Diary of Samuel Pepys, 1667 N.S. Complete

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Query, whether a glass-coach would have permitted us to have made the
escape?--[See note on introduction of glass coaches, September 23rd,
1667.]--neither of us getting any hurt; nor could the coach have got much
hurt had we been in it; but, however, there was cause enough for us to do
what we could to save ourselves. So being all dusty, we put into the
Castle tavern, by the Savoy, and there brushed ourselves, and then to
White Hall with our fellows to attend the Council, by order upon some
proposition of my Lord Anglesey, we were called in. The King there: and
it was about considering how the fleete might be discharged at their
coming in shortly (the peace being now ratified, and it takes place on
Monday next, which Sir W. Coventry said would make some clashing between
some of us twenty to one, for want of more warning, but the wind has kept
the boats from coming over), whether by money or tickets, and cries out
against tickets, but the matter was referred for us to provide an answer
to, which we must do in a few days. So we parted, and I to Westminster to
the Exchequer, to see what sums of money other people lend upon the Act;
and find of all sizes from L1000 to L100 nay, to L50, nay, to L20, nay, to
L5: for I find that one Dr. Reade, Doctor of Law, gives no more, and
others of them L20; which is a poor thing, methinks, that we should stoop
so low as to borrow such sums. Upon the whole, I do think to lend, since
I must lend, L300, though, God knows! it is much against my will to lend
any, unless things were in better condition, and likely to continue so.
Thence home and there to dinner, and after dinner by coach out again,
setting my wife down at Unthanke's, and I to the Treasury-chamber, where I
waited, talking with Sir G. Downing, till the Lords met. He tells me how
he will make all the Exchequer officers, of one side and t'other, to lend
the King money upon the Act; and that the least clerk shall lend money,
and he believes the least will L100: but this I do not believe. He made
me almost ashamed that we of the Navy had not in all this time lent any;
so that I find it necessary I should, and so will speedily do it, before
any of my fellows begin, and lead me to a bigger sum. By and by the Lords
come; and I perceive Sir W. Coventry is the man, and nothing done till he
comes. Among other things, I hear him observe, looking over a paper, that
Sir John Shaw is a miracle of a man, for he thinks he executes more places
than any man in England; for there he finds him a Surveyor of some of the
King's woods, and so reckoned up many other places, the most inconsistent
in the world. Their business with me was to consider how to assigne such
of our commanders as will take assignements upon the Act for their wages;
and the consideration thereof was referred to me to give them an answer
the next sitting: which is a horrid poor thing: but they scruple at
nothing of honour in the case. So away hence, and called my wife, and to
the King's house, and saw "The Mayden Queene," which pleases us mightily;
and then away, and took up Mrs. Turner at her door, and so to Mile End,
and there drank, and so back to her house, it being a fine evening, and
there supped. The first time I ever was there since they lived there; and
she hath all things so neat and well done, that I am mightily pleased with
her, and all she do. So here very merry, and then home and to bed, my
eyes being very bad. I find most people pleased with their being at ease,
and safe of a peace, that they may know no more charge or hazard of an
ill-managed war: but nobody speaking of the peace with any content or
pleasure, but are silent in it, as of a thing they are ashamed of; no, not
at Court, much less in the City.

24th (St. Bartholomew's day). This morning was proclaimed the peace
between us and the States of the United Provinces, and also of the King of
France and Denmarke; and in the afternoon the Proclamations were printed
and come out; and at night the bells rung, but no bonfires that I hear of
any where, partly from the dearness of firing, but principally from the
little content most people have in the peace. All the morning at the
office. At noon dined, and Creed with me, at home. After dinner we to a
play, and there saw "The Cardinall" at the King's house, wherewith I am
mightily pleased; but, above all, with Becke Marshall. But it is pretty to
observe how I look up and down for, and did spy Knipp; but durst not own
it to my wife that I see her, for fear of angering her, who do not like my
kindness to her, and so I was forced not to take notice of her, and so
homeward, leaving Creed at the Temple: and my belly now full with plays,
that I do intend to bind myself to see no more till Michaelmas. So with
my wife to Mile End, and there drank of Bides ale, and so home. Most of
our discourse is about our keeping a coach the next year, which pleases my
wife mightily; and if I continue as able as now, it will save us money.
This day comes a letter from the Duke of York to the Board to invite us,
which is as much as to fright us, into the lending the King money; which
is a poor thing, and most dishonourable, and shows in what a case we are
at the end of the war to our neighbours. And the King do now declare
publickly to give 10 per cent. to all lenders; which makes some think that
the Dutch themselves will send over money, and lend it upon our publick
faith, the Act of Parliament. So home and to my office, wrote a little,
and then home to supper and to bed.

25th (Lord's day). Up, and to church, and thence home; and Pelling comes
by invitation to dine with me, and much pleasant discourse with him. After
dinner, away by water to White Hall, where I landed Pelling, who is going
to his wife, where she is in the country, at Parson's Greene: and myself
to Westminster, and there at the Swan I did baiser Frank, and to the
parish church, thinking to see Betty Michell; and did stay an hour in the
crowd, thinking, by the end of a nose that I saw, that it had been her;
but at last the head turned towards me, and it was her mother, which vexed
me, and so I back to my boat, which had broke one of her oars in rowing,
and had now fastened it again; and so I up to Putney, and there stepped
into the church, to look upon the fine people there, whereof there is
great store, and the young ladies; and so walked to Barne-Elmes, whither I
sent Russel, reading of Boyle's Hydrostatickes, which are of infinite
delight. I walked in the Elmes a good while, and then to my boat, and
leisurely home, with great pleasure to myself; and there supped, and W.
Hewer with us, with whom a great deal of good talk touching the Office,
and so to bed.

26th. Up, and Greeting come, and I reckoned with him for his teaching of
my wife and me upon the flageolet to this day, and so paid him for having
as much as he can teach us. Then to the Office, where we sat upon a
particular business all the morning: and my Lord Anglesey with us: who,
and my Lord Bruncker, do bring us news how my Lord Chancellor's seal is to
be taken away from him to-day. The thing is so great and sudden to me,
that it put me into a very great admiration what should be the meaning of
it; and they do not own that they know what it should be: but this is
certain, that the King did resolve it on Saturday, and did yesterday send
the Duke of Albemarle, the only man fit for those works, to him for his
purse: to which the Chancellor answered, that he received it from the
King, and would deliver it to the King's own hand, and so civilly returned
the Duke of Albemarle without it; and this morning my Lord Chancellor is
to be with the King, to come to an end in the business. After sitting, we
rose, and my wife being gone abroad with Mrs. Turner to her washing at the
whitster's, I dined at Sir W. Batten's, where Mr. Boreman was, who come
from White Hall; who tells us that he saw my Lord Chancellor come in his
coach with some of his men, without his Seal, to White Hall to his
chamber; and thither the King and Duke of York come and staid together
alone, an hour or more: and it is said that the King do say that he will
have the Parliament meet, and that it will prevent much trouble by having
of him out of their enmity, by his place being taken away; for that all
their enmity will be at him. It is said also that my Lord Chancellor
answers, that he desires he may be brought to his trial, if he have done
any thing to lose his office; and that he will be willing, and is most
desirous, to lose that, and his head both together. Upon what terms they
parted nobody knows but the Chancellor looked sad, he says. Then in comes
Sir Richard Ford, and says he hears that there is nobody more presses to
reconcile the King and Chancellor than the Duke of Albemarle and Duke of
Buckingham: the latter of which is very strange, not only that he who was
so lately his enemy should do it, but that this man, that but the other
day was in danger of losing his own head, should so soon come to be a
mediator for others: it shows a wise Government. They all say that he
[Clarendon] is but a poor man, not worth above L3000 a-year in land; but
this I cannot believe: and all do blame him for having built so great a
house, till he had got a better estate. Having dined, Sir J. Minnes and I
to White Hall, where we could be informed in no more than we were told
before, nobody knowing the result of the meeting, but that the matter is
suspended. So I walked to the King's playhouse, there to meet Sir W. Pen,
and saw "The Surprizall," a very mean play, I thought: or else it was
because I was out of humour, and but very little company in the house.
But there Sir W. Pen and I had a great deal of discourse with Moll; who
tells us that Nell is already left by my Lord Buckhurst, and that he makes
sport of her, and swears she hath had all she could get of him; and Hart,

[Charles Hart, great-nephew of Shakespeare, a favourite actor. He
is credited with being Nell Gwyn's first lover (or Charles I., as
the wits put it), and with having brought her on the stage. He died
of stone, and was buried at Stanmore Magna, Middlesex, where he had
a country house.]

her great admirer, now hates her; and that she is very poor, and hath lost
my Lady Castlemayne, who was her great friend also but she is come to the
House, but is neglected by them all.

[Lord Buckhurst's liaison with Nell Gwyn probably came to an end
about this time. We learn from Pepys that in January, 1667-68, the
king sent several times for Nelly (see January 11th, 1667-68).
Nell's eldest son by Charles II., Charles Beauclerc, was not born
till May 8th, 1670. He was created Earl of Burford in 1676 and Duke
of St. Albans in 1684.]

Thence with Sir W. Pen home, and I to the office, where late about
business, and then home to supper, and so to bed.

27th. Up, and am invited betimes to be godfather tomorrow to Captain
Poole's child with my Lady Pen and Lady Batten, which I accepted out of
complaisance to them, and so to the office, where we sat all the morning.
At noon dined at home, and then my wife and I, with Sir W. Pen, to the New
Exchange, set her down, and he and I to St. James's, where Sir J. Minnes,
[Sir] W. Batten, and we waited upon the Duke of York, but did little
business, and he, I perceive, his head full of other business, and of late
hath not been very ready to be troubled with any of our business. Having
done with him, Sir J. Minnes, [Sir] W. Batten and I to White Hall, and
there hear how it is like to go well enough with my Lord Chancellor; that
he is like to keep his Seal, desiring that he may stand his trial in
Parliament, if they will accuse him of any thing. Here Sir J. Minnes and
I looking upon the pictures; and Mr. Chevins, being by, did take us, of
his own accord, into the King's closet, to shew us some pictures, which,
indeed, is a very noble place, and exceeding great variety of brave
pictures, and the best hands. I could have spent three or four hours
there well, and we had great liberty to look and Chevins seemed to take
pleasure to shew us, and commend the pictures. Having done here, I to the
Exchange, and there find my wife gone with Sir W. Pen. So I to visit
Colonel Fitzgerald, who hath been long sick at Woolwich, where most of the
officers and soldiers quartered there, since the Dutch being in the river,
have died or been sick, and he among the rest; and, by the growth of his
beard and gray [hairs], I did not know him. His desire to speak with me
was about the late command for my paying no more pensions for Tangier.
Thence home, and there did business, and so in the evening home to supper
and to bed. This day Mr. Pierce, the surgeon, was with me; and tells me
how this business of my Lord Chancellor's was certainly designed in my
Lady Castlemayne's chamber; and that, when he went from the King on Monday
morning, she was in bed, though about twelve o'clock, and ran out in her
smock into her aviary looking into White Hall garden; and thither her
woman brought her her nightgown; and stood joying herself at the old man's
going away: and several of the gallants of White Hall, of which there were
many staying to see the Chancellor return, did talk to her in her
birdcage; among others, Blancford, telling her she was the bird of
paradise.

[Clarendon refers to this scene in the continuation of his Life (ed.
1827, vol. iii., p. 291), and Lister writes: "Lady Castlemaine rose
hastily from her noontide bed, and came out into her aviary, anxious
to read in the saddened air of her distinguished enemy some presage
of his fall" ("Life of Clarendon," vol. ii., p. 412).]

28th. Up; and staid undressed till my tailor's boy did mend my vest, in
order to my going to the christening anon. Then out and to White Hall, to
attend the Council, by their order, with an answer to their demands
touching our advice for the paying off of the seamen, when the ships shall
come in, which answer is worth seeing, shewing the badness of our
condition. There, when I come, I was forced to stay till past twelve
o'clock, in a crowd of people in the lobby, expecting the hearing of the
great cause of Alderman Barker against my Lord Deputy of Ireland, for his
ill usage in his business of land there; but the King and Council sat so
long, as they neither heard them nor me. So when they rose, I into the
House, and saw the King and Queen at dinner, and heard a little of their
viallins' musick, and so home, and there to dinner, and in the afternoon
with my Lady Batten, Pen, and her daughter, and my wife, to Mrs. Poole's,
where I mighty merry among the women, and christened the child, a girl,
Elizabeth, which, though a girl, yet my Lady Batten would have me to give
the name. After christening comes Sir W. Batten, [Sir] W. Pen, and Mr.
Lowther, and mighty merry there, and I forfeited for not kissing the two
godmothers presently after the christening, before I kissed the mother,
which made good mirth; and so anon away, and my wife and I took coach and
went twice round Bartholomew fayre; which I was glad to see again, after
two years missing it by the plague, and so home and to my chamber a
little, and so to supper and to bed.

29th. Up, and Mr. Moore comes to me, and among other things tells me that
my Lord Crew and his friends take it very ill of me that my Lord
Sandwich's sea-fee should be retrenched, and so reported from this Office,
and I give them no notice of it. The thing, though I know to be false--at
least, that nothing went from our office towards it--yet it troubled me,
and therefore after the office rose I went and dined with my Lord Crew,
and before dinner I did enter into that discourse, and laboured to satisfy
him; but found, though he said little, yet that he was not yet satisfied;
but after dinner did pray me to go and see how it was, whether true or no.
Did tell me if I was not their friend, they could trust to nobody, and
that he did not forget my service and love to my Lord, and adventures for
him in dangerous times, and therefore would not willingly doubt me now;
but yet asked my pardon if, upon this news, he did begin to fear it. This
did mightily trouble me: so I away thence to White Hall, but could do
nothing. So home, and there wrote all my letters, and then, in the
evening, to White Hall again, and there met Sir Richard Browne, Clerk to
the Committee for retrenchments, who assures me no one word was ever yet
mentioned about my Lord's salary. This pleased me, and I to Sir G.
Carteret, who I find in the same doubt about it, and assured me he saw it
in our original report, my Lord's name with a discharge against it. This,
though I know to be false, or that it must be a mistake in my clerk, I
went back to Sir R. Browne and got a sight of their paper, and find how
the mistake arose, by the ill copying of it out for the Council from our
paper sent to the Duke of York, which I took away with me and shewed Sir
G. Carteret, and thence to my Lord Crew, and the mistake ended very
merrily, and to all our contents, particularly my own, and so home, and to
the office, and then to my chamber late, and so to supper and to bed. I
find at Sir G. Carteret's that they do mightily joy themselves in the
hopes of my Lord Chancellor's getting over this trouble; and I make them
believe, and so, indeed, I do believe he will, that my Lord Chancellor is
become popular by it. I find by all hands that the Court is at this day
all to pieces, every man of a faction of one sort or other, so as it is to
be feared what it will come to. But that, that pleases me is, I hear
to-night that Mr. Bruncker is turned away yesterday by the Duke of York,
for some bold words he was heard by Colonel Werden to say in the garden,
the day the Chancellor was with the King--that he believed the King would
be hectored out of everything. For this the Duke of York, who all say
hath been very strong for his father-in-law at this trial, hath turned him
away: and every body, I think, is glad of it; for he was a pestilent
rogue, an atheist, that would have sold his King and country for 6d.
almost, so covetous and wicked a rogue he is, by all men's report. But
one observed to me, that there never was the occasion of men's holding
their tongues at Court and everywhere else as there is at this day, for
nobody knows which side will be uppermost.

30th. Up, and to White Hall, where at the Council Chamber I hear Barker's
business is like to come to a hearing to-day, having failed the last day.
I therefore to Westminster to see what I could do in my 'Chequer business
about Tangier, and finding nothing to be done, returned, and in the Lobby
staid till almost noon expecting to hear Barker's business, but it was not
called, so I come away. Here I met with Sir G. Downing, who tells me of
Sir W. Pen's offering to lend L500; and I tell him of my L300, which he
would have me to lend upon the credit of the latter part of the Act;
saying, that by that means my 10 per cent. will continue to me the longer.
But I understand better, and will do it upon the L380,000, which will come
to be paid the sooner; there being no delight in lending money now, to be
paid by the King two years hence. But here he and Sir William Doyly were
attending the Council as Commissioners for sick and wounded, and
prisoners: and they told me their business, which was to know how we shall
do to release our prisoners; for it seems the Dutch have got us to agree
in the treaty, as they fool us in anything, that the dyet of the prisoners
on both sides shall be paid for, before they be released; which they have
done, knowing ours to run high, they having more prisoners of ours than we
have of theirs; so that they are able and most ready to discharge the debt
of theirs, but we are neither able nor willing to do that for ours, the
debt of those in Zealand only, amounting to above L5000 for men taken in
the King's own ships, besides others taken in merchantmen, which expect,
as is usual, that the King should redeem them; but I think he will not, by
what Sir G. Downing says. This our prisoners complain of there; and say
in their letters, which Sir G. Downing shewed me, that they have made a
good feat that they should be taken in the service of the King, and the
King not pay for their victuals while prisoners for him. But so far they
are from doing thus with their men, as we do to discourage ours, that I
find in the letters of some of our prisoners there, which he shewed me,
that they have with money got our men, that they took, to work and carry
their ships home for them; and they have been well rewarded, and released
when they come into Holland: which is done like a noble, brave, and wise
people. Having staid out my time that I thought fit for me to return
home, I home and there took coach and with my wife to Walthamstow; to Sir
W. Pen's, by invitation, the first time I have been there, and there find
him and all their guests (of our office only) at dinner, which was a very
bad dinner, and everything suitable, that I never knew people in my life
that make their flutter, that do things so meanly. I was sick to see it,
but was merry at some ridiculous humours of my Lady Batten, who, as being
an ill-bred woman, would take exceptions at anything any body said, and I
made good sport at it. After dinner into the garden and wilderness, which
is like the rest of the house, nothing in order, nor looked after. By and
by comes newes that my Lady Viner was come to see Mrs. Lowther, which I
was glad of, and all the pleasure I had here was to see her, which I did,
and saluted her, and find she is pretty, though not so eminently so as
people talked of her, and of very pretty carriage and discourse. I sat
with them and her an hour talking and pleasant, and then slunk away alone
without taking leave, leaving my wife there to come home with them, and I
to Bartholomew fayre, to walk up and down; and there, among other things,
find my Lady Castlemayne at a puppet-play, "Patient Grizill,"

[The well-known story, first told by Boccaccio, then by Petrarca,
afterwards by Chaucer, and which has since become proverbial. Tom
Warton, writing about 1770, says, "I need not mention that it is to
this day represented in England, on a stage of the lowest species,
and of the highest antiquity: I mean at a puppet show" ("Hist. of
English Poetry," sect. xv.).--B.]

and the street full of people expecting her coming out. I confess I did
wonder at her courage to come abroad, thinking the people would abuse her;
but they, silly people! do not know her work she makes, and therefore
suffered her with great respect to take coach, and she away, without any
trouble at all, which I wondered at, I confess. I only walked up and
down, and, among others, saw Tom Pepys, the turner, who hath a shop, and I
think lives in the fair when the fair is not. I only asked how he did as
he stood in the street, and so up and down sauntering till late and then
home, and there discoursed with my wife of our bad entertainment to-day,
and so to bed. I met Captain Cocke to-day at the Council Chamber and took
him with me to Westminster, who tells me that there is yet expectation
that the Chancellor will lose the Seal, and that he is sure that the King
hath said it to him who told it him, and he fears we shall be soon broke
in pieces, and assures me that there have been high words between the Duke
of York and Sir W. Coventry, for his being so high against the Chancellor;
so as the Duke of York would not sign some papers that he brought, saying
that he could not endure the sight of him: and that Sir W. Coventry
answered, that what he did was in obedience to the King's commands; and
that he did not think any man fit to serve a Prince, that did not know how
to retire and live a country life. This is all I hear.

31st. At the office all the morning; where, by Sir W. Pen, I do hear that
the Seal was fetched away to the King yesterday from the Lord Chancellor
by Secretary Morrice; which puts me into a great horror, to have it done
after so much debate and confidence that it would not be done at last.
When we arose I took a turn with Lord Bruncker in the garden, and he tells
me that he hath of late discoursed about this business with Sir W.
Coventry, who he finds is the great man in the doing this business of the
Chancellor's, and that he do persevere in it, though against the Duke of
York's opinion, to which he says that the Duke of York was once of the
same mind, and if he hath thought fit since, for any reason, to alter his
mind, he hath not found any to alter his own, and so desires to be
excused, for it is for the King's and kingdom's good. And it seems that
the Duke of York himself was the first man that did speak to the King of
this, though he hath since altered his mind; and that W. Coventry did tell
the Duke of York that he was not fit to serve a Prince that did not know
how to retire, and live a private life; and that he was ready for that, if
it be his and the King's pleasure. After having wrote my letters at the
office in the afternoon, I in the evening to White Hall to see how matters
go, and there I met with Mr. Ball, of the Excise-office, and he tells me
that the Seal is delivered to Sir Orlando Bridgeman; the man of the whole
nation that is the best spoken of, and will please most people; and
therefore I am mighty glad of it. He was then at my Lord Arlington's,
whither I went, expecting to see him come out; but staid so long, and Sir
W. Coventry coming thither, whom I had not a mind should see me there idle
upon a post-night, I went home without seeing him; but he is there with
his Seal in his hand. So I home, took up my wife, whom I left at
Unthanke's, and so home, and after signing my letters to bed. This day,
being dissatisfied with my wife's learning so few songs of Goodgroome, I
did come to a new bargain with him to teach her songs at so much, viz.;
10s. a song, which he accepts of, and will teach her.