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, mass 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 andsolemn. 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 God's holy will be done!
10th March, 1685. She received the blessed sacrament; after which, disposing herself to suffer what God shoulddetermine 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 assisted 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-bass 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 noble 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 ofeverybody. Piety was so prevalent an ingredient in her constitution (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 pass 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 andingenious 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 infamiliar 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 assisted 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 sex. 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! God 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 childacknowledged made an impression on herspirits. 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 assured of your life and my dear father's, never would I part from you; I love you and this home, where we serve God, 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 ourfamily. 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 passed one summer in it at Windsor with Lady Tuke, one of the Queen's women of the bedchamber (a mostvirtuous 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 God, 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 brass 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 passion 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.
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 God shall call me out of this uncertain transitory life, but some circumstances 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 assured 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 noble persons honored her funeral, some in person, others sending their coaches, of which there weresix or seven with six horses, viz, the Countess of Sunderland, Earl of Clarendon, Lord Godolphin, Sir Stephen Fox, Sir William Godolphin, 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 sex and of my poor family! God 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 God to give her courage to acquaint him with all her faults, imploring his assistance 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 diedof 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 circumvented 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 assured. 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.
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 pass 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 God to us, which he illustrated in many instances. The Holy Sacrament followed, at which I participated. 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 Godolphin, 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 withSir 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, noblemen, 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 verilybelieve, 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 title 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 passages which rather kept up animosities than appeased them, especially now that nobody gave the least occasion.59
10th May, 1685. The Scots valuing themselves exceedingly to have been the first Parliament called by his Majesty, gave the excise and customs to him and his successors forever; the Duke of Queensberry making eloquent speeches, and especially minding them of a speedy suppression of those late desperate Field-Conventiclers who had done such unheard of assassinations. In the meantime, elections for the ensuing Parliament in England were thought to be very indirectly carried on in most places. God grant a better issue of it than some expect!
16th May, 1685. Oates was sentenced to be whipped and pilloried with the utmost severity.
21st May, 1685. I dined at my Lord Privy Seal's with Sir William Dugdale, Garter King-at-Arms, author of the "Monasticon" and other learned works; he told me he was 82 years of age, and had his sight and memory perfect. There was shown a draft of the exact shape and dimensions of the crown the Queen had been crowned withal, together with the jewels and pearls, their weight and value, which amounted to £100,658 sterling, attestedat the foot of the paper by the jeweler and goldsmith who set them.
22d May, 1685. In the morning, I went with a French gentleman, and my Lord Privy Seal to the House of Lords, where we were placed by his Lordship next the bar, just below the bishops, very commodiously both for hearing and seeing. After a short space, came in the Queen and Princess of Denmark, and stood next above the archbishops, at the side of the House on the right hand of the throne. In the interim, divers of the Lords, who had not finished before, took the test and usual oaths, so that her Majesty, the Spanish and other Ambassadors, who stood behind the throne, heard the Pope and the worship of the Virgin Mary, etc., renounced very decently, as likewise the prayers which followed, standing all the while. Then came in the King, the crown on his head, and being seated, the Commons were introduced, and the House being full, he drew forth a paper containing his speech, which he read distinctly enough, to this effect: "That he resolved to call a Parliament from the moment of his brother's decease, as the best means to settle all the concerns of the nation, so as to be most easy and happy to himself and his subjects; that he would confirm whatever he had said in his declaration at the first Council concerning his opinion of the principles of the Church of England, for their loyalty, and would defend and support it, and preserve its government as by law now established; that, as he would invade no man's property, so he would never depart from his own prerogative; and, as he had ventured his life in defense of the nation, so he would proceed to do still; that, having given this assurance of his care of our religion (his word was YOUR religion) and property (which he had not said by chance, but solemnly), so he doubted not of suitable returns of his subjects' duty and kindness, especially as to settling his revenue for life, for the many weighty necessities of government, which he would not suffer to be precarious; that some might possibly suggest that it were better to feed and supply him from time to time only, out of their inclination to frequent Parliaments; but that that would be a very improper method to take with him, since the best way to engage him to meet oftener would be always to use him well, and thereforehe expected their compliance speedily, that this session being but short, they might meet again to satisfaction."
At every period of this, the House gave loud shouts. Then he acquainted them with that morning's news of Argyle's being landed in the West Highlands of Scotland from Holland, and the treasonous declaration he had published, which he would communicate to them, and that he should take the best care he could it should meet with the reward it deserved, not questioning the Parliament's zeal and readiness to assist him as he desired; at which there followed another "Vive le Roi," and so his Majesty retired.
So soon as the Commons were returned and had put themselves into a grand committee, they immediately put the question, and unanimously voted the revenue to his Majesty for life. Mr. Seymour made a bold speech against many elections, and would have had those members who (he pretended) were obnoxious, to withdraw, till they had cleared the matter of their being legally returned; but no one seconded him. The truth is, there were many of the new members whose elections and returns were universally censured, many of them being persons of no condition, or interest, in the nation, or places for which they served, especially in Devon, Cornwall, Norfolk, etc., said to have been recommended by the Court, and from the effect of the new charters changing the electors. It was reported that Lord Bath carried down with him [into Cornwall] no fewer than fifteen charters, so that some called him the Prince Elector: whence Seymour told the House in his speech that if this was digested, they might introduce what religion and laws they pleased, and that though he never gave heed to the fears and jealousies of the people before, he was now really apprehensive of Popery. By the printed list of members of 505, there did not appear to be above 135 who had been in former Parliaments, especially that lately held at Oxford.
In the Lords' House, Lord Newport made an exception against two or three young Peers, who wanted some months, and some only four or five days, of being of age.
The Popish Lords, who had been sometime before released from their confinement about the plot, were now discharged of their impeachment, of which I gave Lord Arundel of Wardour joy.
Oates, who had but two days before been pilloried at several places and whipped at the cart's tail from Newgate to Aldgate, was this day placed on a sledge, being not able to go by reason of so late scourging, and dragged from prison to Tyburn, and whipped again all the way, which some thought to be severe and extraordinary; but, if he was guilty of the perjuries, and so of the death of many innocents (as I fear he was), his punishment was but what he deserved. I chanced to pass just as execution was doing on him. A strange revolution!
Note: there was no speech made by the Lord Keeper [Bridgman] after his Majesty, as usual.
It was whispered he would not be long in that situation, and many believe the bold Chief Justice Jefferies, who was made Baron of Wem, in Shropshire, and who went thorough stitch in that tribunal, stands fair for that office. I gave him joy the morning before of his new honor, he having always been very civil to me.
24th May, 1685. We had hitherto not any rain for many months, so as the caterpillars had already devoured all the winter fruit through the whole land, and even killed several greater old trees. Such two winters and summers I had never known.
4th June, 1685. Came to visit and take leave of me Sir Gabriel Sylvius, now going Envoy-extraordinary into Denmark, with his secretary and chaplain, a Frenchman, who related the miserable persecution of the Protestants in France; not above ten churches left them, and those also threatened to be demolished; they were commanded to christen their children within twenty-four hours after birth, or else a Popish priest was to be called, and then the infant brought up in Popery. In some places, they were thirty leagues from any minister, or opportunity ofworship. This persecution had displeased the most industrious part of the nation, and dispersed those into Switzerland, Burgundy, Holland, Germany, Denmark, England, and the Plantations. There were with Sir Gabriel, his lady, Sir William Godolphin and sisters, and my Lord Godolphin's little son, my charge. I brought them to the water side where Sir Gabriel embarked, and the rest returned to London.
14th June, 1685. There was now certain intelligence of the Duke of Monmouth landing at Lyme, in Dorsetshire, and of his having set up his standard as King of England. I pray God deliver us from the confusion which these beginnings threaten!
Such a dearth for want of rain was never in my memory.
17th June, 1685. The Duke landed with but 150 men; but the whole kingdom was alarmed, fearing that the disaffected would join them, many of the trained bands flocking to him. At his landing, he published a Declaration, charging his Majesty with usurpation and several horrid crimes, on pretense of his own title, and offering to call a free Parliament. This declaration was ordered to be burnt by the hangman, the Duke proclaimed a traitor, and a reward of £5,000 to any who should kill him.
At this time, the words engraved on the monument in London, intimating that the Papists fired the city, were erased and cut out.
The exceeding drought still continues.
18th June, 1685. I received a warrant to send out a horse with twelve days' provisions, etc.
28th June, 1685. We had now plentiful rain after two years' excessive drought and severe winters.
Argyle taken in Scotland, and executed, and his party dispersed.
2d July, 1685. No considerable account of the troops sent against the Duke, though great forces sent. There was a smart skirmish; but he would not be provoked to come to an encounter, but still kept in the fastnesses.
Dangerfield whipped, like Oates, for perjury.
8th July, 1685. Came news of Monmouth's utter defeat, and the next day of his being taken by Sir William Portman and Lord Lumley with the militia of their counties. It seems the Horse, commanded by Lord Grey, being newly raised and undisciplined, were not to be brought in so short a time to endure the fire, which exposed the Foot to the King's, so as when Monmouth had led the Foot in great silence and order, thinking to surprise Lieutenant-General Lord Feversham newly encamped, and given him a smart charge, interchanging both great and small shot, the Horse, breaking their own ranks, Monmouth gave it over, and fled with Grey, leaving their party to be cut in pieces to the number of2,000. The whole number reported to be above 8,000; the King's but 2,700. The slain were most of themMendip-miners, who did great execution with their tools, and sold their lives very dearly, while their leaders flying were pursued and taken the next morning, not far from one another. Monmouth had gone sixteen miles on foot, changing his habit for a poor coat, and was found by Lord Lumley in a dry ditch covered with fern-brakes, but without sword, pistol, or any weapon, and so might have passed for some countryman, his beard being grown so long and so gray as hardly to be known, had not his George discovered him, which was found in his pocket. It is said he trembled exceedingly all over, not able to speak. Grey was taken not far from him. Most of his party were Anabaptists and poor cloth workers of the country, no gentlemen of account being come in to him. The arch-boutefeu, Ferguson, Matthews, etc., were not yet found. The £5,000 to be given to whoever should bring Monmouth in, was to be distributed among the militia by agreement between Sir William Portman and Lord Lumley. The battle ended, some words, first in jest, then in passion, passed between Sherrington Talbot (a worthy gentleman, son to Sir John Talbot, and who had behaved himself very handsomely) and one Captain Love, both commanders of the militia, as to whose soldiers fought best, both drawing their swords and passing at one another. Sherrington was wounded to death on the spot, to the great regret of those who knew him. He was Sir John's only son.
LONDON
9th July, 1685. Just as I was coming into the lodgings at Whitehall, a little before dinner, my Lord of Devonshire standing very near his Majesty's bedchamber door in the lobby, came Colonel Culpeper, and in a rude manner looking at my Lord in the face, asked whether this was a time and place for excluders to appear; my Lord at first took little notice of what he said, knowing him to be a hotheaded fellow, but he reiterating it, my Lord asked Culpeper whether he meant him; he said yes, he meant his Lordship. My Lord told him he was no excluder (as indeed he was not); the other affirming it again, my Lord told him he lied; on which Culpeper struck him a box on the ear, which my Lord returned, and felled him. They were soon parted, Culpeper was seized,and his Majesty, who was all the while in his bedchamber, ordered him to be carried to the Greencloth officer, who sent him to the Marshalsea, as he deserved. My Lord Devon had nothing said to him.
I supped this night at Lambeth at my old friend's Mr. Elias Ashmole's, with my Lady Clarendon, the Bishop of St. Asaph, and Dr. Tenison, when we were treated at a great feast.
10th July, 1685. The Count of Castel Mellor, that great favorite and prime minister of Alphonso, late King of Portugal, after several years' banishment, being now received to grace and called home by Don Pedro, the present King, as having been found a person of the greatest integrity after all his sufferings, desired me to spend part of this day with him, and assist him in a collection of books and other curiosities, which he would carry with him into Portugal.
Mr. Hussey, a young gentleman who made love to my late dear child, but whom she could not bring herself to answer in affection, died now of the same cruel disease, for which I was extremely sorry, because he never enjoyed himself after my daughter's decease, nor was I averse to the match, could she have overcome her disinclination.
LONDON
15th July, 1685. I went to see Dr. Tenison's library [in St. Martin's].
Monmouth was this day brought to London and examined before the King, to whom he made great submission, acknowledged his seduction by Ferguson, the Scot, whom he named the bloody villain. He was sent to the Tower, had an interview with his late Duchess, whom he received coldly, having lived dishonestly with the Lady Henrietta Wentworth for two years. He obstinately asserted his conversation with that debauched woman to be no sin; whereupon, seeing he could not be persuaded to his last breath, the divines who were sent to assist him thought not fit to administer the Holy Communion to him. For the rest of his faults he professed great sorrow, and so died without any apparent fear. He would not make use of a cap or other circumstance, but lying down, bid the fellow to do his office better than to the late Lord Russell, and gave him gold; but the wretch made five chops before he had his head off; which soincensed the people, that had he not been guarded and got away, they would have torn him to pieces.
The Duke made no speech on the scaffold (which was on Tower Hill), but gave a paper containing not above five or six lines, for the King, in which he disclaims all title to the Crown, acknowledges that the late King, his father, had indeed told him he was but his base son, and so desired his Majesty to be kind to his wife and children. This relation I had from Dr. Tenison (Rector of St. Martin's), who, with the Bishops of Ely and Bath and Wells, were sent to him by his Majesty, and were at the execution.
Thus ended this quondam Duke, darling of his father and the ladies, being extremely handsome and adroit, an excellent soldier and dancer, a favorite of the people, of an easy nature, debauched by lust; seduced by crafty knaves, who would have set him up only to make a property, and taken the opportunity of the King being of another religion, to gather a party of discontented men. He failed and perished.
He was a lovely person, had a virtuous and excellent lady that brought him great riches, and a second dukedom in Scotland. He was Master of the Horse, General of the King his father's army, Gentleman of the Bedchamber, Knight of the Garter, Chancellor of Cambridge, in a word, had accumulations without end. See what ambition and want of principles brought him to! He was beheaded on Tuesday, 14th of July. His mother, whose name was Barlow, daughter of some very mean creatures, was a beautiful strumpet, whom I had often seen at Paris; she died miserably without anything to bury her; yet this Perkin had been made to believe that the King had married her, a monstrous and ridiculous forgery! And to satisfy the world of the iniquity of the report, the King his father (if his father he really was, for he most resembled one Sidney who was familiar with his mother) publicly and most solemnly renounced it, to be so entered in the Council Book some years since, with all the Privy Councillors' attestation.60
Had it not pleased God to dissipate this attempt in the beginning, there would in all appearance have gathered an irresistible force which would have desperatelyproceeded to the ruin of the Church and Government; so general was the discontent and expectation of the opportunity. For my own part, I looked upon this deliverance as most signal. Such an inundation of fanatics and men of impious principles must needs have caused universal disorder, cruelty, injustice, rapine, sacrilege, and confusion, an unavoidable civil war, and misery withoutend. Blessed be God, the knot was happily broken, and a fair prospect of tranquillity for the future, if we reform, be thankful, and make a right use of this mercy!
18th July, 1685. I went to see the muster of the six Scotch and English regiments whom the Prince of Orange had lately sent to his Majesty out of Holland upon this rebellion, but which were now returning, there having been no occasion for their use. They were all excellently clad and well disciplined, and were encamped on Blackheath with their tents: the King and Queen came to see them exercise, and the manner of their encampment, which was very neat and magnificent.
By a gross mistake of the Secretary of his Majesty's Forces, it had been ordered that they should be quartered in private houses, contrary to an Act of Parliament, but, on my informing his Majesty timely of it, it was prevented.
The two horsemen which my son and myself sent into the county troops, were now come home, after a month's being out to our great charge.
20th July, 1685. The Trinity Company met this day, which should have been on the Monday after Trinity, but was put off by reason of the Royal Charter being so large, that it could not be ready before. Some immunities were superadded. Mr. Pepys, Secretary to the Admiralty, was a second time chosen Master. There were present the Duke of Grafton, Lord Dartmouth, Master of the Ordnance, the Commissioners of the Navy, and Brethren of the Corporation. We went to church, according to custom, and then took barge to the Trinity House, in London, where we had a great dinner, above eighty at one table.
CHELSEA
7th August, 1685. I went to see Mr. Watts, keeper of the Apothecaries' garden of simples at Chelsea, where there is a collection of innumerable rarities of that sort particularly, besides many rare annuals, the tree bearing Jesuit's bark, which had done such wonders in quartan agues. What was very ingenious was the subterranean heat, conveyed by a stove under the conservatory, all vaulted with brick, so as he has the doors and windows open in the hardest frosts, secluding only the snow.
15th August, 1685. Came to visit us Mr. Boscawen, with my Lord Godolphin's little son, with whose education hitherto his father had intrusted me.
27th August, 1685. My daughter Elizabeth died of the smallpox, soon after having married a young man, nephew of Sir John Tippett, Surveyor of the Navy, and one of the Commissioners. The 30th, she was buried in the church at Deptford. Thus, in less than six months were we deprived of two children for our unworthiness and causes best known to God, whom I beseech from the bottom of my heart that he will give us grace to make that right use of all these chastisements, that we may become better, and entirely submit in all things to his infinitely wise disposal. Amen!
3d September, 1685. Lord Clarendon (Lord Privy Seal) wrote to let me know that the King being pleased to send him Lord-Lieutenant into Ireland, was also pleased to nominate me one of the Commissioners toexecute the office of Privy Seal during his Lieutenancy there, it behoving me to wait upon his Majesty to give him thanks for this great honor.
5th September, 1685. I accompanied his Lordship to Windsor (dining by the way of Sir Henry Capel's at Kew), where his Majesty receiving me with extraordinary kindness, I kissed his hand, I told him how sensible I was of his Majesty's gracious favor to me, that I would endeavor to serve him with all sincerity, diligence, and loyalty, not more out of my duty than inclination. He said he doubted not of it, and was glad he had the opportunity to show me the kindness he had for me. After this, came abundance of great men to give me joy.
6th September, 1685.Sunday.I went to prayer in the chapel, and heard Dr. Standish. The second sermon was preached by Dr. Creighton, on 1 Thess. iv. 11, persuading to unity and peace, and to be mindful of our own business, according to the advice of the apostle. Then I went to hear a Frenchman who preached before the King and Queen in that splendid chapel next St. George's Hall. Their Majesties going to mass, I withdrew to consider the stupendous painting of the Hall, which, both for the art and invention, deserve the inscription in honor of the painter, Signor Verrio. The history is Edward III. receiving the Black Prince, coming toward him in a Roman triumph. The whole roof is the history of St. George. The throne, the carvings, etc., are incomparable, and I think equal to any, and in many circumstances exceeding any, I have seen abroad.
I dined at Lord Sunderland's, with (among others) Sir William Soames, designed Ambassador to Constantinople.
About 6 o'clock came Sir Dudley and his brother Roger North, and brought the Great Seal from my Lord Keeper, who died the day before at his house in Oxfordshire. The King went immediately to council; everybody guessing who was most likely to succeed this great officer; most believing it could be no other than my Lord Chief Justice Jefferies, who had so vigorously prosecuted the late rebels, and was now gone the Western Circuit, to punish the rest that were secured in several counties, and was now near upon his return. I took my leave of hisMajesty, who spoke very graciously to me, and supping that night at Sir Stephen Fox's, I promised to dine there the next day.
15th September, 1685. I accompanied Mr. Pepys to Portsmouth, whither his Majesty was going the first time since his coming to the Crown, to see in what state the fortifications were. We took coach and six horses, late after dinner, yet got to Bagshot that night. While supper was making ready I went and made a visit to Mrs. Graham, some time maid of honor to the Queen Dowager, now wife to James Graham, Esq., of the privy purse to the King; her house being a walk in the forest, within a little quarter of a mile from Bagshot town. Very importunate she was that I would sup, and abide there that night; but, being obliged by my companion, I returned to our inn, after she had shown me her house, which was very commodious, and well furnished, as she was an excellent housewife, a prudent and virtuous lady. There is a park full of red deer about it. Her eldest son was now sick there of the smallpox, but in a likely way of recovery, and other of her children run about, and among the infected, which she said she let them do on purpose that they might while young pass that fatal disease she fancied they were to undergo one time or other, and that this would be the best: the severity of this cruel distemper so lately in my poor family confirming much of what she affirmed.