How do I look? Curly blond shoulder-length wig, frock coat, petticoat breeches, stockings held up by ribbon garters, high heels, and of course, this season's essential accessory for the young man about town, a rapier. During these jaunts back in time, it has become so routine to carry a weapon that I almost feel out of character when I return to my own time and relinquish it to the armoury. But at least I have never had to defend myself.
Our destination is the City of London, January of 1695, and the nation is in mourning for Queen Mary II. I suggest that our first stop should be one of the chocolate houses which have sprung up like mushrooms all over London. (I don't know about you, but I am quite ready to add myself to the growing number of chocolate addicts in the city!)
As we make our way to the business district, the streets are busy with traders crying their wares: "New Oysters!", "New Broomes for Old Shoes"
If we can, I would like to start our investigation at Mr.Ozinda's Chocolate House by St.James's Gate, in Whitehall, or perhaps Edward Lloyd's Coffee House. Both these establishments are fairly well-known places where businessmen loiter, and where clients can be fairly sure of finding them. It seems there is no shortage of choice! We are only a few doors down from the competing Frances White's Chocolate House.
Try to avoid the tables where the young men are gambling, I would prefer not to be too close if anybody starts a rumble. If we can, I'd rather find a quiet corner where we can browse the newspapers and listen to the conversations going on.
Have a look at this newspaper advertisement:
"In Bishopgate St,
in Queen's Head Alley,
at a FrenchMan's house,
is an excellent West Indian drink
called Chocolate to be sold,
where you may have it ready at any time
and also unmade
at reasonable rates."
Now this looks more like our kind of company, heading this way. Do you see the elderly gentleman being guided by a younger man, and the two older fellows accompanying them? Would you do the honours and invite them to share our table, away from the hubbub of the gamblers?
Ah, here comes our chocolate, served with style in a beautiful silver pot. No wonder this stuff is so popular; we mix the whipped cream and sugar into it, in the same manner as everybody else, and... what a drink!
"Will you sit with us, gentlemen? We have here the Domestick Intelligence news sheet printed in London this week, and a new letter, the London Gazette."
"I thank you sir. My eyes are not as bright as once they were, and I am obliged to rely upon the assistance of Mr.Langridge here to conduct my business. Have you seen any word concerning Mr.Paterson?"
"I confess we have not." I have to pause for a moment trying to think who Mr.Paterson might be, but before I can come up with an answer, one of the elderly gentleman's companions supplies it for me.
"Mr.Pepys is of the opinion that Mr.Paterson has a scheme to grow fat by leeching from English men. Can you conceive of another venture for which you would be willing to pay another eight per cent per annum to service a loan? Were it not for the Dutch war, I doubt such a business would have found footing, but of course, Mr.Paterson is a Scotch Man!"
The penny drops (forgive the pun). Mr.Paterson is the Scottish financier who funded the loan to establish the Bank of England last year. The expenses incurred in fighting the Dutch were threatening to ruin the English economy, and Paterson stepped in with the offer of a loan of £1,200,000 to the English government. Subscribers to the venture were incorporated as the Governor and Bank of England, entitled among other things, to issue notes of credit, which as their future demonstrates, will be accepted as currency.The conversation turns to such topics as the rebuilding of the city under the direction of Sir Christopher Wren, whose Westminster Cathedral is still under construction. Somebody says that Sir Christopher himself described the dome as "a great pap, poking in the eye of heaven" and I barely manage to stifle a giggle at the idea of an English national monument described as a huge stone tit!
We must have made a good impression, because as the company leaves, Mr.Pepys invites us to the Red Lion inn this evening, to dine and sing glees. Although Mr.Purcell will not be with us, being otherwise engaged with preparations for the funeral of the late queen, we are promised a merry evening.
<=== @ ===>
The hour is 9.30pm as nearly as I can gauge it. The tables are pushed back to the walls, and songsheets are handed around.
"Now gentlemen," our Master of Ceremonies is a portly fellow with a roast-beef complexion, "that you have your fill of good mutton, let us make a start with Ale and Tobacco".
"And now, from our own Mr.Henry Purcell, who regrets he cannot be with us this evening, but sends us this offering, in his own best hand:"
X:1 % number
T:Sir Walter Enjoying His Damsel One Day % title
C:Henry Purcell % composer
O:Www.Laymusic.org % origin.
M:3/4 % meter
L:1/4 % length of shortest note
Q:240 % tempo
K:Bb % key
V:1 % voice 1
z z B, | F F F | G G/A/ B | E E/F/ G | F2 F | B>C B |
w:Sir Wal-ter en-joy-ing his dam-sel one night, he tick-l'd and
c A B/ c/ | c>B c | d2 || c/ c/ | c F A | B2 B/ A/ |
w:pleas'd her to so great a de-light that she cou'd not con-tain t'wards the
G>A B | A A B/ c/ | d<B d | e2 f | A2 A | B !fermata! B || f |
w:end of the mat-ter, but in rap-ture cry'd out: "O sweet Sir Wal-ter, O
f/ e/ e/ e e/ | e/ d/ d/ d d/ | d<c c/ B/ | c c f |
w:sweet Sir Wal-ter, O sweet Sir Wal-ter, O sweet Sir, sweet Sir Wal-ter, O
f/ d/ d/ B/ G/ E/ | C/ D/ E/ C/ D/ E/ | F/ E/ F/ D/ E/ F/ | B, !fermata! B, z |]
w:swit-ter swat-ter swit-ter swat-ter swit-ter swat-ter swit-ter swat-ter swit-ter swat-ter!
To convert the code above to sheet music, or listen to the tunes, copy the code for a single song, then paste it here and [submit].
No comments:
Post a Comment