APRIL 1667

April 1st. Up, and with Sir J. Minnes in his coach, set him down at the

Treasurer’s Office in Broad-streete, and I in his coach to White Hall,

and there had the good fortune to walk with Sir W. Coventry into the

garden, and there read our melancholy letter to the Duke of York, which

he likes. And so to talk: and he flatly owns that we must have a peace,

for we cannot set out a fleete; and, to use his own words, he fears that

we shall soon have enough of fighting in this new way, which we have

thought on for this year. He bemoans the want of money, and discovers

himself jealous that Sir G. Carteret do not look after, or concern

himself for getting, money as he used to do, and did say it is true if

Sir G. Carteret would only do his work, and my Lord Treasurer would do

his own, Sir G. Carteret hath nothing to do to look after money, but

if he will undertake my Lord Treasurer’s work to raise money of the

Bankers, then people must expect that he will do it, and did further

say, that he [Carteret] and my Lord Chancellor do at this very day

labour all they can to villify this new way of raising money, and making

it payable, as it now is, into the Exchequer; and expressly said that

in pursuance hereof, my Lord Chancellor hath prevailed with the King, in

the close of his last speech to the House, to say, that he did hope

to see them come to give money as it used to be given, without so many

provisos, meaning, as Sir W. Coventry says, this new method of the Act.

While we were talking, there come Sir Thomas Allen with two ladies; one

of which was Mrs. Rebecca Allen, that I knew heretofore, the clerk of

the rope-yard’s daughter at Chatham, who, poor heart! come to desire

favour for her husband, who is clapt up, being a Lieutenant [Jowles],

for sending a challenge to his Captain, in the most saucy, base language

that could be writ. I perceive [Sir] W. Coventry is wholly resolved

to bring him to punishment; for, “bear with this,” says he, “and no

discipline shall ever be expected.” She in this sad condition took no

notice of me, nor I of her. So away we to the Duke of York, and there in

his closett [Sir] W. Coventry and I delivered the letter, which the Duke

of York made not much of, I thought, as to laying it to heart, as the

matter deserved, but did promise to look after the getting of money for

us, and I believe Sir W. Coventry will add what force he can to it. I

did speak to [Sir] W. Coventry about Balty’s warrant, which is ready,

and about being Deputy Treasurer, which he very readily and friendlily

agreed to, at which I was glad, and so away and by coach back to

Broad-streete to Sir G. Carteret’s, and there found my brother passing

his accounts, which I helped till dinner, and dined there, and many good

stories at dinner, among others about discoveries of murder, and Sir J.

Minnes did tell of the discovery of his own great-grandfather’s murder,

fifteen years after he was murdered. Thence, after dinner, home and by

water to Redriffe, and walked (fine weather) to Deptford, and there did

business and so back again, walked, and pleased with a jolly femme that

I saw going and coming in the way, which je could avoir been contented

pour avoir staid with if I could have gained acquaintance con elle, but

at such times as these I am at a great loss, having not confidence, no

alcune ready wit. So home and to the office, where late, and then home

to supper and bed. This evening Mrs. Turner come to my office, and did

walk an hour with me in the garden, telling me stories how Sir

Edward Spragge hath lately made love to our neighbour, a widow, Mrs.

Hollworthy, who is a woman of estate, and wit and spirit, and do contemn

him the most, and sent him away with the greatest scorn in the world;

she tells me also odd stories how the parish talks of Sir W. Pen’s

family, how poorly they clothe their daughter so soon after marriage,

and do say that Mr. Lowther was married once before, and some such

thing there hath been, whatever the bottom of it is. But to think of the

clatter they make with his coach, and his owne fine cloathes, and yet

how meanly they live within doors, and nastily, and borrowing everything

of neighbours is a most shitten thing.

2nd. Up, and to the office, where all the morning sitting, and much

troubled, but little business done for want of money, which makes me

mighty melancholy. At noon home to dinner, and Mr. Deane with me, who

hath promised me a very fine draught of the Rupert, which he will make

purposely for me with great perfection, which I will make one of the

beautifullest things that ever was seen of the kind in the world, she

being a ship that will deserve it. Then to the office, where all the

afternoon very busy, and in the evening weary home and there to sing,

but vexed with the unreadiness of the girle’s voice to learn the latter

part of my song, though I confess it is very hard, half notes. So to

supper and to bed.

3rd. Up, and with Sir W. Batten to White Hall to Sir W. Coventry’s

chamber, and there did receive the Duke’s order for Balty’s receiving of

the contingent money to be paymaster of it, and it pleases me the more

for that it is but L1500, which will be but a little sum for to try his

ability and honesty in the disposing of, and so I am the willinger to

trust and pass my word for him therein. By and by up to the Duke of

York, where our usual business, and among other things I read two most

dismal letters of the straits we are in (from Collonell Middleton and

Commissioner Taylor) that ever were writ in the world, so as the Duke

of York would have them to shew the King, and to every demand of money,

whereof we proposed many and very pressing ones, Sir G. Carteret could

make no answer but no money, which I confess made me almost ready to cry

for sorrow and vexation, but that which was the most considerable was

when Sir G. Carteret did say that he had no funds to raise money on; and

being asked by Sir W. Coventry whether the eleven months’ tax was not a

fund, and he answered, “No, that the bankers would not lend money upon

it.” Then Sir W. Coventry burst out and said he did supplicate his Royal

Highness, and would do the same to the King, that he would remember who

they were that did persuade the King from parting with the Chimney-money

to the Parliament, and taking that in lieu which they would certainly

have given, and which would have raised infallibly ready money; meaning

the bankers and the farmers of the Chimney-money, whereof Sir, G.

Carteret, I think, is one; saying plainly, that whoever did advise the

King to that, did, as much as in them lay, cut the King’s throat,

and did wholly betray him; to which the Duke of York did assent; and

remembered that the King did say again and again at the time, that he

was assured, and did fully believe, the money would be raised presently

upon a land-tax. This put as all into a stound; and Sir W. Coventry went

on to declare, that he was glad he was come to have so lately concern in

the Navy as he hath, for he cannot now give any good account of the

Navy business; and that all his work now was to be able to provide such

orders as would justify his Royal Highness in the business, when it

shall be called to account; and that he do do, not concerning himself

whether they are or can be performed, or no; and that when it comes to

be examined, and falls on my Lord Treasurer, he cannot help it, whatever

the issue of it shall be. Hereupon Sir W. Batten did pray him to keep

also by him all our letters that come from the office that may justify

us, which he says he do do, and, God knows, it is an ill sign when

we are once to come to study how to excuse ourselves. It is a sad

consideration, and therewith we broke up, all in a sad posture, the most

that ever I saw in my life. One thing more Sir W. Coventry did say

to the Duke of York, when I moved again, that of about L9000 debt to

Lanyon, at Plymouth, he might pay L3700 worth of prize-goods, that he

bought lately at the candle, out of this debt due to him from the King;

and the Duke of York, and Sir G: Carteret, and Lord Barkeley, saying,

all of them, that my Lord Ashly would not be got to yield to it, who

is Treasurer of the Prizes, Sir W. Coventry did plainly desire that it

might be declared whether the proceeds of the prizes were to go to the

helping on of the war, or no; and, if it were, how then could this be

denied? which put them all into another stound; and it is true, God

forgive us! Thence to the chappell, and there, by chance, hear that Dr.

Crew is to preach; and so into the organ-loft, where I met Mr. Carteret,

and my Lady Jemimah, and Sir Thomas Crew’s two daughters, and Dr. Childe

played; and Dr. Crew did make a very pretty, neat, sober, honest sermon;

and delivered it very readily, decently, and gravely, beyond his years:

so as I was exceedingly taken with it, and I believe the whole

chappell, he being but young; but his manner of his delivery I do like

exceedingly. His text was, “But seeke ye first the kingdom of God, and

his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.” Thence

with my Lady to Sir G. Carteret’s lodgings, and so up into the house,

and there do hear that the Dutch letters are come, and say that the

Dutch have ordered a passe to be sent for our Commissioners, and that it

is now upon the way, coming with a trumpeter blinded, as is usual. But I

perceive every body begins to doubt the success of the treaty, all their

hopes being only that if it can be had on any terms, the Chancellor will

have it; for he dare not come before a Parliament, nor a great many more

of the courtiers, and the King himself do declare he do not desire it,

nor intend it but on a strait; which God defend him from! Here I hear

how the King is not so well pleased of this marriage between the Duke

of Richmond and Mrs. Stewart, as is talked; and that he [the Duke] by a

wile did fetch her to the Beare, at the Bridge-foot, where a coach was

ready, and they are stole away into Kent, without the King’s leave; and

that the King hath said he will never see her more; but people do think

that it is only a trick. This day I saw Prince Rupert abroad in the

Vane-room, pretty well as he used to be, and looks as well, only

something appears to be under his periwigg on the crown of his head. So

home by water, and there find my wife gone abroad to her tailor’s, and I

dined alone with W. Hewer, and then to the office to draw up a memorial

for the Duke of York this afternoon at the Council about Lanyon’s

business. By and by we met by appointment at the office upon a reference

to Carcasses business to us again from the Duke of York, but a very

confident cunning rogue we have found him at length. He carried himself

very uncivilly to Sir W. Batten this afternoon, as heretofore, and his

silly Lord [Bruncker] pleaded for him, but all will not nor shall not do

for ought he shall give, though I love the man as a man of great parts

and ability. Thence to White Hall by water (only asking Betty Michell

by the way how she did), and there come too late to do any thing at the

Council. So by coach to my periwigg maker’s and tailor’s, and so home,

where I find my wife with her flageolet master, which I wish she would

practise, and so to the office, and then to Sir W. Batten’s, and then to

Sir W. Pen’s, talking and spending time in vain a little while, and

then home up to my chamber, and so to supper and to bed, vexed at two or

three things, viz. that my wife’s watch proves so bad as it do; the

ill state of the office; and Kingdom’s business; at the charge which my

mother’s death for mourning will bring me when all paid.

4th. Up, and going down found Jervas the barber with a periwigg which I

had the other day cheapened at Westminster, but it being full of nits,

as heretofore his work used to be, I did now refuse it, having bought

elsewhere. So to the office till noon, busy, and then (which I think I

have not done three times in my life) left the board upon occasion of a

letter of Sir W. Coventry, and meeting Balty at my house I took him with

me by water, and to the Duke of Albemarle to give him an account of the

business, which was the escaping of some soldiers for the manning of a

few ships now going out with Harman to the West Indies, which is a

sad consideration that at the very beginning of the year and few ships

abroad we should be in such want of men that they do hide themselves,

and swear they will not go to be killed and have no pay. I find the Duke

of Albemarle at dinner with sorry company, some of his officers of the

Army; dirty dishes, and a nasty wife at table, and bad meat, of which I

made but an ill dinner. Pretty to hear how she talked against Captain

Du Tell, the Frenchman, that the Prince and her husband put out the last

year; and how, says she, the Duke of York hath made him, for his good

services, his Cupbearer; yet he fired more shot into the Prince’s ship,

and others of the King’s ships, than of the enemy. And the Duke of

Albemarle did confirm it, and that somebody in the fight did cry out

that a little Dutchman, by his ship, did plague him more than any other;

upon which they were going to order him to be sunk, when they looked

and found it was Du Tell, who, as the Duke of Albemarle says, had killed

several men in several of our ships. He said, but for his interest,

which he knew he had at Court, he had hanged him at the yard’s-arm,

without staying for a Court-martiall. One Colonel Howard, at the table,

magnified the Duke of Albemarle’s fight in June last, as being a greater

action than ever was done by Caesar. The Duke of Albemarle, did say it

had been no great action, had all his number fought, as they should have

done, to have beat the Dutch; but of his 55 ships, not above 25 fought.

He did give an account that it was a fight he was forced to: the Dutch

being come in his way, and he being ordered to the buoy of the Nore, he

could not pass by them without fighting, nor avoid them without great

disadvantage and dishonour; and this Sir G. Carteret, I afterwards

giving him an account of what he said, says that it is true, that he

was ordered up to the Nore. But I remember he said, had all his captains

fought, he would no more have doubted to have beat the Dutch, with all

their number, than to eat the apple that lay on his trencher. My Lady

Duchesse, among other things, discoursed of the wisdom of dividing the

fleete; which the General said nothing to, though he knows well that

it come from themselves in the fleete, and was brought up hither by Sir

Edward Spragge. Colonel Howard, asking how the prince did, the Duke of

Albemarle answering, “Pretty well;” the other replied, “But not so well

as to go to sea again.”--“How!” says the Duchess, “what should he go

for, if he were well, for there are no ships for him to command? And so

you have brought your hogs to a fair market,” said she. [It was pretty

to hear the Duke of Albemarle himself to wish that they would come on

our ground, meaning the French, for that he would pay them, so as to

make them glad to go back to France again; which was like a general, but

not like an admiral.] One at the table told an odd passage in this late

plague: that at Petersfield, I think, he said, one side of the street

had every house almost infected through the town, and the other, not one

shut up. Dinner being done, I brought Balty to the Duke of Albemarle to

kiss his hand and thank him far his kindness the last year to him, and

take leave of him, and then Balty and I to walk in the Park, and, out

of pity to his father, told him what I had in my thoughts to do for him

about the money--that is, to make him Deputy Treasurer of the fleete,

which I have done by getting Sir G. Carteret’s consent, and an order

from the Duke of York for L1500 to be paid to him. He promises the whole

profit to be paid to my wife, for to be disposed of as she sees fit, for

her father and mother’s relief. So mightily pleased with our walk, it

being mighty pleasant weather, I back to Sir G. Carteret’s, and there he

had newly dined, and talked, and find that he do give every thing over

for lost, declaring no money to be raised, and let Sir W. Coventry name

the man that persuaded the King to take the Land Tax on promise, of

raising present money upon it. He will, he says, be able to clear

himself enough of it. I made him merry, with telling him how many

land-admirals we are to have this year: Allen at Plymouth, Holmes

at Portsmouth, Spragge for Medway, Teddiman at Dover, Smith to the

Northward, and Harman to the Southward. He did defend to me Sir W.

Coventry as not guilty of the dividing of the fleete the last year, and

blesses God, as I do, for my Lord Sandwich’s absence, and tells me

how the King did lately observe to him how they have been particularly

punished that were enemies to my Lord Sandwich. Mightily pleased I am

with his family, and my Lady Carteret was on the bed to-day, having been

let blood, and tells me of my Lady Jemimah’s being big-bellied. Thence

with him to my Lord Treasurer’s, and there walked during Council sitting

with Sir Stephen Fox, talking of the sad condition of the King’s purse,

and affairs thereby; and how sad the King’s life must be, to pass by

his officers every hour, that are four years behind-hand unpaid. My Lord

Barkeley [of Stratton] I met with there, and fell into talk with him on

the same thing, wishing to God that it might be remedied, to which he

answered, with an oath, that it was as easy to remedy it as anything in

the world; saying, that there is himself and three more would venture

their carcasses upon it to pay all the King’s debts in three years, had

they the managing his revenue, and putting L300,000 in his purse, as a

stock. But, Lord! what a thing is this to me, that do know how likely

a man my Lord Barkeley of all the world is, to do such a thing as this.

Here I spoke with Sir W. Coventry, who tells me plainly that to all

future complaints of lack of money he will answer but with the shrug of

his shoulder; which methought did come to my heart, to see him to begin

to abandon the King’s affairs, and let them sink or swim, so he do his

owne part, which I confess I believe he do beyond any officer the King

hath, but unless he do endeavour to make others do theirs, nothing will

be done. The consideration here do make me go away very sad, and so home

by coach, and there took up my wife and Mercer, who had been to-day at

White Hall to the Maundy,

[The practice of giving alms on Maundy Thursday to poor men and

women equal in number to the years of the sovereign’s age is a

curious survival in an altered form of an old custom. The original

custom was for the king to wash the feet of twelve poor persons, and

to give them a supper in imitation of Christ’s last supper and his

washing of the Apostles’ feet. James II. was the last sovereign to

perform the ceremony in person, but it was performed by deputy so

late as 1731. The Archbishop of York was the king’s deputy on that

occasion. The institution has passed through the various stages of

feet washing with a supper, the discontinuance of the feet washing,

the substitution of a gift of provisions for the supper, and finally

the substitution of a gift of money for the provisions. The

ceremony took place at the Chapel Royal, Whitehall; but it is now

held at Westminster Abbey. Maundy is derived from the Latin word

‘maudatum’, which commences the original anthem sung during the

ceremony, in reference to Christ’s command]

it being Maundy Thursday; but the King did not wash the poor people’s

feet himself, but the Bishop of London did it for him, but I did not see

it, and with them took up Mrs. Anne Jones at her mother’s door, and so

to take the ayre to Hackney, where good neat’s tongue, and things to eat

and drink, and very merry, the weather being mighty pleasant; and here

I was told that at their church they have a fair pair of organs, which

play while the people sing, which I am mighty glad of, wishing the

like at our church at London, and would give L50 towards it. So very

pleasant, and hugging of Mercer in our going home, we home, and then to

the office to do a little business, and so to supper at home and to bed.

5th. Up, and troubled with Mr. Carcasse’s coming to speak with me,

which made me give him occasion to fall into a heat, and he began to be

ill-mannered to me, which made me angry. He gone, I to Sir W. Pen about

the business of Mrs. Turner’s son to keep his ship in employment, but

so false a fellow as Sir W. Pen is I never did nor hope shall ever know

again. So to the office, and there did business, till dinnertime, and

then home to dinner, wife and I alone, and then down to the Old Swan,

and drank with Betty and her husband, but no opportunity para baiser la.

So to White Hall to the Council chamber, where I find no Council held

till after the holidays. So to Westminster Hall, and there bought a pair

of snuffers, and saw Mrs. Howlett after her sickness come to the Hall

again. So by coach to the New Exchange and Mercer’s and other places to

take up bills for what I owe them, and to Mrs. Pierce, to invite her to

dinner with us on Monday, but staid not with her. In the street met with

Mr. Sanchy, my old acquaintance at Cambridge, reckoned a great minister

here in the City; and by Sir Richard Ford particularly, which I wonder

at; for methinks, in his talk, he is but a mean man. I set him down in

Holborne, and I to the Old Exchange, and there to Sir Robert Viner’s,

and made up my accounts there, to my great content; but I find they do

not keep them so regularly as, to be able to do it easily, and truly,

and readily, nor would it have been easily stated by any body on my

behalf but myself, several things being to be recalled to memory, which

nobody else could have done, and therefore it is fully necessary for me

to even accounts with these people as often as I can. So to the ‘Change,

and there met with Mr. James Houblon, but no hopes, as he sees, of peace

whatever we pretend, but we shall be abused by the King of France. Then

home to the office, and busy late, and then to Sir W. Batten’s, where

Mr. Young was talking about the building of the City again; and he told

me that those few churches that are to be new built are plainly not

chosen with regard to the convenience of the City; they stand a great

many in a cluster about Cornhill; but that all of them are either in the

gift of the Lord Archbishop, or Bishop of London, or Lord Chancellor, or

gift of the City. Thus all things, even to the building of churches, are

done in this world! And then he says, which I wonder at, that I should

not in all this time see, that Moorefields have houses two stories high

in them, and paved streets, the City having let leases for seven years,

which he do conclude will be very much to the hindering the building of

the City; but it was considered that the streets cannot be passable in

London till a whole street be built; and several that had got ground of

the City for charity, to build sheds on, had got the trick presently

to sell that for L60, which did not cost them L20 to put up; and so the

City, being very poor in stock, thought it as good to do it themselves,

and therefore let leases for seven years of the ground in Moorefields;

and a good deal of this money, thus advanced, hath been employed for

the enabling them to find some money for Commissioner Taylor, and Sir

W. Batten, towards the charge of “The Loyall London,” or else, it is

feared, it had never been paid. And Taylor having a bill to pay wherein

Alderman Hooker was concerned it was his invention to find out this

way of raising money, or else this had not been thought on. So home

to supper and to bed. This morning come to me the Collectors for my

Pollmoney; for which I paid for my title as Esquire and place of Clerk

of Acts, and my head and wife’s, and servants’ and their wages, L40 17s;

and though this be a great deal, yet it is a shame I should pay no more;

that is, that I should not be assessed for my pay, as in the Victualling

business and Tangier; and for my money, which, of my own accord, I had

determined to charge myself with L1000 money, till coming to the Vestry,

and seeing nobody of our ablest merchants, as Sir Andrew Rickard, to

do it, I thought it not decent for me to do it, nor would it be thought

wisdom to do it unnecessarily, but vain glory.

6th. Up, and betimes in the morning down to the Tower wharfe, there to

attend the shipping of soldiers, to go down to man some ships going out,

and pretty to see how merrily some, and most go, and how sad others--the

leave they take of their friends, and the terms that some wives, and

other wenches asked to part with them: a pretty mixture. So to the

office, having staid as long as I could, and there sat all the morning,

and then home at noon to dinner, and then abroad, Balty with me, and to

White Hall, by water, to Sir G. Carteret, about Balty’s L1500 contingent

money for the fleete to the West Indys, and so away with him to the

Exchange, and mercers and drapers, up and down, to pay all my scores

occasioned by this mourning for my mother; and emptied a L50 bag, and it

was a joy to me to see that I am able to part with such a sum, without

much inconvenience; at least, without any trouble of mind. So to Captain

Cocke’s to meet Fenn, to talk about this money for Balty, and there

Cocke tells me that he is confident there will be a peace, whatever

terms be asked us, and he confides that it will take because the French

and Dutch will be jealous one of another which shall give the best

terms, lest the other should make the peace with us alone, to the ruin

of the third, which is our best defence, this jealousy, for ought I at

present see. So home and there very late, very busy, and then home to

supper and to bed, the people having got their house very clean against

Monday’s dinner.

7th (Easter day). Up, and when dressed with my wife (in mourning for my

mother) to church both, where Mr. Mills, a lazy sermon. Home to dinner,

wife and I and W. Hewer, and after dinner I by water to White Hall to

Sir G. Carteret’s, there to talk about Balty’s money, and did present

Balty to him to kiss his hand, and then to walk in the Parke, and heard

the Italian musique at the Queen’s chapel, whose composition is fine,

but yet the voices of eunuchs I do not like like our women, nor am more

pleased with it at all than with English voices, but that they do

jump most excellently with themselves and their instrument, which is

wonderful pleasant; but I am convinced more and more, that, as every

nation has a particular accent and tone in discourse, so as the tone of

one not to agree with or please the other, no more can the fashion of

singing to words, for that the better the words are set, the more they

take in of the ordinary tone of the country whose language the song

speaks, so that a song well composed by an Englishman must be better to

an Englishman than it can be to a stranger, or than if set by a stranger

in foreign words. Thence back to White Hall, and there saw the King come

out of chapel after prayers in the afternoon, which he is never at but

after having received the Sacrament: and the Court, I perceive, is quite

out of mourning; and some very fine; among others, my Lord Gerard, in

a very rich vest and coat. Here I met with my Lord Bellasses: and it is

pretty to see what a formal story he tells me of his leaving, his place

upon the death of my Lord Cleveland, by which he is become Captain of

the Pensioners; and that the King did leave it to him to keep the other

or take this; whereas, I know the contrary, that they had a mind to have

him away from Tangier. He tells me he is commanded by the King to go

down to the Northward to satisfy the Deputy Lieutenants of Yorkshire,

who have desired to lay down their commissions upon pretence of having

no profit by their places but charge, but indeed is upon the Duke of

Buckingham’s being under a cloud (of whom there is yet nothing heard),

so that the King is apprehensive of their discontent, and sends him to

pacify them, and I think he is as good a dissembler as any man else, and

a fine person he is for person, and proper to lead the Pensioners, but

a man of no honour nor faith I doubt. So to Sir G. Carteret’s again

to talk with him about Balty’s money, and wrote a letter to Portsmouth

about part of it, and then in his coach, with his little daughter Porpot

(as he used to nickname her), and saw her at home, and her maid, and

another little gentlewoman, and so I walked into Moore Fields, and, as

is said, did find houses built two stories high, and like to stand; and

it must become a place of great trade, till the City be built; and

the street is already paved as London streets used to be, which is a

strange, and to mean unpleasing sight. So home and to my chamber about

sending an express to Portsmouth about Balty’s money, and then comes

Mrs. Turner to enquire after her son’s business, which goes but bad,

which led me to show her how false Sir W. Pen is to her, whereupon she

told me his obligations to her, and promises to her, and how a while

since he did show himself dissatisfied in her son’s coming to the table

and applying himself to me, which is a good nut, and a nut I will make

use of. She gone I to other business in my chamber, and then to supper

and to bed. The Swede’s Embassadors and our Commissioners are making all

the haste they can over to the treaty for peace, and I find at Court,

and particularly Lord Bellasses, says there will be a peace, and it is

worth remembering what Sir W. Coventry did tell me (as a secret though)

that whereas we are afeard Harman’s fleete to the West Indys will not

be got out before the Dutch come and block us up, we shall have a happy

pretext to get out our ships under pretence of attending the Embassadors

and Commissioners, which is a very good, but yet a poor shift.

8th. Up, and having dressed myself, to the office a little, and out,

expecting to have seen the pretty daughter of the Ship taverne at the

hither end of Billiter Lane (whom I never yet have opportunity to speak

to). I in there to drink my morning draught of half a pint of Rhenish

wine; but a ma doleur elle and their family are going away thence, and

a new man come to the house. So I away to the Temple, to my new.

bookseller’s; and there I did agree for Rycaut’s late History of the

Turkish Policy, which costs me 55s.; whereas it was sold plain before

the late fire for 8s., and bound and coloured as this is for 20s.; for

I have bought it finely bound and truly coloured, all the figures, of

which there was but six books done so, whereof the King and Duke of

York, and Duke of Monmouth, and Lord Arlington, had four. The fifth was

sold, and I have bought the sixth. So to enquire out Mrs. Knipp’s new

lodging, but could not, but do hear of her at the Playhouse, where she

was practising, and I sent for her out by a porter, and the jade come

to me all undressed, so cannot go home to my house to dinner, as I had

invited her, which I was not much troubled at, because I think there is

a distance between her and Mrs. Pierce, and so our company would not be

so pleasant. So home, and there find all things in good readiness for

a good dinner, and here unexpectedly I find little Mis. Tooker, whom my

wife loves not from the report of her being already naught; however, I

do shew her countenance, and by and by come my guests, Dr. Clerke and

his wife, and Mrs. Worshipp, and her daughter; and then Mr. Pierce and

his wife, and boy, and Betty; and then I sent for Mercer; so that we

had, with my wife and I, twelve at table, and very good and pleasant

company, and a most neat and excellent, but dear dinner; but, Lord! to

see with what envy they looked upon all my fine plate was pleasant;

for I made the best shew I could, to let them understand me and my

condition, to take down the pride of Mrs. Clerke, who thinks herself

very great. We sat long, and very merry, and all things agreeable; and,

after dinner, went out by coaches, thinking to have seen a play, but

come too late to both houses, and then they had thoughts of going

abroad somewhere; but I thought all the charge ought not to be mine, and

therefore I endeavoured to part the company, and so ordered it to set

them all down at Mrs. Pierces; and there my wife and I and Mercer left

them in good humour, and we three to the King’s house, and saw the

latter end of the “Surprisall,” a wherein was no great matter, I

thought, by what I saw there. Thence away to Polichinello, and there

had three times more sport than at the play, and so home, and there the

first night we have been this year in the garden late, we three and our

Barker singing very well, and then home to supper, and so broke up, and

to bed mightily pleased with this day’s pleasure.

9th. Up. and to the office a while, none of my fellow officers coming to

sit, it being holiday, and so towards noon I to the Exchange, and there

do hear mighty cries for peace, and that otherwise we shall be undone;

and yet I do suspect the badness of the peace we shall make. Several do

complain of abundance of land flung up by tenants out of their hands

for want of ability to pay their rents; and by name, that the Duke of

Buckingham hath L6000 so flung up. And my father writes, that Jasper

Trice, upon this pretence of his tenants’ dealing with him, is broke

up housekeeping, and gone to board with his brother, Naylor, at Offord;

which is very sad. So home to dinner, and after dinner I took coach and

to the King’s house, and by and by comes after me my wife with W. Hewer

and his mother and Barker, and there we saw “The Tameing of a Shrew,”

which hath some very good pieces in it, but generally is but a mean

play; and the best part, “Sawny,”

[This play was entitled “Sawney the Scot, or the Taming of a Shrew,”

and consisted of an alteration of Shakespeare’s play by John Lacy.

Although it had long been popular it was not printed until 1698. In

the old “Taming of a Shrew” (1594), reprinted by Thomas Amyot for

the Shakespeare Society in 1844, the hero’s servant is named Sander,

and this seems to have given the hint to Lacy, when altering

Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew,” to foist a ‘Scotsman into the

action. Sawney was one of Lacy’s favourite characters, and occupies

a prominent position in Michael Wright’s picture at Hampton Court.

Evelyn, on October 3rd, 1662, “visited Mr. Wright, a Scotsman, who

had liv’d long at Rome, and was esteem’d a good painter,” and he

singles out as his best picture, “Lacy, the famous Roscius, or

comedian, whom he has painted in three dresses, as a gallant, a

Presbyterian minister, and a Scotch Highlander in his plaid.”

Langbaine and Aubrey both make the mistake of ascribing the third

figure to Teague in “The Committee;” and in spite of Evelyn’s clear

statement, his editor in a note follows them in their blunder.

Planche has reproduced the picture in his “History of Costume”

(Vol. ii., p. 243).]

done by Lacy, hath not half its life, by reason of the words, I suppose,

not being understood, at least by me. After the play was done, as I come

so I went away alone, and had a mind to have taken out Knipp to have

taken the ayre with her, and to that end sent a porter in to her that

she should take a coach and come to me to the Piatza in Covent Garden,

where I waited for her, but was doubtful I might have done ill in doing

it if we should be visti ensemble, sed elle was gone out, and so I was

eased of my care, and therefore away to Westminster to the Swan, and

there did baiser la little missa.... and drank, and then by water to the

Old Swan, and there found Betty Michell sitting at the door, it being

darkish. I staid and talked a little with her, but no once baiser la,

though she was to my thinking at this time une de plus pretty mohers

that ever I did voir in my vida, and God forgive me my mind did run

sobre elle all the vespre and night and la day suivante. So home and to

the office a little, and then to Sir W. Batten’s, where he tells me how

he hath found his lady’s jewels again, which have been so long lost, and

a servant imprisoned and arraigned, and they were in her closet under a

china cup, where he hath servants will swear they did look in searching

the house; but Mrs. Turner and I, and others, do believe that they were

only disposed of by my Lady, in case she had died, to some friends of

hers, and now laid there again. So home to supper, and to read the book

I bought yesterday of the Turkish policy, which is a good book, well

writ, and so owned by Dr. Clerke yesterday to me, commending it mightily

to me for my reading as the only book of the subject that ever was writ,

yet so designedly. So to bed.

10th. Up, and to my office a little, and then, in the garden, find Sir

W. Pen; and he and I to Sir W. Batten, where he tells us news of the new

disorders of Hogg and his men in taking out of 30 tons of wine out of a

prize of ours, which makes us mad; and that, added to the unwillingness

of the men to go longer abroad without money, do lead us to conclude

not to keep her abroad any longer, of which I am very glad, for I do not

like our doings with what we have already got, Sir W. Batten ordering

the disposal of our wines and goods, and he leaves it to Morrice the

cooper, who I take to be a cunning proud knave, so that I am very

desirous to adventure no further. So away by water from the Old Swan to

White Hall, and there to Sir W. Coventry’s, with whom I staid a great

while longer than I have done these many months, and had opportunity of

talking with him, and he do declare himself troubled that he hath any

thing left him to do in the Navy, and would be glad to part with his

whole profits and concernments in it, his pains and care being wholly

ineffectual during this lack of money; the expense growing infinite, the

service not to be done, and discipline and order not to be kept, only

from want of money. I begun to discourse with him the business of

Tangier, which by the removal of my Lord Bellasses, is now to have a

new Governor; and did move him, that at this season all the business

of reforming the garrison might be considered, while nobody was to be

offended; and I told him it is plain that we do overspend our revenue:

that the place is of no more profit to the King than it was the first

day, nor in itself of better credit; no more people of condition willing

to live there, nor any thing like a place likely to turn his Majesty to

account: that it hath been hitherto, and, for aught I see, likely only

to be used as a job to do a kindness to some Lord, or he that can get to

be Governor. Sir W. Coventry agreed with me, so as to say, that unless

the King hath the wealth of the Mogul, he would be a beggar to have his

businesses ordered in the manner they now are: that his garrisons must

be made places only of convenience to particular persons that he hath

moved the Duke of York in it; and that it was resolved to send no

Governor thither till there had been Commissioners sent to put the

garrison in order, so as that he that goes may go with limitations and

rules to follow, and not to do as he please, as the rest have hitherto

done. That he is not afeard to speak his mind, though to the displeasure

of any man; and that I know well enough; but that, when it is come, as

it is now, that to speak the truth in behalf of the King plainly do no

good, but all things bore down by other measures than by what is best

for the King, he hath no temptation to be perpetually fighting of

battles, it being more easy to him do those terms to suffer things to go

on without giving any man offence, than to have the same thing done, and

he contract the displeasure of all the world, as he must do, that will

be for the King. I did offer him to draw up my thoughts in this matter

to present to the Duke of York, which he approved of, and I do think

to do it. So away, and by coach going home saw Sir G. Carteret going

towards White Hall. So ‘light and by water met him, and with him to the

King’s little chapel; and afterwards to see the King heal the King’s

Evil, wherein no pleasure, I having seen it before; and then to see him

and the Queene and Duke of York and his wife, at dinner in the Queene’s

lodgings; and so with Sir G. Carteret to his lodgings to dinner; where

very good company; and after dinner he and I to talk alone how things

are managed, and to what ruin we must come if we have not a peace. He

did tell me one occasion, how Sir Thomas Allen, which I took for a man

of known courage and service on the King’s side, was tried for his

life in Prince Rupert’s fleete, in the late times, for cowardice,

and condemned to be hanged, and fled to Jersey; where Sir G. Carteret

received him, not knowing the reason of his coming thither: and that

thereupon Prince Rupert wrote to the Queen-Mother his dislike of Sir

G. Carteret’s receiving a person that stood condemned; and so Sir G.

Carteret was forced to bid him betake himself to some other place. This

was strange to me. Our Commissioners are preparing to go to Bredah to

the treaty, and do design to be going the next week. So away by coach

home, where there should have been a meeting about Carcasse’s business,

but only my Lord and I met, and so broke up, Carcasse having only read

his answer to his charge, which is well writ, but I think will not prove

to his advantage, for I believe him to be a very rogue. So home, and

Balty and I to look Mr. Fenn at Sir G. Carteret’s office in Broad

Streete, and there missing him and at the banker’s hard by, we home, and

I down by water to Deptford Dockyard, and there did a little business,

and so home back again all the way reading a little piece I lately

bought, called “The Virtuoso, or the Stoicke,” proposing many things

paradoxical to our common opinions, wherein in some places he speaks

well, but generally is but a sorry man. So home and to my chamber to

enter my two last days’ journall, and this, and then to supper and to

bed. Blessed be God! I hear that my father is better and better, and

will, I hope, live to enjoy some cheerful days more; but it is strange

what he writes me, that Mr. Weaver, of Huntingdon, who was a lusty,

likely, and but a youngish man, should be dead.

11th. Up, and to the office, where we sat all the morning, and (which is

now rare, he having not been with us twice I think these six months) Sir

G. Carteret come to us upon some particular business of his office, and

went away again. At noon I to the ‘Change, and there hear by Mr. Hublon

of the loss of a little East Indiaman, valued at about L20,000, coming

home alone, and safe to within ten leagues of Scilly, and there snapt

by a French Caper. Our merchants do much pray for peace; and he tells me

that letters are come that the Dutch have stopped the fitting of their

great ships, and the coming out of a fleete of theirs of 50 sayle, that

was ready to come out; but I doubt the truth of it yet. Thence to Sir G.

Carteret, by his invitation to his office, where my Lady was, and dined

with him, and very merry and good people they are, when pleased, as any

I know. After dinner I to the office, where busy till evening, and

then with Balty to Sir G. Carteret’s office, and there with Mr.

Fenn despatched the business of Balty’s L1500 he received for the

contingencies of the fleete, whereof he received about L253 in pieces

of eight at a goldsmith’s there hard by, which did puzzle me and him to

tell; for I could not tell the difference by sight, only by bigness,

and that is not always discernible, between a whole and half-piece and

quarterpiece. Having received this money I home with Balty and it, and

then abroad by coach with my wife and set her down at her father’s, and

I to White Hall, thinking there to have seen the Duchess of Newcastle’s

coming this night to Court, to make a visit to the Queene, the King

having been with her yesterday, to make her a visit since her coming

to town. The whole story of this lady is a romance, and all she do is

romantick. Her footmen in velvet coats, and herself in an antique dress,

as they say; and was the other day at her own play, “The Humourous

Lovers;” the most ridiculous thing that ever was wrote, but yet she

and her Lord mightily pleased with it; and she, at the end, made her

respects to the players from her box, and did give them thanks. There is

as much expectation of her coming to Court, that so people may come to

see her, as if it were the Queen of Sheba; but I lost my labour, for she

did not come this night. So, meeting Mr. Brisband, he took me up to my

Lady Jemimah’s chamber, who is let blood to-day, and so there we sat and

talked an hour, I think, very merry and one odd thing or other, and so

away, and I took up my wife at her tailor’s (whose wife is brought to

bed, and my wife must be godmother), and so with much ado got a coach to

carry us home, it being late, and so to my chamber, having little left

to do at my office, my eyes being a little sore by reason of my reading

a small printed book the other day after it was dark, and so to supper

and to bed. It comes in my head to set down that there have been two

fires in the City, as I am told for certain, and it is so, within this

week.

12th. Up, and when ready, and to my office, to do a little business,

and, coming homeward again, saw my door and hatch open, left so by Luce,

our cookmayde, which so vexed me, that I did give her a kick in our

entry, and offered a blow at her, and was seen doing so by Sir W.

Pen’s footboy, which did vex me to the heart, because I know he will

be telling their family of it; though I did put on presently a very

pleasant face to the boy, and spoke kindly to him, as one without

passion, so as it may be he might not think I was angry, but yet I was

troubled at it. So away by water to White Hall, and there did our usual

business before the Duke of York; but it fell out that, discoursing

of matters of money, it rose to a mighty heat, very high words arising

between Sir G. Carteret and [Sir] W. Coventry, the former in his passion

saying that the other should have helped things if they were so bad; and

the other answered, so he would, and things should have been better had

he been Treasurer of the Navy. I was mightily troubled at this heat, and

it will breed ill blood, I fear; but things are in that bad condition

that I do daily expect when we shall all fly in one another’s faces,

when we shall be reduced, every one, to answer for himself. We broke up;

and I soon after to Sir G. Carteret’s chamber, where I find the poor man

telling his lady privately, and she weeping. I went into them, and did

seem, as indeed I was, troubled for this; and did give the best advice

I could, which, I think, did please them: and they do apprehend me their

friend, as indeed I am, for I do take the Vice-chamberlain for a most

honest man. He did assure me that he was not, all expences and things

paid, clear in estate L15,000 better than he was when the King come in;

and that the King and Lord Chancellor did know that he was worth, with

the debt the King owed him, L50,000, I think, he said, when the King

come into England. I did pacify all I could, and then away by water

home, there to write letters and things for the dispatch of Balty away

this day to sea; and after dinner he did go, I having given him much

good counsell; and I have great hopes that he will make good use of it,

and be a good man, for I find him willing to take pains and very sober.

He being gone, I close at my office all the afternoon getting off of

hand my papers, which, by the late holidays and my laziness, were grown

too many upon my hands, to my great trouble, and therefore at it as

late as my eyes would give me leave, and then by water down to Redriffe,

meaning to meet my wife, who is gone with Mercer, Barker, and the boy

(it being most sweet weather) to walk, and I did meet with them, and

walked back, and then by the time we got home it was dark, and we

staid singing in the garden till supper was ready, and there with great

pleasure. But I tried my girles Mercer and Barker singly one after

another, a single song, “At dead low ebb,” etc., and I do clearly find

that as to manner of singing the latter do much the better, the other

thinking herself as I do myself above taking pains for a manner of

singing, contenting ourselves with the judgment and goodness of eare. So

to supper, and then parted and to bed.

13th. Up, and to the office, where we sat all the morning, and strange

how the false fellow Commissioner. Pett was eager to have had Carcasses

business brought on to-day that he might give my Lord Bruncker (who

hates him, I am sure, and hath spoke as much against him to the King

in my hearing as any man) a cast of his office in pleading for his man

Carcasse, but I did prevent its being brought on to-day, and so broke

up, and I home to dinner, and after dinner with a little singing with

some pleasure alone with my poor wife, and then to the office, where

sat all the afternoon till late at night, and then home to supper and to

bed, my eyes troubling me still after candle-light, which troubles me.

Wrote to my father, who, I am glad to hear, is at some ease again, and I

long to have him in town, that I may see what can be done for him

here; for I would fain do all I can that I may have him live, and take

pleasure in my doing well in the world. This afternoon come Mrs. Lowther

to me to the office, and there je did toker ses mammailles and did

baiser them and su bocca, which she took fort willingly....

14th (Lord’s day). Up, and to read a little in my new History of Turkey,

and so with my wife to church, and then home, where is little Michell

and my pretty Betty and also Mercer, and very merry. A good dinner of

roast beef. After dinner I away to take water at the Tower, and thence

to Westminster, where Mrs. Martin was not at home. So to White Hall,

and there walked up and down, and among other things visited Sir G.

Carteret, and much talk with him, who is discontented, as he hath

reason, to see how things are like to come all to naught, and it is very

much that this resolution of having of country Admirals should not come

to his eares till I told him the other day, so that I doubt who manages

things. From him to Margaret’s Church, and there spied Martin, and home

with her..... but fell out to see her expensefullness, having bought

Turkey work, chairs, &c. By and by away home, and there took out my

wife, and the two Mercers, and two of our mayds, Barker and Jane, and

over the water to the Jamaica House, where I never was before, and there

the girls did run for wagers over the bowling-green; and there, with

much pleasure, spent little, and so home, and they home, and I to read

with satisfaction in my book of Turkey, and so to bed.

15th. Lay long in bed, and by and by called up by Sir H. Cholmly,

who tells me that my Lord Middleton is for certain chosen Governor of

Tangier; a man of moderate understanding, not covetous, but a soldier of

fortune, and poor. Here comes Mr. Sanchy with an impertinent business

to me of a ticket, which I put off. But by and by comes Dr. Childe by

appointment, and sat with me all the morning making me bases and inward

parts to several songs that I desired of him, to my great content. Then

dined, and then abroad by coach, and I set him down at Hatton Garden,

and I to the King’s house by chance, where a new play: so full as I

never saw it; I forced to stand all the while close to the very door

till I took cold, and many people went away for want of room. The King,

and Queene, and Duke of York and Duchesse there, and all the Court, and

Sir W. Coventry. The play called “The Change of Crownes;” a play of Ned

Howard’s, the best that ever I saw at that house, being a great play and

serious; only Lacy did act the country-gentleman come up to Court,

who do abuse the Court with all the imaginable wit and plainness about

selling of places, and doing every thing for money. The play took

very much. Thence I to my new bookseller’s, and there bought “Hooker’s

Polity,” the new edition, and “Dugdale’s History of the Inns of Court,”

of which there was but a few saved out of the fire, and Playford’s new

Catch-book, that hath a great many new fooleries in it. Then home, a

little at the office, and then to supper and to bed, mightily pleased

with the new play.

16th. Up, and to the office, where sat all the morning, at noon home to

dinner, and thence in haste to carry my wife to see the new play I saw

yesterday, she not knowing it. But there, contrary to expectation, find

“The Silent Woman.” However, in; and there Knipp come into the pit. I

took her by me, and here we met with Mrs. Horsley, the pretty woman--an

acquaintance of Mercer’s, whose house is burnt. Knipp tells me the King

was so angry at the liberty taken by Lacy’s, part to abuse him to his

face, that he commanded they should act no more, till Moone went and got

leave for them to act again, but not this play. The King mighty angry;

and it was bitter indeed, but very true and witty. I never was more

taken with a play than I am with this “Silent Woman,” as old as it is,

and as often as I have seen it. There is more wit in it than goes to ten

new plays. Thence with my wife and Knipp to Mrs. Pierce’s, and saw

her closet again, and liked her picture. Thence took them all to the

Cake-house, in Southampton Market-place, where Pierce told us the story

how, in good earnest, [the King] is offended with the Duke of Richmond’s

marrying, and Mrs. Stewart’s sending the King his jewels again. As she

tells it, it is the noblest romance and example of a brave lady that

ever I read in my life. Pretty to hear them talk of yesterday’s play,

and I durst not own to my wife to have seen it. Thence home and to [Sir]

W. Batten’s, where we have made a bargain for the ending of some of the

trouble about some of our prizes for L1400. So home to look on my new

books that I have lately bought, and then to supper and to bed.

17th. Up, and with the two Sir Williams by coach to the Duke of York,

who is come to St. James’s, the first time we have attended him there

this year. In our way, in Tower Street, we saw Desbrough walking on

foot: who is now no more a prisoner, and looks well, and just as he used

to do heretofore. When we come to the Duke of York’s I was spoke to

by Mr. Bruncker on behalf of Carcasse. Thence by coach to Sir G.

Carteret’s, in London, there to pass some accounts of his, and at it

till dinner, and then to work again a little, and then go away, and my

wife being sent for by me to the New Exchange I took her up, and there

to the King’s playhouse (at the door met with W. Joyce in the street,

who come to our coach side, but we in haste took no notice of him, for

which I was sorry afterwards, though I love not the fellow, yet for his

wife’s sake), and saw a piece of “Rollo,” a play I like not much, but

much good acting in it: the house very empty. So away home, and I a

little to the office, and then to Sir Robert Viner’s, and so back,

and find my wife gone down by water to take a little ayre, and I to

my chamber and there spent the night in reading my new book, “Origines

Juridiciales,” which pleases me. So to supper and to bed.

18th. Up, and to read more in the “Origines,” and then to the office,

where the news is strong that not only the Dutch cannot set out a fleete

this year, but that the French will not, and that he hath given the

answer to the Dutch Embassador, saying that he is for the King of

England’s, having an honourable peace, which, if true, is the best

news we have had a good while. At the office all the morning, and there

pleased with the little pretty Deptford woman I have wished for long,

and she hath occasion given her to come again to me. After office I to

the ‘Change a little, and then home and to dinner, and then by coach

with my wife to the Duke of York’s house, and there saw “The Wits,” a

play I formerly loved, and is now corrected and enlarged: but, though I

like the acting, yet I like not much in the play now. The Duke of York

and [Sir] W. Coventry gone to Portsmouth, makes me thus to go to

plays. So home, and to the office a little and then home, where I find

Goodgroome, and he and I did sing several things over, and tried two or

three grace parts in Playford’s new book, my wife pleasing me in singing

her part of the things she knew, which is a comfort to my very heart. So

he being gone we to supper and to bed.

19th. Up, and to the office all the morning, doing a great deal of

business. At noon to dinner betimes, and then my wife and I by coach

to the Duke’s house, calling at Lovett’s, where I find my Lady

Castlemayne’s picture not yet done, which has lain so many months there,

which vexes me, but I mean not to trouble them more after this is done.

So to the playhouse, not much company come, which I impute to the heat

of the weather, it being very hot. Here we saw “Macbeth,”

[See November 5th, 1664. Downes wrote: “The Tragedy of Macbeth,

alter’d by Sir William Davenant; being drest in all it’s finery, as

new cloaths, new scenes, machines as flyings for the Witches; with

all the singing and dancing in it. The first compos’d by Mr. Lock,

the other by Mr. Channell and Mr. Joseph Preist; it being all

excellently perform’d, being in the nature of an opera, it

recompenc’d double the expence; it proves still a lasting play.”]

which, though I have seen it often, yet is it one of the best plays for

a stage, and variety of dancing and musique, that ever I saw. So being

very much pleased, thence home by coach with young Goodyer and his own

sister, who offered us to go in their coach. A good-natured youth I

believe he is, but I fear will mind his pleasures too much. She is

pretty, and a modest, brown girle. Set us down, so my wife and I into

the garden, a fine moonshine evening, and there talking, and among other

things she tells me that she finds by W. Hewer that my people do observe

my minding my pleasure more than usual, which I confess, and am ashamed

of, and so from this day take upon me to leave it till Whit-Sunday.

While we were sitting in the garden comes Mrs. Turner to advise about

her son, the Captain, when I did give her the best advice I could, to

look out for some land employment for him, a peace being at hand, when

few ships will be employed and very many, and these old Captains, to be

provided for. Then to other talk, and among the rest about Sir W. Pen’s

being to buy Wansted House of Sir Robert Brookes, but has put him off

again, and left him the other day to pay for a dinner at a tavern,

which she says our parishioner, Mrs. Hollworthy, talks of; and I dare be

hanged if ever he could mean to buy that great house, that knows not how

to furnish one that is not the tenth part so big. Thence I to my chamber

to write a little, and then to bed, having got a mighty cold in my right

eare and side of my throat, and in much trouble with it almost all the

night.

20th. Up, with much pain in my eare and palate. To the office out of

humour all the morning. At noon dined, and with my wife to the King’s

house, but there found the bill torn down and no play acted, and so

being in the humour to see one, went to the Duke of York’s house, and

there saw “The Witts” again, which likes me better than it did the other

day, having much wit in it. Here met with Mr. Rolt, who tells me

the reason of no play to-day at the King’s house. That Lacy had been

committed to the porter’s lodge for his acting his part in the late new

play, and that being thence released he come to the King’s house,

there met with Ned Howard, the poet of the play, who congratulated his

release; upon which Lacy cursed him as that it was the fault of his

nonsensical play that was the cause of his ill usage. Mr. Howard did

give him some reply; to which Lacy [answered] him, that he was more a

fool than a poet; upon which Howard did give him a blow on the face with

his glove; on which Lacy, having a cane in his hand, did give him a blow

over the pate. Here Rolt and others that discoursed of it in the pit

this afternoon did wonder that Howard did not run him through, he being

too mean a fellow to fight with. But Howard did not do any thing but

complain to the King of it; so the whole house is silenced, and the

gentry seem to rejoice much at it, the house being become too insolent.

Here were many fine ladies this afternoon at this house as I have at any

time seen, and so after the play home and there wrote to my father, and

then to walk in the garden with my wife, resolving by the grace of God

to see no more plays till Whitsuntide, I having now seen a play every

day this week till I have neglected my business, and that I am ashamed

of, being found so much absent; the Duke of York and Sir W. Coventry

having been out of town at Portsmouth did the more embolden me thereto.

So home, and having brought home with me from Fenchurch Street a hundred

of sparrowgrass,--[A form once so commonly used for asparagus that

it has found its way into dictionaries.]--cost 18d. We had them and

a little bit of salmon, which my wife had a mind to, cost 3s. So to

supper, and my pain being somewhat better in my throat, we to bed.

21st (Lord’s day). Up, and John, a hackney coachman whom of late I have

much used, as being formerly Sir W. Pen’s coachman, coming to me by my

direction to see whether I would use him to-day or no, I took him to our

backgate to look upon the ground which is to be let there, where I have

a mind to buy enough to build a coach-house and stable; for I have had

it much in my thoughts lately that it is not too much for me now,

in degree or cost, to keep a coach, but contrarily, that I am almost

ashamed to be seen in a hackney, and therefore if I can have the

conveniency, I will secure the ground at least till peace comes, that I

do receive encouragement to keep a coach, or else that I may part with

the ground again. The place I like very well, being close to my owne

house, and so resolve to go about it, and so home and with my wife to

church, and then to dinner, Mercer with us, with design to go to Hackney

to church in the afternoon. So after dinner she and I sung “Suo Moro,”

which is one of the best pieces of musique to my thinking that ever I

did hear in my life; then took coach and to Hackney church, where very

full, and found much difficulty to get pews, I offering the sexton

money, and he could not help me. So my wife and Mercer ventured into

a pew, and I into another. A knight and his lady very civil to me when

they come, and the like to my wife in hers, being Sir G. Viner and his

lady--rich in jewells, but most in beauty--almost the finest woman that

ever I saw. That which we went chiefly to see was the young ladies

of the schools,--[Hackney was long famous for its boarding

schools.]--whereof there is great store, very pretty; and also the

organ, which is handsome, and tunes the psalm, and plays with the

people; which is mighty pretty, and makes me mighty earnest to have a

pair at our church, I having almost a mind to give them a pair, if they

would settle a maintenance on them for it. I am mightily taken with

them. So, church done, we to coach and away to Kingsland and Islington,

and there eat and drank at the Old House, and so back, it raining a

little, which is mighty welcome, it having not rained in many weeks, so

that they say it makes the fields just now mighty sweet. So with great

pleasure home by night. Set down Mercer, and I to my chamber, and there

read a great deal in Rycaut’s Turkey book with great pleasure, and so

eat and to bed. My sore throat still troubling me, but not so much. This

night I do come to full resolution of diligence for a good while, and I

hope God will give me the grace and wisdom to perform it.

22nd. Up pretty betimes, my throat better, and so drest me, and to White

Hall to see Sir W. Coventry, returned from Portsmouth, whom I am almost

ashamed to see for fear he should have been told how often I have been

at plays, but it is better to see him at first than afterward. So walked

to the Old Swan and drank at Michell’s, and then to White Hall and over

the Park to St. James’s to [Sir] W. Coventry, where well received, and

good discourse. He seems to be sure of a peace; that the King of France

do not intend to set out a fleete, for that he do design Flanders.

Our Embassadors set out this week. Thence I over the Park to Sir G.

Carteret, and after him by coach to the Lord Chancellor’s house, the

first time I have been therein; and it is very noble, and brave pictures

of the ancient and present nobility, never saw better. Thence with him

to London, mighty merry in the way. Thence home, and find the boy out of

the house and office, and by and by comes in and hath been to Mercer’s.

I did pay his coat for him. Then to my chamber, my wife comes home with

linen she hath been buying of. I then to dinner, and then down the river

to Greenwich, and the watermen would go no further. So I turned them

off, giving them nothing, and walked to Woolwich; there did some

business, and met with Captain Cocke and back with him. He tells me our

peace is agreed on; we are not to assist the Spanyard against the French

for this year, and no restitution, and we are likely to lose Poleroone.

[Among the State Papers is a document dated July 8th, 1667, in which

we read: “At Breda, the business is so far advanced that the English

have relinquished their pretensions to the ships Henry Bonaventure

and Good Hope. The matter sticks only at Poleron; the States have

resolved not to part with it, though the English should have a right

to it” (“Calendar,” 1667, p. 278).]

I know not whether this be true or no, but I am for peace on any terms.

He tells me how the King was vexed the other day for having no paper

laid him at the Council-table, as was usual; and Sir Richard Browne did

tell his Majesty he would call the person whose work it was to provide

it: who being come, did tell his Majesty that he was but a poor man, and

was out L400 or L500 for it, which was as much as he is worth; and that

he cannot provide it any longer without money, having not received

a penny since the King’s coming in. So the King spoke to my Lord

Chamberlain; and many such mementos the King do now-a-days meet withall,

enough to make an ingenuous man mad. I to Deptford, and there scolded

with a master for his ship’s not being gone, and so home to the office

and did business till my eyes are sore again, and so home to sing, and

then to bed, my eyes failing me mightily:

23rd (St. George’s-day). The feast being kept at White Hall, out of

design, as it is thought, to make the best countenance we can to the

Swede’s Embassadors, before their leaving us to go to the treaty abroad,

to shew some jollity. We sat at the office all the morning. Word is

brought me that young Michell is come to call my wife to his wife’s

labour, and she went, and I at the office full of expectation what

to hear from poor Betty Michell. This morning much to do with Sir

W. Warren, all whose applications now are to Lord Bruncker, and I am

against him now, not professedly, but apparently in discourse, and will

be. At noon home to dinner, where alone, and after dinner to my musique

papers, and by and by comes in my wife, who gives me the good news that

the midwife and she alone have delivered poor Betty of a pretty girl,

which I am mighty glad of, and she in good condition, my wife as well as

I mightily pleased with it. Then to the office to do things towards the

post, and then my wife and I set down at her mother’s, and I up and down

to do business, but did little; and so to Mrs. Martin’s, and there

did hazer what I would con her, and then called my wife and to little

Michell’s, where we saw the little child, which I like mightily, being

I allow very pretty, and asked her how she did, being mighty glad of her

doing well, and so home to the office, and then to my chamber, and so to

bed.

24th. Up, and with [Sir] W. Pen to St. James’s, and there the Duke of

York was preparing to go to some further ceremonies about the Garter,

that he could give us no audience. Thence to Westminster Hall, the first

day of the Term, and there joyed Mrs. Michell, who is mightily pleased

with my wife’s work yesterday, and so away to my barber’s about my

periwigg, and then to the Exchange, there to meet Fenn about some money

to be borrowed of the office of the Ordnance to answer a great pinch. So

home to dinner, and in the afternoon met by agreement (being put on it

by Harry Bruncker’s frighting us into a despatch of Carcasse’s business)

[Lord] Bruncker, T. Harvey, [Sir] J. Minnes, [Sir] W. Batten, and I (Sir

W. Pen keeping out of the way still), where a great many high words from

Bruncker, and as many from me and others to him, and to better purpose,

for I think we have fortified ourselves to overthrow his man Carcasse,

and to do no honour to him. We rose with little done but great heat,

not to be reconciled I doubt, and I care not, for I will be on the right

side, and that shall keep me: Thence by coach to Sir John Duncomb’s’

lodging in the Pell Mell,--[See November 8th, 1664]--in order to the

money spoken of in the morning; and there awhile sat and discoursed.:

and I find him that he is a very proper man for business, being very

resolute and proud, and industrious. He told me what reformation they

had made in the office of the Ordnance, taking away Legg’s fees:

[William Legge, eldest son of Edward Legge, sometime Vice-President

of Munster, born 1609(?). He served under Maurice of Nassau and

Gustavus Adolphus, and held the rank of colonel in the Royalist

army. He closely attached himself to Prince Rupert, and was an

active agent in affecting the reconciliation between that prince and

his uncle Charles I. Colonel Legge distinguished himself in several

actions, and was wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of

Worcester; it was said that he would have “been executed if his wife

had not contrived his escape from Coventry gaol in her own clothes.”

He was Groom of the Bedchamber to Charles I., and also to Charles

II.; he held the offices of Master of the Armories and Lieutenant-

General of the Ordnance. He refused honours (a knighthood from

Charles I. and an earldom from Charles II.), but his eldest son

George was created Baron Dartmouth in 1682. He died October 13th,

1672, at his house in the Minories, and was buried in]

and have got an order that no Treasurer after him shall ever sit at the

Board; and it is a good one: that no master of the Ordnance here shall

ever sell a place. He tells me they have not paid any increase of price

for any thing during this war, but in most have paid less; and at this

day have greater stores than they know where to lay, if there should be

peace, and than ever was any time this war. That they pay every man in

course, and have notice of the disposal of every farthing. Every man

that they owe money to has his share of every sum they receive; never

borrowed all this war but L30,000 by the King’s express command, but do

usually stay till their assignments become payable in their own course,

which is the whole mystery, that they have had assignments for a fifth

part of whatever was assigned to the Navy. They have power of putting

out and in of all officers; are going upon a building that will cost

them L12,000; that they out of their stock of tallies have been forced

to help the Treasurer of the Navy at this great pinch. Then to talk of

newes: that he thinks the want of money hath undone the King, for the

Parliament will never give the King more money without calling all

people to account, nor, as he believes, will ever make war again, but

they will manage it themselves: unless, which I proposed, he would

visibly become a severer inspector into his own business and accounts,

and that would gain upon the Parliament yet: which he confesses and

confirms as the only lift to set him upon his legs, but says that it

is not in his nature ever to do. He says that he believes but four men

(such as he could name) would do the business of both offices, his and

ours, and if ever the war were to be again it should be so, he believes.

He told me to my face that I was a very good clerk, and did understand

the business and do it very well, and that he would never desire a

better. He do believe that the Parliament, if ever they meet, will

offer some alterations to the King, and will turn some of us out, and I

protest I think he is in the right that either they or the King will be

advised to some regulations, and therefore I ought to beware, as it

is easy for me to keep myself up if I will. He thinks that much of our

misfortune hath been for want of an active Lord Treasurer, and that such

a man as Sir W. Coventry would do the business thoroughly. This talk

being over, comes his boy and tells us [Sir] W. Coventry is come in, and

so he and I to him, and there told the difficulty of getting this money,

and they did play hard upon Sir G. Carteret as a man moped and stunned,

not knowing which way to turn himself. Sir W. Coventry cried that he

was disheartened, and I do think that there is much in it, but Sir

J. Duncomb do charge him with mighty neglect in the pursuing of his

business, and that he do not look after it himself, but leaves it to

Fenn, so that I do perceive that they are resolved to scheme at bringing

the business into a better way of execution, and I think it needs, that

is the truth of it. So I away to Sir G. Carteret’s lodgings about this

money, and contrary to expectation I find he hath prevailed with Legg

on his own bond to lend him L2000, which I am glad of, but, poor man, he

little sees what observations people do make upon his management, and

he is not a man fit to be told what one hears. Thence by water at 10 at

night from Westminster Bridge, having kissed little Frank, and so to the

Old Swan, and walked home by moonshine, and there to my chamber a while,

and supper and to bed.

25th. Received a writ from the Exchequer this morning of distrain for

L70,000, which troubled me, though it be but, matter of form. To the

office, where sat all the morning. At noon my wife being to Unthanke’s

christening, I to Sir W. Batten’s to dinner, where merry, and the rather

because we are like to come to some good end in another of our prizes.

Thence by coach to my Lord Treasurer’s, and there being come too soon

to the New Exchange, but did nothing, and back again, and there found

my Lord Bruncker and T. Harvy, and walked in a room very merrily

discoursing. By and by comes my Lord Ashly and tells us my Lord

Treasurer is ill and cannot speak with us now. Thence away, Sir W. Pen

and I and Mr. Lewes, who come hither after us, and Mr. Gawden in the

last man’s coach. Set me down by the Poultry, and I to Sir Robert

Viner’s, and there had my account stated and took it home to review. So

home to the office, and there late writing out something, having been

a little at Sir W. Batten’s to talk, and there vexed to see them give

order for Hogg’s further abroad, and so home and to bed.

26th. Up, and by coach with Sir W. Batten and [Sir] W. Pen to White

Hall, and there saw the Duke of Albemarle, who is not well, and do grow

crazy. Thence I to St. James’s, to meet Sir G. Carteret, and did, and

Lord Berkely, to get them (as we would have done the Duke of Albemarle)

to the meeting of the Lords of Appeale in the business of one of our

prizes. With them to the meeting of the Guinny Company, and there staid,

and went with Lord Berkely. While I was waiting for him in the Matted

Gallery, a young man was most finely working in Indian inke the great

picture of the King and Queen sitting,--[Charles I. and Henrietta

Maria.]--by Van Dyke; and did it very finely. Thence to Westminster Hall

to hear our cause, but [it] did not come before them to-day, so went

down and walked below in the Hall, and there met with Ned Pickering,

who tells me the ill newes of his nephew Gilbert, who is turned a very

rogue, and then I took a turn with Mr. Evelyn, with whom I walked two

hours, till almost one of the clock: talking of the badness of the

Government, where nothing but wickedness, and wicked men and women

command the King: that it is not in his nature to gainsay any thing that

relates to his pleasures; that much of it arises from the sickliness of

our Ministers of State, who cannot be about him as the idle companions

are, and therefore he gives way to the young rogues; and then, from the

negligence of the Clergy, that a Bishop shall never be seen about him,

as the King of France hath always: that the King would fain have some

of the same gang to be Lord Treasurer, which would be yet worse, for now

some delays are put to the getting gifts of the King, as that whore my

Lady Byron,

[Eleanor, daughter of Robert Needham, Viscount Kilmurrey, and widow

of Peter Warburton, became in 1644 the second wife of John Byron,

first Lord Byron. Died 1663.--B.]

who had been, as he called it, the King’s seventeenth whore abroad, did

not leave him till she had got him to give her an order for L4000 worth

of plate to be made for her; but by delays, thanks be to God! she died

before she had it. He tells me mighty stories of the King of France, how

great a prince he is. He hath made a code to shorten the law; he

hath put out all the ancient commanders of castles that were become

hereditary; he hath made all the fryers subject to the bishops,

which before were only subject to Rome, and so were hardly the King’s

subjects, and that none shall become ‘religieux’ but at such an age,

which he thinks will in a few, years ruin the Pope, and bring France

into a patriarchate. He confirmed to me the business of the want of

paper at the Council-table the other day, which I have observed; Wooly

being to have found it, and did, being called, tell the King to his face

the reason of it; and Mr. Evelyn tells me several of the menial servants

of the Court lacking bread, that have not received a farthing wages

since the King’s coming in. He tells me the King of France hath his

mistresses, but laughs at the foolery of our King, that makes his

bastards princes,

[Louis made his own bastards dukes and princes, and legitimatized

them as much as he could, connecting them also by marriage with the

real blood-royal.--B.]

and loses his revenue upon them, and makes his mistresses his masters

and the King of France did never grant Lavalliere

[Louise Francoise de la Baume le Blanc de la Valliere had four

children by Louis XIV., of whom only two survived-Marie Anne

Bourbon, called Mademoiselle de Blois, born in 1666, afterwards

married to the Prince de Conti, and the Comte de Vermandois, born in

1667. In that year (the very year in which Evelyn was giving this

account to Pepys), the Duchy of Vaujour and two baronies were

created in favour of La Valliere, and her daughter, who, in the deed

of creation, was legitimatized, and styled princess.--B.]

any thing to bestow on others, and gives a little subsistence, but no

more, to his bastards. He told me the whole story of Mrs. Stewart’s

going away from Court, he knowing her well; and believes her, up to her

leaving the Court, to be as virtuous as any woman in the world: and told

me, from a Lord that she told it to but yesterday, with her own mouth,

and a sober man, that when the Duke of Richmond did make love to her,

she did ask the King, and he did the like also; and that the King did

not deny it, and [she] told this Lord that she was come to that pass as

to resolve to have married any gentleman of L1500 a-year that would

have had her in honour; for it was come to that pass, that she could not

longer continue at Court without prostituting herself to the King,

[Even at a much later time Mrs. Godolphin well resolved “not to talk

foolishly to men, more especially THE KING,”--“be sure never to

talk to THE KING” (“Life,” by Evelyn). These expressions speak

volumes as to Charles’s character.--B.]

whom she had so long kept off, though he had liberty more than any other

had, or he ought to have, as to dalliance.

[Evelyn evidently believed the Duchess of Richmond to be innocent;

and his testimony, coupled with her own declaration, ought to weigh

down all the scandal which Pepys reports from other sources.--B.]

She told this Lord that she had reflected upon the occasion she had

given the world to think her a bad woman, and that she had no way but

to marry and leave the Court, rather in this way of discontent than

otherwise, that the world might see that she sought not any thing but

her honour; and that she will never come to live at Court more than when

she comes to town to come to kiss the Queene her Mistress’s hand: and

hopes, though she hath little reason to hope, she can please her Lord so

as to reclaim him, that they may yet live comfortably in the country on

his estate. She told this Lord that all the jewells she ever had given

her at Court, or any other presents, more than the King’s allowance of

L700 per annum out of the Privypurse for her clothes, were, at her first

coming the King did give her a necklace of pearl of about L1100 and

afterwards, about seven months since, when the King had hopes to have

obtained some courtesy of her, the King did give her some jewells, I

have forgot what, and I think a pair of pendants. The Duke of York,

being once her Valentine, did give her a jewell of about L800; and my

Lord Mandeville, her Valentine this year, a ring of about L300; and the

King of France would have had her mother, who, he says, is one of the

most cunning women in the world, to have let her stay in France, saying

that he loved her not as a mistress, but as one that he could marry as

well as any lady in France; and that, if she might stay, for the honour

of his Court he would take care she should not repent. But her mother,

by command of the Queen-mother, thought rather to bring her into

England; and the King of France did give her a jewell: so that Mr.

Evelyn believes she may be worth in jewells about L6000, and that that

is all that she hath in the world: and a worthy woman; and in this hath

done as great an act of honour as ever was done by woman. That now the

Countesse Castlemayne do carry all before her: and among other arguments

to prove Mrs. Stewart to have been honest to the last, he says that

the King’s keeping in still with my Lady Castlemayne do show it; for he

never was known to keep two mistresses in his life, and would never have

kept to her had he prevailed any thing with Mrs. Stewart. She is gone

yesterday with her Lord to Cobham. He did tell me of the ridiculous

humour of our King and Knights of the Garter the other day, who, whereas

heretofore their robes were only to be worn during their ceremonies

and service, these, as proud of their coats, did wear them all day till

night, and then rode into the Parke with them on. Nay, and he tells me

he did see my Lord Oxford and the Duke of Monmouth in a hackney-coach

with two footmen in the Parke, with their robes on; which is a most

scandalous thing, so as all gravity may be said to be lost among us. By

and by we discoursed of Sir Thomas Clifford, whom I took for a very rich

and learned man, and of the great family of that name. He tells me he is

only a man of about seven-score pounds a-year, of little learning more

than the law of a justice of peace, which he knows well: a parson’s son,

got to be burgess in a little borough in the West, and here fell into

the acquaintance of my Lord Arlington, whose creature he is, and never

from him; a man of virtue, and comely, and good parts enough; and hath

come into his place with a great grace, though with a great skip over

the heads of a great many, as Chichly and Duncum, and some Lords that

did expect it. By the way, he tells me, that of all the great men of

England there is none that endeavours more to raise those that he takes

into favour than my Lord Arlington; and that, on that score, he is much

more to be made one’s patron than my Lord Chancellor, who never did,

nor never will do, any thing, but for money! After having this long

discourse we parted, about one of the clock, and so away by water home,

calling upon Michell, whose wife and girle are pretty well, and I home

to dinner, and after dinner with Sir W. Batten to White Hall, there to

attend the Duke of York before council, where we all met at his closet

and did the little business we had, and here he did tell us how the King

of France is intent upon his design against Flanders, and hath drawn up

a remonstrance of the cause of the war, and appointed the 20th of the

next month for his rendezvous, and himself to prepare for the campaign

the 30th, so that this, we are in hopes, will keep him in employment.

Turenne is to be his general. Here was Carcasses business unexpectedly

moved by him, but what was done therein appears in my account of his

case in writing by itself. Certain newes of the Dutch being abroad on

our coast with twenty-four great ships. This done Sir W. Batten and I

back again to London, and in the way met my Lady Newcastle going with

her coaches and footmen all in velvet: herself, whom I never saw before,

as I have heard her often described, for all the town-talk is now-a-days

of her extravagancies, with her velvetcap, her hair about her ears; many

black patches, because of pimples about her mouth; naked-necked, without

any thing about it, and a black just-au-corps. She seemed to me a

very comely woman: but I hope to see more of her on Mayday. My mind

is mightily of late upon a coach. At home, to the office, where late

spending all the evening upon entering in long hand our late passages

with Carcasse for memory sake, and so home in great pain in my back by

the uneasiness of Sir W. Batten’s coach driving hard this afternoon over

the stones to prevent coming too late. So at night to supper in great

pain, and to bed, where lay in great pain, not able to turn myself all

night.

27th. Up with much pain, and to the office, where all the morning. At

noon home to dinner, W. Hewer with us. This noon I got in some coals at

23s. per chaldron, a good hearing, I thank God-having not been put to

buy a coal all this dear time, that during this war poor people have

been forced to give 45s. and 50s., and L3. In the afternoon (my wife and

people busy these late days, and will be for some time, making of shirts

and smocks) to the office, where late, and then home, after letters,

and so to supper and to bed, with much pleasure of mind, after having

dispatched business. This afternoon I spent some time walking with

Mr. Moore, in the garden, among other things discoursing of my Lord

Sandwich’s family, which he tells me is in a very bad condition, for

want of money and management, my Lord’s charging them with bills, and

nobody, nor any thing provided to answer them. He did discourse of his

hopes of being supplied with L1900 against a present bill from me, but

I took no notice of it, nor will do it. It seems Mr. Sheply doubts his

accounts are ill kept, and every thing else in the family out of order,

which I am grieved to hear of.

28th (Lord’s day). Lay long, my pain in my back being still great,

though not so great as it was. However, up and to church, where a lazy

sermon, and then home and to dinner, my wife and I alone and Barker.

After dinner, by water--the day being mighty pleasant, and the tide

serving finely, I up (reading in Boyle’s book of colours), as high as

Barne Elmes, and there took one turn alone, and then back to Putney

Church, where I saw the girls of the schools, few of which pretty; and

there I come into a pew, and met with little James Pierce, which I was

much pleased at, the little rogue being very glad to see me: his master,

Reader to the Church. Here was a good sermon and much company, but I

sleepy, and a little out of order, for my hat falling down through a

hole underneath the pulpit, which, however, after sermon, by a stick,

and the helpe of the clerke, I got up again, and then walked out of the

church with the boy, and then left him, promising him to get him a play

another time. And so by water, the tide being with me again, down to

Deptford, and there I walked down the Yard, Shish and Cox with me,

and discoursed about cleaning of the wet docke, and heard, which I had

before, how, when the docke was made, a ship of near 500 tons was there

found; a ship supposed of Queene Elizabeth’s time, and well wrought,

with a great deal of stoneshot in her, of eighteen inches diameter,

which was shot then in use: and afterwards meeting with Captain Perriman

and Mr. Castle at Half-way Tree, they tell me of stoneshot of thirty-six

inches diameter, which they shot out of mortarpieces. Thence walked

to Half-way Tree, and there stopt and talk with Mr. Castle and Captain

Perriman, and so to Redriffe and took boat again, and so home, and there

to write down my Journall, and so to supper and to read, and so to bed,

mightily pleased with my reading of Boyle’s book of colours to-day, only

troubled that some part of it, indeed the greatest part, I am not able

to understand for want of study. My wife this night troubled at my

leaving her alone so much and keeping her within doors, which indeed I

do not well nor wisely in.

29th. Up, being visited very early by Creed newly come from

Hinchingbrooke, who went thither without my knowledge, and I believe

only to save his being taxed by the Poll Bill. I did give him no very

good countenance nor welcome, but took occasion to go forth and walked

(he with me) to St. Dunstan’s, and thence I to Sir W. Coventry’s, where

a good while with him, and I think he pretty kind, but that the nature

of our present condition affords not matter for either of us to be

pleased with any thing. We discoursed of Carcasse, whose Lord, he tells

me, do make complaints that his clerk should be singled out, and my Lord

Berkeley do take his part. So he advises we would sum up all we have

against him and lay it before the Duke of York; he condemned my Lord

Bruncker. Thence to Sir G. Carteret, and there talked a little while

about office business, and thence by coach home, in several places

paying my debts in order to my evening my accounts this month, and

thence by and by to White Hall again to Sir G. Carteret to dinner, where

very good company and discourse, and I think it my part to keep in there

now more than ordinary because of the probability of my Lord’s coming

soon home. Our Commissioners for the treaty set out this morning betimes

down the river. Here I hear that the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke of

York’s son, is very sick; and my Lord Treasurer very bad of the stone,

and hath been so some days. After dinner Sir G. Carteret and I alone in

his closet an hour or more talking of my Lord Sandwich’s coming home,

which, the peace being likely to be made here, he expects, both for my

Lord’s sake and his own (whose interest he wants) it will be best for

him to be at home, where he will be well received by the King; he is

sure of his service well accepted, though the business of Spain do fall

by this peace. He tells me my Lord Arlington hath done like a gentleman

by him in all things. He says, if my Lord [Sandwich] were here, he

were the fittest man to be Lord Treasurer of any man in England; and he

thinks it might be compassed; for he confesses that the King’s matters

do suffer through the inability of this man, who is likely to die, and

he will propound him to the King. It will remove him from his place at

sea, and the King will have a good place to bestow. He says to me, that

he could wish, when my Lord comes, that he would think fit to forbear

playing, as a thing below him, and which will lessen him, as it do my

Lord St. Albans, in the King’s esteem: and as a great secret tells me

that he hath made a match for my Lord Hinchingbroke to a daughter of my

Lord Burlington’s, where there is a great alliance, L10,000 portion; a

civil family, and relation to my Lord Chancellor, whose son hath married

one of the daughters; and that my Lord Chancellor do take it with

very great kindness, so that he do hold himself obliged by it. My Lord

Sandwich hath referred it to my Lord Crew, Sir G. Carteret, and Mr.

Montagu, to end it. My Lord Hinchingbroke and the lady know nothing yet

of it. It will, I think, be very happy. Very glad of this discourse, I

away mightily pleased with the confidence I have in this family, and

so away, took up my wife, who was at her mother’s, and so home, where I

settled to my chamber about my accounts, both Tangier and private, and

up at it till twelve at night, with good success, when news is brought

me that there is a great fire in Southwarke: so we up to the leads, and

then I and the boy down to the end of our, lane, and there saw it, it

seeming pretty great, but nothing to the fire of London, that it made me

think little of it. We could at that distance see an engine play--that

is, the water go out, it being moonlight. By and by, it begun to

slacken, and then I home and to bed.

30th. Up, and Mr. Madden come to speak with me, whom my people not

knowing have made to wait long without doors, which vexed me. Then comes

Sir John Winter to discourse with me about the forest of Deane, and then

about my Lord Treasurer, and asking me whether, as he had heard, I had

not been cut for the stone, I took him to my closet, and there shewed

it to him, of which he took the dimensions and had some discourse of

it, and I believe will shew my Lord Treasurer it. Thence to the office,

where we sat all the morning, but little to do, and then to the ‘Change,

where for certain I hear, and the News book declares, a peace between

France and Portugal. Met here with Mr. Pierce, and he tells me the Duke

of Cambridge is very ill and full of spots about his body, that Dr.

Frazier knows not what to think of it. Then home and to dinner, and then

to the office, where all the afternoon; we met about Sir W. Warren’s

business and accounts, wherein I do rather oppose than forward him, but

not in declared terms, for I will not be at, enmity with him, but I will

not have him find any friendship so good as mine. By and by rose and by

water to White Hall, and then called my wife at Unthanke’s. So home and

to my chamber, to my accounts, and finished them to my heart’s wishes

and admiration, they being grown very intricate, being let alone for

two months, but I brought them together all naturally, within a few

shillings, but to my sorrow the Poll money I paid this month and

mourning have made me L80 a worse man than at my last balance, so that I

am worth now but L6700, which is yet an infinite mercy to me, for which

God make me thankful. So late to supper, with a glad heart for the

evening of my accounts so well, and so to bed.