Chapter X: Part 10

Prayers were solemnly made in all the churches, especially in both the Court Chapels, where the chaplains relieved one another every half quarter of an hour from the time he began to be in danger till he expired, according to the form prescribed in the Church offices. Those who assisted his Majesty's devotions were, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London, Durham, and Ely, but more especially Dr. Ken, the Bishop of Bath and Wells.[55] It is said they exceedingly urged the receiving Holy Sacrament, but his Majesty told them he would consider of it, which he did so long till it was too late. Others whispered that the Bishops and Lords, except the Earls of Bath and Feversham, being ordered to withdraw the night before, Huddleston, the priest, had presumed to administer the Popish offices. He gave his breeches and keys to the Duke who was almost continually kneeling by his bedside, and in tears. He also recommended to him the care of his natural children, all except the Duke of Monmouth, now in Holland, and in his displeasure. He entreated the Queen to pardon him (not without cause); who a little before had sent a Bishop to excuse her not more frequently visiting him, in regard of her excessive grief, and withal that his Majesty would forgive it if at any time she had offended him. He spoke to the Duke to be kind to the Duchess of Cleveland, and especially Portsmouth, and that Nelly might not starve.

[Footnote 55: The account given of this by Charles's brother and
successor, is, that when the King's life was wholly despaired of,
and it was time to prepare for another world, two Bishops came to do
their function, who reading the prayers appointed in the Common
Prayer Book on that occasion, when they came to the place where
usually they exhort a sick person to make a confession of his sins,
the Bishop of Bath and Wells, who was one of them, advertised him,
IT WAS NOT OF OBLIGATION; and after a short exhortation, asked him
if he was sorry for his sins? which the King saying he was, the
Bishop pronounced the absolution, and then, asked him if he pleased
to receive the Sacrament? to which the King made no reply; and being
pressed by the Bishop several times, gave no other answer but that
it was time enough, or that he would think of it.

King James adds, that he stood all the while by the bedside, and
seeing the King would not receive the Sacrament from them, and
knowing his sentiments, he desired the company to stand a little
from the bed, and then asked the King whether he should send for a
priest, to which the King replied: "For God's sake, brother, do, and
lose no time." The Duke said he would bring one to him; but none
could be found except Father Huddleston, who had been so assistant
in the King's escape from Worcester; he was brought up a back
staircase, and the company were desired to withdraw, but he (the
Duke of York) not thinking fit that he should be left alone with the
King, desired the Earl of Bath, a Lord of the Bedchamber, and the
Earl of Feversham, Captain of the Guard, should stay; the rest being
gone, Father Huddleston was introduced, and administered the
Sacrament.--"Life of James II."]

Thus died King Charles II., of a vigorous and robust constitution, and in all appearance promising a long life. He was a prince of many virtues, and many great imperfections; debonair, easy of access, not bloody nor cruel; his countenance fierce, his voice great, proper of person, every motion became him; a lover of the sea, and skillful in shipping; not affecting other studies, yet he had a laboratory, and knew of many empirical medicines, and the easier mechanical mathematics; he loved planting and building, and brought in a politer way of living, which passed to luxury and intolerable expense. He had a particular talent in telling a story, and facetious passages, of which he had innumerable; this made some buffoons and vicious wretches too presumptuous and familiar, not worthy the favor they abused. He took delight in having a number of little spaniels follow him and lie in his bedchamber, where he often suffered the bitches to puppy and give suck, which rendered it very offensive, and indeed made the whole court nasty and stinking. He would doubtless have been an excellent prince, had he been less addicted to women, who made him uneasy, and always in want to supply their immeasurable profusion, to the detriment of many indigent persons who had signally served both him and his father. He frequently and easily changed favorites to his great prejudice.

As to other public transactions, and unhappy miscarriages, 'tis not here I intend to number them; but certainly never had King more glorious opportunities to have made himself, his people, and all Europe happy, and prevented innumerable mischiefs, had not his too easy nature resigned him to be managed by crafty men, and some abandoned and profane wretches who corrupted his otherwise sufficient parts, disciplined as he had been by many afflictions during his banishment, which gave him much experience and knowledge of men and things; but those wicked creatures took him from off all application becoming so great a King. The history of his reign will certainly be the most wonderful for the variety of matter and accidents, above any extant in former ages: the sad tragical death of his father, his banishment and hardships, his miraculous restoration, conspiracies against him, parliaments, wars, plagues, fires, comets, revolutions abroad happening in his time, with a thousand other particulars. He was ever kind to me, and very gracious upon all occasions, and therefore I cannot without ingratitude but deplore his loss, which for many respects, as well as duty, I do with all my soul.

His Majesty being dead, the Duke, now King James II., went immediately to Council, and before entering into any business, passionately declaring his sorrow, told their Lordships, that since the succession had fallen to him, he would endeavor to follow the example of his predecessor in his clemency and tenderness to his people; that, however he had been misrepresented as affecting arbitrary power, they should find the contrary; for that the laws of England had made the King as great a monarch as he could desire; that he would endeavor to maintain the Government both in Church and State, as by law established, its principles being so firm for monarchy, and the members of it showing themselves so good and loyal subjects;[56] and that, as he would never depart from the just rights and prerogatives of the Crown, so he would never invade any man's property; but as he had often adventured his life in defense of the nation, so he would still proceed, and preserve it in all its lawful rights and liberties.

[Footnote 56: This is the substance (and very nearly the words
employed) of what is stated by King James II. in the MS. printed in
his life; but in that MS. are some words which Evelyn has omitted.
For example, after speaking of the members of the Church of England
as good and loyal subjects, the King adds, "AND THEREFORE I SHALL
ALWAYS TAKE CARE TO DEFEND AND SUPPORT IT." James then goes on to
say, that being desired by some present to allow copies to be taken,
he said he had not committed it to writing; on which Mr. Finch (then
Solicitor-General and afterward Earl of Aylesford) replied, that
what his Majesty had said had made so deep an impression on him,
that he believed he could repeat the very words, and if his Majesty
would permit him, he would write them down, which the King agreeing
to, he went to a table and wrote them down, and this being shown to
the King, he approved of it, and it was immediately published. The
King afterward proceeds to say: "No one can wonder that Mr. Finch
should word the speech as strong as he could in favor of the
Established Religion, nor that the King in such a hurry should pass
it over without reflection; for though his Majesty intended to
promise both security to their religion and protection to their
persons, he was afterward convinced it had been better expressed by
assuring them he never would endeavor to alter the Established
Religion, than that he would endeavor to preserve it, and that he
would rather support and defend the professors of it, than the
religion itself; they could not expect he should make a conscience
of supporting what in his conscience he thought erroneous: his
engaging not to molest the professors of it, nor to deprive them or
their successors of any spiritual dignity, revenue, or employment,
but to suffer the ecclesiastical affairs to go on in the track they
were in, was all they could wish or desire from a Prince of a
different persuasion; but having once approved that way of
expressing it which Mr. Finch had made choice of, he thought it
necessary not to vary from it in the declarations or speeches he
made afterward, not doubting but the world would understand it in
the meaning he intended.----'Tis true, afterward IT WAS pretended
he kept not up to this engagement; but had they deviated no further
from the duty and allegience which both nature and repeated oath
obliged them to, THAN HE DID FROM HIS WORD, they had still remained
as happy a people as they really were during his short reign in
England."--"Life of James II.," ii. 435. The words printed in small
caps in this extract are from the interlineations of the son of King
James II.]

This being the substance of what he said, the Lords desired it might be published, as containing matter of great satisfaction to a jealous people upon this change, which his Majesty consented to. Then were the Council sworn, and a Proclamation ordered to be published that all officers should continue in their stations, that there might be no failure of public justice, till his further pleasure should be known. Then the King rose, the Lords accompanying him to his bedchamber, where, while he reposed himself, tired indeed as he was with grief and watching, they returned again into the Council chamber to take order for the PROCLAIMING his Majesty, which (after some debate) they consented should be in the very form his grandfather, King James I., was, after the death of Queen Elizabeth; as likewise that the Lords, etc., should proceed in their coaches through the city for the more solemnity of it. Upon this was I, and several other gentlemen waiting in the Privy gallery, admitted into the Council chamber to be witness of what was resolved on. Thence with the Lords, Lord Marshal and Heralds, and other Crown officers being ready, we first went to Whitehall gate, where the Lords stood on foot bareheaded, while the Herald proclaimed his Majesty's title to the Imperial Crown and succession according to the form, the trumpets and kettledrums having first sounded three times, which ended with the people's acclamations. Then a herald called the Lords' coaches according to rank, myself accompanying the solemnity in my Lord Cornwallis's coach, first to Temple Bar, where the Lord Mayor and his brethren met us on horseback, in all their formalities, and proclaimed the King; hence to the Exchange in Cornhill, and so we returned in the order we set forth. Being come to Whitehall, we all went and kissed the King and Queen's hands. He had been on the bed, but was now risen and in his undress. The Queen was in bed in her apartment, but put forth her hand, seeming to be much afflicted, as I believe she was, having deported herself so decently upon all occasions since she came into England, which made her universally beloved.

Thus concluded this sad and not joyful day.

I can never forget the inexpressible luxury and profaneness, gaming, and all dissoluteness, and as it were total forgetfulness of God (it being Sunday evening), which this day se'nnight I was witness of, the King sitting and toying with his concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, and Mazarin, etc., a French boy singing love songs[57] in that glorious gallery, while about twenty of the great courtiers and other dissolute persons were at Basset round a large table, a bank of at least 2,000 in gold before them; upon which two gentlemen, who were with me, made reflections with astonishment. Six days after, was all in the dust.

[Footnote 57: _Ante_, p. 204.]

It was enjoined that those who put on mourning should wear it as for a father, in the most solemn manner.

10th February, 1685. Being sent to by the Sheriff of the County to appear and assist 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 titles to his bailiff, who repeated them aloud, and then, after many shouts of the people, his Majesty's health being drunk in a flint glass of a yard long, by the Sheriff, Commander, Officers, and chief gentlemen, they all dispersed, and I returned.

13th February, 1685. I passed 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 mass 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 Godolphin 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), pronounced 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 Shore, 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, 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 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 God's holy will be done!

10th March, 1685. She received the blessed sacrament; after which, disposing herself to suffer what God 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 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 of everybody. 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 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 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 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 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 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 passed 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 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.

[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 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 were six 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 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 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.

[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 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 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, 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 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 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]

[Footnote 59: In the first Dutch war, while Evelyn was one of the
Commissioners for sick and wounded, L'Estrange in his "Gazette"
mentioned the barbarous usage of the Dutch prisoners of war:
whereupon Evelyn wrote him a very spirited letter, desiring that the
Dutch Ambassador (who was then in England) and his friends would
visit the prisoners, and examine their provisions; and he required
L'Estrange to publish that vindication in his next number.]

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, attested at 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 therefore he 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 of worship. 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 of 2,000. The whole number reported to be above 8,000; the King's but 2,700. The slain were most of them MENDIP-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.

[Sidenote: 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.

[Sidenote: LONDON]

15th July, 1685. I went to see Dr. Tenison's library [in St. Martin's].