This day they engaged; the Dutch neglecting greatly the opportunity
of the wind they had of us, by which they lost the benefit of their
fire-ships. The Earl of Falmouth, Muskerry, and Mr. Richard Boyle killed
on board the Duke’s ship, the Royall Charles, with one shot: their blood
and brains flying in the Duke’s face; and the head of Mr. Boyle
striking down the Duke, as some say. Earle of Marlborough, Portland,
Rear-Admirall Sansum (to Prince Rupert) killed, and Capt. Kirby and
Ableson. Sir John Lawson wounded on the knee; hath had some bones taken
out, and is likely to be well again. Upon receiving the hurt, he sent to
the Duke for another to command the Royall Oake. The Duke sent Jordan
[Afterwards Sir Joseph Jordan, commander of the “Royal Sovereign,”
and Vice-Admiral of the Red, 1672. He was knighted on July 1st,
1665.--B.]
out of the St. George, who did brave things in her. Capt. Jer. Smith
of the Mary was second to the Duke, and stepped between him and Captain
Seaton of the Urania (76 guns and 400 men), who had sworn to board the
Duke; killed him, 200 men, and took the ship; himself losing 99 men, and
never an officer saved but himself and lieutenant. His master indeed is
saved, with his leg cut off: Admirall Opdam blown up, Trump killed,
and said by Holmes; all the rest of their admiralls, as they say, but
Everson (whom they dare not trust for his affection to the Prince of
Orange), are killed: we having taken and sunk, as is believed, about 24
of their best ships; killed and taken near 8 or 10,000 men, and lost, we
think, not above 700. A great[er] victory never known in the world. They
are all fled, some 43 got into the Texell, and others elsewhere, and we
in pursuit of the rest. Thence, with my heart full of joy; home, and to
my office a little; then to my Lady Pen’s, where they are all joyed and
not a little puffed up at the good successe of their father;
[In the royal charter granted by Charles II. in 1680 to William Penn
for the government of his American province, to be styled
Pennsylvania, special reference is made to “the memory and merits of
Sir William Penn in divers services, and particularly his conduct,
courage, and discretion under our dearest brother, James, Duke of
York, in that signal battle and victory fought and obtained against
the Dutch fleet commanded by Heer van Opdam in 1665” (“Penn’s
Memorials of Sir W. Penn,” vol. ii., p. 359).]
and good service indeed is said to have been done by him. Had a great
bonefire at the gate; and I with my Lady Pen’s people and others to Mrs.
Turner’s great room, and then down into the streete. I did give the boys
4s. among them, and mighty merry. So home to bed, with my heart at great
rest and quiett, saving that the consideration of the victory is too
great for me presently to comprehend.
[Mrs. Ady (Julia Cartwright), in her fascinating life of Henrietta,
Duchess of Orleans, gives an account of the receipt of the news of
the great sea-fight in Paris, and quotes a letter of Charles II. to
his sister, dated, “Whitehall, June 8th, 1665” The first report
that reached Paris was that “the Duke of York’s ship had been blown
up, and he himself had been drowned.” “The shock was too much for
Madame... she was seized with convulsions, and became so
dangerously ill that Lord Hollis wrote to the king, ‘If things had
gone ill at sea I really believe Madame would have died.’” Charles
wrote: “I thanke God we have now the certayne newes of a very
considerable victory over the Duch; you will see most of the
particulars by the relation my Lord Hopis will shew you, though I
have had as great a losse as ‘tis possible in a good frinde, poore
C. Barckely. It troubles me so much, as I hope you will excuse the
shortnesse of this letter, haveing receaved the newes of it but two
houres agoe” (“Madame,” 1894, pp. 215, 216).]
9th. Lay long in bed, my head akeing with too much thoughts I think
last night. Up and to White Hall, and my Lord Treasurer’s to Sir Ph.
Warwicke, about Tangier business, and in my way met with Mr. Moore, who
eases me in one point wherein I was troubled; which was, that I heard
of nothing said or done by my Lord Sandwich: but he tells me that Mr.
Cowling, my Lord Chamberlain’s secretary, did hear the King say that my
Lord Sandwich had done nobly and worthily. The King, it seems, is much
troubled at the fall of my Lord of Falmouth; but I do not meet with any
man else that so much as wishes him alive again, the world conceiving
him a man of too much pleasure to do the King any good, or offer any
good office to him. But I hear of all hands he is confessed to have been
a man of great honour, that did show it in this his going with the Duke,
the most that ever any man did. Home, where my people busy to make ready
a supper against night for some guests, in lieu of my stonefeast. At
noon eat a small dinner at home, and so abroad to buy several things,
and among others with my taylor to buy a silke suit, which though I had
one lately, yet I do, for joy of the good newes we have lately had
of our victory over the Dutch, which makes me willing to spare myself
something extraordinary in clothes; and after long resolution of having
nothing but black, I did buy a coloured silk ferrandin. So to the Old
Exchange, and there at my pretty seamstresses bought a pair of stockings
of her husband, and so home, where by and by comes Mr. Honiwood and Mrs.
Wilde, and Roger Pepys and, after long time spent, Mrs. Turner, The.
and Joyce. We had a very good venison pasty, this being instead of my
stone-feast the last March, and very merry we were, and the more I know
the more I like Mr. Honiwood’s conversation. So after a good supper they
parted, walking to the ‘Change for a coach, and I with them to see them
there. So home and to bed, glad it was over.
10th. Lay long in bed, and then up and at the office all the morning.
At noon dined at home, and then to the office busy all the afternoon.
In the evening home to supper; and there, to my great trouble, hear that
the plague is come into the City (though it hath these three or four
weeks since its beginning been wholly out of the City); but where
should it begin but in my good friend and neighbour’s, Dr. Burnett,
in Fanchurch Street: which in both points troubles me mightily. To the
office to finish my letters and then home to bed, being troubled at
the sicknesse, and my head filled also with other business enough, and
particularly how to put my things and estate in order, in case it should
please God to call me away, which God dispose of to his glory!
11th (Lord’s day). Up, and expected long a new suit; but, coming not,
dressed myself in my late new black silke camelott suit; and, when fully
ready, comes my new one of coloured ferrandin, which my wife puts me out
of love with, which vexes me, but I think it is only my not being used
to wear colours which makes it look a little unusual upon me. To my
chamber and there spent the morning reading. At noon, by invitation,
comes my two cozen Joyces and their wives, my aunt James and he-cozen
Harman, his wife being ill. I had a good dinner for them, and as merry
as I could be in such company. They being gone, I out of doors a little,
to shew, forsooth, my new suit, and back again, and in going I saw poor
Dr. Burnett’s door shut; but he hath, I hear, gained great goodwill
among his neighbours; for he discovered it himself first, and caused
himself to be shut up of his own accord: which was very handsome. In
the evening comes Mr. Andrews and his wife and Mr. Hill, and staid and
played, and sung and supped, most excellent pretty company, so pleasant,
ingenious, and harmless, I cannot desire better. They gone we to bed, my
mind in great present ease.
12th. Up, and in my yesterday’s new suit to the Duke of Albemarle, and
after a turne in White Hall, and then in Westminster Hall, returned, and
with my taylor bought some gold lace for my sleeve hands in Pater Noster
Row. So home to dinner, and then to the office, and down the River to
Deptford, and then back again and to my Lord Treasurer’s, and up and
down to look after my Tangier business, and so home to my office, then
to supper and to bed. The Duke of Yorke is sent for last night and
expected to be here to-morrow.
13th. Up and to the office, where all the morning doing business. At
noon with Sir G. Carteret to my Lord Mayor’s to dinner, where much
company in a little room, and though a good, yet no extraordinary table.
His name, Sir John Lawrence, whose father, a very ordinary old man, sat
there at table, but it seems a very rich man. Here were at table
three Sir Richard Brownes, viz.: he of the Councill, a clerk, and the
Alderman, and his son; and there was a little grandson also Richard, who
will hereafter be Sir Richard Browne. The Alderman did here openly tell
in boasting how he had, only upon suspicion of disturbances, if there
had been any bad newes from sea, clapped up several persons that he was
afeard of; and that he had several times done the like and would do, and
take no bail where he saw it unsafe for the King. But by and by he said
that he was now sued in the Exchequer by a man for false imprisonment,
that he had, upon the same score, imprisoned while he was Mayor four
years ago, and asked advice upon it. I told him I believed there was
none, and told my story of Field, at which he was troubled, and said
that it was then unsafe for any man to serve the King, and, I believed,
knows not what to do therein; but that Sir Richard Browne, of the
Councill, advised him to speak with my Lord Chancellor about it. My Lord
Mayor very respectfull to me; and so I after dinner away and found Sir
J. Minnes ready with his coach and four horses at our office gate, for
him and me to go out of towne to meet the Duke of Yorke coming from
Harwich to-night, and so as far as Ilford, and there ‘light. By and by
comes to us Sir John Shaw and Mr. Neale, that married the rich widow
Gold, upon the same errand. After eating a dish of creame, we took
coach again, hearing nothing of the Duke, and away home, a most pleasant
evening and road. And so to my office, where, after my letters wrote,
to supper and to bed. All our discourse in our way was Sir J. Minnes’s
telling me passages of the late King’s and his father’s, which I was
mightily pleased to hear for information, though the pride of some
persons and vice of most was but a sad story to tell how that brought
the whole kingdom and King to ruine.
14th. Up, and to Sir Ph. Warwicke’s and other places, about Tangier
business, but to little purpose. Among others to my Lord Treasurer’s,
there to speak with him, and waited in the lobby three long hours for to
speake with him, to the trial of my utmost patience, but missed him at
last, and forced to go home without it, which may teach me how I make
others wait. Home to dinner and staid Mr. Hater with me, and after
dinner drew up a petition for Mr. Hater to present to the Councill about
his troublesome business of powder, desiring a trial that his absence
may be vindicated, and so to White Hall, but it was not proper to
present it to-day. Here I met with Mr. Cowling, who observed to me how
he finds every body silent in the praise of my Lord Sandwich, to set up
the Duke and the Prince; but that the Duke did both to the King and my
Lord Chancellor write abundantly of my Lord’s courage and service.
[Charles II.’s letter of thanks to Lord Sandwich, dated “Whitehall,
June 9th, 1665,” written entirely in the king’s hand, is printed in
Ellis’s “Original Letters,” 1st series, vol. iii., p. 327.]
And I this day met with a letter of Captain Ferrers, wherein he tells
[us] my Lord was with his ship in all the heat of the day, and did most
worthily. Met with Creed, and he and I to Westminster; and there saw my
Lord Marlborough
[Of the four distinguished men who died after the late action with
the Dutch and were buried in Westminster Abbey, the Earl of
Marlborough was interred on June 14th, Viscount Muskerry on the
19th, the Earl of Falmouth on the 22nd, and Sir Edward Broughton on
the 26th. After the entries in the Abbey Registers is this note:
“These four last Honble Persons dyed in his Majy’s service against
the Dutch, excepting only that ST Ed Br received his death’s wound
at sea, but dyed here at home” (Chester’s “Westminster Abbey
Registers,” p. 162).]
brought to be buried, several Lords of the Council carrying him, and
with the herald in some state. Thence, vexed in my mind to think that
I do so little in my Tangier business, and so home, and after supper to
bed.
15th. Up, and put on my new stuff suit with close knees, which becomes
me most nobly, as my wife says. At the office all day. At noon, put on
my first laced band, all lace; and to Kate Joyce’s to dinner, where my
mother, wife, and abundance of their friends, and good usage. Thence,
wife and Mercer and I to the Old Exchange, and there bought two lace
bands more, one of my semstresse, whom my wife concurs with me to be
a pretty woman. So down to Deptford and Woolwich, my boy and I. At
Woolwich, discoursed with Mr. Sheldon about my bringing my wife down for
a month or two to his house, which he approves of, and, I think, will be
very convenient. So late back, and to the office, wrote letters, and
so home to supper and to bed. This day the Newes book upon Mr. Moore’s
showing L’Estrange
[“The Public Intelligencer,” published by Roger L’Estrange, the
predecessor of the “London Gazette.”]
(Captain Ferrers’s letter) did do my Lord Sandwich great right as to the
late victory. The Duke of Yorke not yet come to towne. The towne grows
very sickly, and people to be afeard of it; there dying this last
week of the plague 112, from 43 the week before, whereof but [one] in
Fanchurch-streete, and one in Broad-streete, by the Treasurer’s office.
16th. Up and to the office, where I set hard to business, but was
informed that the Duke of Yorke is come, and hath appointed us to attend
him this afternoon. So after dinner, and doing some business at the
office, I to White Hall, where the Court is full of the Duke and his
courtiers returned from sea. All fat and lusty, and ruddy by being in
the sun. I kissed his hands, and we waited all the afternoon. By and by
saw Mr. Coventry, which rejoiced my very heart. Anon he and I, from all
the rest of the company, walked into the Matted Gallery; where after
many expressions of love, we fell to talk of business. Among other
things, how my Lord Sandwich, both in his counsells and personal
service, hath done most honourably and serviceably. Sir J. Lawson is
come to Greenwich; but his wound in his knee yet very bad. Jonas Poole,
in the Vantguard, did basely, so as to be, or will be, turned out of his
ship. Captain Holmes
[Captain Robert Holmes (afterwards knighted). Sir William Coventry,
in a letter to Lord Arlington (dated from “The Royal Charles,”
Southwold Bay, June 13th), writes: “Capt. Holmes asked to be rear
admiral of the white squadron in place of Sansum who was killed, but
the Duke gave the place to Captain Harman, on which he delivered up
his commission, which the Duke received, and put Captain Langhorne
in his stead” (“Calendar of State Papers,” Domestic, 1664-65, p.
423).]
expecting upon Sansum’s death to be made Rear-admirall to the Prince
(but Harman is
[John Harman, afterwards knighted. He had served with great
reputation in several naval fights, and was desperately wounded in
1673, while]
put in) hath delivered up to the Duke his commission, which the Duke
took and tore. He, it seems, had bid the Prince, who first told him of
Holmes’s intention, that he should dissuade him from it; for that he
was resolved to take it if he offered it. Yet Holmes would do it, like
a rash, proud coxcombe. But he is rich, and hath, it seems, sought an
occasion of leaving the service. Several of our captains have done ill.
The great ships are the ships do the business, they quite deadening the
enemy. They run away upon sight of “The Prince.”
[“The Prince” was Lord Sandwich’s ship; the captain was Roger
Cuttance. It was put up at Chatham for repair at this date.]
It is strange to see how people do already slight Sir William Barkeley,
[Sir William Berkeley, see note, vol. iii., p. 334. His behaviour
after the death of his brother, Lord Falmouth, is severely commented
on in “Poems on State Affairs,” vol. i., p. 29
“Berkeley had heard it soon, and thought not good
To venture more of royal Harding’s blood;
To be immortal he was not of age,
And did e’en now the Indian Prize presage;
And judged it safe and decent, cost what cost,
To lose the day, since his dear brother’s lost.
With his whole squadron straight away he bore,
And, like good boy, promised to fight no more.”--B.]
my Lord FitzHarding’s brother, who, three months since, was the delight
of the Court. Captain Smith of “The Mary” the Duke talks mightily of;
and some great thing will be done for him. Strange to hear how the Dutch
do relate, as the Duke says, that they are the conquerors; and bonefires
are made in Dunkirke in their behalf; though a clearer victory can never
be expected. Mr. Coventry thinks they cannot have lost less than 6000
men, and we not dead above 200, and wounded about 400; in all about 600.
Thence home and to my office till past twelve, and then home to supper
and to bed, my wife and mother not being yet come home from W. Hewer’s
chamber, who treats my mother tonight. Captain Grovel the Duke told us
this day, hath done the basest thing at Lowestoffe, in hearing of the
guns, and could not (as others) be got out, but staid there; for which
he will be tried; and is reckoned a prating coxcombe, and of no courage.
17th. My wife come to bed about one in the morning. I up and abroad
about Tangier business, then back to the office, where we sat, and at
noon home to dinner, and then abroad to Mr. Povy’s, after I and Mr.
Andrews had been with Mr. Ball and one Major Strange, who looks after
the getting of money for tallys and is helping Mr. Andrews. I had much
discourse with Ball, and it may be he may prove a necessary man for our
turns. With Mr. Povy I spoke very freely my indifference as to my place
of Treasurer, being so much troubled in it, which he took with much
seeming trouble, that I should think of letting go so lightly the place,
but if the place can’t be held I will. So hearing that my Lord Treasurer
was gone out of town with his family because of the sicknesse, I
returned home without staying there, and at the office find Sir W.
Pen come home, who looks very well; and I am gladder to see him than
otherwise I should be because of my hearing so well of him for his
serviceablenesse in this late great action. To the office late, and then
home to bed. It struck me very deep this afternoon going with a hackney
coach from my Lord Treasurer’s down Holborne, the coachman I found to
drive easily and easily, at last stood still, and come down hardly able
to stand, and told me that he was suddenly struck very sicke, and almost
blind, he could not see; so I ‘light and went into another coach, with
a sad heart for the poor man and trouble for myself, lest he should have
been struck with the plague, being at the end of the towne that I took
him up; but God have mercy upon us all! Sir John Lawson, I hear, is
worse than yesterday: the King went to see him to-day most kindly. It
seems his wound is not very bad; but he hath a fever, a thrush, and a
hickup, all three together, which are, it seems, very bad symptoms.
18th (Lord’s day). Up, and to church, where Sir W. Pen was the first
time [since he] come from sea, after the battle. Mr. Mills made a sorry
sermon to prove that there was a world to come after this. Home and
dined and then to my chamber, where all the afternoon. Anon comes Mr.
Andrews to see and sing with me, but Mr. Hill not coming, and having
business, we soon parted, there coming Mr. Povy and Creed to discourse
about our Tangier business of money. They gone, I hear Sir W. Batten and
my Lady are returned from Harwich. I went to see them, and it is pretty
to see how we appear kind one to another, though neither of us care 2d.
one for another. Home to supper, and there coming a hasty letter from
Commissioner Pett for pressing of some calkers (as I would ever on
his Majesty’s service), with all speed, I made a warrant presently and
issued it. So to my office a little, and then home to bed.
19th. Up, and to White Hall with Sir W. Batten (calling at my Lord
Ashly’s, but to no purpose, by the way, he being not up), and there had
our usual meeting before the Duke with the officers of the Ordnance
with us, which in some respects I think will be the better for us, for
despatch sake. Thence home to the ‘Change and dined alone (my wife gone
to her mother’s), after dinner to my little new goldsmith’s,
[John Colvill of Lombard Street, see ante, May 24th. He lost
L85,832 17s. 2d. by the closing of the Exchequer in 1672, and he
died between 1672 and 1677 (Price’s “Handbook of London Bankers “).]
whose wife indeed is one of the prettiest, modest black women that ever
I saw. I paid for a dozen of silver salts L6 14s. 6d. Thence with Sir
W. Pen from the office down to Greenwich to see Sir J. Lawson, who is
better, but continues ill; his hickupp not being yet gone, could have
little discourse with him. So thence home and to supper, a while to the
office, my head and mind mightily vexed to see the multitude of papers
and business before [me] and so little time to do it in. So to bed.
20th. Thankes-giving-day for victory over ye Dutch. Up, and to the
office, where very busy alone all the morning till church time, and
there heard a mean sorry sermon of Mr. Mills. Then to the Dolphin
Taverne, where all we officers of the Navy met with the Commissioners
of the Ordnance by agreement, and dined: where good musique at my
direction. Our club--[share]
[“Next these a sort of Sots there are,
Who crave more wine than they can bear,
Yet hate, when drunk, to pay or spend
Their equal Club or Dividend,
But wrangle, when the Bill is brought,
And think they’re cheated when they’re not.”
The Delights of the Bottle, or the Compleat Vintner, 3rd ed., 1721,
p. 29.]
--come to 34s. a man, nine of us. Thence after dinner, to White Hall
with Sir W. Berkely in his coach, and so walked to Herbert’s and there
spent a little time.... Thence by water to Fox-hall, and there walked
an hour alone, observing the several humours of the citizens that were
there this holyday, pulling of cherries,--[The game of bob-cherry]--and
God knows what, and so home to my office, where late, my wife not being
come home with my mother, who have been this day all abroad upon the
water, my mother being to go out of town speedily. So I home and to
supper and to bed, my wife come home when I come from the office. This
day I informed myself that there died four or five at Westminster of the
plague in one alley in several houses upon Sunday last, Bell Alley, over
against the Palace-gate; yet people do think that the number will be
fewer in the towne than it was the last weeke! The Dutch are come out
again with 20 sail under Bankert; supposed gone to the Northward to
meete their East India fleete.
21st. Up, and very busy all the morning. At noon with Creed to the
Excise Office, where I find our tallys will not be money in less than
sixteen months, which is a sad thing for the King to pay all that
interest for every penny he spends; and, which is strange, the
goldsmiths with whom I spoke, do declare that they will not be moved
to part with money upon the increase of their consideration of ten per
cent. which they have, and therefore desire I would not move in it, and
indeed the consequence would be very ill to the King, and have its ill
consequences follow us through all the King’s revenue. Home, and my
uncle Wight and aunt James dined with me, my mother being to go
away to-morrow. So to White Hall, and there before and after Council
discoursed with Sir Thomas Ingram about our ill case as to Tangier for
money. He hath got the King to appoint a meeting on Friday, which I hope
will put an end one way or other to my pain. So homewards and to the
Cross Keys at Cripplegate, where I find all the towne almost going out
of towne, the coaches and waggons being all full of people going into
the country. Here I had some of the company of the tapster’s wife a
while, and so home to my office, and then home to supper and to bed.
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.