be another Oliver, and the fanatics expect a day of redemption under him".
The editors of the State Papers think it "a curious letter". Is it useful decoding of what the word "fanatique" may have also (or really) meant in political terms? The viscount is on the Irish Privy Council, a F.R.S. and rather on the ascent (see his rise at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edw…), so the letter could reflect the opinion of others at Court, rather than just his personal fancy. "I have here in my hand the proof that..." indeed.
About Thursday 27 February 1667/68
Stephane Chenard • Link
Meanwhile, while Sam was drifting on the wind music's wings, it's been a busy day in the Spithead, the channel between Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight, where the instrument of choice was fifes, if not percussions. Two (and possibly more) dispatches, written in near-real time and sent at a gallop from Portsmouth to Joseph Williamson (and preserved at https://play.google.com/books/rea…), relate that Sir Thomas Allin, last heard a few days ago exchanging gunfire with Captain De la Roche, has made contact "and commanded him aboard, where he now remains; he is stayed for having Capt. Skelton and 200 or 300 English sailors aboard him". We know not this Capt. Skelton (who may in fact be an Army lieutenant-colonel). The meeting on Allin's flagship (presumably the Monmouth, whence he's been writing lately) is said to have been cordial and gentlemanly (full of "great civility and favor" is how later dispatches will put it) and Sir Thomas himself wasn't so busy that he didn't also take time to send to London (though perhaps earlier in the day) an order for "small nails" and other supplies.
However we doubt if M. De la Roche much enjoyed being "commanded aboard". Once the tea and sconces had run out he returned to his ship full of English mercenaries, only, to his dismay no doubt, to be forced back to the coast within 2 hours by contrary winds ("palsambleu" is the least he would have said), and there to be relieved by Allin (no doubt giving thanks for the weather) of 103 of his Englishmen, and of the St. Mary, the Ostend privateer he had lately captured. The latter is described as "small", and was known to be full of holes, but De la Roche had worked hard to get it and so far it's been his only trophy in the Ostend compartment of his mission, so he must be miffed. That not all Englishmen came out suggests that their extraction was not all "great civility and favor". It's a good thing M. De la Roche did not have a radio at his disposal to tell Versailles what a bad day he's had, but a miffed French admiral (more or less his rank) is still a dangerous thing, given how delicately balanced the situation is in the Channel. We also expect this to cause quite a hoo-hah when the news reach London in the next couple days.