One of the earliest recognized Western explorations of the inner self is famously by a writer who consecrated his life and his writings to his God. He saw his life and his Life as part of God's works. In this New Yorker article, Stephen Greenblatt highlights the problems even for a man like Augustine of the tensions between the fleshly body and its multiple earthly longings and one's spiritual existence: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/06/19/how-st-augustine-invented-sex
How a new biopic reveals another six sides of Bob Dylan
Todd Haynes took on the challenge of a lifetime by making a film about the legendarily enigmatic troubadour. The resulting biopic is almost as hard to pigeon-hole as the man himself
There are biopics and biopics, but nothing remotely like I'm Not There, Todd Haynes's hall-of-mirrors life of Bob Dylan or rather his fantasia on, as the credits specify, "the music and many lives of Bob Dylan". Whether or not Haynes's film "works", whether or not it "makes sense", whether or not it "tells" you anything specific about its subject, this is as bracingly strange and ambitious a project as American cinema has produced in a while.
Haynes's last flirtation with music was 1998's Velvet Goldmine, inspired by David Bowie and the glam-rock years. In I'm Not There, Haynes reclaims Dylan as a proto-Bowie chameleon, even in Cate Blanchett's turn as a skeletally androgynous Sixties rocker as a Thin White Duke avant la lettre. Six actors "play" Dylan, after a fashion, each embodying one or more of his personas over the years. Blanchett dons the shades and spidery threads of the mid-Sixties hipster as Jude Quinn, a rocker wearied by adulation, hostility and the "Judas" brickbats endured while touring Britain. A breathtakingly canny, genially brash 11-year-old black actor called Marcus Carl Franklin represents the embryonic folkie, here calling himself Woody Guthrie after his hero, and living out anachronistic fantasies of being a Depression-era boxcar hobo.
Christian Bale, at his most forbidding and wiry, plays Jack Rollins, a protest singer who retreats into hellfire preaching, evoking the born-again Dylan of the early Eighties. Heath Ledger now here's where it gets complicated isn't strictly Dylan at all, but Robbie, a movie actor who once played Jack Rollins in a biopic called Grain of Sand (the film that, we're to understand, Haynes's defiantly isn't) and whose relationship with French painter Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) echoes Dylan's spells with both early Sixties girlfriend Suze Rotolo and his former wife Sara. Ben Whishaw also contributes gnomic one-liners as a figure who's half Dylan, half Arthur Rimbaud the poet whose formulation "'Je' est un autre" (which roughly translates as "It ain't me babe") pretty much serves as the film's founding principle.
True to Rimbaud, Haynes the director is never remotely "himself" in the film. Just as the film resembles an oddly selective Dylan compilation set on shuffle, tentatively gesturing at linear biography while scrambling and distorting it, Haynes's own style zips around crazily: one moment he's pastiching D A Pennebaker's Dylan documentary Don't Look Back, with additional splashes of Fellini, Godard and Richard Lester (there's a lovely Beatles-as-Chipmunks gag here); the next he's illustrating "Ballad of a Thin Man" in disconcertingly literal MTV style. As for Robbie and Claire's divorce, it's set in a domestic-realism mode that may or may not be deliberately evoking the banality of Kramer vs Kramer.
While most of the film is just about readable as an imaginative version of Dylan's actual life, the segment that's truly an inscrutable curveball and that will be a deal-breaker for many viewers is the Richard Gere section. Booted and grizzled, he plays a country loner who conflates Billy the Kid and the taciturn character that Dylan played in Sam Peckinpah's 1973 film about the outlaw. Living in a dream version of Dylan's country retreat of the Sixties, he visits a town called Riddle that feels like Rimbaud's idea of the Wild West; peopled by carnival costume acts, kids wearing tumbleweed, and stray zoo animals, Riddle seems to be a visualisation of the free-associative rambles of Dylan's liner notes. Either you'll be entranced or you'll find yourself screaming "There must be some kind of way outa here", but you have to admire Haynes's nerve in insisting that this strand be taken as an integral part of the whole. With the rest, you can just about feel you're getting the drift, but the "Billy" section throws the whole thing defiantly askew.
I'm Not There is not easy to describe, but it's still easier to describe than evaluate. You see how Haynes and co-writer Oren Moverman operate, but it's harder to determine exactly what the film is attempting, or whether it succeeds. The one certain thing to say is that Haynes is taking his belief in fragmentation and fluid identity to the absolute extreme justifiably so, given a subject whose career is arguably the most fragmented and fluid in American art. Whether or not the hardcore Dylanolaters will approve, lovers of his music can only be impressed by Haynes's intelligent avoidance of the obvious jukebox factor. For a start, he's chosen to name his film after an extremely obscure song from the Basement Tapes era. (Stick around through the end credits to hear a thunderous Sonic Youth version.) Among the unexpected gems from the songbook, there's a heartrending version by singer Jim James of "Goin' to Acapulco" and Dylan's own poignant, forlornly apocalyptic "Blind Willie McTell", when the child Woody goes to visit the real, dying Woody Guthrie in hospital.
In fact, the nearest we hear to a Greatest Hit is right at the end, a snatch of "Mr Tambourine Man" and then it's just a sweetly lugubrious harmonica coda played by Dylan, glimpsed himself for the first time in the closing fragment of Sixties footage. Do we know him any better by then? Hardly. The enigma remains intact, and if anything, becomes richer and stranger.
As for Todd Haynes, it's hard to see how he'll top this film's sheer audacity but there's a musical about Thomas Pynchon that's just begging to be made.
Life in tracks
The Dylan Renaissance began in 1997 with the release of 'Time Out of Mind', his 30th studio album, hailed as his best work since 'Blood on the Tracks' in 1973. Hot on its heels came the album 'Love and Theft', inspired by the singer's love of older American music genres. That interest was further exploited in a new career as a DJ on Digital XM's 'Theme Time Radio Hour', now imported by the BBC. A memoir, 'Chronicles', showed him for the first time as a fine stylist in prose, and 2006's 'Modern Times' made him the oldest artist ever to reach no. 1 in the album charts.
Further reading 'Chronicles, Volume One', by Bob Dylan, Pocket Books, 7.99
In his study of Boswell and the creative processes at work in Boswell's London Journal and his famous accounts of himself with Samuel Johnson, Murray Pittock begins by dismissing Pepys as "reflecting" in his diary. Boswell, by contrast, he claims "creates an object."
I want us to challenge that view of Pepys by looking at ways in which Pepys felt he was writing his time, a malleable one, and writing himself into it through his diary entires.
Here is short version per Funk & Wagnalls Encyclopedia:
Funk & Wagnalls New World Encyclopedia
Pepys, Samuel
Pepys, Samuel (1633–1703), English diarist and civil servant, who kept one of the most candid, self-revealing diaries known, and who in his official capacity helped to give Great Britain one of the strongest navies in the world.
The son of a tailor, Pepys was born in London Feb. 23, 1633. After graduation from Magdalene College, University of Cambridge, he worked as a secretary for a relative, Adm. Edward Montagu, 1st earl of Sandwich (1625–72). In 1660 Montagu had him appointed a clerk in the navy office. By diligent application he advanced rapidly, becoming one of the key people in that office. In 1673 Charles II made him secretary of the admiralty, a post in which he worked to strengthen the navy. In 1679 he became a member of Parliament. That year he was accused of being a Roman Catholic and of passing naval secrets to the French; after being briefly imprisoned in the Tower of London, he was released and the charges dropped.
He was chosen president of the Royal Society in 1684 and again named secretary of the admiralty. When James II came to the throne in 1685, Pepys kept his post but retired after James was deposed (1688). Pepys died May 26, 1703, in London.
From 1660 to 1669, when failing eyesight forced him to give it up, Pepys kept a diary in a contemporary form of shorthand; it was deciphered and first published in part in 1825. The Diary of Samuel Pepys, a modern 11-volume edition, which began publication in 1970, was completed in 1983. The informal, frank entries, recording his private as well as his public life, give a vivid picture of Restoration England. They range from his thoughts and daily activities to his casual amours.
Pepys bequeathed his collection of books and manuscripts, including the diary, to Magdalene College, where they are housed in the Pepysian Library. He also compiled letters and documents relevant to his public career in Memoires Relating to the State of the Royal Navy (1690).
Compare Pepys's summary of Charles II's coronation to that of the other famous diarist, John Evelyn, who believed in the divine agency behind it:
“This day came in his Majestie Charles the 2d to London after a sad, & long Exile, and Calamitous Suffering both of the King & Church: being 17 yeares: This was also his Birthday, and with a Triumph of above 20000 horse & foote, brandishing their swords and shouting with unexpressable joy: The wayes straw’d with flowers, the bells ringing, the streets hung with Tapissry, fountaines running with wine: The Major, Aldermen, all the Companies in their liver[ie]s, Chaines of Gold, banners; Lords & nobles, Cloth of Silver, gold & vellvet every body clad in, the windos & balconies all set with Ladys, Trumpets, Musick, & [myriads] of people flocking the streetes & was as far as Rochester, so as they were 7 houres in passing the Citty, even from 2 in the afternoon 'til nine at night: I stood in the strand, & beheld it, & blessed God: And all this without one drop of bloud, & by that very army, which rebell'd against him: but it was the Lords doing, et mirabile in oculis nostris: for such a Restauration was never seene in the mention of any history, antient or modern, since the returne of the Babylonian Captivity, nor so joyfull a day, & so bright, ever seene in this nation: this hapning when to expect or effect it, was past all humane policy.”
Here are the passages from the diary that we will talk about in class:
Jan 1, 1660
lessed be God, at the end of the last year I was in very good health, without
any sense of my old pain, but upon taking of cold.
I lived in Axe Yard, having my wife, and servant Jane, and
no more in family than us three. My wife . . . . gave me hopes of her being
with child, but on the last day of the year . . . .[the hope was belied.] The
condition of the State was thus; viz. the Rump, after being disturbed by my
Lord Lambert, was lately returned to sit again. The officers of the Army all
forced to yield. Lawson lies still in the river, and Monk--[George Monk, born
1608, created Duke of Albemarle, 1660, married Ann Clarges, March, 1654, died
January 3rd, 1676.]--is with his army in Scotland. Only my Lord Lambert is not
yet come into the Parliament, nor is it expected that he will without being
forced to it. The new Common Council of the City do speak very high; and had
sent to Monk their sword-bearer, to acquaint him with their desires for a free
and full Parliament, which is at present the desires, and the hopes, and
expectation of all. Twenty-two of the old secluded members having been at the
House-door the last week to demand entrance, but it was denied them; and it is
believed that [neither] they nor the people will be satisfied till the House be
filled. My own private condition very handsome, and esteemed rich, but indeed
very poor; besides my goods of my house, and my office, which at present is
somewhat uncertain. Mr. Downing master of my office.
Jan. 1st (Lord's day).This morning (we living lately in the
garret,) I rose, put on my suit with great skirts, having not lately worn any
other, clothes but them. Went to Mr. Gunning's chapel at Exeter House, where he
made a very good sermon upon these words:--"That in the fulness of time
God sent his Son, made of a woman," &c.; showing, that, by "made
under the law," is meant his circumcision, which is solemnized this day.
Dined at home in the garret, where my wife dressed the remains of a turkey, and
in the doing of it she burned her hand. I staid at home all the afternoon,
looking over my accounts; then went with my wife to my father's, and in going
observed the great posts which the City have set up at the Conduit in
Fleet-street. Supt at my, father's, where in came Mrs. The. Turner and Madam
Morrice, and supt with us. After that my wife and I went home with them, and so
to our own home.
Jan 1, 1661
At the end of the last and the beginning of this year, I do live in one of the
houses belonging to the Navy Office, as one of the principal officers, and have
done now about half a year. After much trouble with workmen I am now almost
settled; my family being, myself, my wife, Jane, Will. Hewer, and
Wayneman,--[Will Wayneman appears by this to have been forgiven for his theft
(see ante). He was dismissed on July 8th, 1663.]--my girle's brother. Myself in
constant good health, and in a most handsome and thriving condition. Blessed be
Almighty God for it. I am now taking of my sister to come and live with me. As
to things of State.--The King settled, and loved of all. The Duke of York
matched to my Lord Chancellor's daughter, which do not please many. The Queen
upon her return to France with the Princess Henrietta. The Princess of Orange
lately dead, and we into new mourning for her. We have been lately frighted
with a great plot, and many taken up on it, and the fright not quite over. The
Parliament, which had done all this great good to the King, beginning to grow
factious, the King did dissolve it December 29th last, and another likely to be
chosen speedily. I take myself now to be worth L300 clear in money, and all my
goods and all manner of debts paid, which are none at all.
Dec 31, 1662
Thus ends this year with great mirth to me and my wife: Our condition being
thus:--we are at present spending a night or two at my Lord's lodgings at
White Hall. Our home at the Navy-office, which is and hath a pretty while
been in good condition, finished and made very convenient. My purse is worth
about L650, besides my goods of all sorts, which yet might have been more but
for my late layings out upon my house and public assessment, and yet would
not have been so much if I had not lived a very orderly life all this year by
virtue of the oaths that God put into my heart to take against wine, plays,
and other expenses, and to observe for these last twelve months, and which I
am now going to renew, I under God owing my present content thereunto. My
family is myself and wife, William, my clerk; Jane, my wife's upper mayde,
but, I think, growing proud and negligent upon it: we must part, which
troubles me; Susan, our cook-mayde, a pretty willing wench, but no good cook;
and Wayneman, my boy, who I am now turning away for his naughty tricks. We
have had from the beginning our healths to this day very well, blessed be
God! Our late mayde Sarah going from us (though put away by us) to live with
Sir W. Pen do trouble me, though I love the wench, so that we do make ourselves
a little strange to him and his family for it, and resolve to do so. The same
we are for other reasons to my Lady Batten and hers. We have lately had it in
our thoughts, and I can hardly bring myself off of it, since Mrs. Gosnell
cannot be with us, to find out another to be in the quality of a woman to my
wife that can sing or dance, and yet finding it hard to save anything at the
year's end as I now live, I think I shall not be such a fool till I am more
warm in my purse, besides my oath of entering into no such expenses till I am
worth L1000. By my last year's diligence in my office, blessed be God! I am
come to a good degree of knowledge therein; and am acknowledged so by
all--the world, even the Duke himself, to whom I have a good access and by that,
and my being Commissioner with him for Tangier, he takes much notice of me;
and I doubt not but, by the continuance of the same endeavours, I shall in a
little time come to be a man much taken notice of in the world, specially
being come to so great an esteem with Mr. Coventry. The only weight that lies
heavy upon my mind is the ending the business with my uncle Thomas about
my-dead uncle's estate, which is very ill on our side, and I fear when all is
done I must be forced to maintain my father myself, or spare a good deal
towards it out of my own purse, which will be a very great pull back to me in
my fortune. But I must be contented and bring it to an issue one way or
other. Publique matters stand thus: The King is bringing, as is said, his
family, and Navy, and all other his charges, to a less expence. In the mean
time, himself following his pleasures more than with good advice he would do;
at least, to be seen to all the world to do so. His dalliance with my Lady
Castlemaine being publique, every day, to his great reproach; and his
favouring of none at Court so much as those that are the confidants of his
pleasure, as Sir H. Bennet and Sir Charles Barkeley; which, good God! put it
into his heart to mend, before he makes himself too much contemned by his people
for it! The Duke of Monmouth is in so great splendour at Court, and so
dandled by the King, that some doubt, if the King should have no child by the
Queen (which there is yet no appearance of), whether he would not be
acknowledged for a lawful son; and that there will be a difference follow
upon it between the Duke of York and him; which God prevent! My Lord
Chancellor is threatened by people to be questioned, the next sitting of the
Parliament, by some spirits that do not love to see him so great: but
certainly he is a good servant to the King. The Queen-Mother is said to keep
too great a Court now; and her being married to my Lord St. Albans is
commonly talked of; and that they had a daughter between them in France, how
true, God knows. The Bishopps are high, and go on without any diffidence in
pressing uniformity; and the Presbyters seem silent in it, and either conform
or lay down, though without doubt they expect a turn, and would be glad these
endeavours of the other Fanatiques would take effect; there having been a
plot lately found, for which four have been publickly tried at the Old Bayley
and hanged. My Lord Sandwich is still in good esteem, and now keeping his
Christmas in the country; and I in good esteem, I think, as any man can be,
with him. Mr. Moore is very sickly, and I doubt will hardly get over his late
fit of sickness, that still hangs on him. In fine, for the good condition of
myself, wife, family, and estate, in the great degree that it is, and for the
public state of the nation, so quiett as it is, the Lord God be praised!
May 23, 1660
The Doctor and I waked very merry, only my eye was very red and ill in the
morning from yesterday's hurt. In the morning came infinity of people on
board from the King to go along with him. My Lord, Mr. Crew, and others, go
on shore to meet the King as he comes off from shore, where Sir R. Stayner
bringing His Majesty into the boat, I hear that His Majesty did with a great
deal of affection kiss my Lord upon his first meeting. The King, with the two
Dukes and Queen of Bohemia, Princess Royal, and Prince of Orange, came on
board, where I in their coming in kissed the King's, Queen's, and Princess's
hands, having done the other before. Infinite shooting off of the guns, and
that in a disorder on purpose, which was better than if it had been
otherwise. All day nothing but Lords and persons of honour on board, that we
were exceeding full. Dined in a great deal of state, the Royall company by
themselves in the coach, which was a blessed sight to see. I dined with Dr.
Clerke, Dr. Quarterman, and Mr. Darcy in my cabin. This morning Mr. Lucy came
on board, to whom and his company of the King's Guard in another ship my Lord
did give three dozen of bottles of wine. He made friends between Mr. Pierce
and me.
After
dinner the King and Duke altered the name of some of the ships, viz. the
Nazeby into Charles; the Richard, James; the Speakers Mary; the Dunbar (which
was not in company with us), the Henry; Winsly, Happy Return; Wakefield,
Richmond; Lambert; the Henrietta; Cheriton, the Speedwell; Bradford, the
Success. That done, the Queen, Princess Royal, and Prince of Orange, took
leave of the King, and the Duke of York went on board the London, and the
Duke of Gloucester, the Swiftsure. Which done, we weighed anchor, and with a
fresh gale and most happy weather we set sail for England.
All
the afternoon the King walked here and there, up and down (quite contrary to
what I thought him to have been), very active and stirring. Upon the
quarterdeck he fell into discourse of his escape from Worcester, where it
made me ready to weep to hear the stories that he told of his difficulties
that he had passed through, as his travelling four days and three nights on
foot, every step up to his knees in dirt, with nothing but a green coat and a
pair of country breeches on, and a pair of country shoes that made him so
sore all over his feet, that he could scarce stir. Yet he was forced to run
away from a miller and other company, that took them for rogues. His sitting
at table at one place, where the master of the house, that had not seen him
in eight years, did know him, but kept it private; when at the same table
there was one that had been of his own regiment at Worcester, could not know
him, but made him drink the King's health, and said that the King was at
least four fingers higher than he. At another place he was by some servants
of the house made to drink, that they might know him not to be a Roundhead,
which they swore he was. In another place at his inn, the master of the house,
as the King was standing with his hands upon the back of a chair by the
fire-side, kneeled down and kissed his hand, privately, saying, that he would
not ask him who he was, but bid God bless him whither he was going. Then the
difficulty of getting a boat to get into France, where he was fain to plot
with the master thereof to keep his design from the four men and a boy (which
was all his ship's company), and so got to Fecamp in France. At Rouen he
looked so poorly, that the people went into the rooms before he went away to
see whether he had not stole something or other.
In
the evening I went up to my Lord to write letters for England, which we sent
away with word of our coming, by Mr. Edw. Pickering. The King supped alone in
the coach; after that I got a dish, and we four supped in my cabin, as at
noon. About bed-time my Lord Bartlett (who I had offered my service to
before) sent for me to get him a bed, who with much ado I did get to bed to
my Lord Middlesex in the great cabin below, but I was cruelly troubled before
I could dispose of him, and quit myself of him. So to my cabin again, where
the company still was, and were talking more of the King's difficulties; as
how he was fain to eat a piece of bread and cheese out of a poor boy's
pocket; how, at a Catholique house, he was fain to lie in the priest's hole a
good while in the house for his privacy. After that our company broke up, and
the Doctor and I to bed. We have all the Lords Commissioners on board us, and
many others. Under sail all night, and most glorious weather.
May 25, 1660
By the morning we were come close to the land, and every body made ready to
get on shore. The King and the two Dukes did eat their breakfast before they
went, and there being set some ship's diet before them, only to show them the
manner of the ship's diet, they eat of nothing else but pease and pork, and
boiled beef. I had Mr. Darcy in my cabin and Dr. Clerke, who eat with me,
told me how the King had given L50 to Mr. Sheply for my Lord's servants, and
L500 among the officers and common men of the ship. I spoke with the Duke of
York about business, who called me Pepys by name, and upon my desire did
promise me his future favour. Great expectation of the King's making some
Knights, but there was none. About noon (though the brigantine that Beale
made was there ready to carry him) yet he would go in my Lord's barge with
the two Dukes. Our Captain steered, and my Lord went along bare with him. I
went, and Mr. Mansell, and one of the King's footmen, with a dog that the
King loved, (which [dirted] the boat, which made us laugh, and me think that
a King and all that belong to him are but just as others are), in a boat by
ourselves, and so got on shore when the King did, who was received by General
Monk with all imaginable love and respect at his entrance upon the land of
Dover. Infinite the crowd of people and the horsemen, citizens, and noblemen
of all sorts. The Mayor of the town came and gave him his white staff, the
badge of his place, which the King did give him again. The Mayor also
presented him from the town a very rich Bible, which he took and said it was
the thing that he loved above all things in the world. A canopy was provided
for him to stand under, which he did, and talked awhile with General Monk and
others, and so into a stately coach there set for him, and so away through
the town towards Canterbury, without making any stay at Dover.
Jan 28-30, 1661
28th. At the office all the morning; dined at home, and after dinner to Fleet
Street, with my sword to Mr. Brigden (lately made Captain of the Auxiliaries)
to be refreshed, and with him to an ale-house, where I met Mr. Davenport; and
after some talk of Cromwell, Ireton and Bradshaw's bodies being taken out of
their graves to-day,
["The bodies of Oliver Cromwell, Henry Ireton, John Bradshaw, and Thomas
Pride, were dug up out of their graves to be hanged at Tyburn, and buried
under the gallows. Cromwell's vault having been opened, the people crowded
very much to see him."--Rugge's Diurnal.]
I went to Mr. Crew's and thence to the Theatre, where I saw again "The
Lost Lady," which do now please me better than before; and here I
sitting behind in a dark place, a lady spit backward upon me by a mistake,
not seeing me, but after seeing her to be a very pretty lady, I was not
troubled at it at all. Thence to Mr. Crew's, and there met Mr. Moore, who
came lately to me, and went with me to my father's, and with him to
Standing's, whither came to us Dr. Fairbrother, who I took and my father to
the Bear and gave a pint of sack and a pint of claret.
He do still continue his expressions of respect and love to me, and tells me
my brother John will make a good scholar. Thence to see the Doctor at his
lodging at Mr. Holden's, where I bought a hat, cost me 35s. So home by
moonshine, and by the way was overtaken by the Comptroller's coach, and so
home to his house with him. So home and to bed. This noon I had my press set
up in my chamber for papers to be put in.
29th.
Mr. Moore making up accounts with me all this morning till Lieut. Lambert
came, and so with them over the water to Southwark, and so over the fields to
Lambeth, and there drank, it being a most glorious and warm day, even to
amazement, for this time of the year. Thence to my Lord's, where we found my
Lady gone with some company to see Hampton Court, so we three went to
Blackfryers (the first time I ever was there since plays begun), and there
after great patience and little expectation, from so poor beginning, I saw
three acts of "The Mayd in ye Mill" acted to my great content. But
it being late, I left the play and them, and by water through bridge home,
and so to Mr. Turner's house, where the Comptroller, Sir William Batten, and
Mr. Davis and their ladies; and here we had a most neat little but costly and
genteel supper, and after that a great deal of impertinent mirth by Mr.
Davis, and some catches, and so broke up, and going away, Mr. Davis's eldest
son took up my old Lady Slingsby in his arms, and carried her to the coach,
and is said to be able to carry three of the biggest men that were in the
company, which I wonder at. So home and to bed.
30th
(Fast day). The first time that this day hath been yet observed: and Mr.
Mills made a most excellent sermon, upon "Lord forgive us our former
iniquities;" speaking excellently of the justice of God in punishing men
for the sins of their ancestors. Home, and John Goods comes, and after dinner
I did pay him L30 for my Lady, and after that Sir W. Pen and I into
Moorfields and had a brave talk, it being a most pleasant day, and besides
much discourse did please ourselves to see young Davis and Whitton, two of
our clerks, going by us in the field, who we observe to take much pleasure
together, and I did most often see them at play together. Back to the Old
James in Bishopsgate Street, where Sir W. Batten and Sir Wm. Rider met him
about business of the Trinity House. So I went home, and there understand
that my mother is come home well from Brampton, and had a letter from my
brother John, a very ingenious one, and he therein begs to have leave to come
to town at the Coronacion. Then to my Lady Batten's; where my wife and she
are lately come back again from being abroad, and seeing of Cromwell, Ireton,
and Bradshaw hanged and buried at Tyburn. Then I home.
Feb 11, 1660 Thence we took coach for the City to
Guildhall, where the Hall was full of people expecting Monk and Lord Mayor to
come thither, and all very joyfull. Here we stayed a great while, and at last
meeting with a friend of his we went to the 3 Tun tavern and drank half a
pint of wine, and not liking the wine we went to an alehouse, where we met
with company of this third man's acquaintance, and there we drank a little.
Hence I went alone to Guildhall to see whether Monk was come again or no, and
met with him coming out of the chamber where he had been with the Mayor and
Aldermen, but such a shout I never heard in all my life, crying out,
"God bless your Excellence." Here I met with Mr. Lock, and took him
to an alehouse, and left him there to fetch Chetwind; when we were come
together, Lock told us the substance of the letter that went from Monk to the
Parliament; wherein, after complaints that he and his officers were put upon
such offices against the City as they could not do with any content or
honour, that there are many members now in the House that were of the late
tyrannical Committee of Safety. That Lambert and Vane are now in town,
contrary to the vote of Parliament. That there were many in the House that do
press for new oaths to be put upon men; whereas we have more cause to be
sorry for the many oaths that we have already taken and broken. That the late
petition of the fanatique people presented by Barebone, for the imposing of
an oath upon all sorts of people, was received by the House with thanks. That
therefore he [Monk] do desire that all writs for filling up of the House be
issued by Friday next, and that in the mean time, he would retire into the
City and only leave them guards for the security of the House and Council.
The occasion of this was the order that he had last night to go into the City
and disarm them, and take away their charter; whereby he and his officers say
that the House had a mind to put them upon things that should make them
odious; and so it would be in their power to do what they would with them. He
told us that they [the Parliament] had sent Scott and Robinson to him [Monk]
this afternoon, but he would not hear them. And that the Mayor and Aldermen
had offered him their own houses for himself and his officers; and that his
soldiers would lack for nothing. And indeed I saw many people give the
soldiers drink and money, and all along in the streets cried, "God bless
them!" and extraordinary good words.
Hence
we went to a merchant's house hard by, where Lock wrote a note and left, where
I saw Sir Nich. Crisp, and so we went to the Star Tavern (Monk being then at
Benson's), where we dined and I wrote a letter to my Lord from thence. In
Cheapside there was a great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells in
all the churches as we went home were a-ringing. Hence we went homewards, it
being about ten o'clock. But the common joy that was every where to be seen!
The number of bonfires, there being fourteen between St. Dunstan's and Temple
Bar, and at Strand Bridge' I could at one view tell thirty-one fires. In
King-street seven or eight; and all along burning, and roasting, and drinking
for rumps. There being rumps tied upon sticks and carried up and down. The
butchers at the May Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their knives when they
were going to sacrifice their rump. On Ludgate Hill there was one turning of
the spit that had a rump tied upon it, and another basting of it. Indeed it
was past imagination, both the greatness and the suddenness of it. At one end
of the street you would think there was a whole lane of fire, and so hot that
we were fain to keep still on the further side merely for heat. We came to
the Chequers at Charing Cross, where Chetwind wrote a letter and I gave him
an account of what I had wrote for him to write. Thence home and sent my
letters to the posthouse in London, and my wife and I (after Mr. Hunt was
gone, whom I found waiting at my house) went out again to show her the fires,
and after walking as far as the Exchange we returned and to bed.
Aug 18 & 19, 1660
18th. This morning I took my wife towards Westminster by water, and landed
her at Whitefriars, with L5 to buy her a petticoat, and I to the Privy Seal.
By and by comes my wife to tell me that my father has persuaded her to buy a
most fine cloth of 26s. a yard, and a rich lace, that the petticoat will come
to L5, at which I was somewhat troubled, but she doing it very innocently, I
could not be angry. I did give her more money, and sent her away, and I and
Creed and Captain Hayward (who is now unkindly put out of the Plymouth to
make way for Captain Allen to go to Constantinople, and put into his ship the
Dover, which I know will trouble my Lord) went and dined at the Leg in King
Street, where Captain Ferrers, my Lord's Cornet, comes to us, who after dinner
took me and Creed to the Cockpitt play, the first that I have had time to see
since my coming from sea, "The Loyall Subject," where one Kinaston,
a boy, acted the Duke's sister, but made the loveliest lady that ever I saw
in my life, only her voice not very good. After the play done, we three went
to drink, and by Captain Ferrers' means, Kinaston and another that acted
Archas, the General, came and drank with us. Hence home by coach, and after
being trimmed, leaving my wife to look after her little bitch, which was just
now a-whelping, I to bed.
19th
(Lord's day). In the morning my wife tells me that the bitch has whelped four
young ones and is very well after it, my wife having had a great fear that
she would die thereof, the dog that got them being very big. This morning Sir
W. Batten, Pen, and myself, went to church to the churchwardens, to demand a
pew, which at present could not be given us, but we are resolved to have one
built. So we staid and heard Mr. Mills;' a very, good minister. Home to dinner,
where my wife had on her new petticoat that she bought yesterday, which
indeed is a very fine cloth and a fine lace; but that being of a light
colour, and the lace all silver, it makes no great show. Mr. Creed and my
brother Tom dined with me. After dinner my wife went and fetched the little
puppies to us, which are very pretty ones. After they were gone, I went up to
put my papers in order, and finding my wife's clothes lie carelessly laid up,
I was angry with her, which I was troubled for. After that my wife and I went
and walked in the garden, and so home to bed.
April, 1661
21st (Lord's day). In the morning we were troubled to hear it rain as it did,
because of the great show tomorrow. After I was ready I walked to my father's
and there found the late maid to be gone and another come by my mother's
choice, which my father do not like, and so great difference there will be
between my father and mother about it. Here dined Doctor Thos. Pepys and Dr.
Fayrebrother; and all our talk about to-morrow's show, and our trouble that
it is like to be a wet day. After dinner comes in my coz. Snow and his wife,
and I think stay there till the show be over. Then I went home, and all the
way is so thronged with people to see the triumphal arches, that I could
hardly pass for them. So home, people being at church, and I got home unseen,
and so up to my chamber and saw done these last five or six days' diarys. My
mind a little troubled about my workmen, which, being
foreigners,--[Foreigners were workmen dwelling outside the city.]--are like
to be troubled by a couple of lazy rogues that worked with me the other day,
that are citizens, and so my work will be hindered, but I must prevent it if
I can.
22d.
KING'S GOING FROM YE TOWER TO WHITE HALL.
[The king in the early morning of the 22nd went from Whitehall to the Tower
by water, so that he might proceed from thence through the City to
Westminster Abbey, there to be crowned.]
Up early and made myself as fine as I could, and put on my velvet coat, the
first day that I put it on, though made half a year ago. And being ready, Sir
W. Batten, my Lady, and his two daughters and his son and wife, and Sir W.
Pen and his son and I, went to Mr. Young's, the flag-maker, in Corne-hill;
[The members of the Navy Office appear to have chosen Mr. Young's house on
account of its nearness to the second triumphal arch, situated near the Royal
Exchange, which was dedicated to the Navy.]
and there we had a good room to ourselves, with wine and good cake, and saw
the show very well. In which it is impossible to relate the glory of this
day, expressed in the clothes of them that rid, and their horses and horses
clothes, among others, my Lord Sandwich's. Embroidery and diamonds were
ordinary among them. The Knights of the Bath was a brave sight of itself; and
their Esquires, among which Mr. Armiger was an Esquire to one of the Knights.
Remarquable were the two men that represent the two Dukes of Normandy and
Aquitane. The Bishops come next after Barons, which is the higher place;
which makes me think that the next Parliament they will be called to the
House of Lords. My Lord Monk rode bare after the King, and led in his hand a
spare horse, as being Master of the Horse. The King, in a most rich
embroidered suit and cloak, looked most noble. Wadlow, the vintner, at the
Devil; in Fleetstreet, did lead a fine company of soldiers, all young comely
men, in white doublets. There followed the Vice-Chamberlain, Sir G. Carteret,
a company of men all like Turks; but I know not yet what they are for. The
streets all gravelled, and the houses hung with carpets before them, made
brave show, and the ladies out of the windows, one of which over against us I
took much notice of, and spoke of her, which made good sport among us. So
glorious was the show with gold and silver, that we were not able to look at
it, our eyes at last being so much overcome with it. Both the King and the
Duke of York took notice of us, as he saw us at the window. The show being
ended, Mr. Young did give us a dinner, at which we were very merry, and
pleased above imagination at what we have seen. Sir W. Batten going home, he
and I called and drunk some mum and laid our wager about my Lady
Faulconbridge's name, which he says not to be Mary, and so I won above 20s.
So home, where Will and the boy staid and saw the show upon Towre Hill, and
Jane at T. Pepys's, The. Turner, and my wife at Charles Glassecocke's, in
Fleet Street. In the evening by water to White Hall to my Lord's, and there I
spoke with my Lord. He talked with me about his suit, which was made in
France, and cost him L200, and very rich it is with embroidery. I lay with
Mr. Shepley, and ...
CORONACION
DAY.
23d. About 4 I rose and got to the Abbey, where I followed Sir J. Denham, the
Surveyor, with some company that he was leading in. And with much ado, by the
favour of Mr. Cooper, his man, did get up into a great scaffold across the
North end of the Abbey, where with a great deal of patience I sat from past 4
till 11 before the King came in. And a great pleasure it was to see the Abbey
raised in the middle, all covered with red, and a throne (that is a chair)
and footstool on the top of it; and all the officers of all kinds, so much as
the very fidlers, in red vests. At last comes in the Dean and Prebends of
Westminster, with the Bishops (many of them in cloth of gold copes), and
after them the Nobility, all in their Parliament robes, which was a most
magnificent sight. Then the Duke, and the King with a scepter (carried by my
Lord Sandwich) and sword and mond [Mond or orb of gold, with a cross set with
precious stones, carried by the Duke of Buckingham.] before him, and the
crown too. The King in his robes, bare-headed, which was very fine. And after
all had placed themselves, there was a sermon and the service; and then in
the Quire at the high altar, the King passed through all the ceremonies of
the Coronacon, which to my great grief I and most in the Abbey could not see.
The crown being put upon his head, a great shout begun, and he came forth to
the throne, and there passed more ceremonies: as taking the oath, and having
things read to him by the Bishop; and his lords (who put on their caps as
soon as the King put on his crown) and bishops come, and kneeled before him.
And three times the King at Arms went to the three open places on the scaffold,
and proclaimed, that if any one could show any reason why Charles Stewart
should not be King of England, that now he should come and speak. And a
Generall Pardon also was read by the Lord Chancellor, and meddalls flung up
and down by my Lord Cornwallis, of silver, but I could not come by any. But
so great a noise that I could make but little of the musique; and indeed, it
was lost to every body. But I had so great a lust to . . . . [What is it that
needed to be censored from this public description? D.W.] that I went out a
little while before the King had done all his ceremonies, and went round the
Abbey to Westminster Hall, all the way within rayles, and 10,000 people, with
the ground covered with blue cloth; and scaffolds all the way. Into the Hall I
got, where it was very fine with hangings and scaffolds one upon another full
of brave ladies; and my wife in one little one, on the right hand. Here I
staid walking up and down, and at last upon one of the side stalls I stood
and saw the King come in with all the persons (but the soldiers) that were
yesterday in the cavalcade; and a most pleasant sight it was to see them in
their several robes. And the King came in with his crown on, and his sceptre
in his hand, under a canopy borne up by six silver staves, carried by Barons
of the Cinque Ports, [Pepys was himself one of the Barons of the Cinque Ports
at the Coronation of James II.] and little bells at every end. And after a
long time, he got up to the farther end, and all set themselves down at their
several tables; and that was also a brave sight: and the King's first course
carried up by the Knights of the Bath. And many fine ceremonies there was of
the Heralds leading up people before him, and bowing; and my Lord of
Albemarle's going to the kitchin and eat a bit of the first dish that was to
go to the King's table. But, above all, was these three Lords,
Northumberland, and Suffolk, and the Duke of Ormond, coming before the
courses on horseback, and staying so all dinner-time, and at last to bring up
[Dymock] the King's Champion, all in armour on horseback, with his spear and
targett carried before him. And a Herald proclaims "That if any dare
deny Charles Stewart to be lawful King of England, here was a Champion that
would fight with him;"and with these words, the Champion flings down his
gauntlet, and all this he do three times in his going up towards the King's
table. At last when he is come, the King drinks to him, and then sends him
the cup which is of gold, and he drinks it off, and then rides back again
with the cup in his hand. I went from table to table to see the Bishops and
all others at their dinner, and was infinitely pleased with it. And at the
Lords' table, I met with William Howe, and he spoke to my Lord for me, and he
did give me four rabbits and a pullet, and so I got it and Mr. Creed and I
got Mr. Michell to give us some bread, and so we at a stall eat it, as every
body else did what they could get. I took a great deal of pleasure to go up
and down, and look upon the ladies, and to hear the musique of all sorts, but
above all, the 24 violins: About six at night they had dined, and I went up
to my wife, and there met with a pretty lady (Mrs. Frankleyn, a Doctor's
wife, a friend of Mr. Bowyer's), and kissed them both, and by and by took them
down to Mr. Bowyer's. And strange it is to think, that these two days have
held up fair till now that all is done, and the King gone out of the Hall;
and then it fell a-raining and thundering and lightening as I have not seen
it do for some years: which people did take great notice of; God's blessing
of the work of these two days, which is a foolery to take too much notice of
such things. I observed little disorder in all this, but only the King's
footmen had got hold of the canopy, and would keep it from the Barons of the
Cinque Ports, which they endeavoured to force from them again, but could not
do it till my Lord Duke of Albemarle caused it to be put into Sir R. Pye's'
hand till tomorrow to be decided. At Mr. Bowyer's; a great deal of company,
some I knew, others I did not. Here we staid upon the leads and below till it
was late, expecting to see the fire-works, but they were not performed
to-night: only the City had a light like a glory round about it with
bonfires.
At
last I went to Kingstreet, and there sent Crockford to my father's and my
house, to tell them I could not come home tonight, because of the dirt, and a
coach could not be had. And so after drinking a pot of ale alone at Mrs.
Harper's I returned to Mr. Bowyer's, and after a little stay more I took my
wife and Mrs. Frankleyn (who I proffered the civility of lying with my wife
at Mrs. Hunt's to-night) to Axe-yard, in which at the further end there were
three great bonfires, and a great many great gallants, men and women; and
they laid hold of us, and would have us drink the King's health upon our
knees, kneeling upon a faggot, which we all did, they drinking to us one
after another. Which we thought a strange frolique; but these gallants
continued thus a great while, and I wondered to see how the ladies did
tipple. At last I sent my wife and her bedfellow to bed, and Mr. Hunt and I
went in with Mr. Thornbury (who did give the company all their wine, he being
yeoman of the wine-cellar to the King) to his house; and there, with his wife
and two of his sisters, and some gallant sparks that were there, we drank the
King's health, and nothing else, till one of the gentlemen fell down stark
drunk, and there lay spewing; and I went to my Lord's pretty well. But no
sooner a-bed with Mr. Shepley but my head began to hum, and I to vomit, and
if ever I was foxed it was now, which I cannot say yet, because I fell asleep
and slept till morning. Only when I waked I found myself wet with my spewing.
Thus did the day end with joy every where; and blessed be God, I have not
heard of any mischance to any body through it all, but only to Serjt. Glynne,
whose horse fell upon him yesterday, and is like to kill him, which people do
please themselves to see how just God is to punish the rogue at such a time
as this; he being now one of the King's Serjeants, and rode in the cavalcade
with Maynard, to whom people wish the same fortune. There was also this night
in King-street, [a woman] had her eye put out by a boy's flinging a firebrand
into the coach. Now, after all this, I can say that, besides the pleasure of
the sight of these glorious things, I may now shut my eyes against any other
objects, nor for the future trouble myself to see things of state and show,
as being sure never to see the like again in this world.
May 21, 1662 My wife
and I by water to Westminster, and after she had seen her father (of whom
lately I have heard nothing at all what he does or her mother), she comes to
me to my Lord's lodgings, where she and I staid walking in White Hall garden.
And in the Privy-garden saw the finest smocks and linnen petticoats of my
Lady Castlemaine's, laced with rich lace at the bottom, that ever I saw; and
did me good to look upon them. So to Wilkinson's, she and I and Sarah to
dinner, where I had a good quarter of lamb and a salat. Here Sarah told me
how the King dined at my Lady Castlemaine's, and supped, every day and night
the last week; and that the night that the bonfires were made for joy of the
Queen's arrivall, the King was there; but there was no fire at her door,
though at all the rest of the doors almost in the street; which was much
observed: and that the King and she did send for a pair of scales and weighed
one another; and she, being with child, was said to be heaviest. But she is
now a most disconsolate creature, and comes not out of doors, since the
King's going. But we went to the Theatre to "The French Dancing
Master," and there with much pleasure gazed upon her (Lady Castlemaine);
but it troubles us to see her look dejectedly and slighted by people already.
The play pleased us very well; but Lacy's part, the Dancing Master, the best
in the world. Thence to my brother Tom's, in expectation to have met my
father to-night come out of the country, but he is not yet come, but here we
found my uncle Fenner and his old wife, whom I had not seen since the wedding
dinner, nor care to see her. They being gone, my wife and I went and saw Mrs.
Turner, whom we found not well, and her two boys Charles and Will come out of
the country, grown very plain boys after three years being under their
father's care in Yorkshire. Thence to Tom's again, and there supped well, my
she cozen Scott being there and my father being not come, we walked home and
to bed.
Sep 29, 1662
This day my oaths for drinking of wine and going to plays are out, and so I
do resolve to take a liberty to-day, and then to fall to them again. Up and
by coach to White Hall, in my way taking up Mr. Moore, and walked with him,
talking a good while about business, in St. James's Park, and there left him,
and to Mr. Coventry's, and so with him and Sir W. Pen up to the Duke, where
the King came also and staid till the Duke was ready. It being Collarday, we
had no time to talk with him about any business. They went out together. So
we parted, and in the park Mr. Cooke by appointment met me, to whom I did
give my thoughts concerning Tom's match and their journey tomorrow, and did
carry him by water to Tom's, and there taking up my wife, maid, dog, and him,
did carry them home, where my wife is much pleased with my house, and so am I
fully. I sent for some dinner and there dined, Mrs. Margaret Pen being by, to
whom I had spoke to go along with us to a play this afternoon, and then to
the King's Theatre, where we saw "Midsummer's Night's Dream," which
I had never seen before, nor shall ever again, for it is the most insipid
ridiculous play that ever I saw in my life. I saw, I confess, some good
dancing and some handsome women, which was all my pleasure. Thence set my
wife down at Madam Turner's, and so by coach home,
Jan 2, 1664
Up and to the office, and there sitting all the morning, and at noon to the
'Change, in my going met with Luellin and told him how I had received a
letter and bill for L50 from Mr. Deering, and delivered it to him, which he
told me he would receive for me. To which I consented, though professed not
to desire it if he do not consider himself sufficiently able by the service I
have done, and that it is rather my desire to have nothing till he be further
sensible of my service. From the 'Change I brought him home and dined with
us, and after dinner I took my wife out, for I do find that I am not able to
conquer myself as to going to plays till I come to some new vowe concerning
it, and that I am now come, that is to say, that I will not see above one in
a month at any of the publique theatres till the sum of 50s. be spent, and
then none before New Year's Day next, unless that I do become worth L1000
sooner than then, and then am free to come to some other terms, and so
leaving him in Lombard Street I took her to the King's house, and there met
Mr. Nicholson, my old colleague, and saw "The Usurper," which is no
good play, though better than what I saw yesterday. However, we rose
unsatisfied, and took coach and home, and I to the office late writing letters,
and so to supper and to bed.
Oct 5, 1667
Up, and to the Office; and there all the morning; none but my Lord Anglesey and
myself; but much surprized with the news of the death of Sir W. Batten, who
died this morning, having been but two days sick. Sir W. Pen and I did dispatch
a letter this morning to Sir W. Coventry, to recommend Colonel Middleton, who
we think a most honest and understanding man, and fit for that place. Sir G.
Carteret did also come this morning, and walked with me in the garden; and
concluded not to concern [himself] or have any advice made to Sir W. Coventry,
in behalf of my Lord Sandwich's business; so I do rest satisfied, though I do
think they are all mad, that they will judge Sir W. Coventry an enemy, when he
is indeed no such man to any body, but is severe and just, as he ought to be,
where he sees things ill done. At noon home, and by coach to Temple Bar to a
India shop, and there bought a gown and sash, which cost me 26s., and so she
[Mrs. Pepys] and Willet away to the 'Change, and I to my Lord Crew, and there
met my Lord Hinchingbroke and Lady Jemimah, and there dined with them and my
Lord, where pretty merry, and after dinner my Lord Crew and Hinchingbroke and
myself went aside to discourse about my Lord Sandwich's business, which is in a
very ill state for want of money, and so parted, and I to my tailor's, and
there took up my wife and Willet, who staid there for me, and to the Duke of
York's playhouse, but the house so full, it being a new play, "The Coffee
House," that we could not get in, and so to the King's house: and there,
going in, met with Knepp, and she took us up into the tireing-rooms: and to the
women's shift, where Nell was dressing herself, and was all unready, and is
very pretty, prettier than I thought. And so walked all up and down the house
above, and then below into the scene-room, and there sat down, and she gave us
fruit and here I read the questions to Knepp, while she answered me, through
all her part of "Flora's Figary's," which was acted to-day. But,
Lord! to see how they were both painted would make a man mad, and did make me
loath them; and what base company of men comes among them, and how lewdly they
talk! and how poor the men are in clothes, and yet what a shew they make on the
stage by candle-light, is very observable. But to see how Nell cursed, for
having so few people in the pit, was pretty; the other house carrying away all
the people at the new play, and is said, now-a-days, to have generally most
company, as being better players. By and by into the pit, and there saw the
play, which is pretty good, but my belly was full of what I had seen in the
house, and so, after the play done, away home, and there to the writing my
letters, and so home to supper and to bed.
Nov 11, 1667 11th. Up, and to Simpson at work in my office, and
thence with Sir G. Carteret (who come to talk with me) to Broad Streete, where
great crowding of people for money, at which he blamed himself. Thence with him
and Lord Bruncker to Captain Cocke's (he out of doors), and there drank their
morning draught, and thence [Sir] G. Carteret and I toward the Temple in coach
together; and there he did tell me how the King do all he can in the world to
overthrow my Lord Chancellor, and that notice is taken of every man about the
King that is not seen to promote the ruine of the Chancellor; and that this
being another great day in his business, he dares not but be there. He tells me
that as soon as Secretary Morrice brought the Great Seale from my Lord
Chancellor, Bab. May fell upon his knees, and catched the King about the legs,
and joyed him, and said that this was the first time that ever he could call
him King of England, being freed from this great man: which was a most
ridiculous saying. And he told me that, when first my Lord Gerard, a great
while ago, come to the King, and told him that the Chancellor did say openly
that the King was a lazy person and not fit to govern, which is now made one of
the things in the people's mouths against the Chancellor, "Why," says
the King, "that is no news, for he hath told me so twenty times, and but
the other day he told me so;" and made matter of mirth at it: but yet this
light discourse is likely to prove bad to him. I 'light at the Temple, and went
to my tailor's and mercer's about a cloake, to choose the stuff, and so to my
bookseller's and bought some books, and so home to dinner, and Simpson my
joyner with me, and after dinner, my wife, and I, and Willett, to the King's
play-house, and there saw "The Indian Emperour," a good play, but not
so good as people cry it up, I think, though above all things Nell's ill
speaking of a great part made me mad. Thence with great trouble and charge
getting a coach (it being now and having been all this day a most cold and
foggy, dark, thick day), we home, and there I to my office, and saw it made
clean from top to bottom, till I feared I took cold in walking in a damp room
while it is in washing, and so home to supper and to bed. This day I had a
whole doe sent me by Mr. Hozier, which is a fine present, and I had the umbles
of it for dinner. This day I hear Kirton, my bookseller, poor man, is dead, I
believe, of grief for his losses by the fire.
Dec 24, 1667 24th. Up, and all the morning at the office, and at
noon with my clerks to dinner, and then to the office again, busy at the office
till six at night, and then by coach to St. James's, it being about six at night;
my design being to see the ceremonys, this night being the eve of Christmas, at
the Queen's chapel. But it being not begun I to Westminster Hall, and there
staid and walked, and then to the Swan, and there drank and talked, and did
banter a little Frank, and so to White Hall, and sent my coach round, I through
the Park to chapel, where I got in up almost to the rail, and with a great deal
of patience staid from nine at night to two in the morning, in a very great
crowd; and there expected, but found nothing extraordinary, there being nothing
but a high masse. The Queen was there, and some ladies. But, Lord! what an odde
thing it was for me to be in a crowd of people, here a footman, there a beggar,
here a fine lady, there a zealous poor papist, and here a Protestant, two or
three together, come to see the shew. I was afeard of my pocket being picked
very much . . . . Their musique very good indeed, but their service I confess
too frivolous, that there can be no zeal go along with it, and I do find by them
themselves that they do run over their beads with one hand, and point and play
and talk and make signs with the other in the midst of their masse. But all
things very rich and beautiful; and I see the papists have the wit, most of
them, to bring cushions to kneel on, which I wanted, and was mightily troubled
to kneel. All being done, and I sorry for my coming, missing of what I
expected; which was, to have had a child born and dressed there, and a great
deal of do: but we broke up, and nothing like it done: and there I left people
receiving the Sacrament: and the Queen gone, and ladies; only my Lady
Castlemayne, who looked prettily in her night-clothes, and so took my coach,
which waited, and away through Covent Garden, to set down two gentlemen and a lady,
who come thither to see also, and did make mighty mirth in their talk of the
folly of this religion. And so I stopped, having set them down and drank some
burnt wine at the Rose Tavern door, while the constables come, and two or three
Bellmen went by,
Aug 18, 1667 18th (Lord's day). Up, and being ready, walked up
and down to Cree Church, to see it how it is; but I find no alteration there,
as they say there was, for my Lord Mayor and Aldermen to come to sermon, as
they do every Sunday, as they did formerly to Paul's. Walk back home and to our
own church, where a dull sermon and our church empty of the best sort of
people, they being at their country houses, and so home, and there dined with
me Mr. Turner and his daughter Betty.
Her mother should, but they were invited to Sir J. Minnes, where she dined and
the others here with me. Betty is grown a fine lady as to carriage and
discourse. I and my wife are mightily pleased with her. We had a good haunch of
venison, powdered and boiled, and a good dinner and merry. After dinner comes
Mr. Pelling the Potticary, whom I had sent for to dine with me, but he was
engaged. After sitting an hour to talk we broke up, all leaving Pelling to talk
with my wife, and I walked towards White Hall, but, being wearied, turned into
St. Dunstan's Church, where I heard an able sermon of the minister of the
place; and stood by a pretty, modest maid, whom I did labour to take by the
hand and the body; but she would not, but got further and further from me; and,
at last, I could perceive her to take pins out of her pocket to prick me if I
should touch her again--which seeing I did forbear, and was glad I did spy her
design. And then I fell to gaze upon another pretty maid in a pew close to me,
and she on me; and I did go about to take her by the hand, which she suffered a
little and then withdrew. So the sermon ended, and the church broke up, and my
amours ended also, and so took coach and home, and there took up my wife, and
to Islington with her, our old road, but before we got to Islington, between
that and Kingsland, there happened an odd adventure: one of our coach-horses
fell sick of the staggers, so as he was ready to fall down. The coachman was
fain to 'light, and hold him up, and cut his tongue to make him bleed, and his
tail. The horse continued shaking every part of him, as if he had been in an
ague, a good while, and his blood settled in his tongue, and the coachman
thought and believed he would presently drop down dead; then he blew some
tobacco in his nose, upon which the horse sneezed, and, by and by, grows well,
and draws us the rest of our way, as well as ever he did; which was one of the
strangest things of a horse I ever observed, but he says it is usual. It is the
staggers. Staid and eat and drank at Islington, at the old house, and so home,
and to my chamber to read, and then to supper and to bed.
June 10, 1667 10th. Up; and news brought us that, the Dutch are
come up as high as the Nore; and more pressing orders for fireships. W. Batten,
W. Pen, and I to St. James's; where the Duke of York gone this morning betimes,
to send away some men down to Chatham. So we three to White Hall, and met Sir
W. Coventry, who presses all that is possible for fire-ships. So we three to
the office presently; and thither comes Sir Fretcheville Hollis, who is to
command them all in some exploits he is to do with them on the enemy in the
River. So we all down to Deptford, and pitched upon ships and set men at work:
but, Lord! to see how backwardly things move at this pinch, notwithstanding that,
by the enemy's being now come up as high as almost the Hope, Sir J. Minnes, who
has gone down to pay some ships there, hath sent up the money; and so we are
possessed of money to do what we will with. Yet partly ourselves, being used to
be idle and in despair, and partly people that have been used to be deceived by
us as to money, won't believe us; and we know not, though we have it, how
almost to promise it; and our wants such, and men out of the way, that it is an
admirable thing to consider how much the King suffers, and how necessary it is
in a State to keep the King's service always in a good posture and credit. Here
I eat a bit, and then in the afternoon took boat and down to Greenwich, where I
find the stairs full of people, there being a great riding there to-day for a
man, the constable of the town, whose wife beat him. Here I was with much ado
fain to press two watermen to make me a galley, and so to Woolwich to give
order for the dispatch of a ship I have taken under my care to see dispatched,
and orders being so given, I, under pretence to fetch up the ship, which lay at
Grays (the Golden Hand), did do that in my way, and went down to Gravesend,
where I find the Duke of Albemarle just come, with a great many idle lords and
gentlemen, with their pistols and fooleries; and the bulwarke not able to have
stood half an hour had they come up; but the Dutch are fallen down from the
Hope and Shell-haven as low as Sheernesse, and we do plainly at this time hear
the guns play. Yet I do not find the Duke of Albemarle intends to go thither,
but stays here to-night, and hath, though the Dutch are gone, ordered our
frigates to be brought to a line between the two blockhouses; which I took then
to be a ridiculous thing. So I away into the town and took a captain or two of
our ships (who did give me an account of the proceedings of the Dutch fleete in
the river) to the taverne, and there eat and drank, and I find the townsmen had
removed most of their goods out of the town, for fear of the Dutch coming up to
them; and from Sir John Griffen, that last night there was not twelve men to be
got in the town to defend it: which the master of the house tells me is not
true, but that the men of the town did intend to stay, though they did indeed,
and so had he, at the Ship, removed their goods.Thence went off to an Ostend man-of-war, just
now come up, who met the Dutch fleete, who took three ships that he come
convoying hither from him says they are as low as the Nore, or thereabouts. So
I homeward, as long as it was light reading Mr. Boyle's book of Hydrostatics,
which is a most excellent book as ever I read, and I will take much pains to
understand him through if I can, the doctrine being very useful. When it grew
too dark to read I lay down and took a nap, it being a most excellent fine
evening, and about one o'clock got home, and after having wrote to Sir W.
Coventry an account of what I had done and seen (which is entered in my
letter-book), I to bed.
June 21, 1667
Up and by water to White Hall, there to discourse with [Sir] G. Carteret and
Mr. Fenn about office business. I found them all aground, and no money to do
anything with. Thence homewards, calling at my Tailor's to bespeak some
coloured clothes, and thence to Hercules Pillars, all alone, and there spent
6d. on myself, and so home and busy all the morning. At noon to dinner, home,
where my wife shows me a letter from her father, who is going over sea, and
this afternoon would take his leave of her. I sent him by her three Jacobuses
in gold, having real pity for him and her. So I to my office, and there all the
afternoon. This day comes news from Harwich that the Dutch fleete are all in
sight, near 100 sail great and small, they think, coming towards them; where,
they think, they shall be able to oppose them; but do cry out of the falling
back of the seamen, few standing by them, and those with much faintness. The
like they write from Portsmouth, and their letters this post are worth reading.
Sir H. Cholmly come to me this day, and tells me the Court is
as mad as ever; and that the night the Dutch burned our ships the King did sup
with my Lady Castlemayne, at the Duchess of Monmouth's, and there were all mad
in hunting of a poor moth. All the Court afraid of a Parliament; but he thinks
nothing can save us but the King's giving up all to a Parliament. Busy at the
office all the afternoon, and did much business to my great content. In the
evening sent for home, and there I find my Lady Pen and Mrs. Lowther, and Mrs.
Turner and my wife eating some victuals, and there I sat and laughed with them
a little, and so to the office again, and in the evening walked with my wife in
the garden, and did give Sir W. Pen at his lodgings (being just come from
Deptford from attending the dispatch of the fire-ships there) an account of what
passed the other day at Council touching Commissioner Pett, and so home to
supper and to bed.
Aug 17, 1667 17th. Up, and all the morning at the office, where
we sat, and my head was full of the business of Carcasse, who hath a hearing
this morning before the Council and hath summonsed at least thirty persons, and
which is wondrous, a great many of them, I hear, do declare more against him
than for him, and yet he summonses people without distinction. Sure he is
distracted. At noon home to dinner, and presently my wife and I and Sir W. Pen
to the King's playhouse, where the house extraordinary full; and there was the
King and Duke of York to see the new play, "Queen Elizabeth's Troubles and
the History of Eighty Eight." I confess I have sucked in so much of the
sad story of Queen Elizabeth, from my cradle, that I was ready to weep for her
sometimes; but the play is the most ridiculous that sure ever come upon the
stage; and, indeed, is merely a shew, only shews the true garbe of the Queen in
those days, just as we see Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth painted; but the play
is merely a puppet play, acted by living puppets. Neither the design nor
language better; and one stands by and tells us the meaning of things: only I
was pleased to see Knipp dance among the milkmaids, and to hear her sing a song
to Queen Elizabeth; and to see her come out in her night-gowne with no lockes
on, but her bare face and hair only tied up in a knot behind; which is the
comeliest dress that ever I saw her in to her advantage. Thence home and went
as far as Mile End with Sir W. Pen, whose coach took him up there for his
country-house; and after having drunk there, at the Rose and Crowne, a good
house for Alderman Bides ale,--[John Bide, brewer, Sheriff of
London in 1647.--B.]-- we parted, and we home, and there I finished my
letters, and then home to supper and to bed.
Oct 10, 1667
Waked in the morning with great pain of the collique, by cold taken yesterday,
I believe, with going up and down in my shirt, but with rubbing my belly, keeping
of it warm, I did at last come to some ease, and rose, and up to walk up and
down the garden with my father, to talk of all our concernments: about a
husband for my sister, whereof there is at present no appearance; but we must
endeavour to find her one now, for she grows old and ugly: then for my brother;
and resolve he shall stay here this winter, and then I will either send him to
Cambridge for a year, till I get him some church promotion, or send him to sea
as a chaplain, where he may study, and earn his living. Then walked round about
our Greene, to see whether, in case I cannot buy out my uncle Thomas and his
son's right in this house, that I can buy another place. as good thereabouts to
build on, and I do not see that I can. But this, with new building, may be made
an excellent pretty thing, and I resolve to look after it as soon as I can, and
Goody Gorum dies. By this time it was almost noon, and then my father and I and
wife and Willet abroad, by coach round the towne of Brampton, to observe any
other place as good as ours, and find none; and so back with great pleasure;
and thence went all of us, my sister and brother, and W. Hewer, to dinner to
Hinchingbroke, where we had a good plain country dinner, but most kindly used;
and here dined the Minister of Brampton and his wife, who is reported a very
good, but poor man. Here I spent alone with my Lady, after dinner, the most of
the afternoon, and anon the two twins were sent for from schoole, at Mr.
Taylor's, to come to see me, and I took them into the garden, and there, in one
of the summer-houses, did examine them, and do find them so well advanced in
their learning, that I was amazed at it: they repeating a whole ode without
book out of Horace, and did give me a very good account of any thing almost,
and did make me very readily very good Latin, and did give me good account of
their Greek grammar, beyond all possible expectation; and so grave and manly as
I never saw, I confess, nor could have believed; so that they will be fit to go
to Cambridge in two years at most. They are both little, but very like one
another, and well- looked children.
Then in to my Lady again, and staid till it was almost night
again, and then took leave for a great while again, but with extraordinary
kindness from my Lady, who looks upon me like one of her own family and
interest. So thence, my wife and people by the highway, and I walked over the
park with Mr. Shepley, and through the grove, which is mighty pretty, as is
imaginable, and so over their drawbridge to Nun's Bridge, and so to my
father's, and there sat and drank, and talked a little, and then parted. And he
being gone, and what company there was, my father and I, with a dark lantern;
it being now night, into the garden with my wife, and there went about our great
work to dig up my gold.
But, Lord! what a tosse I was for some time in, that they
could not justly tell where it was; that I begun heartily to sweat, and be
angry, that they should not agree better upon the place, and at last to fear
that it was gone but by and by poking with a spit, we found it, and then begun
with a spudd to lift up the ground. But, good God! to see how sillily they did
it, not half a foot under ground, and in the sight of the world from a hundred
places, if any body by accident were near hand, and within sight of a
neighbour's window, and their hearing also, being close by: only my father says
that he saw them all gone to church before he begun the work, when he laid the
money, but that do not excuse it to me. But I was out of my wits almost, and
the more from that, upon my lifting up the earth with the spudd, I did discern
that I had scattered the pieces of gold round about the ground among the grass
and loose earth; and taking up the iron head-pieces wherein they were put, I
perceive the earth was got among the gold, and wet, so that the bags were all
rotten, and all the notes, that I could not tell what in the world to say to
it, not knowing how to judge what was wanting, or what had been lost by Gibson
in his coming down: which, all put together, did make me mad; and at last was
forced to take up the head-pieces, dirt and all, and as many of the scattered
pieces as I could with the dirt discern by the candlelight, and carry them up
into my brother's chamber, and there locke them up till I had eat a little
supper: and then, all people going to bed, W. Hewer and I did all alone, with
several pails of water and basins, at last wash the dirt off of the pieces, and
parted the pieces and the dirt, and then begun to tell [them]; and by a note
which I had of the value of the whole in my pocket, do find that there was
short above a hundred pieces, which did make me mad; and considering that the
neighbour's house was so near that we could not suppose we could speak one to
another in the garden at the place where the gold lay--especially my father
being deaf--but they must know what we had been doing on, I feared that they
might in the night come and gather some pieces and prevent us the next morning;
so W. Hewer and I out again about midnight, for it was now grown so late, and
there by candlelight did make shift to gather forty-five pieces more. And so
in, and to cleanse them: and by this time it was past two in the morning; and
so to bed, with my mind pretty quiet to think that I have recovered so many.
And then to bed, and I lay in the trundle-bed, the girl being gone to bed to my
wife, and there lay in some disquiet all night, telling of the clock till it
was daylight.
February 9, 1668: Up, and at my chamber all the morning and the office doing business, and
also reading a little of "L'escholle des filles," which is a mighty
lewd book, but yet not amiss for a sober man once to read over to inform
himself in the villainy of the world. At noon home to dinner, where by
appointment Mr. Pelting come and with him three friends, Wallington, that sings
the good base, and one Rogers, and a gentleman, a young man, his name Tempest,
who sings very well indeed, and understands anything in the world at first
sight. After dinner we into our dining-room, and there to singing all the
afternoon. (By the way, I must remember that Pegg Pen was brought to bed
yesterday of a girl; and, among other things, if I have not already set it
down, that hardly ever was remembered such a season for the smallpox as these
last two months have been, people being seen all up and down the streets, newly
come out after the smallpox.) But though they sang fine things, yet I must
confess that I did take no pleasure in it, or very little, because I understood
not the words, and with the rests that the words are set, there is no sense nor
understanding in them though they be English, which makes me weary of singing
in that manner, it being but a worse sort of instrumental musick. We sang until
almost night, and drank mighty good store of wine, and then they parted, and I
to my chamber, where I did read through "L'escholle des filles," a
lewd book, but what do no wrong once to read for information sake . . . . And
after I had done it I burned it, that it might not be among my books to my shame,
and so at night to supper and to bed.
November 25, 1668
Thence I by coach home, and there find my cozen Roger come to dine with me, and
to seal his mortgage for the L500 I lend him; but he and I first walked to the
'Change, there to look for my uncle Wight, and get him to dinner with us. So
home, buying a barrel of oysters at my old oyster-woman's, in Gracious Street,
but over the way to where she kept her shop before. So home, and there merry at
dinner; and the money not being ready, I carried Roger Pepys to Holborn
Conduit, and there left him going to Stradwick's, whom we avoided to see,
because of our long absence, and my wife and I to the Duke of York's house, to
see "The Duchesse of Malfy," a sorry play, and sat with little
pleasure, for fear of my wife's seeing me look about, and so I was uneasy all
the while, though I desire and resolve never to give her trouble of that kind
more. So home, and there busy at the Office a while, and then home, where my
wife to read to me, and so to supper, and to bed. This evening, to my great
content, I got Sir Richard Ford to give me leave to set my coach in his yard.
Dec 2, 1668
Up, and at the office all the morning upon some accounts of Sir D. Gawden, and
at noon abroad with W. Hewer, thinking to have found Mr. Wren at Captain Cox's,
to have spoke something to him about doing a favour for Will's uncle Steventon,
but missed him. And so back home and abroad with my wife, the first time that
ever I rode in my own coach, which do make my heart rejoice, and praise God,
and pray him to bless it to me and continue it. So she and I to the King's
playhouse, and there sat to avoid seeing Knepp in a box above where Mrs.
Williams happened to be, and there saw "The Usurper;" a pretty good
play, in all but what is designed to resemble Cromwell and Hugh Peters, which
is mighty silly. The play done, we to White Hall; where my wife staid while I
up to the Duchesse's and Queen's side, to speak with the Duke of York: and here
saw all the ladies, and heard the silly discourse of the King, with his people
about him, telling a story of my Lord Rochester's having of his clothes stole,
while he was with a wench; and his gold all gone, but his clothes found
afterwards stuffed into a feather bed by the wench that stole them. I spoke
with the Duke of York, just as he was set down to supper with the King, about
our sending of victuals to Sir Thomas Allen's fleet hence to Cales [Cadiz] to
meet him. And so back to my wife in my coach, and so with great content and joy
home, where I made my boy to make an end of the Reall Character, which I begun
a great while ago, and do please me infinitely, and indeed is a most worthy
labour, and I think mighty easy, though my eyes make me unable to attempt any
thing in it. To-day I hear that Mr. Ackworth's cause went for him at Guildhall,
against his accusers, which I am well enough pleased with.
Feb 23, 1669
... I now took them [his wife and girl servants] to Westminster Abbey and there
did show them all the tombs very finely, having one with us alone ... and here
we did see, by perticular favour, the body of Queen Katherine of Valois, and
had her upper part of her body in my hands. And I did kiss her mouth,
reflecting upon it that I did kiss a Queen, and that this was my birthday, 36
year old, that I did first kiss a Queen.
