Extract from the Diary of Ruth Cowley

 

Cowley’s Farm,

Sandford on Thames,

Oxfordshire.

 

Thursday June 1st 1665

 

Today is a most beautiful day. Mother says it’s a lovely day when there is not a cloud in the sky. I disagree. I think it’s lovely, as today, when there is a sufficiency of cloud. Not too much so that the sky becomes leaden and dull but not too sparse, or worse, none at all when there is unbroken blue from the woods to the South, the other side of the river, to the spires of Oxford in the North. Mother says everyone likes blue sky and that I am peculiar. But how much more can one appreciate the blueness if there are puffs of cloud here and there or large light fluffy things that look like the washed fleece that father shears off the sheep.

 

Mother is shouting. It is six of the clock and I am late for breakfast. If Emily, Robert and Gwendoline would hurry up at the well it would help. Earlier this year it wasn’t a problem but now things are different. I wonder how large my breasts will grow. Last week Robert laughed at them. I hate brothers. Mother says I am entitled to some privacy. After breakfast I must make some butter before school.

 

Friday June 2nd 1665

 

Yesterday turned out even better. Father said he could spare Tom to take us to school by horse and cart. It is an hour’s walk normally and I get very tired of it each day particularly when the rain is heavy. Father says I should never complain, that we are very lucky he can afford to pay for our schooling. I am not sure it is lucky. Tom’s children, Ned and Liz, don’t go and they have much fun playing in the fields.

 

We met many friends along the way and they all got on the cart. There was May, Elizabeth, the two Jonathans (though I think they are spelt differently) and Edward plus some others. It was excellent fun. It’s my 14th birthday in two weeks and I promised to invite them all to the farm. Mother and Father won’t mind. Jonathan Rigby said that he will be leaving after this term to take up an apprenticeship with Mr Wallace, the upholsterer. When I told father he said it was a shame because Jonathan was a very bright boy and could have gone to Oxford. His family have hit hard times it seems. They make furniture and sell it to wealthy people in London but, owing to the plague, people aren’t buying things any more and some of his clients have actually died.

Have nearly finished my embroidery. Mr Wallace has been very kind and given me some silk remnants. I have all I need now I think.

 

Saturday June 3rd 1665

 

The Reverend Blackley, our vicar, called on us today. He has just returned from London, one of the few that have managed it he says. He is going to announce from the pulpit tomorrow that no one should travel there. He says many people are dying and hears that they are being locked up in their houses once they fall ill. Carts trundle down the streets so that people can throw dead bodies on to them. He wanted to administer some comfort to the dying but decided that Sandford needed him here. It does sound truly dreadful. I lost count of the number of glasses of port he drank and he was here not much more than one hour. He was in his usual temper about the university thinking itself superior to the church. He thinks it sacrilegious and arrogant that the colleges have the tallest spires. I admit to myself that I do not like the Reverend. I think the word is pompous.

 

Best moment of the day - when he got up to leave he hit his head on the door frame and fell back hitting his head again on the flag stones. Two bruises neatly counterbalanced. Mother turned away supposedly from embarrassment but I could see her shoulders trembling and her handkerchief in her mouth lest she laugh out loud.

 

Sunday June 4th 1665

 

Finished my embroidery yesterday afternoon. It is of a cottage. There are hollyhocks and roses and hints of wild flowers in the hedge row. I used Mrs Hills cottage, up the lane, as a model. Mother is very impressed and I am thrilled with it. Mrs Hill came round and actually asked to purchase it. She said it would look wonderful in her living room. She only has one room, apart from a bedroom, so calling it a living room seemed a little pretentious. Father was very pleased and said I could become a professional embroiderer. He said I should charge several pence for it but I just could not do that. Mother says there are people in the village who do not earn that in a week but father says we should consider the skill and the time involved in making it. I know he is trying to say he is proud of what I have done but it seems a silly argument. Sometimes I think father is too interested in money. And besides I don’t want to become an embroiderer. Tomorrow I will show it to Mr Wallace because I used his silk and other materials. He was not in church today as he feels unwell.

 

I could detect the bruise on the Reverend Blackley’s head as he stood in the pulpit. It really amused me and I quite forgot to concentrate on what he was saying.

 

Monday June 5th 1665

 

Mr Wallace has taken to his bed. He was not able to see me when I visited him after school. There are terrible rumours in the village and people say that we should all stay in doors. Father scoffs. He says he has to milk the cows and feed the chickens. Cows won’t milk themselves, he said, even if you ask them politely. I think that was one of father’s jokes. And my school is important too he says. I’m not sure he means that if he wants me to become an embroiderer. How many embroiderers can speak Latin? Father always said that even though I am a girl, he likes me to be educated so that I can converse easily in the evenings. Mother is very worried that I will not find a good man. She says men do not want a wife who can converse easily. As I am the eldest, I think sometimes that father would rather I was a boy.

 

The Reverend Blackley visited again. The marks on his head are still visible. He says that Mr Wallace is very ill and that Jonathan and his family are all unwell. Mother insists that we do not go to school but stay at the Farm for the time being. This will be extremely boring. Emily and Robert are upset. They were due to go to tea with Mrs Hill’s granddaughter because it was her 9th birthday. Gwendoline is only five years old so was not invited and I am too grown up.

 

Tuesday June 6th 1665

 

Father has started to make the frame for my embroidery and came to show me. I was not feeling well and could not raise any interest. Father was a little short with me. Later I took to my bed. I have a hot feverish chill and my neck is very swollen. Mother and father had a terrible argument with the Reverend downstairs. He wants the whole family to stay locked indoors. Mother sits with me much of the time. I think she has been crying. Cannot write any more. Perhaps tomorrow.