King's Evil

‘6th July, 1660. His Majesty began first to touch for

THE evil! according to custom, thus: his Majesty sitting

under his state in the banqueting house, the chirurgeons

cause the sick to be brought, or led, up to the throne,

where they kneeling, the King strokes their faces, or

cheeks with both his hands at once, at which instant a

chaplain in his formalities says, * He put his hands upon

them, and he healed them. This is said to every one

in particular. When they have all been touched, they

come up again in the same order, and the other chaplain

kneeling, and having angel gold  strung on white ribbon

on his arm, delivers them one by one to his Majesty,

who puts them about the necks of the touched as they

pass, while the first chaplain repeats, "That is the true

light who came into the world.  Then follows, an Epistle

(as at first a Gospel) with the Liturgy, prayers for the

sick, with some alteration; lastly the blessing; and then

the Lord Chamberlain and the Comptroller of the House-

hold bring a basin, ewer, and towel, for his Majesty to

wash...'

 

John Evelyn (Diary) witnessed a day of healing called the king’s evil on July 6, 1660.  Sir Walter Scott, in his “Tales of a Grandfather”, uses the term for healing attributed to King Robert II - Robert the Wise -  in France, as far back as the 11^th century.

‘King Robert's domestic government was of the same judicious and moderate character which distinguished his foreign politics. He used his royal power for the benefit of his subjects, and protected the lower and oppressed part of them, as much as the temper of the times permitted. His private charity was so extensive, that upwards of a thousand poor persons dined at his expense every day, and, in the excess of his humility, were, notwithstanding their disgusting rags and sores, permitted to approach his royal person. It is pretended he used to exercise upon them the supposed gift, claimed afterwards both by the Kings of France and England, of curing the disease called the king's evil, by their touch and their prayers. King Robert I. died, universally regretted, in 1031…’

Execution of the Royalists

‘4th July, 1660. I heard Sir Samuel Tuke harangue to

the House of Lords, in behalf of the Roman Catholics,

and his account of the transaction at Colchester in mur-

dering Lord Capel, and the rest of those brave men, that

suffered in cold blood, after articles of rendition.’

Sir John Evelyn discusses Lord Capel  in his diary, on July 4^th, 1660.  Sir Walter Scott published the following in “Tales of a Grandfather “  on this subject:

‘…The unfortunate Duke of Hamilton, a man of a gentle but indecisive character, was taken, as I have told you, in his attempt to invade England and deliver the King [Charles II], whom he seems to have served with fidelity, though he fell under his suspicion, and even suffered a long imprisonment by the royal order. While he was confined at Windsor, Charles, previous to his trial, was brought there by the soldiers. The dethroned King was permitted a momentary interview with the subject, who had lost fortune and liberty in his cause. Hamilton burst into tears, and flung himself at the King's feet, exclaiming, " My dear master!"—" I have been a dear master to you indeed," said Charles, kindly raising him. After the execution of the King, Hamilton, with the Earl of Holland, Lord Capel, and others, who had promoted the rising of the royalists on different points, were condemned to be beheaded. A stout old cavalier, Sir John Owen, was one of the number. When the sentence was pronounced, he exclaimed it was a great honour to a poor Welsh knight to be beheaded with so many nobles, adding, with an oath, "I thought they would have hanged me." This gallant old man's life was spared, when his companions in misfortune were executed…’

Rhino Power

‘22d June, 1664. One Tomson, a Jesuit, showed me

such a collection of rarities, sent from the Jesuits of

Japan and China to their Order at Paris, as a present to

be reserved in their repository, but brought to London

by the East India ships for them, as in my life I had

not seen. The chief things were, rhinoceros's horns;

glorious vests, wrought and embroidered on cloth of

gold, but with such lively colors, that for splendor and

vividness we have nothing in Europe that approaches it;

a girdle studded with agates and rubies of great value

and size; knives, of so keen an edge as one could not

touch them, nor was the metal of our color, but more

pale and livid; fans, like those our ladies use, but much

larger, and with long handles curiously carved and

filled with Chinese characters ; a sort of paper very broad,

thin, and fine, like abortive parchment, and exquisitely

polished, of an amber yellow, exceedingly glorious and

pretty to look on, and seeming to be like that which my

Lord Verulam describes in his Nova Atlantis…’

The rhino was a curiosity in the 17^th century, when John Evelyn penned his diary.  It was a better know beast in the 19th when Sir Walter Scott included it in “The Talisman”.

‘The Saracen came on at the speedy gallop of an Arab horseman, managing his steed more by his limbs and the inflection of his body than by any use of the reins, which hung loose in his left hand; so that he was enabled to wield the light, round buckler of the skin of the rhinoceros, ornamented with silver loops, which he wore on his arm, swinging it as if he meant to oppose its slender circle to the formidable thrust of the Western lance...’

Physic Gardens

loth June, 1658. I went to see the Medical Garden at

Westminster, well stored with plants, under Morgan, a

very skillful botanist.

Diarist John Evelyn perhaps sought medical relief in the Westminster Physic Garden in 1658.  Edward Morgan, like many modern day herbalists, explored a foreign place for medicinal plants.  In this case, Wales.  There are currently at least two physic gardens in England that have their beginnings in the 17^th century, the Chelsea Physic Garden (1673), and the University of Oxford Botanic Garden (1621).   In Scotland, Edinburgh has the Sibbald Physic Garden, which has roots dating to 1656.  What became Sibbald was originally created by the Incorporation of Barbers and Surgeons. Sir Walter Scott mentions a physic garden in “The Surgeon’s Daughter”:

‘On the morning after this gay evening, the two young men were labouring

together in a plot of ground behind Stevenlaw's Land, which the Doctor

had converted into a garden, where he raised, with a view to pharmacy as

well as botany, some rare plants, which obtained the place from the

vulgar the sounding name of the Physic Garden. [Footnote: The Botanic

Garden is so termed by the vulgar of Edinburgh.] Mr. Gray's pupils

readily complied with his wishes, that they would take some care of this

favourite spot, to which both contributed their labours, after which

Hartley used to devote himself to the cultivation of the kitchen garden,

which he had raised into this respectability from a spot not excelling a

common kail-yard, while Richard Middleman did his utmost to decorate

with flowers and shrubs a sort of arbour, usually called Miss Menie's

bower.’

Beached Whales

A recent Wall Street Journal blog post discusses what beached the London Whale.  Charles Forelle’s post indicates that trader Bruno Iksil had been placing bets on a credit index maintained by Markit called  “CDX.NA.IG.9″.  In an earlier time, diarist John Evelyn recorded the beaching of an actual whale in the Thames:

3d June, 1658. A large whale was taken between my

land abutting on the Thames and Greenwich, which

drew an infinite concourse to see it, by water, horse,

coach, and on foot, from London, and all parts. It

appeared first below Greenwich at low water, for at high

water it would have destroyed all the boats, but lying

now in shallow water encompassed with boats, after a

long conflict, it was killed with a harping iron, struck

in the head, out of which spouted blood and water

by two tunnels; and after a horrid groan, it ran quite

on shore, and died. Its length was fifty-eight feet,

height sixteen; black skinned, like coach leather; very

small eyes, great tail, only two small fins, a peaked

snout and a mouth so wide, that divers men might have

stood upright in it; no teeth, but sucked the slime only

as through a grate of that bone which we call whale-

bone; the throat yet so narrow, as would not have ad-

mitted the least of fishes. The extremes of the cetaceous

bones hang downward from the upper jaw, and are hairy

toward the ends and bottom within side: all of it pro-

digious; but in nothing more wonderful than that an

animal of so great a bulk should be nourished only bv

slime through those grates.

Often when one whale is beached, others follow.  Or so says Walter Scott.  Scott mentions seeing hundreds of whales while on his trip with Robert Stevenson to inspect the Northern Lights in 1814.  The following entry (August 1814) is found in Lockhart’s “Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott…”:

‘The few friends who may see this journal are much indebted for these pathetic remarks to the situation under which they are recorded…The worst is that this struggle carries us past a most curious spectacle, being no less than the carcasses of two hundred and sixty-five whales, which have been driven ashore in Taftsness Bay, now lying close under us.  With all the inclination in the world, it is impossible to stand in close enough to verify this massacre of Leviathans with our own eyes, as we do not care to run the risk of being drawn ashore ourselves among the party.  In fact this species of spectacle has been of late years very common among the isles.  Mr Stevenson saw upwards of one hundred and fifty whales lying upon the shore in a bay at Unst, in his northward trip.  They are not large, but are decided whales, measuring perhaps from fifteen to twenty-five feet.  They are easily mastered, for the first that is wounded among the sounds ans straits so common in the isles, usually runs ashore.  The rest follow the blood, and urged on by the boats behind, run ashore also.  A cut with one of the long whaling knives under the back-fin, is usually fatal to these huge animals.   The two hundred and sixty-five whales now lying within two or three miles of us were driven ashore by seven boats only.’

Rising at Kent

‘30th May, 1648. There was a rising now in Kent, my 

Lord of Norwich being at the head of them. Their first 

rendezvous was in Broome-field, next my house at Sayes 

Court, whence they went to Maidstone, and so to Col- 

chester, where was that memorable siege. ‘

The passage above is from John Evelyn’s diary.  The Royalist rising in Kent is referred to by Walter Scott in “Woodstock”, with Lord Holland involved.

‘…"Not without some danger, though," muttered Louis, thinking of his

encounter with Bevis on the preceding evening.

"No, not without danger, indeed," echoed the knight; "but, as old Will

says,--

  'There's such divinity doth hedge a king,

  That treason dares not peep at what it would.'

"No, no--thank God, that's cared for; our Hope and Fortune is escaped,

so all news affirm, escaped from Bristol--if I thought otherwise,

Albert, I should be as sad as you are. For the rest of it, I have lurked

a month in this house when discovery would have been death, and that is

no longer since than after Lord Holland and the Duke of Buckingham's

rising at Kingston; and hang me, if I thought once of twisting my brow

into such a tragic fold as yours, but cocked my hat at misfortune as a

cavalier should."…’