June 1st. Up and with Sir J. Minnes to Westminster, and in the Hall
there I met with Harris and Rolt, and carried them to the Rhenish
wine-house, where I have not been in a morning--nor any tavern, I think,
these seven years and more. Here I did get the words of a song of Harris
that I wanted. Here also Mr. Young and Whistler by chance met us,
and drank with us. Thence home, and to prepare business against the
afternoon, and did walk an hour in the garden with Sir W. Warren, who
do tell me of the great difficulty he is under in the business of
his accounts with the Commissioners of Parliament, and I fear some
inconveniences and troubles may be occasioned thereby to me. So to
dinner, and then with Sir J. Minnes to White Hall, and there attended
the Lords of the Treasury and also a committee of Council with the
Duke of York about the charge of this year’s fleete, and thence I to
Westminster and to Mrs. Martin’s, and did hazer what je would con her,
and did once toker la thigh de su landlady, and thence all alone to Fox
Hall, and walked and saw young Newport, and two more rogues of the town,
seize on two ladies, who walked with them an hour with their masks on;
perhaps civil ladies; and there I left them, and so home, and thence to
Mr. Mills’s, where I never was before, and here find, whom I indeed
saw go in, and that did make me go thither, Mrs. Hallworthy and Mrs.
Andrews, and here supped, and, extraordinary merry till one in the
morning, Mr. Andrews coming to us: and mightily pleased with this
night’s company and mirth I home to bed. Mrs. Turner, too, was with us.
2nd. Up, and to the office, where all the morning. At noon home to
dinner, and there dined with me, besides my own people, W. Batelier and
Mercer, and we very merry. After dinner, they gone, only Mercer and I
to sing a while, and then parted, and I out and took a coach, and called
Mercer at their back-door, and she brought with her Mrs. Knightly, a
little pretty sober girl, and I carried them to Old Ford, a town by Bow,
where I never was before, and there walked in the fields very pleasant,
and sang: and so back again, and stopped and drank at the Gun, at
Mile End, and so to the Old Exchange door, and did buy them a pound of
cherries, cost me 2s., and so set them down again; and I to my little
mercer’s Finch, that lives now in the Minories, where I have left my
cloak, and did here baiser su moher, a belle femme, and there took my
cloak which I had left there, and so by water, it being now about nine
o’clock, down to Deptford, where I have not been many a day, and there
it being dark I did by agreement aller a la house de Bagwell, and
there after a little playing and baisando we did go up in the dark a su
camera... and to my boat again, and against the tide home. Got there by
twelve o’clock, taking into my boat, for company, a man that desired a
passage--a certain western bargeman, with whom I had good sport, talking
of the old woman of Woolwich, and telling him the whole story.
3rd. Up, and to the office, where busy till g o’clock, and then to White
Hall, to the Council-chamber, where I did present the Duke of York with
an account of the charge of the present fleete, to his satisfaction; and
this being done, did ask his leave for my going out of town five or
six days, which he did give me, saying, that my diligence in the King’s
business was such, that I ought not to be denied when my own business
called me any whither. Thence with Sir D. Gawden to Westminster, where
I did take a turn or two, and met Roger Pepys, who is mighty earnest
for me to stay from going into the country till he goes, and to bring my
people thither for some time: but I cannot, but will find another time
this summer for it. Thence with him home, and there to the office till
noon, and then with Lord Brouncker, Sir J. Minnes, and Sir G. Carteret,
upon whose accounts they have been this day to the Three Tuns to dinner,
and thence back again home, and after doing a little business I by coach
to the King’s house, and there saw good, part of “The Scornfull Lady,”
and that done, would have takn out Knepp, but she was engaged, and so
to my Lord Crew’s to visit him; from whom I learn nothing but that
there hath been some controversy at the Council-table, about my Lord
Sandwich’s signing, where some would not have had him, in the treaty
with Portugall; but all, I think, is over in it. Thence by coach
to Westminster to the Hall, and thence to the Park, where much good
company, and many fine ladies; and in so handsome a hackney I was, that
I believe Sir W. Coventry and others, who looked on me, did take me to
be in one of my own, which I was a little troubled for. So to the lodge,
and drank a cup of new milk, and so home, and there to Mrs. Turner’s,
and sat and talked with her, and then home to bed, having laid my
business with W. Hewer to go out of town Friday next, with hopes of a
great deal of pleasure.
4th. Up, and to the office, where all the morning, and at noon home to
dinner, where Mr. Clerke, the solicitor, dined with me and my clerks.
After dinner I carried and set him down at the Temple, he observing to
me how St. Sepulchre’s church steeple is repaired already a good deal,
and the Fleet Bridge is contracted for by the City to begin to be built
this summer, which do please me mightily. I to White Hall, and walked
through the Park for a little ayre; and so back to the Council-chamber,
to the Committee of the Navy, about the business of fitting the present
fleete, suitable to the money given, which, as the King orders it, and
by what appears, will be very little; and so as I perceive the Duke of
York will have nothing to command, nor can intend to go abroad. But it
is pretty to see how careful these great men are to do every thing so
as they may answer it to the Parliament, thinking themselves safe in
nothing but where the judges, with whom they often advise, do say the
matter is doubtful; and so they take upon themselves then to be the
chief persons to interpret what is doubtful. Thence home, and all the
evening to set matters in order against my going to Brampton to-morrow,
being resolved upon my journey, and having the Duke of York’s leave
again to-day; though I do plainly see that I can very ill be spared now,
there being much business, especially about this, which I have attended
the Council about, and I the man that am alone consulted with; and,
besides, my Lord Brouncker is at this time ill, and Sir W. Pen. So
things being put in order at the Office, I home to do the like there;
and so to bed.
5th (Friday).
[The rough notes for the journal from this time to the 17th of June
are contained on five leaves, inserted in the book; and after them
follow several pages left blank for the fair copy which was never
made.]
At Barnet, for milk, 6d. On the highway, to menders of the highway, 6d.
Dinner at Stevenage, 5s. 6d.
6th (Saturday). Spent at Huntingdon with Bowles, and Appleyard, and
Shepley, 2s.
7th (Sunday). My father, for money lent, and horse-hire L1 11s.
8th (Monday). Father’s servants (father having in the garden told me bad
stories of my wife’s ill words), 14s.; one that helped at the horses,
2s.; menders of the highway, 2s. Pleasant country to Bedford, where,
while they stay, I rode through the town; and a good country-town; and
there, drinking, 1s. We on to Newport; and there ‘light, and I and W.
Hewer to the Church, and there give the boy 1s. So to Buckingham, a good
old town. Here I to see the Church, which very good, and the leads, and
a school in it: did give the sexton’s boy 1s. A fair bridge here,
with many arches: vexed at my people’s making me lose so much time;
reckoning, 13s. 4d. Mighty pleased with the pleasure of the ground
all the day. At night to Newport Pagnell; and there a good pleasant
country-town, but few people in it. A very fair--and like a
Cathedral--Church; and I saw the leads, and a vault that goes far under
ground, and here lay with Betty Turner’s sparrow: the town, and so most
of this country, well watered. Lay here well, and rose next day by four
o’clock: few people in the town: and so away. Reckoning for supper, 19s.
6d.; poor, 6d. Mischance to the coach, but no time lost.
9th (Tuesday). When come to Oxford, a very sweet place: paid our guide,
L1 2s. 6d.; barber, 2s. 6d.; book, Stonage, 4s.
[This must have been either Inigo Jones’s “The most notable
Antiquity of Great Britain vulgarly called Stonehenge,” printed in
1655, or “Chorea Gigantum, or the most famous Antiquity of Great
Britain, vulgarly called Stones Heng, standing on Salisbury Plain,
restor’d to the Danes,” by Walter Charleton, M.D., and published in
1663.]
To dinner; and then out with my wife and people, and landlord: and to
him that showed us the schools and library, 10s.; to him that showed us
All Souls’ College, and Chichly’s picture, 5s. So to see Christ Church
with my wife, I seeing several others very fine alone, with W. Hewer,
before dinner, and did give the boy that went with me 1s. Strawberries,
1s. 2d. Dinner and servants, L1 0s. 6d. After come home from the
schools, I out with the landlord to Brazen-nose College;--to the
butteries, and in the cellar find the hand of the Child of Hales,...
long. Butler, 2s. Thence with coach and people to Physic-garden, 1s. So
to Friar Bacon’s study: I up and saw it, and give the man 1s. Bottle of
sack for landlord, 2s. Oxford mighty fine place; and well seated, and
cheap entertainment. At night come to Abingdon, where had been a fair of
custard; and met many people and scholars going home; and there did get
some pretty good musick, and sang and danced till supper: 5s.
10th (Wednesday). Up, and walked to the Hospitall:--[Christ’s
Hospital]--very large and fine; and pictures of founders, and the
History’ of the Hospitall; and is said to be worth; L700 per annum; and
that Mr. Foly was here lately to see how their lands were settled; and
here, in old English, the story of the occasion of it, and a rebus at
the bottom. So did give the poor, which they would not take but in their
box, 2s. 6d. So to the inn, and paid the reckoning and what not, 13s. So
forth towards Hungerford, led this good way by our landlord, one Heart,
an old but very civil and well-spoken man, more than I ever heard, of
his quality. He gone, we forward; and I vexed at my people’s not minding
the way. So come to Hungerford, where very good trouts, eels, and
crayfish. Dinner: a mean town. At dinner there, 12s. Thence set out with
a guide, who saw us to Newmarket-heath, and then left us, 3s. 6d. So all
over the Plain by the sight of the steeple, the Plain high and low,
to Salisbury, by night; but before I come to the town, I saw a great
fortification, and there ‘light, and to it and in it; and find it
prodigious, so as to frighten me to be in it all alone at that time of
night, it being dark. I understand, since, it to be that, that is called
Old Sarum. Come to the George Inne, where lay in a silk bed; and very
good diet. To supper; then to bed.
11th (Thursday). Up, and W. Hewer and I up and down the town, and find
it a very brave place. The river goes through every street; and a most
capacious market-place. The city great, I think greater than Hereford.
But the Minster most admirable; as big, I think, and handsomer than
Westminster: and a most large Close about it, and houses for the
Officers thereof, and a fine palace for the Bishop. So to my lodging
back, and took out my wife and people to shew them the town and Church;
but they being at prayers, we could not be shown the Quire. A very good
organ; and I looked in, and saw the Bishop, my friend Dr. Ward. Thence
to the inne; and there not being able to hire coach-horses, and not
willing to use our own, we got saddle-horses, very dear. Boy that went
to look for them, 6d. So the three women behind W. Hewer, Murford, and
our guide, and I single to Stonage; over the Plain and some great hills,
even to fright us. Come thither, and find them as prodigious as any
tales I ever heard of them, and worth going this journey to see. God
knows what their use was! they are hard to tell, but yet maybe told.
Give the shepherd-woman, for leading our horses, 4d. So back by Wilton,
my Lord Pembroke’s house, which we could not see, he being just coming
to town; but the situation I do not like, nor the house promise much, it
being in a low but rich valley. So back home; and there being ‘light,
we to the Church, and there find them at prayers again, so could not see
the Quire; but I sent the women home, and I did go in, and saw very many
fine tombs, and among the rest some very ancient, of the Montagus.
[The Montacutes, from whom Lord Sandwich’s family claimed descent:
--B.]
So home to dinner; and, that being done, paid the reckoning, which was
so exorbitant; and particular in rate of my horses, and 7s. 6d. for
bread and beer, that I was mad, and resolve to trouble the master about
it, and get something for the poor; and come away in that humour: L2 5s.
6d. Servants, 1s. 6d.; poor, 1s.; guide to the Stones, 2s.; poor woman
in the street, 1s.; ribbands, 9d.; washwoman, 1s.; sempstress for W.
Hewer, 3s.; lent W. Hewer, 3s. Thence about six o’clock, and with a
guide went over the smooth Plain indeed till night; and then by a happy
mistake, and that looked like an adventure, we were carried out of our
way to a town where we would lye, since we could not go so far as we
would. And there with great difficulty come about ten at night to a
little inn, where we were fain to go into a room where a pedlar was in
bed, and made him rise; and there wife and I lay, and in a truckle-bed
Betty Turner and Willett. But good beds, and the master of the house a
sober, understanding man, and I had good discourse with him about this
country’s matters, as wool, and corne, and other things. And he also
merry, and made us mighty merry at supper, about manning the new ship,
at Bristol, with none but men whose wives do master them; and it seems
it is become in reproach to some men of estate that are such hereabouts,
that this is become common talk. By and by to bed, glad of this mistake,
because, it seems, had we gone on as we intended, we could not have
passed with our coach, and must have lain on the Plain all night. This
day from Salisbury I wrote by the post my excuse for not coming home,
which I hope will do, for I am resolved to see the Bath, and, it may be,
Bristol.
12th (Friday). Up, finding our beds good, but lousy; which made us
merry. We set out, the reckoning and servants coming to 9s. 6d.; my
guide thither, 2s.; coachman, advanced, 10s. So rode a very good way,
led to my great content by our landlord to Philips-Norton, with great
pleasure, being now come into Somersetshire; where my wife and Deb.
mightily joyed thereat,--[They were natives of that county.-B.]--I
commending the country, as indeed it deserves. And the first town we
came to was Brekington, where, we stopping for something for the horses,
we called two or three little boys to us, and pleased ourselves with
their manner of speech, and did make one of them kiss Deb., and another
say the Lord’s Prayer (hallowed be thy kingdom come). At Philips-Norton
I walked to the Church, and there saw a very ancient tomb of some Knight
Templar, I think; and here saw the tombstone whereon there were only two
heads cut, which, the story goes, and credibly, were two sisters, called
the Fair Maids of Foscott, that had two bodies upward and one belly, and
there lie buried. Here is also a very fine ring of six bells, and they
mighty tuneable. Having dined very well, 10s., we come before night to
the Bath; where I presently stepped out with my landlord, and saw the
baths, with people in them. They are not so large as I expected, but
yet pleasant; and the town most of stone, and clean, though the streets
generally narrow. I home, and being weary, went to bed without supper;
the rest supping.
13th (Saturday). Up at four o’clock, being by appointment called up to
the Cross Bath, where we were carried one after one another, myself, and
wife, and Betty Turner, Willet, and W. Hewer. And by and by, though we
designed to have done before company come, much company come; very fine
ladies; and the manner pretty enough, only methinks it cannot be clean
to go so many bodies together in the same water. Good conversation among
them that are acquainted here, and stay together. Strange to see how
hot the water is; and in some places, though this is the most temperate
bath, the springs so hot as the feet not able to endure. But strange
to see, when women and men herein, that live all the season in these
waters, that cannot but be parboiled, and look like the creatures of the
bath! Carried away, wrapped in a sheet, and in a chair, home; and there
one after another thus carried, I staying above two hours in the water,
home to bed, sweating for an hour; and by and by, comes musick to play
to me, extraordinary good as ever I heard at London almost, or anywhere:
5s. Up, to go to Bristol, about eleven o’clock, and paying my landlord
that was our guide from Chiltern, 10s., and the serjeant of the bath,
10s., and the man that carried us in chairs, 3s. 6d. Set out towards
Bristoll, and come thither (in a coach hired to spare our own horses);
the way bad, but country good, about two o’clock, where set down at the
Horse’shoe, and there, being trimmed by a very handsome fellow, 2s.,
walked with my wife and people through the city, which is in every
respect another London, that one can hardly know it, to stand in the
country, no more than that. No carts, it standing generally on vaults,
only dog-carts.
[“They draw all their heavy goods here on sleds, or sledges, which
they call ‘gee hoes,’ without wheels, which kills a multitude of
horses.” Another writer says, “They suffer no carts to be used in
the city, lest, as some say, the shake occasioned by them on the
pavement should affect the Bristol milk (the sherry) in the vaults,
which is certainly had here in the greatest perfection.” An order
of Common Council occurs in 1651 to prohibit the use of carts and
waggons-only suffering drays. “Camden in giving our city credit for
its cleanliness in forming ‘goutes,’ says they use sledges here
instead of carts, lest they destroy the arches beneath which are the
goutes.”--Chilcott’s New Guide to Bristol, &c.,]
So to the Three..Crowns Tavern I was directed; but, when I come in,
the master told me that he had newly given over the selling of wine; it
seems, grown rich; and so went to the Sun; and there Deb. going with
W. Hewer and Betty Turner to see her uncle [Butts], and leaving my wife
with the mistress of the house, I to see the quay, which is a most large
and noble Vlace; and to see the new ship building by Bally, neither
he nor Furzer being in town. It will be a fine ship. Spoke with the
foreman, and did give the boys that kept the cabin 2s. Walked back to
the Sun, where I find Deb. come back, and with her, her uncle, a sober
merchant, very good company, and so like one of our sober, wealthy,
London merchants, as pleased me mightily. Here we dined, and much good
talk with him, 7s. 6d.: a messenger to Sir John Knight, who was not at
home, 6d. Then walked with him [Butts] and my wife and company round the
quay, and to the ship; and he shewed me the Custom-house, and made me
understand many things of the place, and led us through Marsh Street,
where our girl was born. But, Lord! the joy that was among the old poor
people of the place, to see Mrs. Willet’s daughter, it seems her mother
being a brave woman and mightily beloved! And so brought us a back
way by surprize to his house, where a substantial good house, and well
furnished; and did give us good entertainment of strawberries, a whole
venison-pasty, cold, and plenty of brave wine, and above all Bristoll
milk,
[A sort of rum punch (milk punch), which, and turtle, were products
of the trade of Bristol with the West Indies. So Byron says in the
first edition of his “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers”
“Too much in turtle Bristol’s sons delight,
Too much oer bowls of rack prolong the night.”
These lines will not be found in the modern editions; but the
following are substituted:
“Four turtle feeder’s verse must needs he flat,
Though Bristol bloat him with the verdant fat.”
Lord Macaulay says of the collations with which the sugar-refiners
of Bristol regaled their visitors: “The repast was dressed in the
furnace, And was accompanied by a rich brewage made of the best
Spanish wine, and celebrated over the whole kingdom as Bristol milk”
(“Hist. of England,” vol. i., p. 335)--B.]
where comes in another poor woman, who, hearing that Deb. was here, did
come running hither, and with her eyes so lull of tears, and heart so
full of joy, that she could not speak when she come in, that it made me
weep too: I protest that I was not able to speak to her, which I would
have done, to have diverted her tears. His wife a good woman, and
so sober and substantiall as I was never more pleased anywhere.
Servant-maid, 2s. So thence took leave, and he with us through the city,
where in walking I find the city pay him great respect, and he the like
to the meanest, which pleased me mightily. He shewed us the place where
the merchants meet here, and a fine Cross yet standing, like Cheapside.
And so to the Horseshoe, where paid the reckoning, 2s. 6d. We back, and
by moonshine to the Bath again, about ten-o’clock: bad way; and giving
the coachman 1s., went all of us to bed.
14th (Sunday). Up, and walked up and down the town, and saw a pretty
good market-place, and many good streets, and very fair stone-houses.
And so to the great Church, and there saw Bishop Montagu’s tomb;
[James Montagu, Bishop of Bath and Wells in 1608, and of Winchester
in 1616--died 1618. He was uncle to the Earl of Sandwich, whose
mother was Pepys’s aunt. Hence Pepys’s curiosity respecting the
tomb.--B.]
and, when placed, did there see many brave people come, and, among
others, two men brought in, in litters, and set down in the chancel
to hear: but I did not know one face. Here a good organ; but a vain,
pragmatical fellow preached a ridiculous, affected sermon, that made
me angry, and some gentlemen that sat next me, and sang well. So home,
walking round the walls of the City, which are good, and the battlements
all whole. The sexton of the church is. So home to dinner, and after
dinner comes Mr. Butts again to see me, and he and I to church, where
the same idle fellow preached; and I slept most of the sermon. Thence
home, and took my wife out and the girls, and come to this church again,
to see it, and look over the monuments, where, among others, Dr. Venner
and Pelting, and a lady of Sir W. Walter’s; he lying with his face
broken. So to the fields a little and walked, and then home and had my
head looked [at], and so to supper, and then comes my landlord to me, a
sober understanding man, and did give me a good account of the antiquity
of this town and Wells; and of two Heads, on two pillars, in Wells
church. But he a Catholick. So he gone, I to bed.
15th (Monday). Up, and with Mr. Butts to look into the baths, and find
the King and Queen’s full of a mixed sort, of good and bad, and the
Cross only almost for the gentry. So home and did the like with my wife,
and did pay my guides, two women, 5s.; one man, 2s. 6d.; poor, 6d.;
woman to lay my foot-cloth, 1s. So to our inne, and there eat and paid
reckoning, L1 8s. 6d.; servants, 3s.; poor, 1s.; lent the coach man,
10s. Before I took coach, I went to make a boy dive in the King’s bath,
1s. I paid also for my coach and a horse to Bristol, L1 1s. 6d. Took
coach, and away, without any of the company of the other stage-coaches,
that go out of this town to-day; and rode all day with some trouble,
for fear of being out of our way, over the Downes, where the life of
the shepherds is, in fair weather only, pretty. In the afternoon come to
Abebury, where, seeing great stones like those of Stonage standing up,
I stopped, and took a countryman of that town, and he carried me and
shewed me a place trenched in, like Old Sarum almost, with great stones
pitched in it, some bigger than those at Stonage in figure, to my great
admiration: and he told me that most people of learning, coming by, do
come and view them, and that the King did so: and that the Mount
cast hard by is called Selbury, from one King Seall buried there, as
tradition says. I did give this man 1s. So took coach again, seeing one
place with great high stones pitched round, which, I believe, was once
some particular building, in some measure like that of Stonage. But,
about a mile off, it was prodigious to see how full the Downes are of
great stones; and all along the vallies, stones of considerable bigness,
most of them growing certainly out of the ground so thick as to cover
the ground, which makes me think the less of the wonder of Stonage, for
hence they might undoubtedly supply themselves with stones, as well
as those at Abebury. In my way did give to the poor and menders of the
highway 3s. Before night, come to Marlborough, and lay at the Hart; a
good house, and a pretty fair town for a street or two; and what is most
singular is, their houses on one side having their pent-houses supported
with pillars, which makes it a good walk. My wife pleased with all, this
evening reading of “Mustapha” to me till supper, and then to supper, and
had musique whose innocence pleased me, and I did give them 3s. So to
bed, and lay well all night, and long, so as all the five coaches that
come this day from Bath, as well as we, were gone out of the town before
six.
16th (Tuesday). So paying the reckoning, 14s. 4d., and servants, 2s.,
poor 1s., set out; and overtook one coach and kept a while company with
it, till one of our horses losing a shoe, we stopped and drank and spent
1s. So on, and passing through a good part of this county of Wiltshire,
saw a good house of Alexander Popham’s, and another of my Lord Craven’s,
I think in Barkeshire. Come to Newbery, and there dined, which cost me,
and musick, which a song of the old courtier of Queen Elizabeth’s,
and how he was changed upon the coming in of the King, did please me
mightily, and I did cause W. Hewer to write it out, 3s. 6d. Then comes
the reckoning, forced to change gold, 8s. 7d.; servants and poor, 1s.
6d. So out, and lost our way, which made me vexed, but come into it
again; and in the evening betimes come to Reading, and there heard my
wife read more of “Mustapha,” and then to supper, and then I to walk
about the town, which is a very great one, I think bigger than Salsbury:
a river runs through it, in seven branches, and unite in one, in one
part of the town, and runs into the Thames half-a-mile off one odd sign
of the Broad Face. W. Hewer troubled with the headake we had none of his
company last night, nor all this day nor night to talk. Then to my inn,
and so to bed.
17th (Wednesday). Rose, and paying the reckoning, 12s. 6d.; servants
and poor, 2s. 6d.; musick, the worst we have had, coming to our
chamber-door, but calling us by wrong names, we lay; so set out with one
coach in company, and through Maydenhead, which I never saw before, to
Colebrooke by noon; the way mighty good; and there dined, and fitted
ourselves a little to go through London, anon. Somewhat out of humour
all day, reflecting on my wife’s neglect of things, and impertinent
humour got by this liberty of being from me, which she is never to be
trusted with; for she is a fool. Thence pleasant way to London, before
night, and find all very well, to great content; and there to talk with
my wife, and saw Sir W. Pen, who is well again. I hear of the ill news
by the great fire at Barbados. By and by home, and there with my
people to supper, all in pretty good humour, though I find my wife
hath something in her gizzard, that only waits an opportunity of being
provoked to bring up; but I will not, for my content-sake, give it. So I
to bed, glad to find all so well here, and slept well.
[The rough notes end here.]
18th. Up betimes and to the office, there to set my papers in order and
books, my office having been new whited and windows made clean, and so
to sit, where all the morning, and did receive a hint or two from my
Lord Anglesey, as if he thought much of my taking the ayre as I have
done; but I care not a turd; but whatever the matter is, I think he hath
some ill-will to me, or at least an opinion that I am more the servant
of the Board than I am. At noon home to dinner, where my wife still in a
melancholy, fusty humour, and crying, and do not tell me plainly what it
is; but I by little words find that she hath heard of my going to plays,
and carrying people abroad every day, in her absence; and that I cannot
help but the storm will break out, I think, in a little time. After
dinner carried her by coach to St. James’s, where she sat in the coach
till I to my Lady Peterborough’s, who tells me, among other things, her
Lord’s good words to the Duke of York lately, about my Lord Sandwich,
and that the Duke of York is kind to my Lord Sandwich, which I am glad
to hear: my business here was about her Lord’s pension from Tangier.
Here met with Povy, who tells me how hard Creed is upon him, though he
did give him, about six months since, I think he said, fifty pieces in
gold; and one thing there is in his accounts that I fear may touch me,
but I shall help it, I hope. So my wife not speaking a word, going nor
coming, nor willing to go to a play, though a new one, I to the Office,
and did much business. At night home, where supped Mr. Turner and his
wife, and Betty and Mercer and Pelling, as merry as the ill, melancholy
humour that my wife was in, would let us, which vexed me; but I took no
notice of it, thinking that will be the best way, and let it wear away
itself. After supper, parted, and to bed; and my wife troubled all
night, and about one o’clock goes out of the bed to the girl’s bed,
which did trouble me, she crying and sobbing, without telling the cause.
By and by she comes back to me, and still crying; I then rose, and would
have sat up all night, but she would have me come to bed again; and
being pretty well pacified, we to sleep.
19th. When between two and three in the morning we were waked with my
maids crying out, “Fire, fire, in Markelane!” So I rose and looked out,
and it was dreadful; and strange apprehensions in me, and us all, of
being presently burnt. So we all rose; and my care presently was to
secure my gold, and plate, and papers, and could quickly have done it,
but I went forth to see where it was; and the whole town was presently
in the streets; and I found it in a new-built house that stood alone
in Minchin-lane, over against the Cloth-workers’-hall, which burned
furiously: the house not yet quite finished; and the benefit of brick
was well seen, for it burnt all inward, and fell down within itself;
so no fear of doing more hurt. So homeward, and stopped at Mr. Mills’s,
where he and she at the door, and Mrs. Turner, and Betty, and Mrs.
Hollworthy, and there I stayed and talked, and up to the church leads,
and saw the fire, which spent itself, till all fear over. I home, and
there we to bed again, and slept pretty well, and about nine rose, and
then my wife fell into her blubbering again, and at length had a request
to make to me, which was, that she might go into France, and live there,
out of trouble; and then all come out, that I loved pleasure and
denied her any, and a deal of do; and I find that there have been great
fallings out between my father and her, whom, for ever hereafter, I must
keep asunder, for they cannot possibly agree. And I said nothing, but,
with very mild words and few, suffered her humour to spend, till we
begun to be very quiet, and I think all will be over, and friends, and
so I to the office, where all the morning doing business. Yesterday I
heard how my Lord Ashly is like to die, having some imposthume in his
breast, that he hath been fain to be cut into the body.
[“Such an operation was performed in this year, after a consultation
of medical men, and chiefly by Locke’s advice, and the wound was
afterwards always kept open, a silver pipe being inserted. This
saved Lord Ashley’s life, and gave him health”--Christie’s Life of
the first Earl of Shaftesbury, vol. ii., p. 34. ‘Tapski’ was a name
given to Shaftesbury in derision, and vile defamers described the
abscess, which had originated in a carriage accident in Holland, as
the result of extreme dissipation. Lines by Duke, a friend and
imitator of Dryden:
“The working ferment of his active mind,
In his weak body’s cask with pain confined,
Would burst the rotten vessel where ‘tis pent,
But that ‘tis tapt to give the treason vent.”]
At noon home to dinner, and thence by coach to White Hall, where we
attended the Duke of York in his closet, upon our usual business. And
thence out, and did see many of the Knights of the Garter, with the King
and Duke of York, going into the Privychamber, to elect the Elector of
Saxony into that Order, who, I did hear the Duke of York say, was a good
drinker: I know not upon what score this compliment is done him. Thence
with W. Pen, who is in great pain of the gowte, by coach round by
Holborne home, he being at every kennel full of pain. Thence home, and
by and by comes my wife and Deb. home, have been at the King’s playhouse
to-day, thinking to spy me there; and saw the new play, “Evening Love,”
of Dryden’s, which, though the world commends, she likes not. So to
supper and talk, and all in good humour, and then to bed, where I slept
not well, from my apprehensions of some trouble about some business of
Mr. Povy’s he told me of the other day.
20th. Up, and talked with my wife all in good humour, and so to the
office, where all the morning, and then home to dinner, and so she and
I alone to the King’s house, and there I saw this new play my wife saw
yesterday, and do not like it, it being very smutty, and nothing so good
as “The Maiden Queen,” or “The Indian Emperour,” of his making, that I
was troubled at it; and my wife tells me wholly (which he confesses a
little in the epilogue) taken out of the “Illustre Bassa.” So she to
Unthanke’s and I to Mr. Povy, and there settled some business; and here
talked of things, and he thinks there will be great revolutions, and
that Creed will be a great man, though a rogue, he being a man of the
old strain, which will now be up again. So I took coach, and set Povy
down at Charing Cross, and took my wife up, and calling at the New
Exchange at Smith’s shop, and kissed her pretty hand, and so we
home, and there able to do nothing by candlelight, my eyes being now
constantly so bad that I must take present advice or be blind. So to
supper, grieved for my eyes, and to bed.
21st (Lord’s day). Up, and to church, and home and dined with my wife
and Deb. alone, but merry and in good humour, which is, when all is
done, the greatest felicity of all, and after dinner she to read in the
“Illustre Bassa” the plot of yesterday’s play, which is most exactly the
same, and so to church I alone, and thence to see Sir W. Pen, who is ill
again, and then home, and there get my wife to read to me till supper,
and then to bed.
22nd. Up, and with Balty to St. James’s, and there presented him to Mr.
Wren about his being Muster-Master this year, which will be done. So
up to wait on the Duke of York, and thence, with W. Coventry, walked to
White Hall good discourse about the Navy, where want of money undoes us.
Thence to the Harp and Ball I to drink, and so to the Coffee-house in
Covent Garden; but met with nobody but Sir Philip Howard, who shamed
me before the whole house there, in commendation of my speech in
Parliament, and thence I away home to dinner alone, my wife being at her
tailor’s, and after dinner comes Creed, whom I hate, to speak with me,
and before him comes Mrs. Daniel about business.... She gone, Creed
and I to the King’s playhouse, and saw an act or two of the new
play [“Evening’s Love”] again, but like it not. Calling this day at
Herringman’s, he tells me Dryden do himself call it but a fifth-rate
play. Thence with him to my Lord Brouncker’s, where a Council of the
Royall Society; and there heard Mr. Harry Howard’s’ noble offers about
ground for our College, and his intentions of building his own house
there most nobly. My business was to meet Mr. Boyle, which I did, and
discoursed about my eyes; and he did give me the best advice he could,
but refers me to one Turberville, of Salsbury, lately come to town,
which I will go to.
[Daubigny Turberville, of Oriel College; created M.D. at
Oxford,1660. He was a physician of some eminence, and, dying at
Salisbury on the 21st April, 1696, aged eighty-five, he was buried
in the cathedral, where his monument remains. Cassan, in his “Lives
of the Bishops of Sarum,” part iii., p. 103, has reprinted an
interesting account of Turberville, from the “Memoir of Bishop Seth
Ward,” published in 1697, by Dr. Walter Pope. Turberville was born
at Wayford, co. Somerset, in 1612, and became an expert oculist; and
probably Pepys received great benefit from his advice, as his vision
does not appear to have failed during the many years that he lived
after discontinuing the Diary. The doctor died rich, and
subsequently to his decease his sister Mary, inheriting all his
prescriptions, and knowing how to use them, practised as an oculist
in London with good reputation.--B.]
Thence home, where the streets full, at our end of the town, removing
their wine against the Act begins, which will be two days hence, to
raise the price. I did get my store in of Batelier this night. So home
to supper and to bed.
23rd. Up, and all the morning at the office. At noon home to dinner, and
so to the office again all the afternoon, and then to Westminster to
Dr. Turberville about my eyes, whom I met with: and he did discourse, I
thought, learnedly about them; and takes time before he did prescribe me
any thing, to think of it. So I away with my wife and Deb., whom I left
at Unthanke’s, and so to Hercules Pillars, and there we three supped
on cold powdered beef, and thence home and in the garden walked a good
while with Deane, talking well of the Navy miscarriages and faults. So
home to bed.
24th. Up, and Creed and Colonell Atkins come to me about sending coals
to Tangier: and upon that most of the morning. Thence Creed and I to
Alderman Backewell’s about Tangier business of money, and thence I
by water (calling and drinking, but not baisado, at Michell’s) to
Westminster, but it being holyday did no business, only to Martin’s...
and so home again by water, and busy till dinner, and then with wife,
Mercer, Deb., and W. Hewer to the Duke of York’s playhouse, and there
saw “The Impertinents,” a pretty good play; and so by water to Spring
Garden, and there supped, and so home, not very merry, only when we come
home, Mercer and I sat and sung in the garden a good while, and so to
bed.
25th. Up, and to the office all the morning, and after dinner at home to
the office again, and there all the afternoon very busy till night, and
then home to supper and to bed.
26th. All the morning doing business at the office. At noon, with my
Fellow-Officers, to the Dolphin, at Sir G. Carteret’s charge, to dinner,
he having some accounts examined this morning. All the afternoon we all
at Sir W. Pen’s with him about the Victuallers’ accounts, and then in
the evening to Charing Cross, and there took up my wife at her tailor’s,
and so home and to walk in the garden, and then to sup and to bed.
27th. At the office all the morning, at noon dined at home, and then
my wife, and Deb., and I to the King’s playhouse, and saw “The Indian
Queene,” but do not doat upon Nan Marshall’s acting therein, as the
world talks of her excellence therein. Thence with my wife to buy some
linnen, L13 worth, for sheets, &c., at the new shop over against the
New Exchange; [and the master, who is] come out of London--[To the
Strand.]--since the fire, says his and other tradesmen’s retail trade is
so great here, and better than it was in London, that they believe
they shall not return, nor the city be ever so great for retail as
heretofore. So home and to my business, and to bed.
28th (Lord’s day). Up, and to church, and then home to dinner, where
Betty Turner, Mercer, and Captain Deane, and after dinner to sing, Mr.
Pelting coming. Then, they gone, Deane and I all the afternoon till
night to talk of navy matters and ships with great pleasure, and so at
night, he gone, I to supper, Pelling coming again and singing a while,
then to bed. Much talk of the French setting out their fleete afresh;
but I hear nothing that our King is alarmed at it, at all, but rather
making his fleete less.
29th. Called up by my Lady Peterborough’s servant about some business of
hers, and so to the office. Thence by and by with Sir J. Minnes toward
St. James’s, and I stop at Dr. Turberville’s, and there did receive a
direction for some physic, and also a glass of something to drop into my
eyes: who gives me hopes that I may do well. Thence to St. James’s,
and thence to White Hall, where I find the Duke of York in the
Council-chamber; where the Officers of the Navy were called in about
Navy business, about calling in of more ships; the King of France
having, as the Duke of York says, ordered his fleete to come in,
notwithstanding what he had lately ordered for their staying abroad.
Thence to the Chapel, it being St. Peter’s day, and did hear an anthem
of Silas Taylor’s making; a dull, old-fashioned thing, of six and seven
parts, that nobody could understand: and the Duke of York, when he come
out, told me that he was a better store-keeper than anthem-maker, and
that was bad enough, too. This morning Mr. May’ shewed me the King’s
new buildings at White Hall, very fine; and among other things, his
ceilings, and his houses of office. So home to dinner, and then with my
wife to the King’s playhouse--“The Mulberry Garden,” which she had not
seen. So by coach to Islington, and round by Hackney home with much
pleasure, and to supper and bed.
30th. Up, and at the Office all the morning: then home to dinner, where
a stinking leg of mutton, the weather being very wet and hot to keep
meat in. Then to the Office again, all the afternoon: we met about the
Victualler’s new contract. And so up, and to walk all the evening with
my wife and Mrs. Turner in the garden, till supper, about eleven at
night; and so, after supper, parted, and to bed, my eyes bad, but not
worse, only weary with working. But, however, I very melancholy under
the fear of my eyes being spoiled, and not to be recovered; for I am
come that I am not able to readout a small letter, and yet my sight good
for the little while I can read, as ever they were, I think.