The Diary of John Evelyn Volume II Part 26

10th February, 1685. Being sent to by the Sheriff of the County to appear and a.s.sist in proclaiming the King, I went the next day to Bromley, where I met the Sheriff and the Commander of the Kentish Troop, with an appearance, I suppose, of about 500 horse, and innumerable people, two of his Majesty's trumpets, and a Sergeant with other officers, who having drawn up the horse in a large field near the town, marched thence, with swords drawn, to the market place, where, making a ring, after sound of trumpets and silence made, the High Sheriff read the proclaiming t.i.tles to his bailiff, who repeated them aloud, and then, after many shouts of the people, his Majesty's health being drunk in a flint gla.s.s of a yard long, by the Sheriff, Commander, Officers, and chief gentlemen, they all dispersed, and I returned.

13th February, 1685. I pa.s.sed a fine on selling of Honson Grange in Staffordshire, being about 20 per annum, which lying so great a distance, I thought fit to part with it to one Burton, a farmer there.

It came to me as part of my daughter-in-law's portion, this being but a fourth part of what was divided between the mother and three sisters.

14th February, 1685. The King was this night very obscurely buried in a vault under Henry VII.'s Chapel at Westminster, without any manner of pomp, and soon forgotten after all this vanity, and the face of the whole Court was exceedingly changed into a more solemn and moral behavior; the new King affecting neither profaneness nor buffoonery. All the great officers broke their staves over the grave, according to form.

15th February, 1685. Dr. Tenison preached to the household. The second sermon should have been before the King; but he, to the great grief of his subjects, did now, for the first time, go to ma.s.s publicly in the little Oratory at the Duke's lodgings, the doors being set wide open.

16th February, 1685. I dined at Sir Robert Howard's, auditor of the exchequer, a gentleman pretending to all manner of arts and sciences, for which he had been the subject of comedy, under the name of Sir Positive; not ill-natured, but insufferably boasting. He was son to the late Earl of Berkshire.

17th February, 1685. This morning his Majesty restored the staff and key to Lord Arlington, Chamberlain; to Mr. Savell, Vice-chamberlain; to Lords Newport and Maynard, Treasurer and Comptroller of the household.

Lord G.o.dolphin made Chamberlain to the Queen; Lord Peterborough groom of the stole, in place of the Earl of Bath; the Treasurer's staff to the Earl of Rochester; and his brother, the Earl of Clarendon, Lord Privy Seal, in the place of the Marquis of Halifax, who was made President of the Council; the Secretaries of State remaining as before.

19th February, 1685. The Lord Treasurer and the other new officers were sworn at the Chancery Bar and the exchequer.

The late King having the revenue of excise, customs, and other late duties granted for his life only, they were now farmed and let to several persons, upon an opinion that the late King might let them for three years after his decease; some of the old commissioners refused to act. The lease was made but the day before the King died;[58] the major part of the Judges (but, as some think, not the best lawyers), p.r.o.nounced it legal, but four dissented.

[Footnote 58: James, in his Life, makes no mention of this lease, but only says HE continued to collect them, which conduct was not blamed; but, on the contrary, he was thanked for it, in an address from the Middle Temple, penned by Sir Bartholomew Sh.o.r.e, and presented by Sir Humphrey Mackworth, carrying great authority with it; nor did the Parliament find fault.]

The clerk of the closet had shut up the late King's private oratory next the Privy-chamber above, but the King caused it to be opened again, and that prayers should be said as formerly.

22d February, 1685. Several most useful tracts against Dissenters, Papists and Fanatics, and resolutions of cases were now published by the London divines.

[Sidenote: LONDON]

4th March, 1685. ASH WEDNESDAY. After evening prayers, I went to London.

5th March, 1685. To my grief, I saw the new pulpit set up in the Popish Oratory at Whitehall for the Lent preaching, ma.s.s being publicly said, and the Romanists swarming at Court with greater confidence than had ever been seen in England since the Reformation, so that everybody grew jealous as to what this would tend.

A Parliament was now summoned, and great industry used to obtain elections which might promote the Court interest, most of the corporations being now, by their new charters, empowered to make what returns of members they pleased.

There came over divers envoys and great persons to condole the death of the late King, who were received by the Queen-Dowager on a bed of mourning, the whole chamber, ceiling and floor, hung with black, and tapers were lighted, so as nothing could be more lugubrious and solemn.

The Queen-Consort sat under a state on a black foot-cloth, to entertain the circle (as the Queen used to do), and that very decently.

6th March, 1685. Lent preachers continued as formerly in the Royal Chapel.

7th March, 1685. My daughter, Mary, was taken with smallpox, and there soon was found no hope of her recovery. A great affliction to me: but G.o.d's holy will be done!

10th March, 1685. She received the blessed sacrament; after which, disposing herself to suffer what G.o.d should determine to inflict, she bore the remainder of her sickness with extraordinary patience and piety, and more than ordinary resignation and blessed frame of mind. She died the 14th, to our unspeakable sorrow and affliction, and not to our's only, but that of all who knew her, who were many of the best quality, greatest and most virtuous persons. The justness of her stature, person, comeliness of countenance, gracefulness of motion, unaffected, though more than ordinarily beautiful, were the least of her ornaments compared with those of her mind. Of early piety, singularly religious, spending a part of every day in private devotion, reading, and other virtuous exercises; she had collected and written out many of the most useful and judicious periods of the books she read in a kind of common-place, as out of Dr. Hammond on the New Testament, and most of the best practical treatises. She had read and digested a considerable deal of history, and of places. The French tongue was as familiar to her as English; she understood Italian, and was able to render a laudable account of what she read and observed, to which a.s.sisted a most faithful memory and discernment; and she did make very prudent and discreet reflections upon what she had observed of the conversations among which she had at any time been, which being continually of persons of the best quality, she thereby improved. She had an excellent voice, to which she played a thorough-ba.s.s on the harpsichord, in both which she arrived to that perfection, that of the scholars of those two famous masters, Signors Pietro and Bartholomeo, she was esteemed the best; for the sweetness of her voice and management of it added such an agreeableness to her countenance, without any constraint or concern, that when she sung, it was as charming to the eye as to the ear; this I rather note, because it was a universal remark, and for which so many n.o.ble and judicious persons in music desired to hear her, the last being at Lord Arundel's, at Wardour.

What shall I say, or rather not say, of the cheerfulness and agreeableness of her humor? condescending to the meanest servant in the family, or others, she still kept up respect, without the least pride.

She would often read to them, examine, instruct, and pray with them if they were sick, so as she was exceedingly beloved of everybody. Piety was so prevalent an ingredient in her const.i.tution (as I may say), that even among equals and superiors she no sooner became intimately acquainted, but she would endeavor to improve them, by insinuating something religious, and that tended to bring them to a love of devotion; she had one or two confidants with whom she used to pa.s.s whole days in fasting, reading, and prayers, especially before the monthly communion, and other solemn occasions. She abhorred flattery, and, though she had abundance of wit, the raillery was so innocent and ingenious that it was most agreeable; she sometimes would see a play, but since the stage grew licentious, expressed herself weary of them, and the time spent at the theater was an unaccountable vanity. She never played at cards without extreme importunity and for the company; but this was so very seldom, that I cannot number it among anything she could name a fault.

No one could read prose or verse better or with more judgment; and as she read, so she wrote, not only most correct orthography, with that maturity of judgment and exactness of the periods, choice of expressions, and familiarity of style, that some letters of hers have astonished me and others, to whom she has occasionally written. She had a talent of rehearsing any comical part or poem, as to them she might be decently free with; was more pleasing than heard on the theater; she danced with the greatest grace I had ever seen, and so would her master say, who was Monsieur Isaac; but she seldom showed that perfection, save in the gracefulness of her carriage, which was with an air of sprightly modesty not easily to be described. Nothing affected, but natural and easy as well in her deportment as in her discourse, which was always material, not trifling, and to which the extraordinary sweetness of her tone, even in familiar speaking, was very charming. Nothing was so pretty as her descending to play with little children, whom she would caress and humor with great delight. But she most affected to be with grave and sober men, of whom she might learn something, and improve herself. I have been a.s.sisted by her in reading and praying by me; comprehensive of uncommon notions, curious of knowing everything to some excess, had I not sometimes repressed it.

Nothing was so delightful to her as to go into my Study, where she would willingly have spent whole days, for as I said she had read abundance of history, and all the best poets, even Terence, Plautus, Homer, Virgil, Horace, Ovid; all the best romancers and modern poems; she could compose happily and put in pretty symbols, as in the "_Mundus Muliebris_,"

wherein is an enumeration of the immense variety of the modes and ornaments belonging to the s.e.x. But all these are vain trifles to the virtues which adorned her soul; she was sincerely religious, most dutiful to her parents, whom she loved with an affection tempered with great esteem, so as we were easy and free, and never were so well pleased as when she was with us, nor needed we other conversation; she was kind to her sisters, and was still improving them by her constant course of piety. Oh, dear, sweet, and desirable child, how shall I part with all this goodness and virtue without the bitterness of sorrow and reluctancy of a tender parent! Thy affection, duty and love to me was that of a friend as well as a child. Nor less dear to thy mother, whose example and tender care of thee was unparalleled, nor was thy return to her less conspicuous. Oh! how she mourns thy loss! how desolate hast thou left us! To the grave shall we both carry thy memory! G.o.d alone (in whose bosom thou art at rest and happy!) give us to resign thee and all our contentments (for thou indeed wert all in this world) to his blessed pleasure! Let him be glorified by our submission, and give us grace to bless him for the graces he implanted in thee, thy virtuous life, pious and holy death, which is indeed the only comfort of our souls, hastening through the infinite love and mercy of the Lord Jesus to be shortly with thee, dear child, and with thee and those blessed saints like thee, glorify the Redeemer of the world to all eternity! Amen.

It was in the 19th year of her age that this sickness happened to her.

An accident contributed to this disease; she had an apprehension of it in particular, which struck her but two days before she came home, by an imprudent gentlewoman whom she went with Lady Falkland to visit, who, after they had been a good while in the house, told them she has a servant sick of the smallpox (who indeed died the next day): this my poor child acknowledged made an impression on her spirits. There were four gentlemen of quality offering to treat with me about marriage, and I freely gave her her own choice, knowing her discretion. She showed great indifference to marrying at all, for truly, says she to her mother (the other day), were I a.s.sured of your life and my dear father's, never would I part from you; I love you and this home, where we serve G.o.d, above all things, nor ever shall I be so happy; I know and consider the vicissitudes of the world, I have some experience of its vanities, and but for decency more than inclination, and that you judge it expedient for me, I would not change my condition, but rather add the fortune you design me to my sisters, and keep up the reputation of our family. This was so discreetly and sincerely uttered that it could not but proceed from an extraordinary child, and one who loved her parents beyond example.

At London, she took this fatal disease, and the occasion of her being there was this: my Lord Viscount Falkland's Lady having been our neighbor (as he was Treasurer of the Navy), she took so great an affection to my daughter, that when they went back in the autumn to the city, nothing would satisfy their incessant importunity but letting her accompany my Lady, and staying some time with her; it was with the greatest reluctance I complied. While she was there, my Lord being musical, when I saw my Lady would not part with her till Christmas, I was not unwilling she should improve the opportunity of learning of Signor Pietro, who had an admirable way both of composure and teaching.

It was the end of February before I could prevail with my Lady to part with her; but my Lord going into Oxfordshire to stand for Knight of the Shire there, she expressed her wish to come home, being tired of the vain and empty conversation of the town, the theaters, the court, and trifling visits which consumed so much precious time, and made her sometimes miss of that regular course of piety that gave her the greatest satisfaction. She was weary of this life, and I think went not thrice to Court all this time, except when her mother or I carried her.

She did not affect showing herself, she knew the Court well, and pa.s.sed one summer in it at Windsor with Lady Tuke, one of the Queen's women of the bedchamber (a most virtuous relation of hers); she was not fond of that glittering scene, now become abominably licentious, though there was a design of Lady Rochester and Lady Clarendon to have made her a maid of honor to the Queen as soon as there was a vacancy. But this she did not set her heart upon, nor indeed on anything so much as the service of G.o.d, a quiet and regular life, and how she might improve herself in the most necessary accomplishments, and to which she was arrived at so great a measure.

This is the little history and imperfect character of my dear child, whose piety, virtue, and incomparable endowments deserve a monument more durable than bra.s.s and marble. Precious is the memorial of the just.

Much I could enlarge on every period of this hasty account, but that I ease and discharge my overcoming pa.s.sion for the present, so many things worthy an excellent Christian and dutiful child crowding upon me. Never can I say enough, oh dear, my dear child, whose memory is so precious to me!

This dear child was born at Wotton, in the same house and chamber in which I first drew my breath, my wife having retired to my brother there in the great sickness that year upon the first of that month, and the very hour that I was born, upon the last: viz, October.

[Sidenote: SAYES COURT]

16th March, 1685. She was interred in the southeast end of the church at Deptford, near her grandmother and several of my younger children and relations. My desire was she should have been carried and laid among my own parents and relations at Wotton, where I desire to be interred myself, when G.o.d shall call me out of this uncertain transitory life, but some circ.u.mstances did not permit it. Our vicar, Dr. Holden, preached her funeral sermon on Phil. i. 21. "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain," upon which he made an apposite discourse, as those who heard it a.s.sured me (for grief suffered me not to be present), concluding with a modest recital of her many virtues and signal piety, so as to draw both tears and admiration from the hearers.

I was not altogether unwilling that something of this sort should be spoken, for the edification and encouragement of other young people.

Divers n.o.ble persons honored her funeral, some in person, others sending their coaches, of which there were six or seven with six horses, viz, the Countess of Sunderland, Earl of Clarendon, Lord G.o.dolphin, Sir Stephen Fox, Sir William G.o.dolphin, Viscount Falkland, and others. There were distributed among her friends about sixty rings.

Thus lived, died, and was buried the joy of my life, and ornament of her s.e.x and of my poor family! G.o.d Almighty of his infinite mercy grant me the grace thankfully to resign myself and all I have, or had, to his divine pleasure, and in his good time, restoring health and comfort to my family: "teach me so to number my days, that I may apply my heart to wisdom," be prepared for my dissolution, and that into the hands of my blessed Savior I may recommend my spirit! Amen!

On looking into her closet, it is incredible what a number of collections she had made from historians, poets, travelers, etc., but, above all, devotions, contemplations, and resolutions on these contemplations, found under her hand in a book most methodically disposed; prayers, meditations, and devotions on particular occasions, with many pretty letters to her confidants; one to a divine (not named) to whom she writes that he would be her ghostly father, and would not despise her for her many errors and the imperfections of her youth, but beg of G.o.d to give her courage to acquaint him with all her faults, imploring his a.s.sistance and spiritual directions. I well remember she had often desired me to recommend her to such a person; but I did not think fit to do it as yet, seeing her apt to be scrupulous, and knowing the great innocency and integrity of her life.

It is astonishing how one who had acquired such substantial and practical knowledge in other ornamental parts of education, especially music, both vocal and instrumental, in dancing, paying and receiving visits, and necessary conversation, could accomplish half of what she has left; but, as she never affected play or cards, which consume a world of precious time, so she was in continual exercise, which yet abated nothing of her most agreeable conversation. But she was a little miracle while she lived, and so she died!

26th March, 1685. I was invited to the funeral of Captain Gunman, that excellent pilot and seaman, who had behaved himself so gallantly in the Dutch war. He died of a gangrene, occasioned by his fall from the pier of Calais. This was the Captain of the yacht carrying the Duke (now King) to Scotland, and was accused for not giving timely warning when she split on the sands, where so many perished; but I am most confident he was no ways guilty, either of negligence, or design, as he made appear not only at the examination of the matter of fact, but in the vindication he showed me, and which must needs give any man of reason satisfaction. He was a sober, frugal, cheerful, and temperate man; we have few such seamen left.

8th April, 1685. Being now somewhat composed after my great affliction, I went to London to hear Dr. Tenison (it being on a Wednesday in Lent) at Whitehall. I observed that though the King was not in his seat above in the chapel, the Doctor made his three congees, which they were not used to do when the late King was absent, making then one bowing only. I asked the reason; it was said he had a special order so to do. The Princess of Denmark was in the King's closet, but sat on the left hand of the chair, the Clerk of the Closet standing by his Majesty's chair, as if he had been present.

I met the Queen Dowager going now first from Whitehall to dwell at Somerset House.

This day my brother of Wotton and Mr. Onslow were candidates for Surrey against Sir Adam Brown and my cousin, Sir Edward Evelyn, and were circ.u.mvented in their election by a trick of the Sheriff's, taking advantage of my brother's party going out of the small village of Leatherhead to seek shelter and lodging, the afternoon being tempestuous, proceeding to the election when they were gone; they expecting the next morning; whereas before and then they exceeded the other party by many hundreds, as I am a.s.sured. The Duke of Norfolk led Sir Edward Evelyn's and Sir Adam Brown's party. For this Parliament, very mean and slight persons (some of them gentlemen's servants, clerks, and persons neither of reputation nor interest) were set up; but the country would choose my brother whether he would or no, and he missed it by the trick above mentioned. Sir Adam Brown was so deaf, that he could not hear one word. Sir Edward Evelyn was an honest gentleman, much in favor with his Majesty.

[Sidenote: LONDON]

10th April, 1685. I went early to Whitehall to hear Dr. Tillotson, Dean of Canterbury, preaching on Eccles. ix. 18. I returned in the evening, and visited Lady Tuke, and found with her Sir George Wakeman, the physician, whom I had seen tried and acquitted, among the plotters for poisoning the late King, on the accusation of the famous Oates; and surely I believed him guiltless.

14th April, 1685. According to my custom, I went to London to pa.s.s the holy week.

17th April, 1685. GOOD FRIDAY. Dr. Tenison preached at the new church at St. James, on 1 Cor. xvi. 22, upon the infinite love of G.o.d to us, which he ill.u.s.trated in many instances. The Holy Sacrament followed, at which I partic.i.p.ated. The Lord make me thankful! In the afternoon, Dr. Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, preached in Whitehall chapel, the auditory very full of Lords, the two Archbishops, and many others, now drawn to town upon occasion of the coronation and ensuing Parliament. I supped with the Countess of Sunderland and Lord G.o.dolphin, and returned home.

23d April, 1685. Was the coronation of the King and Queen. The solemnity was magnificent as is set forth in print. The Bishop of Ely preached; but, to the sorrow of the people, no Sacrament, as ought to have been.

However, the King begins his reign with great expectations, and hopes of much reformation as to the late vices and profaneness of both Court and country. Having been present at the late King's coronation, I was not ambitious of seeing this ceremony.

3d May, 1685. A young man preached, going chaplain with Sir J. Wiburn, Governor of Bombay, in the East Indies.

7th May, 1685. I was in Westminster Hall when Oates, who had made such a stir in the kingdom, on his revealing a plot of the Papists, and alarmed several Parliaments, and had occasioned the execution of divers priests, n.o.blemen, etc., was tried for perjury at the King's bench; but, being very tedious, I did not endeavor to see the issue, considering that it would be published. Abundance of Roman Catholics were in the hall in expectation of the most grateful conviction and ruin of a person who had been so obnoxious to them, and as I verily believe, had done much mischief and great injury to several by his violent and ill-grounded proceedings; while he was at first so unreasonably blown up and encouraged, that his insolence was no longer sufferable.

Mr. Roger L'Estrange (a gentleman whom I had long known, and a person of excellent parts, abating some affectations) appearing first against the Dissenters in several tracts, had now for some years turned his style against those whom (by way of hateful distinction) they called Whigs and Trimmers, under the t.i.tle of "Observator," which came out three or four days every week, in which sheets, under pretense to serve the Church of England, he gave suspicion of gratifying another party, by several pa.s.sages which rather kept up animosities than appeased them, especially now that n.o.body gave the least occasion.[59]