22nd. Up pretty betimes, and in great pain whether to send my another

into the country to-day or no, I hearing, by my people, that she, poor

wretch, hath a mind to stay a little longer, and I cannot blame her,

considering what a life she will through her own folly lead when she comes

home again, unlike the pleasure and liberty she hath had here. At last I

resolved to put it to her, and she agreed to go, so I would not oppose it,

because of the sicknesse in the towne, and my intentions of removing my

wife. So I did give her money and took a kind leave of her, she, poor

wretch, desiring that I would forgive my brother John, but I refused it to

her, which troubled her, poor soul, but I did it in kind words and so let

the discourse go off, she leaving me though in a great deal of sorrow. So

I to my office and left my wife and people to see her out of town, and I

at the office all the morning. At noon my wife tells me that she is with

much ado gone, and I pray God bless her, but it seems she was to the last

unwilling to go, but would not say so, but put it off till she lost her

place in the coach, and was fain to ride in the waggon part. After dinner

to the office again till night, very busy, and so home not very late to

supper and to bed.

23rd. Up and to White Hall to a Committee for Tangier, where his Royal

Highness was. Our great design was to state to them the true condition of

this Committee for want of money, the want whereof was so great as to need

some sudden help, and it was with some content resolved to see it supplied

and means proposed towards the doing of it. At this Committee, unknown to

me, comes my Lord of Sandwich, who, it seems, come to towne last night.

After the Committee was up, my Lord Sandwich did take me aside, and we

walked an hour alone together in the robe-chamber, the door shut, telling

me how much the Duke and Mr. Coventry did, both in the fleete and here,

make of him, and that in some opposition to the Prince; and as a more

private message, he told me that he hath been with them both when they

have made sport of the Prince and laughed at him: yet that all the

discourse of the towne, and the printed relation, should not give him one

word of honour my Lord thinks mighty strange; he assuring me, that though

by accident the Prince was in the van the beginning of the fight for the

first pass, yet all the rest of the day my Lord was in the van, and

continued so. That notwithstanding all this noise of the Prince, he had

hardly a shot in his side nor a man killed, whereas he hath above 30 in

her hull, and not one mast whole nor yard; but the most battered ship of

the fleet, and lost most men, saving Captain Smith of "The Mary." That

the most the Duke did was almost out of gun-shot; but that, indeed, the

Duke did come up to my Lord's rescue after he had a great while fought

with four of them. How poorly Sir John Lawson performed, notwithstanding

all that was said of him; and how his ship turned out of the way, while

Sir J. Lawson himself was upon the deck, to the endangering of the whole

fleete. It therefore troubles my Lord that Mr. Coventry should not

mention a word of him in his relation. I did, in answer, offer that I was

sure the relation was not compiled by Mr. Coventry, but by L'Estrange, out

of several letters, as I could witness; and that Mr. Coventry's letter

that he did give the Duke of Albemarle did give him as much right as the

Prince, for I myself read it first and then copied it out, which I

promised to show my Lord, with which he was somewhat satisfied. From that

discourse my Lord did begin to tell me how much he was concerned to

dispose of his children, and would have my advice and help; and propounded

to match my Lady Jemimah to Sir G. Carteret's eldest son, which I approved

of, and did undertake the speaking with him about it as from myself, which

my Lord liked. So parted, with my head full of care about this business.

Thence home to the 'Change, and so to dinner, and thence by coach to Mr.

Povy's. Thence by appointment with him and Creed to one Mr. Finch; one of

the Commissioners for the Excise, to be informed about some things of the

Excise, in order to our settling matters therein better for us for our

Tangier business. I find him a very discreet, grave person. Thence well

satisfied I and Creed to Mr. Fox at White Hall to speak with him about the

same matter, and having some pretty satisfaction from him also, he and I

took boat and to Fox Hall, where we spent two or three hours talking of

several matters very soberly and contentfully to me, which, with the ayre

and pleasure of the garden, was a great refreshment to me, and, 'methinks,

that which we ought to joy ourselves in. Thence back to White Hall, where

we parted, and I to find my Lord to receive his farther direction about

his proposal this morning. Wherein I did that I should first by another

hand break my intentions to Sir G. Carteret. I pitched upon Dr. Clerke,

which my Lord liked, and so I endeavoured but in vain to find him out

to-night. So home by hackney-coach, which is become a very dangerous

passage now-a-days, the sickness increasing mightily, and to bed.

24th (Midsummer-day). Up very betimes, by six, and at Dr. Clerke's at

Westminster by 7 of the clock, having over night by a note acquainted him

with my intention of coming, and there I, in the best manner I could,

broke my errand about a match between Sir G. Carteret's eldest son and my

Lord Sandwich's eldest daughter, which he (as I knew he would) took with

great content: and we both agreed that my Lord and he, being both men

relating to the sea, under a kind aspect of His Majesty, already good

friends, and both virtuous and good familys, their allyance might be of

good use to us; and he did undertake to find out Sir George this morning,

and put the business in execution. So being both well pleased with the

proposition, I saw his niece there and made her sing me two or three songs

very prettily, and so home to the office, where to my great trouble I

found Mr. Coventry and the board met before I come. I excused my late

coming by having been on the River about office business. So to business

all the morning. At noon Captain Ferrers and Mr. Moore dined with me, the

former of them the first time I saw him since his corning from sea, who do

give me the best conversation in general, and as good an account of the

particular service of the Prince and my Lord of Sandwich in the late

sea-fight that I could desire. After dinner they parted. So I to White

Hall, where I with Creed and Povy attended my Lord Treasurer, and did

prevail with him to let us have an assignment for 15 or L20,000, which, I

hope, will do our business for Tangier. So to Dr. Clerke, and there found

that he had broke the business to Sir G. Carteret, and that he takes the

thing mighty well. Thence I to Sir G. Carteret at his chamber, and in the

best manner I could, and most obligingly, moved the business: he received

it with great respect and content, and thanks to me, and promised that he

would do what he could possibly for his son, to render him fit for my

Lord's daughter, and shewed great kindness to me, and sense of my kindness

to him herein. Sir William Pen told me this day that Mr. Coventry is to

be sworn a Privy Counsellor, at which my soul is glad. So home and to my

letters by the post, and so home to supper and bed.

25th (Lord's day). Up, and several people about business come to me by

appointment relating to the office. Thence I to my closet about my

Tangier papers. At noon dined, and then I abroad by water, it raining

hard, thinking to have gone down to Woolwich, but I did not, but back

through bridge to White Hall, where, after I had again visited Sir G.

Carteret, and received his (and now his Lady's) full content in my

proposal, I went to my Lord Sandwich, and having told him how Sir G.

Carteret received it, he did direct me to return to Sir G. Carteret, and

give him thanks for his kind reception of this offer, and that he would

the next day be willing to enter discourse with him about the business.

Which message I did presently do, and so left the business with great joy

to both sides. My Lord, I perceive, intends to give L5000 with her, and

expects about L800 per annum joynture. So by water home and to supper and

bed, being weary with long walking at Court, but had a Psalm or two with

my boy and Mercer before bed, which pleased me mightily. This night Sir

G. Carteret told me with great kindnesse that the order of the Council did

run for the making of Hater and Whitfield incapable of any serving the

King again, but that he had stopped the entry of it, which he told me with

great kindnesse, but the thing troubles me. After dinner, before I went

to White Hall, I went down to Greenwich by water, thinking to have visited

Sir J. Lawson, where, when I come, I find that he is dead, and died this

morning, at which I was much surprized; and indeed the nation hath a great

loss; though I cannot, without dissembling, say that I am sorry for it,

for he was a man never kind to me at all. Being at White Hall, I visited

Mr. Coventry, who, among other talk, entered about the great question now

in the House about the Duke's going to sea again; about which the whole

House is divided. He did concur with me that, for the Duke's honour and

safety, it were best, after so great a service and victory and danger, not

to go again; and, above all, that the life of the Duke cannot but be a

security to the Crowne; if he were away, it being more easy to attempt

anything upon the King; but how the fleete will be governed without him,

the Prince--[Rupert]--being a man of no government and severe in council,

that no ordinary man can offer any advice against his; saying truly that

it had been better he had gone to Guinny, and that were he away, it were

easy to say how matters might be ordered, my Lord Sandwich being a man of

temper and judgment as much as any man he ever knew, and that upon good

observation he said this, and that his temper must correct the Prince's.

But I perceive he is much troubled what will be the event of the question.

And so I left him.

26th. Up and to White Hall with Sir J. Minnes, and to the Committee of

Tangier, where my Lord Treasurer was, the first and only time he ever was

there, and did promise us L15,000 for Tangier and no more, which will be

short. But if I can pay Mr. Andrews all his money I care for no more, and

the bills of Exchange. Thence with Mr. Povy and Creed below to a new

chamber of Mr. Povy's, very pretty, and there discourse about his

business, not to his content, but with the most advantage I could to him,

and Creed also did the like. Thence with Creed to the King's Head, and

there dined with him at the ordinary, and good sport with one Mr.

Nicholls, a prating coxcombe, that would be thought a poet, but would not

be got to repeat any of his verses. Thence I home, and there find my

wife's brother and his wife, a pretty little modest woman, where they

dined with my wife. He did come to desire my assistance for a living,

and, upon his good promises of care, and that it should be no burden to

me, I did say and promise I would think of finding something for him, and

the rather because his wife seems a pretty discreet young thing, and

humble, and he, above all things, desirous to do something to maintain

her, telling me sad stories of what she endured with him in Holland, and I

hope it will not be burdensome. So down by water to Woolwich, walking to

and again from Greenwich thither and back again, my business being to

speak again with Sheldon, who desires and expects my wife coming thither

to spend the summer, and upon second thoughts I do agree that it will be a

good place for her and me too. So, weary, home, and to my office a while,

till almost midnight, and so to bed. The plague encreases mightily, I

this day seeing a house, at a bitt-maker's over against St. Clement's

Church, in the open street, shut up; which is a sad sight.

27th. Up and to the office, where all the morning. At noon dined by

chance at my Lady Batten's, and they sent for my wife, and there was my

Lady Pen and Pegg. Very merry, and so I to my office again, where till 12

o'clock at night, and so home to supper and to bed.

28th. Sir J. Minnes carried me and my wife to White Hall, and thence his

coach along with my wife where she would. There after attending the Duke

to discourse of the navy. We did not kiss his hand, nor do I think, for

all their pretence, of going away to-morrow. Yet I believe they will not

go for good and all, but I did take my leave of Sir William Coventry, who,

it seems, was knighted and sworn a Privy-Counsellor two days since; who

with his old kindness treated me, and I believe I shall ever find [him] a

noble friend. Thence by water to Blackfriars, and so to Paul's churchyard

and bespoke severall books, and so home and there dined, my man William

giving me a lobster sent him by my old maid Sarah. This morning I met

with Sir G. Carteret, who tells me how all things proceed between my Lord

Sandwich and himself to full content, and both sides depend upon having

the match finished presently, and professed great kindnesse to me, and

said that now we were something akin. I am mightily, both with respect to

myself and much more of my Lord's family, glad of this alliance. After

dinner to White Hall, thinking to speak with my Lord Ashly, but failed,

and I whiled away some time in Westminster Hall against he did come, in my

way observing several plague houses in King's Street and [near] the

Palace. Here I hear Mrs. Martin is gone out of town, and that her

husband, an idle fellow, is since come out of France, as he pretends, but

I believe not that he hath been. I was fearful of going to any house, but

I did to the Swan, and thence to White Hall, giving the waterman a

shilling, because a young fellow and belonging to the Plymouth. Thence by

coach to several places, and so home, and all the evening with Sir J.

Minnes and all the women of the house (excepting my Lady Batten) late in

the garden chatting. At 12 o'clock home to supper and to bed. My Lord

Sandwich is gone towards the sea to-day, it being a sudden resolution, I

having taken no leave of him.

29th. Up and by water to White Hall, where the Court full of waggons and

people ready to go out of towne. To the Harp and Ball, and there drank

and talked with Mary, she telling me in discourse that she lived lately at

my neighbour's, Mr. Knightly, which made me forbear further discourse.

This end of the towne every day grows very bad of the plague. The

Mortality Bill is come to 267;

[According to the Bills of Mortality, the total number of deaths in

London for the week ending June 27th was 684, of which number 267

were deaths from the plague. The number of deaths rose week by week

until September 19th, when the total was 8,297, and the deaths from

the plague 7,165. On September 26th the total had fallen to 6,460,

and deaths from the plague to 5,533 The number fell gradually, week

by week, till October 31st, when the total was 1,388, and deaths

from the plague 1,031. On November 7th there was a rise to 1,787

and 1,414 respectively. On November 14th the numbers had gone down

to 1,359 and 1,050 respectively. On December 12th the total had

fallen to 442, and deaths from the plague to 243. On December 19th

there was a rise to 525 and 281 respectively. The total of burials

in 1665 was 97,506, of which number the plague claimed 68,596

victims.]

which is about ninety more than the last: and of these but four in the

City, which is a great blessing to us. Thence to Creed, and with him up

and down about Tangier business, to no purpose. Took leave again of Mr.

Coventry; though I hope the Duke has not gone to stay, and so do others

too. So home, calling at Somersett House, where all are packing up too:

the Queene-Mother setting out for France this day to drink Bourbon waters

this year, she being in a consumption; and intends not to come till winter

come twelvemonths.

[The Queen-Mother never came to England again. She retired to her

chateau at Colombes, near Paris, where she died in August, 1669,

after a long illness; the immediate cause of her death being an

opiate ordered by her physicians. She was buried, September 12th,

in the church of St. Denis. Her funeral sermon was preached by

Bossuet. Sir John Reresby speaks of Queen Henrietta Maria in high

terms. He says that in the winter, 1659-60, although the Court of

France was very splendid, there was a greater resort to the Palais

Royal, "the good humour and wit of our Queen Mother, and the beauty

of the Princess [Henrietta] her daughter, giving greater invitation

than the more particular humour of the French Queen, being a

Spaniard." In another place he says: "Her majesty had a great

affection for England, notwithstanding the severe usage she and hers

had received from it. Her discourse was much with the great men and

ladies of France in praise of the people and of the country; of

their courage, generosity, good nature; and would excuse all their

miscarriages in relation to unfortunate effects of the late war, as

if it were a convulsion of some desperate and infatuated persons,

rather than from the genius and temper of the kingdom" ("Memoirs of

Sir John Reresby," ed. Cartwright, pp. 43, 45).]

So by coach home, where at the office all the morning, and at noon Mrs.

Hunt dined with us. Very merry, and she a very good woman. To the

office, where busy a while putting some things in my office in order, and

then to letters till night. About 10 a'clock home, the days being

sensibly shorter before I have once kept a summer's day by shutting up

office by daylight; but my life hath been still as it was in winter

almost. But I will for a month try what I can do by daylight. So home to

supper and to bed.

30th. Up and to White Hall, to the Duke of Albemarle, who I find at

Secretary Bennet's, there being now no other great Statesman, I think, but

my Lord Chancellor, in towne. I received several commands from them;

among others, to provide some bread and cheese for the garrison at

Guernsey, which they promised to see me paid for. So to the 'Change, and

home to dinner. In the afternoon I down to Woolwich and after me my wife

and Mercer, whom I led to Mr. Sheldon's to see his house, and I find it a

very pretty place for them to be at. So I back again, walking both

forward and backward, and left my wife to come by water. I straight to

White Hall, late, to Secretary Bennet's to give him an account of the

business I received from him to-day, and there staid weary and sleepy till

past 12 at night. Then writ my mind to him, and so back by water and in

the dark and against tide shot the bridge, groping with their pole for the

way, which troubled me before I got through. So home, about one or two

o'clock in the morning, my family at a great losse what was become of me.

To supper, and to bed. Thus this book of two years ends. Myself and

family in good health, consisting of myself and wife, Mercer, her woman,

Mary, Alice, and Susan our maids, and Tom my boy. In a sickly time of the

plague growing on. Having upon my hands the troublesome care of the

Treasury of Tangier, with great sums drawn upon me, and nothing to pay

them with: also the business of the office great. Consideration of

removing my wife to Woolwich; she lately busy in learning to paint, with

great pleasure and successe. All other things well; especially a new

interest I am making, by a match in hand between the eldest son of Sir G.

Carteret, and my Lady Jemimah Montage. The Duke of Yorke gone down to the

fleete, but all suppose not with intent to stay there, as it is not fit,

all men conceive, he should.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A vineyard, the first that ever I did see

All the towne almost going out of towne (Plague panic)

Buy some roll-tobacco to smell to and chaw

Consult my pillow upon that and every great thing of my life

Convenience of periwiggs is so great

Dying this last week of the plague 112, from 43 the week before

Hear that the plague is come into the City

Houses marked with a red cross upon the doors

My old folly and childishnesse hangs upon me still

Plague claimed 68,596 victims (in 1665)

Pride of some persons and vice of most was but a sad story

The coachman that carried [us] cannot know me again

Though neither of us care 2d. one for another

Which may teach me how I make others wait

Diary of Samuel Pepys — Volume 35: May/June 1665 · 第 3 / 3 段