23rd. Up before day, and by coach to Sir W. Coventry's, and with him to

White Hall, and there walked a great while with him in the garden till the

Commissioners of the Treasury met, and there talked over many businesses,

and particularly he tells me that by my desire he hath moved the Duke of

York that Sir J. Minnes might be removed from the Navy, at least the

Controller's place, and his business put on my Lord Brouncker and Sir W.

Pen; that the Committee for Accounts are good sober men, and such as he

thinks we shall have fair play from; that he hopes that the kingdom will

escape ruin in general, notwithstanding all our fears, and yet I find he

do seem not very confident in it. So to the Commissioners of the

Treasury, and there I had a dispute before them with Sir Stephen Fox about

our orders for money, who is very angry, but I value it not. But, Lord! to

see with what folly my Lord Albemarle do speak in this business would make

a man wonder at the good fortune of such a fool. Thence meeting there with

Creed, he and I to the Exchange, and there I saw Carr stand in the pillory

for the business of my Lord Gerard, which is supposed will make a hot

business in the House of Commons, when they shall come to sit again, the

Lords having ordered this with great injustice, as all people think, his

only fault being the printing his petition before, by accident, his

petition be read in the House. Here walked up and down the Exchange with

Creed, and then home to dinner, and there hear by Creed that the Bishops

of Winchester and of Rochester, and the Dean of the Chapel, and some other

great prelates, are suspended: and a cloud upon the Archbishop ever since

the late business in the House of Lords; and I believe it will be a heavy

blow to the Clergy. This noon I bought a sermon of Dr. Floyd's, which

Creed read a great part of to me and Mr. Hollier, who dined with me, but

as well writ and as good, against the Church of Rome, as ever I read; but,

Lord! how Hollier, poor man, was taken with it. They gone I to the

office, and there very late with Mr. Willson and my people about the

making of a new contract for the victualler, which do and will require a

great deal of pains of me, and so to supper and to bed, my wife being

pretty well all this day by reason of her imposthume being broke in her

cheek into her mouth. This day, at the 'Change, Creed shewed me Mr.

Coleman, of whom my wife hath so good an opinion, and says that he is as

very a rogue for women as any in the world; which did disquiet me, like a

fool, and run in my mind a great while.

24th. Up, and all the morning at the office, and at noon with my clerks

to dinner, and then to the office again, busy at the office till six at

night, and then by coach to St. James's, it being about six at night; my

design being to see the ceremonys, this night being the eve of Christmas,

at the Queen's chapel. But it being not begun I to Westminster Hall, and

there staid and walked, and then to the Swan, and there drank and talked,

and did banter a little Frank, and so to White Hall, and sent my coach

round, I through the Park to chapel, where I got in up almost to the rail,

and with a great deal of patience staid from nine at night to two in the

morning, in a very great crowd; and there expected, but found nothing

extraordinary, there being nothing but a high masse. The Queen was there,

and some ladies. But, Lord! what an odde thing it was for me to be in a

crowd of people, here a footman, there a beggar, here a fine lady, there a

zealous poor papist, and here a Protestant, two or three together, come to

see the shew. I was afeard of my pocket being picked very much . . . .

Their musique very good indeed, but their service I confess too frivolous,

that there can be no zeal go along with it, and I do find by them

themselves that they do run over their beads with one hand, and point and

play and talk and make signs with the other in the midst of their masse.

But all things very rich and beautiful; and I see the papists have the

wit, most of them, to bring cushions to kneel on, which I wanted, and was

mightily troubled to kneel. All being done, and I sorry for my coming,

missing of what I expected; which was, to have had a child born and

dressed there, and a great deal of do: but we broke up, and nothing like

it done: and there I left people receiving the Sacrament: and the Queen

gone, and ladies; only my Lady Castlemayne, who looked prettily in her

night-clothes, and so took my coach, which waited, and away through Covent

Garden, to set down two gentlemen and a lady, who come thither to see

also, and did make mighty mirth in their talk of the folly of this

religion. And so I stopped, having set them down and drank some burnt

wine at the Rose Tavern door, while the constables come, and two or three

Bellmen went by,

25th. It being a fine, light, moonshine morning, and so home round the

city, and stopped and dropped money at five or six places, which I was the

willinger to do, it being Christmas-day, and so home, and there find my

wife in bed, and Jane and the maids making pyes, and so I to bed, and

slept well, and rose about nine, and to church, and there heard a dull

sermon of Mr. Mills, but a great many fine people at church; and so home.

Wife and girl and I alone at dinner--a good Christmas dinner, and all the

afternoon at home, my wife reading to me "The History of the Drummer of

Mr. Mompesson," which is a strange story of spies, and worth reading

indeed. In the evening comes Mr. Pelling, and he sat and supped with us;

and very good company, he reciting to us many copies of good verses of Dr.

Wilde, who writ "Iter Boreale," and so to bed, my boy being gone with W.

Hewer and Mr. Hater to Mr. Gibson's in the country to dinner and lie there

all night.

26th. Up and to Westminster, and there to the Swan, and by chance met Mr.

Spicer and another 'Chequer clerk, and there made them drink, and there

talked of the credit the 'Chequer is now come to and will in a little

time, and so away homeward, and called at my bookseller's, and there

bought Mr. Harrington's works, "Oceana," &c., and two other books, which

cost me L4, and so home, and there eat a bit, and then with my wife to the

King's playhouse, and there saw "The Surprizall;" which did not please me

to-day, the actors not pleasing me; and especially Nell's acting of a

serious part, which she spoils. Here met with Sir W. Pen, and sat by him,

and home by coach with him, and there to my office a while, and then home

to supper and to bed. I hear this day that Mrs. Stewart do at this day

keep a great court at Somerset House, with her husband the Duke of

Richmond, she being visited for her beauty's sake by people, as the Queen

is, at nights; and they say also that she is likely to go to Court again,

and there put my Lady Castlemayne's nose out of joynt. God knows that

would make a great turn. This day I was invited to have gone to my cozen

Mary Pepys' burial, my uncle Thomas' daughter, but could not.

27th. Up, and by water to White Hall, and there walked with Creed in the

Matted gallery till by and by a Committee for Tangier met: the Duke of

York there; and there I did discourse over to them their condition as to

money, which they were all mightily, as I could desire, satisfied with,

but the Duke of Albemarle, who takes the part of the Guards against us in

our supplies of money, which is an odd consideration for a dull, heavy

blockhead as he is, understanding no more of either than a goose: but the

ability and integrity of Sir W. Coventry, in all the King's concernments,

I do and must admire. After the Committee up, I and Sir W. Coventry

walked an hour in the gallery, talking over many businesses, and he tells

me that there are so many things concur to make him and his Fellow

Commissioners unable to go through the King's work that he do despair of

it, every body becoming an enemy to them in their retrenchments, and the

King unstable, the debts great and the King's present occasions for money

great and many and pressing, the bankers broke and every body keeping in

their money, while the times are doubtful what will stand. But he says

had they come in two years ago they doubt not to have done what the King

would by this time, or were the King in the condition as heretofore, when

the Chancellor was great, to be able to have what sums of money they

pleased of the Parliament, and then the ill administration was such that

instead of making good use of this power and money he suffered all to go

to ruin. But one such sum now would put all upon their legs, and now the

King would have the Parliament give him money when they are in an ill

humour and will not be willing to give any, nor are very able, and besides

every body distrusts what they give the King will be lost; whereas six

months hence, when they see that the King can live without them, and is

become steady, and to manage what he has well, he doubts not but their

doubts would be removed, and would be much more free as well as more able

to give him money. He told me how some of his enemies at the Duke of

York's had got the Duke of York's commission for the Commissioners of his

estate changed, and he and Brouncker and Povy left out: that this they did

do to disgrace and impose upon him at this time; but that he, though he

values not the thing, did go and tell the Duke of York what he heard, and

that he did not think that he had given him any reason to do this, out of

his belief that he would not be as faithful and serviceable to him as the

best of those that have got him put out. Whereupon the Duke of York did

say that it arose only from his not knowing whether now he would have time

to regard his affairs; and that, if he should, he would put him into the

commission with his own hand, though the commission be passed. He

answered that he had been faithful to him, and done him good service

therein, so long as he could attend it; and if he had been able to have

attended it more, he would not have enriched himself with such and such

estates as my Lord Chancellor hath got, that did properly belong to his

Royal Highness, as being forfeited to the King, and so by the King's gift

given to the Duke of York. Hereupon the Duke of York did call for the

commission, and hath since put him in. This he tells me he did only to

show his enemies that he is not so low as to be trod on by them, or the

Duke hath any so bad opinion of him as they would think. Here we parted,

and I with Sir H. Cholmly went and took a turn into the Park, and there

talked of several things, and about Tangier particularly, and of his

management of his business, and among other discourse about the method he

will leave his accounts in if he should suddenly die, he says there is

nothing but what is easily understood, but only a sum of L500 which he has

entered given to E. E. S., which in great confidence he do discover to me

to be my Lord Sandwich, at the beginning of their contract for the Mole,

and I suppose the rest did the like, which was L1500, which would appear a

very odd thing for my Lord to be a profiter by the getting of the contract

made for them. But here it puts me into thoughts how I shall own my

receiving of L200 a year from him, but it is his gift, I never asked of

him, and which he did to Mr. Povy, and so there is no great matter in it.

Thence to other talk. He tells me that the business of getting the

Duchess of Richmond to Court is broke off, the Duke not suffering it; and

thereby great trouble is brought among the people that endeavoured it, and

thought they had compassed it. And, Lord! to think that at this time the

King should mind no other cares but these! He tells me that my Lord of

Canterbury is a mighty stout man, and a man of a brave, high spirit, and

cares not for this disfavour that he is under at Court, knowing that the

King cannot take away his profits during his life, and therefore do not

value it.

[This character of Archbishop Sheldon does not tally with the

scandal that Pepys previously reported of him. Burnet has some

passages of importance on this in his "Own Time," Book II. He

affirms that Charles's final decision to throw over Clarendon was

caused by the Chancellor's favouring Mrs. Stewart's marriage with

the Duke of Richmond. The king had a conference with Sheldon on the

removal of Clarendon, but could not convert the archbishop to his

view. Lauderdale told Burnet that he had an account of the

interview from the king. "The king and Sheldon had gone into such

expostulations upon it that from that day forward Sheldon could

never recover the king's confidence."]

Thence I home, and there to my office and wrote a letter to the Duke of

York from myself about my clerks extraordinary, which I have employed this

war, to prevent my being obliged to answer for what others do without any

reason demand allowance for, and so by this means I will be accountable

for none but my own, and they shall not have them but upon the same terms

that I have, which is a profession that with these helps they will answer

to their having performed their duties of their places. So to dinner, and

then away by coach to the Temple, and then for speed by water thence to

White Hall, and there to our usual attending the Duke of York, and did

attend him, where among other things I did present and lodge my letter,

and did speed in it as I could wish. Thence home with Sir W. Pen and

Comm. Middleton by coach, and there home and to cards with my wife, W.

Hewer, Mercer, and the girle, and mighty pleasant all the evening, and so

to bed with my wife, which I have not done since her being ill for three

weeks or thereabouts.

28th. Up, and to the office, where busy all the morning, at noon home,

and there to dinner with my clerks and Mr. Pelting, and had a very good

dinner, among others a haunch of venison boiled, and merry we were, and I

rose soon from dinner, and with my wife and girle to the King's house, and

there saw "The Mad Couple," which is but an ordinary play; but only Nell's

and Hart's mad parts are most excellently done, but especially hers: which

makes it a miracle to me to think how ill she do any serious part, as, the

other day, just like a fool or changeling; and, in a mad part, do beyond

all imitation almost. [It pleased us mightily to see the natural

affection of a poor woman, the mother of one of the children brought on

the stage: the child crying, she by force got upon the stage, and took up

her child and carried it away off of the stage from Hart.] Many fine faces

here to-day. Thence home, and there to the office late, and then home to

supper and to bed. I am told to-day, which troubles me, that great

complaint is made upon the 'Change, among our merchants, that the very

Ostend little pickaroon men-of-war do offer violence to our merchant-men,

and search them, beat our masters, and plunder them, upon pretence of

carrying Frenchmen's goods. Lord! what a condition are we come to, and

that so soon after a war!

29th (Lord's day). Up, and at my chamber all the day, both morning and

afternoon (only a little at dinner with my wife alone), upon the settling

of my Tangier accounts towards the evening of all reckonings now against

the new year, and here I do see the great folly of letting things go long

unevened, it being very hard for me and dangerous to state after things

are gone out of memory, and much more would be so should I have died in

this time and my accounts come to other hands, to understand which would

never be. At night comes Mrs. Turner to see us; and there, among other

talk, she tells me that Mr. William Pen, who is lately come over from

Ireland, is a Quaker again, or some very melancholy thing; that he cares

for no company, nor comes into any which is a pleasant thing, after his

being abroad so long, and his father such a hypocritical rogue, and at

this time an Atheist. She gone, I to my very great content do find my

accounts to come very even and naturally, and so to supper and to bed.

30th. Up before day, and by coach to Westminster, and there first to Sir

H. Cholmly, and there I did to my great content deliver him up his little

several papers for sums of money paid him, and took his regular receipts

upon his orders, wherein I am safe. Thence to White Hall, and there to

visit Sir G. Carteret, and there was with him a great while, and my Lady

and they seem in very good humour, but by and by Sir G. Carteret and I

alone, and there we did talk of the ruinous condition we are in, the King

being going to put out of the Council so many able men; such as my Lord

Anglesey, Ashly, Hopis, Secretary Morrice (to bring in Mr. Trevor), and

the Archbishop of Canterbury, and my Lord Bridgewater. He tells me that

this is true, only the Duke of York do endeavour to hinder it, and the

Duke of York himself did tell him so: that the King and the Duke of York

do not in company disagree, but are friendly; but that there is a core in

their hearts, he doubts, which is not to be easily removed; for these men

do suffer only for their constancy to the Chancellor, or at least from the

King's ill-will against him: that they do now all they can to vilify the

clergy, and do accuse Rochester [Dolben] . . . and so do raise

scandals, all that is possible, against other of the Bishops. He do

suggest that something is intended for the Duke of Monmouth, and it may

be, against the Queene also: that we are in no manner sure against an

invasion the next year: that the Duke of Buckingham do rule all now, and

the Duke of York comes indeed to the Caball, but signifies little there.

That this new faction do not endure, nor the King, Sir W. Coventry; but

yet that he is so usefull that they cannot be without him; but that he is

not now called to the Caball. That my Lord of Buckingham, Bristoll, and

Arlington, do seem to agree in these things; but that they do not in their

hearts trust one another, but do drive several ways, all of them. In

short, he do bless himself that he is no more concerned in matters now;

and the hopes he hath of being at liberty, when his accounts are over, to

retire into the country. That he do give over the kingdom for wholly

lost. So after some other little discourse, I away, meeting with Mr.

Cooling. I with him by coach to the Wardrobe, where I never was since the

fire in Hatton Garden, but did not 'light: and he tells me he fears that

my Lord Sandwich will suffer much by Mr. Townsend's being untrue to him,

he being now unable to give the Commissioners of the Treasury an account

of his money received by many thousands of pounds, which I am troubled

for. Thence to the Old Exchange together, he telling me that he believes

there will be no such turning out of great men as is talked of, but that

it is only to fright people, but I do fear there may be such a thing

doing. He do mightily inveigh against the folly of the King to bring his

matters to wrack thus, and that we must all be undone without help. I met

with Cooling at the Temple-gate, after I had been at both my booksellers

and there laid out several pounds in books now against the new year. From

the 'Change (where I met with Captain Cocke, who would have borrowed money

of me, but I had the grace to deny him, he would have had 3 or L400) I

with Cocke and Mr. Temple (whose wife was just now brought to bed of a

boy, but he seems not to be at all taken with it, which is a strange

consideration how others do rejoice to have a child born), to Sir G.

Carteret's, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and there did dine together, there

being there, among other company, Mr. Attorney Montagu, and his fine lady,

a fine woman. After dinner, I did understand from my Lady Jemimah that

her brother Hinchingbroke's business was to be ended this day, as she

thinks, towards his match, and they do talk here of their intent to buy

themselves some new clothes against the wedding, which I am very glad of.

After dinner I did even with Sir G. Carteret the accounts of the interest

of the money which I did so long put out for him in Sir R. Viner's hands,

and by it I think I shall be a gainer about L28, which is a very good

reward for the little trouble I have had in it. Thence with Sir Philip

Carteret to the King's playhouse, there to see "Love's Cruelty," an old

play, but which I have not seen before; and in the first act Orange Moll

come to me, with one of our porters by my house, to tell me that Mrs.

Pierce and Knepp did dine at my house to-day, and that I was desired to

come home. So I went out presently, and by coach home, and they were just

gone away so, after a very little stay with my wife, I took coach again,

and to the King's playhouse again, and come in the fourth act; and it

proves to me a very silly play, and to everybody else, as far as I could

judge. But the jest is, that here telling Moll how I had lost my journey,

she told me that Mrs. Knepp was in the house, and so shews me to her, and

I went to her, and sat out the play, and then with her to Mrs. Manuel's,

where Mrs. Pierce was, and her boy and girl; and here I did hear Mrs.

Manuel and one of the Italians, her gallant, sing well. But yet I confess

I am not delighted so much with it, as to admire it: for, not

understanding the words, I lose the benefit of the vocalitys of the

musick, and it proves only instrumental; and therefore was more pleased to

hear Knepp sing two or three little English things that I understood,

though the composition of the other, and performance, was very fine.

Thence, after sitting and talking a pretty while, I took leave and left

them there, and so to my bookseller's, and paid for the books I had

bought, and away home, where I told my wife where I had been. But she was

as mad as a devil, and nothing but ill words between us all the evening

while we sat at cards--W. Hewer and the girl by--even to gross ill words,

which I was troubled for, but do see that I must use policy to keep her

spirit down, and to give her no offence by my being with Knepp and Pierce,

of which, though she will not own it, yet she is heartily jealous. At

last it ended in few words and my silence (which for fear of growing

higher between us I did forbear), and so to supper and to bed without one

word one to another. This day I did carry money out, and paid several

debts. Among others, my tailor, and shoemaker, and draper, Sir W. Turner,

who begun to talk of the Commission of accounts, wherein he is one; but

though they are the greatest people that ever were in the nation as to

power, and like to be our judges, yet I did never speak one word to him of

desiring favour, or bidding him joy in it, but did answer him to what he

said, and do resolve to stand or fall by my silent preparing to answer

whatever can be laid to me, and that will be my best proceeding, I think.

This day I got a little rent in my new fine camlett cloak with the latch

of Sir G. Carteret's door; but it is darned up at my tailor's, that it

will be no great blemish to it; but it troubled me. I could not but

observe that Sir Philip Carteret would fain have given me my going into a

play; but yet, when he come to the door, he had no money to pay for

himself, I having refused to accept of it for myself, but was fain; and I

perceive he is known there, and do run upon the score for plays, which is

a shame; but I perceive always he is in want of money.

[The practice of gallants attending the theatre without payment is

illustrated by Mr. Lowe in his "Betterton," from Shadwell's "True

Widow":

"1st Doorkeeper. Pray, sir, pay me: my masters will make me

pay it.

3d Man. Impudent rascal, do you ask me for money? Take that,

sirrah.

2nd Doorkeeper. Will you pay me, sir?

4th Man. No; I don't intend to stay.

2nd Doorkeeper. So you say every day, and see two or three

acts for nothing."]

In the pit I met with Sir Ch. North, formerly Mr. North, who was with my

Lord at sea; and he, of his own accord, was so silly as to tell me he is

married; and for her quality (being a Lord's daughter, my Lord Grey), and

person, and beauty, and years, and estate, and disposition, he is the

happiest man in the world. I am sure he is an ugly fellow; but a good

scholar and sober gentleman; and heir to his father, now Lord North, the

old Lord being dead.

31st. Up, without words to my wife, or few, and those not angry, and so

to White Hall, and there waited a long time, while the Duke of York was

with the King in the Caball, and there I and Creed stayed talking without,

in the Vane-Room, and I perceive all people's expectation is, what will be

the issue of this great business of putting these great Lords out of the

council and power, the quarrel, I perceive, being only their standing

against the will of the King in the business of the Chancellor. Anon the

Duke of York comes out, and then to a committee of Tangier, where my Lord

Middleton did come to-day, and seems to me but a dull, heavy man; but he

is a great soldier, and stout, and a needy Lord, which will still keep

that poor garrison from ever coming to be worth anything to the King.

Here, after a short meeting, we broke up, and I home to the office, where

they are sitting, and so I to them, and having done our business rose, and

I home to dinner with my people, and there dined with me my uncle Thomas,

with a mourning hat-band on, for his daughter Mary, and here I and my

people did discourse of the Act for the accounts,

Diary of Samuel Pepys — Volume 60: December 1667 · 第 2 / 3 段