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January 2, 1665.

This day, I published that section of "The Mystery of Jesuitism" that I translated and compiled, even though it was published without my name. It includes the Imaginary Heresy, along with four letters and other writings.

4th January, 1665. I took a coach, as it was extremely cold with frost and snow, heading toward Dover and other parts of Kent to arrange for physicians, surgeons, agents, marshals, and other officials in all the sea ports to care for those who would be brought ashore, whether they were wounded, sick, or prisoners, following our commission which extended from North Foreland in Kent to Portsmouth in Hampshire. The other ports in England were assigned to the other Commissioners. That evening, I arrived in Rochester, where I handed the Privy Council's letter to the Mayor to receive instructions from me.

5th January, 1665. I arrived in Canterbury and went to the cathedral, which has been wonderfully restored since the King's return.

6th January, 1665. I went to Dover, where Colonel Stroode, the Lieutenant of the Castle, received the letter I brought him from the Duke of Albemarle. He had me stay in the castle and treated me wonderfully, helping me get around. Here, I appointed my first Deputy. The Mayor and customs officials were very polite to me.

9th January, 1665. To Deal.—10th. To Sandwich, a nice town, about two miles from the sea. The Mayor and customs officials were very diligent in serving me. I visited the forts along the way and returned that night to Canterbury.

11th January, 1665. To Rochester, where I arranged to appoint officers at Chatham.

12th January, 1665. To Gravesend, and returned home. It was a cold, busy, but not unpleasant trip.

25th January, 1665. That night at Whitehall, the King approached me while I was in the withdrawing room,[Pg 2] and thanked me for publishing "The Mysteries of Jesuitism." He mentioned that he had carried it in his pocket for two days, read it, and encouraged me, which surprised me. I assume Sir Robert Murray must have given it to him.

27th January, 1665. Had dinner at the Lord Chancellor's, who had me sit alone with him for two or three hours in his bedroom after dinner.

2nd February, 1665. I saw a Masque performed at Court, by six gentlemen and six ladies, surprising his Majesty, as it was Candlemas Day.

8th February, Ash Wednesday, 1665. I visited our prisoners at Chelsea College to check on how the marshal and sutlers were doing. These were prisoners captured during the war; they only complained that their bread was too fancy. I had lunch at Sir Henry Herbert's, Master of the Revels.

9th February, 1665. Had dinner at my Lord Treasurer's, the Earl of Southampton, in Bloomsbury, where he was building a grand square or piazza, a sort of little town; his house is too low, with some impressive rooms, a lovely cedar chapel, and a bare garden to the north, but good fresh air. I had a long conversation with his Lordship, who I found to be an exceptionally capable person, but in poor health. I went to St. James's Park, where I saw various animals and examined the throat of the Onocrotylus, or pelican, a bird that's a mix between a stork and a swan; a rather gloomy water bird, brought from Astrakhan by the Russian Ambassador; it was entertaining to watch as it would toss a flat fish, like plaice or flounder, up in the air to catch it just right into its throat at the lower beak, which can stretch enormously wide when swallowing large fish. I also saw a small water bird, no bigger than a moorhen, that stood almost straight up, like a penguin from America; it could eat as much fish as its entire body weighed; I’ve never seen such an insatiable eater, yet its body didn’t seem to get any bigger. The solan geese here are also great eaters and are said to quickly consume all the fish in a pond. There was a fascinating type of poultry, not much larger than a pet pigeon, with such short legs that their crops appeared to touch the ground; a milk-white raven; a stork, which was unusual at this time of year since it was free and could fly high; two Balearian cranes, one of which had a broken leg cut off above the knee, and had a wooden leg and thigh, made so well that the creature could walk and use it as if it were natural; it was crafted by a soldier. The park was filled with numerous flocks of various common and rare wild birds breeding around the Decoy, which, being so close to a big city and among so many soldiers and people, is quite a remarkable and entertaining sight. There were also deer from several regions, white ones; spotted like leopards; antelopes, an elk, red deer, roebucks, stags, Guinea goats, Arabian sheep, etc. There were nests for the wild birds to lay their eggs in, just above the water's surface.

23rd February, 1665. I was invited to a big feast at Mr. Rich's (a relative of my wife's, who is now the reader at Lincoln's Inn); where the Duke of Monmouth, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London and Winchester, the Speaker of the House of Commons, several judges, and other prominent people were present.

24th February, 1665. Dr. Fell, Canon of Christ Church, preached before the King, on Romans 15:2, a very formal sermon, and in blank verse, as he usually does; still, he is a good man.—Mr. Philips, who teaches my son, went to be with the Earl of Pembroke's son, my Lord Herbert.

2nd March, 1665. I went with His Majesty into the lobby behind the House of Lords, where I saw the King and the other Lords put on their robes and entered the House of Lords in a corner near the woolsack, where the Lord Chancellor sits just below the throne. The King was in all his regalia, wearing the imperial crown, holding the sceptre and globe, etc. The Duke of Albemarle carried the sword, and the Duke of Ormond held the cap of dignity. The other Lords robed themselves in their places:—a truly magnificent and distinguished gathering. Then the Speaker and the House of Commons arrived and made a speech at the bar, afterward presenting several bills; a mere nod was enough to pass them, with the clerk saying, Le Roy le veult for public bills, and for private ones, Soit faite comme il est desiré. Then, His Majesty gave a nice but brief speech, instructing my Lord[Pg 4] Privy Seal to prorogue the Parliament, which he did, as the Chancellor was ill and absent. I had never seen this ceremony before.

9th March, 1665. I went to take in the unfortunate souls who were rescued from the London frigate, which had been blown up by accident, claiming over 200 men.

29th March, 1665. Went to Goring House, now Mr. Secretary Bennet's. The place is poorly built, but it could be turned into a nice villa. His Majesty was finishing the Decoy in the Park.

2nd April, 1665. Made arrangements for some prisoners sent from Captain Allen's ship, captured in the Solomon, namely, the courageous men who defended her so bravely.

5th April, 1665. It was a day of public humiliation and for the success of this terrible war, which undoubtedly started at the secret urging of the French to weaken the States and the Protestant cause. Huge preparations were underway on both sides.

6th April, 1665. In the afternoon, I saw performed "Mustapha," a tragedy written by the Earl of Orrery.

11th April, 1665. To London, now that I’m the only Commissioner left to handle everything needed for exchanging, relocating, and managing prisoners, organizing hospitals, etc.; the other Commissioners have gone to their respective areas, anticipating a quick battle.

19th April, 1665. Invited to a big dinner at the Trinity House, where I had business with the Navy Commissioners, and to receive the second £5,000 allocated for the care of sick and wounded prisoners.

20th April, 1665. I went to Whitehall to see the King, who called me into his bedroom while he was getting dressed. I showed him the letter from the Duke of York, who was on the fleet, informing me about young Evertzen and some notable commanders who had recently been captured in battle with the Dartmouth and Diamond frigates. They were sent to me as prisoners of war. I wanted to ask the King how he wanted me to handle them when he instructed me to bring the young captain to him and to take the Dutch Ambassador's word (who was still here) for the other, ensuring that he would come to me whenever I called and not leave without permission. Because of this, I requested more guards, as the prison was at Chelsea House. I also visited Lord Arlington (the Secretary, as Bennet was recently made a Lord) regarding other matters. I had lunch at my Lord Chancellor's; the only other person there was Sir Sackville Crowe, who had previously been Ambassador in Constantinople; we were in good spirits and quite merry.

24th April, 1665. I introduced young Captain Evertzen (the eldest son of Cornelius, Vice-Admiral of Zealand and nephew of John, now Admiral, a very brave man) to His Majesty in his bedroom. The King offered his hand to kiss and granted him his freedom; he asked many questions about the battle (this being the first bloodshed), remembering the many kindnesses he had previously received from Evertzen's relatives overseas, who had significant connections in that important Province. Then, I was instructed to accompany him to the Dutch Ambassador, where he would wait for his passport, and I was to give him fifty gold coins. The next day, I received the Ambassador's guarantee for another Captain, captured in Captain Allen's battle before Calais. I informed the King about what I had done and later requested the same favor for another Captain, which His Majesty granted me.

28th April, 1665. I went to Tunbridge to witness a formal event at the local free school.

Having checked in with my marshal about my prisoners, and made arrangements with the doctor and surgeon to care for the wounded enemies, as well as our own men, I went back to London and visited my charge, several of whom had lost legs and arms; tragic sights, God knows.

16th May, 1665. To London, to think about the poor orphans and widows created by this violent start, whose husbands and family members died in the London frigate, which left fifty widows, with forty-five of them expecting.

26th May, 1665. To meet with the Dutch Ambassador in Chelsea to discuss the release of various prisoners of war in the Netherlands in exchange for those here. After dinner, I was called into the Council Chamber at Whitehall, where I reported to His Majesty about what I had done, informing him of the significant cost to us, which now totals no less than £1,000 per week.

29th May, 1665. I went with my young son to my area in Kent to settle accounts with my officers. I visited the Governor at Dover Castle, where some of my prisoners were. [Pg 6]

3rd June, 1665. On my way back, I went to Gravesend; with the fleets currently engaged, I gave specific instructions for my officers to be prepared to receive the wounded and prisoners.

5th June, 1665. To London, to speak with his Majesty and the Duke of Albemarle about getting horse and foot guards for the prisoners of war, specifically assigned to my responsibility through a separate commission.

8th June, 1665. I went to see his Grace again, then to the Council, and requested another privy seal for £20,000, as well as the authority to manage the Savoy Hospital for the sick and wounded; all of which was approved. From there, I headed to the Royal Society to catch up with the philosophers.

News came in about his highness's victory, which could have been a total win that ended the war if it had been followed up on, but the cowardice of some, or betrayal, or both, ruined that. We still had bonfires, bells, and celebrations in the city. The next day, the 9th, I received immediate orders to head to the Downs, so I reached Rochester that evening. The following day I stayed at Deal, where everything was in place, but the fleet was stuck due to strong winds, so I left on the 12th and went to Dover, then returned to Deal. On the 13th, hearing that the fleet was in Solbay, I headed home and stayed at Chatham, and on the 14th, I finally got home. On the 15th, the eldest son of the current Secretary of State to the French King, along with several guests, came to have dinner with me. After dinner, I took him to London to speak with my Lord General about getting more guards, and I reported to his Majesty about my trip to the coasts under my supervision. I also paid a visit to his Royal Highness, who had returned victorious from the fleet and was getting things back in shape. You can read the full account of this conflict in my "History of the Dutch War."

20th June, 1665. I went to London and explained the situation of the sick and wounded to His Majesty in Council. Due to a lack of funds, he instructed me to approach My Lord Treasurer and Chancellor of the Exchequer about the sources to secure the promised money. We also presented various suggestions to His Majesty for reducing expenses.

This evening, while I was presenting myself to the Duke, I spoke with Monsieur Comminges, the French Ambassador, and his[Pg 7]Highness gave me six prisoners, Embdeners, who wanted to go to Barbados with a merchant.

22d June, 1665. We met with the Chancellor of the Exchequer and received an Order of Council for our funds to be paid to the Treasurer of the Navy for our Receivers.

23rd June, 1665. I had dinner with Sir Robert Paston, who later became the Earl of Yarmouth, and I met the Duke of Verneuille, the illegitimate brother of the Queen Mother, a handsome older man and an avid hunter.

The Duke of York told us that during the fight, his dog found the safest spot on the whole ship. In the afternoon, I witnessed the grand welcome and meeting of El Conde de Molino, the Spanish Ambassador, in the Banqueting House, with both their Majesties sitting together under the royal canopy.

30th June, 1665. I traveled to Chatham; and on 1st July, I joined the fleet with Lord Sandwich, now Admiral. We took a small boat to the Buoy of the Nore, where the whole fleet was anchored. I boarded the Prince, equipped with ninety brass cannons, arguably the best ship in the world for both construction and sailing; it housed 700 men. They cheered loudly three times at our arrival. We dined with many noblemen, gentlemen, and volunteers, served on fine dishes with excellent food of all kinds. After dinner, the King, the Duke, and Prince Rupert arrived. Here, I witnessed the King knight Captain Custance for his bravery in the recent battle. It was impressive to see the good order, decency, and abundance of everything on a ship so crowded with men. The vessel had taken a hundred cannon shots to its hull. Then, I boarded the Charles. After a cannon was fired, all the flag officers came to see the King, who held a General Council there, which decided that his Royal Highness should not risk himself any further this summer. I left late, having seen the most magnificent fleet that ever set sail. We returned in the King's yacht with Lord Sandwich and Mr. Vice-Chamberlain, landing at Chatham on Sunday morning.

5th July, 1665. I arranged for 150 men, who had healed from their wounds, to be transported on board the Clove Tree, Carolus Quintus, and Zealand, ships that we had captured during the battle; and then returned home.

7th July, 1665. To London, to Sir William Coventry;[Pg 8] and then to Sion, where the King held Council during the plague: when the meeting was done, I checked out the seat that belongs to the Earl of Northumberland, which was built from an old nunnery, made of stone, and quite nice, but more famous for its garden than it really deserves; still, there’s excellent wall fruit and a nice fountain; nothing else remarkable.

9th July, 1665. I went to Hampton Court, where the entire Court was, to ask for money; to deliver intercepted letters; to meet again with Sir William Coventry, the Duke's secretary; and then home, having had lunch with Mr. Secretary Morice.

16th July, 1665. This week, 1,100 people died of the plague in London; and in the following week, over 2,000. Two houses were quarantined in our parish.

2nd August, 1665. A serious day of fasting across England to seek God's mercy against the plague and war; our Doctor preaching on Leviticus 26:41, 42, emphasizing that the way to gain forgiveness for punishment is not to complain about it, but to humbly accept it.

3d August, 1665. His Grace the Duke of Albemarle, Lord General of all his Majesty's forces, came to visit me and took me to dine with him.

4th August, 1665. I went to Wotton with my son and his tutor, Mr. Bohun, a Fellow of New College (who was recommended to me by Dr. Wilkins and the President of New College, Oxford), because I was worried about the plague, which was still spreading in London and the surrounding areas. On my way back, I stopped by Durdans, where I found Dr. Wilkins, Sir William Petty, and Mr. Hooke working on chariots, new ship rigging, a wheel for racing, and other mechanical inventions; you probably couldn't find three people like them anywhere else in Europe, thanks to their skill and creativity.

8th August, 1665. I visited the Duke of Albemarle, who decided to stay at the Cock-pit in St. James's Park. This week in London, 4,000 people died.

15th August, 1665. This week, 5,000 people died.

28th August, 1665. The outbreak is still getting worse and is now spreading everywhere around us. I sent my wife and the whole family (except for two or three essential servants) to my brother's house in Wotton, while I decided to stay at my own home and take care of my responsibilities, trusting in God's providence and goodness.[Pg 9]

5th September, 1665. I went to Chatham to check on my responsibilities, with £900 in my coach.

7th September, 1665. I came home to find nearly 10,000 poor people dying each week; still, I walked through the city and the suburbs from Kent Street to St. James's—a grim journey, and it was unsettling to see so many coffins out in the streets, with the population visibly reduced. The shops were closed, and everything was wrapped in a mournful silence, with everyone unsure of who might be next. I went to the Duke of Albemarle to request a pest ship to assist our infected men, who were not few in number.

14th September, 1665. I went to Wotton; and on 16th September, I visited the old Secretary Nicholas, who is now at his new place in West Horsley, which was once mortgaged to me by Lord Viscount Montague: a nice dry spot on the Downs. Returned to Wotton.

17th September, 1665. After getting a letter from Lord Sandwich about a victory over the Dutch, I had to travel all Sunday. I was very confused to discover that nearly 3,000 prisoners were sent to me to manage, which was more than I had the facilities to accommodate and secure.

25th September, 1665. My Lord Admiral returned from the fleet to Greenwich, and I went with him to the Cock-pit to consult the Duke of Albemarle. I insisted that unless we got £10,000 right away, the prisoners would starve, and it was suggested that the funds should come from the East India prizes recently captured by Lord Sandwich. As they were only two of the commissioners and not authorized to make a decision, they sent an urgent message to His Majesty and the Council to find out what to do. In the meantime, I had five ships with adequate guards to hold the prisoners for now, to be arranged as I saw fit. After dinner (which was at the General's), I went to visit His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury, at Lambeth.

28th September, 1665. To the General again, to inform him of the terrible condition of our men due to lack of supplies; returned with orders.

29th September, 1665. I went to Erith to speed up the sale of the prizes there, giving instructions to the commissioner who was on board until they were sold, with £5,000 allocated for my share. Then, I handed over the Dutch Vice-Admiral, who was my prisoner, to Mr. Lo....2 of the Marshalsea, who provided me with a £500 bond to present him whenever I needed. I really felt for this brave, unfortunate man, who had lost £40,000 along with these prizes after twenty years of trading in the East Indies. I had dinner on one of these ships, which was 1,200 tons and filled with treasures.

1st October, 1665. This afternoon, during evening prayers, I was informed of the birth of a daughter in Wotton, following six sons, in the same room where I was born, and on the first day of this month, just like I was forty-five years ago.

4th October, 1665. The monthly fast.

11th October, 1665. I went to London and traveled through the entire city, getting out of the coach at several places for money-related business, when I was surrounded by crowds of poor, sick people begging for help; the shops were all closed, what a terrible sight! I had lunch with my Lord General; I was supposed to receive £10,000 and had guards to escort both me and the money, and I returned home safely, thanks to God's infinite mercy.

17th October, 1665. I went to Gravesend; the next day to Chatham; then to Maidstone, to oversee the march of 500 prisoners to Leeds Castle, which I had rented from Lord Culpeper. I was strongly encouraged by the respected Sir Roger Twisden and the Deputy-Lieutenants to avoid putting any of my sick people in Maidstone. Here, Sir Edward Brett sent me some horses to help with the rear. This area, from Rochester to Maidstone and the Downs, is quite pleasant for the view.

21st October, 1665. I arrived from Gravesend, where Sir J. Griffith, the Governor of the Fort, hosted me very generously.

31st October, 1665. Today I turned forty-five years old, remarkably well-preserved; for this, I thanked God for His endless goodness towards me.

23rd November, 1665. Went home, the outbreak having now decreased significantly.

27th November, 1665. The Duke of Albemarle was heading to Oxford, where both the Court and Parliament had spent most of the summer. There was considerable suspicion that Lord Sandwich had allowed several commanders involved in the capture of the East India[Pg 11] prizes to pilfer gems, silks, and other valuables for themselves; although I could name a few who definitely stuffed their pockets, Lord Sandwich had the smallest share. Still, he took on the blame, which made him some enemies and got the Lord General’s attention, as he spoke to me about it with great passion and concern, and I believe he laid quite a bit of blame on Lord Sandwich in Oxford.

8th December, 1665. To my Lord of Albemarle (now back from Oxford), who was named Admiral, much to the embarrassment of the remarkable Earl of Sandwich, whom the Duke of Albemarle not only suspected of being at fault regarding the prizes but also less brave; imagining how simple it would be to outsmart the Dutch, just as he had fought against them before for less honorable reasons.

25th December, 1665. Spent Christmas with my generous brother at Wotton.

30th December, 1665. To Woodcot, where I had dinner at Lady Mordaunt's in Ashsted, where there was a room decorated with pintado, filled with large and small figures that nicely depicted various trades and occupations of the Indians, along with their attire; Dr. Duke, a knowledgeable and humorous gentleman, also had dinner here.

31st December, 1665. Now thank God for His extraordinary mercy and for keeping me safe this year, as thousands and tens of thousands perished, with 406 people in our parish dying from the plague!

3rd January, 1665-66. I had dinner at Nonesuch House,3 where the office of the Exchequer was moved during the plague, hosted by my good friend Mr. Packer. I took a close look at the plaster statues and bas-reliefs set between the beams and panels of the exterior walls of the Court; they must have been created by some renowned Italian artist. I was impressed by how well they have survived since the time of Henry VIII., despite being exposed to the elements; it’s a shame they aren’t removed and kept in a dry place; they would look great in a gallery. There are some life-sized mezzo-reliefs depicting the pagan[Pg 12] gods, along with emblems and scenes. The palace has two courtyards, the first being a stone structure, castle-like, built by the Lord Lumleys (from whom it was purchased), and the second being a timber Gothic design, but the walls are incredibly beautiful. I noticed that the exposed timber beams and panels were all covered with slate scales, making it look like the wood was intricately carved and painted. The slate was attached to the timber in lovely patterns, acting like armor and protecting it from decay. In the garden stand two beautiful stone pyramids, and the path is lined with rows of elegant elms, but most of the splendid trees in this area and the nearby Worcester Park were cut down by those destructive and greedy rebels during the recent war, which ruined one of the grandest residences his Majesty had.

12th January, 1666. After a lot of extraordinary fun and joy, I was with all my brothers, their wives, and children. After experiencing a lot of sadness and hardship during this outbreak, which kept our families apart along with others, I returned to my house, but my wife went back to Wotton. I wasn’t ready to risk her catching the lingering contagion, even though it had greatly decreased but was still not completely gone among us.

29th January, 1666. I went to see His Majesty, who had just returned from Oxford to Hampton Court, where the Duke of Albemarle introduced me to him; he rushed toward me and graciously offered his hand to kiss, thanking me for my care and loyalty during such a dangerous time when everyone else had abandoned their duties. He expressed his gratitude, saying he was genuinely worried about me and the risks I faced, and that he appreciated my service (though honestly, I was just doing my job, and oh, how I wish I had done it as I ought!). After this, His Majesty kindly spent nearly an hour talking with me one-on-one about various aspects of my work and asked me to see him again the following Thursday at Whitehall. Then the Duke approached me and warmly embraced me, saying that if he had realized my danger would be so significant, he wouldn't have allowed His Majesty to assign me to that role. Soon after, my Lord of St. Albans, Lord Arlington, Sir William Coventry, and several other important figures came to greet me; after that, I went home, not feeling very well.

The Court was now in deep mourning for the French Queen Mother.

2nd February, 1666. To London; his Majesty has now arrived at Whitehall, where I heard and saw my Lord Mayor (and his colleagues) give his welcome speech, and the two Sheriffs were knighted.

6th February, 1666. My wife and family came back to me from the countryside, where they had been since August because of the outbreak, which is now nearly over. Thank God for His incredible mercy in keeping us safe! I have faced so much danger and lost many of my poor officers, yet I survived so that I could share and celebrate His goodness to me.

8th February, 1666. I received another warm welcome from His Majesty, who invited me into his bedroom to present and explain my plan for an Infirmary. I read it to him, and he approved it highly and suggested it to his Royal Highness.

20th February, 1666. To the Commissioners of the Navy who, after reviewing the Infirmary project, supported the initiative and emphasized the need to start it right away; however, I found no funding available, even though a relatively small investment would have saved the King thousands and provided a much better solution for treating and housing our sick and injured, compared to splitting them up among private homes, which required many more surgeons and staff, and often led the locals to engage in immoral behavior.

21st February, 1666. Went to my Lord Treasurer for an assignment of £40,000 for the last two quarters to support next year's expenses. The next day, I met with the Duke of Albemarle and the Secretary of State to ask them to present it to the Council.

1st March, 1666. I went to London and presented my book to His Majesty, titled "The Damaging Effects of the New Heresy of the Jesuits Against Kings and States."

7th March, 1666. Dr. Sancroft, who later became Archbishop of Canterbury, preached before the King about the nature and unchanging nature of God, based on Psalm 102:27.

13th March, 1666. I went to Chatham to check out a location intended for an Infirmary.[Pg 14]

15th March, 1666. My responsibility now totaled almost £7,000 [weekly].

22nd March, 1666. The Royal Society came together again after being scattered due to the outbreak.

24th March, 1666. Sent £2,000 to Chatham.

1st April, 1666. I went to London to discuss arranging the natural wonders owned by the Royal Society’s collection; it was assigned to a Committee.

10th April, 1666. I visited Sir William D'Oyly, who was shocked with a stroke and in serious danger.

11th April, 1666. Dr. Bathurst preached before the King, using the text "I say unto you all, watch"—a timely and outstanding sermon. When the King came out of the chapel, he called to me in the lobby and told me he needed to swear me in as a Justice of the Peace (since he had already appointed me to the Commission); I declined, saying it conflicted with the other duties I was engaged in and humbly asked to be excused. After dinner, while attending him, I gave him the first word about the Spaniards referring the mediation for peace between them and Portugal to the French King, which I received in a letter from France before the Secretaries of State had any news about it. Afterwards, the King again asked me if I had found someone capable in our area who could take my place as Justice of the Peace (the position I had most eagerly avoided due to the constant hassle it involved in these many parishes); I suggested someone, and the King instructed me to immediately inform my Lord Chancellor, assuring me I would be excused; for which I expressed my gratitude to His Majesty. From there, I went to the Royal Society, where I was elected by twenty-seven votes to be one of their Council for the upcoming year; however, after I earnestly asked to be excused due to my other commitments, I was granted that request—and then went home.

15th April, 1666. Our parish was now more affected by the plague than ever, and so was the surrounding countryside, although it had nearly stopped in London.

24th April, 1666. Went to London for our Mint Commission and sat in the inner Court of Wards.

8th May, 1666. I went to Queensborough, where I found the Richmond frigate and sailed to the buoy of the Nore to meet my Lord-General and Prince Rupert, where the most glorious fleet in the world was gathering to confront the Dutch. I visited my cousin, Hales, at a lovely spot in Chilston, near Bockton. The next morning, I went to Leeds Castle, which was once a famous stronghold but is now rented by me from my Lord Culpeper to use as a prison. Here, I filled the dry moat, built a new drawbridge, brought spring water into the castle courtyard to an old fountain, and arranged for repairs.

22nd May, 1666. Met with my Lord Chancellor at his new palace, as well as Lord Berkeley's palace built right next to it.

24th May, 1666. Had dinner with Lord Cornbury, who has now become Lord Chamberlain to the Queen; he hosted a very respectable dinner.

1st June, 1666. While I was in my garden at 6 o'clock in the evening and hearing the cannon fire frequently, I took my horse and rode that night to Rochester. The next day, I headed toward the Downs and the seacoast, but I ran into the Lieutenant of the Hampshire frigate, who informed me about what had happened—or rather, what hadn’t happened—so I returned to London since there was no sound or sign of any conflict at Deal or along that coast. When I recounted this to His Majesty, whom I found at St. James's Park, anxiously waiting and knowing that Prince Rupert was at large around three at St. Helen's Point north of the Isle of Wight, it made him very happy. However, he was shocked when I assured him that they had heard nothing from the guns in the Downs, nor had the Lieutenant, who landed there at five that morning.

3rd June, 1666. Whitsun. After the sermon, we heard that the Duke of Albemarle was still in battle and had been all Saturday, and that Captain Harman's ship (the Henry) was likely to catch fire. Then I received a letter from Mr. Bertie that Prince Rupert had arrived with his squadron (just as I had previously mentioned he would), which gave our fleet a boost of courage, as they were now starting to lose ground. So now we were chasing the ones who were chasing us; the Duke of Albemarle was slightly injured, and the others were still in serious danger. Having been quite exhausted from my journey, I went home while the cannons continued to roar fiercely.

5th June, 1666. I went to London this morning, where I heard several details about the fight.

6th June, 1666. Sir Daniel Harvey came from the General to report the terrible encounter, on which his Majesty ordered me to send an extraordinary physician and more surgeons. It was on the solemn Fast-day when the news arrived; his Majesty, being in the chapel, paused to listen to the account, which favored us significantly. Therefore, his Majesty commanded that public thanks should be given immediately, as if it were a victory. The Dean of the chapel went down to inform the other Dean on duty; notices were also sent to St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey. However, as soon as that was over, news came that our losses were substantial, both in ships and men; the Prince frigate was burned, and we lost a notable vessel with ninety bronze guns; there was the capture of Sir George Ayscue and a severe pounding of both fleets. Both sides were stubborn, parting more from a lack of ammunition and resources than from lack of courage; our General retreated like a lion, which greatly diminished our earlier joy. Still, orders were issued for bonfires and ringing bells; but, God knows, it felt more like a deliverance than a triumph. God humbled our recent overconfidence so much that nothing could withstand the Duke of Albemarle, who, in truth, had reckoned too confidently on his success now because he had previously beaten the Dutch in another conflict and wanted to outperform the Earl of Sandwich, whom he believed was lacking in bravery.

7th June, 1666. I sent more surgeons, linen, medications, etc., to the various ports in my area.

8th June, 1666. I had lunch with Sir Alexander Fraser, the king's chief physician. Later, we boarded the king's pleasure boat, where I saw the launch of the London frigate, a magnificent ship built by the city to replace the one that was accidentally destroyed some time ago. The king, the Lord Mayor, and the Sheriffs were present for a grand banquet.

11th June, 1666. Trinity Monday, after a sermon, I attended the meeting of the Corporation of the Trinity-House, following the recent devastating plague. I had lunch with them in their new room in Deptford, the first time since it was reconstructed.

15th June, 1666. I went to Chatham.—16th. On the Jemmy yacht (an amazing sailing boat) to sea, arrived by noon at the fleet at the Buoy at the Nore, dined with Prince Rupert and the General.[Pg 17]

June 17, 1666. His Majesty, the Duke, and many noblemen arrived. After the council, we went to pray. Once my business was taken care of, I went back to Chatham, having spent just one night on the Royal Charles; the sea was stormy. I disembarked at Sheerness, where they were constructing an arsenal for the fleet and planning a royal fort with a docking area for large ships to anchor. But here I witnessed a heartbreaking sight: more than half of that proud defense of the kingdom was terribly destroyed, with hardly a ship intact, looking more like wrecks and hulls, so brutally had the Dutch attacked us. The loss of the Prince, that brave ship, was a tragedy that everyone lamented, as no one understood why we got into this thankless war in the first place. We also lost nine or ten more ships, nearly 600 men were killed, and 1,100 were wounded, with 2,000 taken prisoner; in return, we might have sunk eighteen or twenty of the enemy's ships and around 700 or 800 men.

18th June, 1666. Tired of this grim scene, I went back home.

2nd July, 1666. Sir John Duncomb and Mr. Thomas Chicheley, both Privy Councillors and Commissioners of His Majesty's Ordnance, came to visit me and informed me that His Majesty had nominated me in Council to be one of the Commissioners responsible for regulating the production and distribution of saltpetre throughout the kingdom, and that we were to meet in the Tower the following day. After they left, Sir John Cotton, the heir to the renowned antiquarian Sir Robert Cotton, came to see me; he claimed to be a great Greek scholar, but he definitely didn’t have the talent or intellect of his grandfather.

3rd July, 1666. I went to meet with the Commissioners at the Tower, where we read our commission and made some progress on business, with our Secretary being Sir George Wharton, the well-known mathematician who wrote the annual Almanac during the King's troubles. From there, we went to Painters' Hall for our other commission and had dinner at the Lord Mayor's.

4th July, 1666. The solemn Fast-day. Dr. Meggot preached an excellent sermon before the King about the fears of God's judgments. After the sermon, I visited my Lord Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Winchester, where the Dean of Westminster talked to me[Pg 18] about handing out fifty pounds that the kind people of Oxford had sent to help the sick and injured sailors since the battle. Then, I went to the Lord Chancellor's to congratulate him on the birth of his Royal Highness's second son at St. James's and to request the use of the Star-chamber for our Commissioners to meet in, as Painters' Hall wasn't as convenient.

12th July, 1666. We sat for the first time in the Star-chamber. Now our commission included Sir George Downing (someone who had once been very much against his Majesty, but had now worked his way into his good graces; and, going from being a teacher and a fanatical preacher, who was worth very little, he had become extremely wealthy), to oversee the hospitals and discuss matters regarding prisons.

14th July, 1666. Sat at the Tower with Sir J. Duncomb and Lord Berkeley, to sign documents for contractors to provide their share of saltpeter.

17th July, 1666. Headed to London to get ready for the next battle of the fleets, which are back at sea again.

22nd July, 1666. Our parish is still affected by the outbreak.

25th July, 1666. The fleets engaged. I had dinner at Lord Berkeley's in St. James's, where Lady Harrietta Hyde, Lord Arlington, and Sir John Duncomb also dined.

29th July, 1666. With the plague now on the rise in our parish, I decided not to go to church. In the afternoon, news came of our victory over the Dutch, sinking some ships and forcing others aground and into their ports.

1st August, 1666. I visited Dr. Keffler, who married the daughter of the well-known chemist, Drebbell,4 inventor of the deep red dye. I went to check out his portable iron ovens, which were previously made for the Prince of Orange's army; then I had dinner at the Rhenish Wine-House with several Scottish gentlemen.

6th August, 1666. Had dinner with Mr. Povey, and then went[Pg 19] with him to check out a country house he had bought near Brentford; returning by Kensington; this house is set along a really nice tree-lined avenue, but it's just an ordinary building, particularly one section.

8th August, 1666. Had dinner at Sir Stephen Fox's with several friends and, on the 10th, with Mr. Odart, the Secretary of Latin.

17th August, 1666. Had dinner with the Lord Chancellor, whom I urged to visit the Hospital of the Savoy and restore it (after the long-standing misuse it had endured) to its original purpose of helping the poor, which he promised he would do.

25th August, 1666. I met with Sir William D'Oyly, who has now miraculously recovered. In the afternoon, I visited the Savoy Hospital, where I stayed to see the severely injured men treated and gave some necessary instructions. Then I went to my Lord Chancellor, who, along with the Bishop of London and others on the commission, appointed me as one of the three surveyors for the repairs of St. Paul's. We also discussed a model for the new building, or if possible, the repair of the steeple, which is in the worst condition.

26th August, 1666. Since the illness is still spreading, we held the Church service at home.

27th August, 1666. I went to St. Paul's church, where, along with Dr. Wren, Mr. Pratt, Mr. May, Mr. Thomas Chicheley, Mr. Slingsby, the Bishop of London, the Dean of St. Paul's, and several skilled workers, we set out to assess the overall deterioration of that ancient and respected church, and to document in writing what needed to be done, including the costs, sharing our opinions item by item. Noticing that the main structure leaned outward, Chicheley and Mr. Pratt suggested that it had originally been built that way for a visual effect, considering its height; however, Dr. Wren and I had a different view, so we went inside. We checked the vertical alignment in several places. When we reached the steeple, we debated whether it would be okay to repair it only on its existing foundation, keeping the four pillars as is. Mr. Chicheley and Mr. Pratt were also in favor of that, but we completely dismissed it and insisted that it needed a new foundation, not only because it was necessary but also because the current shape was quite unimpressive, and we wanted to build it with a grand cupola, a style of church architecture not yet seen in England, but remarkably elegant. For this purpose, we offered to create a plan and estimate, which after much discussion, was finally agreed upon, and we would establish a committee of skilled workers to examine the existing foundation. After concluding this, we put everything in writing and then went with my Lord Bishop to the Dean's.

28th August, 1666. Sat at the Star Chamber. The next day, at the Royal Society, a mathematician named Mercator showcased his remarkable clock and a new mechanism to perform calculations, while Mr. Rooke presented his new pendulum.

2nd September, 1666. This tragic night, around ten o'clock, the disastrous fire started near Fish Street, in London.

3rd September, 1666. I held public prayers at home. The fire was still raging, so after lunch, I took a carriage with my wife and son and went to the Bankside in Southwark, where we witnessed the horrifying sight of the entire city engulfed in terrible flames near the waterfront; all the houses from the Bridge, all of Thames Street, and upward toward Cheapside, down to the Three Cranes, were now destroyed; and we returned, extremely shocked about what would happen to the rest.

The fire continued all through the night (if I can call that night which was as bright as day for ten miles around, in a terrifying way). As it combined with a fierce eastern wind during a very dry season, I walked to the same spot and witnessed the entire southern part of the city burning, from Cheapside to the Thames, and all along Cornhill (it also spread backward against the wind as well as forward), Tower Street, Fenchurch Street, Gracious Street, and all the way to Baynard's Castle. It was now taking hold of St. Paul's church, aided greatly by the scaffolding. The fire was so widespread, and the people were so shocked that, from the beginning, I don’t know why, they hardly moved to put it out. All that could be heard or seen was cries and lamentations, people running around like they were in a frenzy, without attempting to save even their belongings; such was their strange panic as it burned both wide and long, including churches, public halls, the exchange, hospitals, monuments, and decorations, jumping dramatically from house to house and street to street, even at great distances. The heat, combined with a long stretch of warm weather, had ignited the air, making it easy for the fire to consume homes, furniture, and everything else. We saw the Thames filled with floating goods, all the barges and boats loaded with what a few had time and courage to save, while on the other side, carts were taking items to the fields, which for many miles were scattered with all sorts of belongings, and tents were going up to shelter those people and whatever goods they could manage to grab. Oh, what a miserable and tragic sight! One that the world likely hasn’t seen since its beginning, and won’t be outdone until the end of days. The sky was a fiery sight, like the top of a burning oven, and the light could be seen from over forty miles away for many nights. God grant that I may never see anything like it again, having witnessed over 10,000 homes all engulfed in flames! The noise, crackling, and roaring of the raging flames, the screams of women and children, the chaos of people, and the collapse of towers, houses, and churches sounded like a terrifying storm. The air around was so hot and burning that eventually, it became impossible to get close, forcing people to stand back and let the flames continue to rage, which they did for nearly two miles long and one mile wide. The clouds of smoke were dreadful, stretching nearly fifty miles long. Thus, I left it burning this afternoon, resembling Sodom or the end of the world. It strongly reminded me of the passage—"non enim hic habemus stabilem civitatem"; the ruins looked like the image of Troy. London was, but is no more! So, I returned.

4th September, 1666. The fire is still raging, and it's reached the Inner Temple. All of Fleet Street, the Old Bailey, Ludgate Hill, Warwick Lane, Newgate, Paul's Chain, and Watling Street are now on fire, most of it reduced to ashes; the stones of St. Paul's Cathedral flew like grenades, with molten lead running down the streets in a stream, and the very pavements glowing with intense heat, making it impossible for anyone or any horse to walk on them. The destruction blocked all access points, so no help could get through. The strong eastern wind was pushing the flames even further. Only the Almighty power of God could stop them; the help of man was futile.

5th September, 1666. It moved toward Whitehall; but wow, the confusion at that Court was something else! His Majesty wanted me, along with others, to take care of the fire at Fetter-lane end, trying to protect that part of Holborn, while the rest of the guys took their positions, some in one spot and some in another (they finally started to move around, after standing there like drunk men with their arms crossed). Everyone began to realize that the only way to stop it might be to blow up enough houses to create a wider gap than had been made by the usual method of tearing them down. Some brave sailors suggested this early enough that it could have saved almost the entire city, but some stubborn and greedy people—like the aldermen—wouldn't allow it since their houses would have been among the first to go. So, it was suggested again to try it, and since I was particularly concerned about the Hospital of St. Bartholomew near Smithfield, where I had many wounded and sick men, I pushed for it even more; my concern for the Savoy was no less. Thankfully, God, by calming the wind and through the efforts of the people, almost when it seemed everything was lost, gave them a renewed spirit, and the fire began to die down around noon, stopping short of the Temple to the west and the entrance of Smithfield to the north. However, it continued furiously toward Cripplegate and the Tower, leaving us in despair. It flared up again in the Temple, but the courage of the crowd held strong, and with many houses blown up, large gaps and ruins were quickly created. With the destruction from the last three days, the backfire didn’t push as hard against the rest as it had before. Yet there was still no getting close to the burning and smoldering ruins for almost a furlong's distance.

The coal and wood docks, along with the storage areas for oil, rosin, and other materials, caused endless trouble. The criticism I had recently directed at his Majesty and published,5[Pg 23] warning about what could likely happen if those shops remained in the city was seen as a prediction.

The unfortunate people were spread out across St. George's Fields and Moorfields, reaching up to Highgate and several miles around. Some lived in tents, others in poor huts and shacks, many without a shred of clothing or any basic necessities, like a bed or food. Those who once lived in comfort and luxury in grand, well-furnished homes were now facing extreme hardship and poverty.

In this disastrous situation, I went back home with a heavy heart, grateful and praising God's special mercy toward me and my family, who, in the midst of all this destruction, was like Lot in my little Zoar, safe and sound.

6th September, 1666. Thursday. I brought up to his Majesty the situation of the French prisoners of war in my care, and I asked him to ensure that there was still the same attention paid to monitoring all areas around unsurrendered houses. It’s truly remarkable how vigilant and active the King and the Duke were, even working personally and being present to lead, organize, reward, or motivate the workers; this demonstrated his care for his people and earned their loyalty. After arranging for some to be treated at the Savoy, I headed back to Whitehall, where I had lunch at Mr. Offley’s, the groom-porter, who was my relative.

7th September, 1666. I walked this morning from Whitehall to London Bridge, going through the old Fleet Street, up Ludgate Hill by St. Paul's, Cheapside, the Exchange, Bishopsgate, Aldersgate, and out to Moorfields, then through Cornhill, etc. It was extremely difficult, climbing over piles of still-smoldering debris, and I often lost my sense of direction; the ground was so hot it even burned the soles of my shoes. Meanwhile, His Majesty reached the Tower by boat to tear down the houses around the moat, which, if they had caught fire and threatened the White Tower, where the gunpowder magazine was stored, would undoubtedly have destroyed the bridge and sunk the ships in the river, causing devastation far and wide for several miles around.

When I returned, I was extremely troubled to see that [Pg 24] the grand Church of St. Paul's—now a mournful ruin—and that beautiful portico (a structure that could stand up to any in Europe, having been recently repaired by the late King) was now shattered, with large chunks of stone broken apart, and the only thing left intact was the inscription on the architrave showing who built it, which remained perfectly legible! It was astonishing to witness how the intense heat had almost turned immense stones to ash, causing all the decorative elements, columns, friezes, capitals, and projections of heavy Portland stone to fly off, even the roof, where a large sheet of lead covering a considerable area (no less than six acres) was completely melted. The fallen ruins of the vaulted roof crashed into St. Faith's, which was filled with stacks of books from the Stationers, stored there for safety, all of which were consumed, burning for a week afterward. It is also worth noting that the lead over the altar at the east end remained unscathed, and among various monuments, one bishop's body was found completely intact. Thus lay in ashes that most esteemed church, one of the oldest symbols of early faith in the Christian world, along with nearly a hundred others. The lead, ironwork, bells, silverware, and more melted; the exquisitely crafted Mercers' Chapel, the opulent Exchange, the grand structure of Christ Church, all the other Companies' Halls, magnificent buildings, arches, entrances—all turned to dust; the fountains were dried up and ruined, while the waters still boiled; the depths of underground cellars, wells, and dungeons, once warehouses, still burning with foul smells and thick clouds of smoke; so that in five or six miles of wandering around, I didn’t see one piece of timber untouched, nor many stones that weren’t calcined as white as snow.

The people now wandering among the ruins looked like survivors in a bleak desert or a once-great city destroyed by a ruthless enemy; adding to this was the awful smell coming from some poor creatures' bodies, bedding, and other flammable items. Sir Thomas Gresham's statue, although it had fallen from its spot in the Royal Exchange, remained intact, while all the statues of the Kings since the Conquest were shattered. The standard in Cornhill and Queen Elizabeth's likeness, along with some arms on Ludgate, survived with only minor damage, while the city's massive iron chains, hinges, bars, and gates of prisons were mostly melted down to ashes from the extreme heat. I still couldn't manage to get through any of the narrow streets, so I stuck to the wider ones; the ground and air, filled with smoke and burning vapor, were so intense that my hair was nearly singed, and my feet felt unbearably hot. The alleys and narrow streets were completely clogged with debris; there was no way to tell where one was except by the ruins of a Church or Hall that had some distinctive tower or spire left standing.

I then went toward Islington and Highgate, where you could see 200,000 people from all walks of life scattered around, lying next to piles of what they could save from the fire, mourning their loss. Even though they were on the verge of starving and were in dire need, they weren’t asking for a single penny for help, which seemed stranger to me than anything I had seen before. His Majesty and the Council really did everything they could to help them, issuing a proclamation asking the country to come together and provide them with food.

In the middle of all this chaos and confusion, there was, for some reason, an alarm that the French and Dutch, with whom we were now at war, were not only on land but actually entering the city. Just a few days earlier, there had been serious concerns about those two nations teaming up, and now they were responsible for burning the town. This news was so terrifying that suddenly there was such an uproar and chaos that people abandoned their belongings, grabbed whatever weapons they could find, and recklessly attacked anyone from those nations they happened to encounter, without any sense or logic. The noise and danger escalated to such an extent that it left the whole Court in shock, and they had to work incredibly hard and with great difficulty to calm the people down. They sent in groups of soldiers and guards to force them to move back into the fields, where they were kept under watch all night. I left them somewhat settled and returned home completely exhausted and worn out. With their spirits a bit soothed and the fear lessened, they started to head into the suburbs around the city, where those who had friends or a safe place found shelter for the time being, which was also encouraged by the King’s proclamation.[Pg 26]

Still, with the plague still affecting our parish, I couldn't risk going to our church without danger.

10th September, 1666. I went back to the ruins; because it was no longer a city.

13th September, 1666. I presented His Majesty with a survey of the ruins and a plan for a new city, along with a discussion about it; after dinner, His Majesty summoned me to the Queen's bedroom, where only Her Majesty and the Duke were present. They went through each detail and discussed them for almost an hour, appearing very pleased with my early ideas. The Queen was dressed in her riding outfit, including a hat with a feather and a horseman's coat, preparing to go out for some fresh air.

16th September, 1666. I went to Greenwich Church, where Mr. Plume preached really well from this text: "Seeing, then, all these things shall be dissolved," etc.: using the recent, unprecedented fire to remind us how we should live more righteously in every aspect of our lives.

27th September, 1666. Had dinner at Sir William D'Oyly's, with the esteemed Sir John Holland from Suffolk.

10th October, 1666. Today, a nationwide Fast was declared to humble us in light of the recent terrible fire, along with the plague and war—some of the most dreadful punishments we could face. But truthfully, we totally deserved it for our immense ingratitude, burning desires, reckless behavior at court, and sinful, disgraceful lives, all while ignoring the ongoing blessings from God in restoring our Church, Prince, and People from our past troubles, which we barely acknowledged, to our astonishment. This prompted me to attend our parish gathering, where our Doctor preached on Luke xix. 41: thoughtfully relating it to the occasion. Afterwards, there was a collection for those who suffered losses in the recent fire.

18th October, 1666. To Court. It was the first time his Majesty formally wore the Eastern-style outfit, swapping his doublet, stiff collar, bands, and cloak for a nice Persian-style outfit with belts, straps, shoestrings, and garters converted to buckles, some adorned with precious stones6 resolving[Pg 27] never to change it and to abandon the French style, which had previously cost us dearly and brought us shame. Because of this, several courtiers and gentlemen wagered gold that his Majesty wouldn't stick to this decision. Earlier, I had presented a critique of that inconsistency and our excessive fondness for French fashion to his Majesty; in it, I described how attractive and practical Persian clothing was, just like how his Majesty now dressed. I titled this pamphlet "Tyrannus, or the Mode" and gave it to the King to read. I don't think this discussion caused the change that soon followed, but it was a resemblance I couldn't help but notice.

This night, Lord Broghill's play, titled "Mustapha," was performed before their Majesties at Court, which I attended. I rarely go to public theaters these days for many reasons; they have turned into places of godless freedom, allowing indecent women—who never appeared before now—to perform, leading many young noblemen and gentlemen astray, making them their lovers, and for some, their wives. Just look at the Earl of Oxford, Sir R. Howard, Prince Rupert, the Earl of Dorset, and even a more eminent person than any of them, who fell into their traps, bringing shame to their noble families and the ruin of both body and soul.7 I was invited by my Lord Chamberlain to see this play, which was extremely well written, although I personally did not think such entertainment was appropriate during a time of severe judgments and disasters.

21st October, 1666. This season, after such a long and unusual drought in August and September, almost like a warning for the terrible fire to come, has been extremely wet and rainy, leading many to worry about a potential famine.

28th October, 1666. Thanks to God's mercy, the plague started to decrease significantly in our town.

30th October, 1666. Went to our office in London, and I was wearing the vest and surcoat, or tunic, as it was called,[Pg 28] which his Majesty had popularized among the entire court. It was a stylish and masculine outfit, too good to hold onto, as it was hard for us to genuinely resist the latest trends from the French.

31st October, 1666. I heard the important case of my Lord Cleveland presented before the House of Lords; and today I turned forty-six years old, wonderfully protected by God's mercy, for which I offer him eternal thanks.

14th November, 1666. I made my winter rounds through my district, including Rochester and other places, where I had personnel stationed and in custody.

15th November, 1666. To Leeds Castle.

16th November, 1666. I gathered the prisoners, which were around 600 Dutch and French, instructed that their share of bread be increased, and provided them with clothes and fuel. Monsieur Colbert, the Ambassador at the Court of England, sent money from his master, the French King, to every prisoner of that nationality under my supervision today.

17th November, 1666. I came back to Chatham, and my carriage flipped over on the steep part of Bexley Hill, injuring me in two spots on my head; my son, Jack, who was with me, nearly got hurt worse by the glass; but I thank God we both came away with only minor injuries, even though it was very risky.

November 18, 1666. At Rochester.

November 19, 1666. Came back home.

23rd November, 1666. In London, I witnessed a remarkable case before the Committee of the whole House of Commons in the House of Commons at Parliament, involving Captain Taylor and Lord Viscount Mordaunt. After the lawyers presented their arguments and the witnesses were examined, some disgusting and dishonorable things were brought against his Lordship, including claims of tyranny during his time as Constable of Windsor Castle, infidelity, and bribing witnesses (with one Sir Richard Breames being particularly involved). I was very concerned for his Lordship, who was a close friend of mine and married to the most virtuous lady in the world. We sat until nearly ten at night, and yet only half the attorneys had spoken on behalf of the plaintiff. The question was raised about bringing in lights to continue sitting longer. This took a long time to resolve and caused such a noisy commotion among the members that an outsider would have been astonished. I find it hard to believe there isn't a system in place to manage such trivial matters, which waste a lot of time and reflect poorly on the seriousness of such a significant assembly of respectable individuals.

27th November, 1666. Sir Hugh Pollard, the Comptroller of the Household, passed away at Whitehall, and the King appointed my brother Commissioner for sick and wounded, Sir Thomas Clifford, a bold young man with a modest fortune in Devon, but who was promoted by Lord Arlington, the Secretary of State, much to everyone's surprise at Court. This gentleman was somewhat related to me through his mother's marriage to my closest relative, Gregory Coale, and he was always my noble friend, a brave and daring person, but definitely not suited for a smooth-talking, flattering courtier.

28th November, 1666. I went to check out Clarendon House, which is nearly complete. It's an impressive structure to look at, but it has several architectural flaws. Still, it’s situated quite nicely. After that, I visited the Lord Chancellor, who was currently at Berkshire House following the Great Fire of London.

2nd December, 1666. I had lunch with Monsieur Kiviet, a Dutch gentleman-pensioner from Rotterdam, who came here for safety since he’s aligned with the Prince of Orange and isn’t welcome in Holland right now. The King honored him with a knighthood for some contributions on the Prince's behalf. If he had been caught, he would have faced beheading alongside Monsieur Buat, and he was the brother-in-law of Van Tromp, the naval general. Also with him were Mr. Gabriel Sylvius and Mr. Williamson, secretary to Lord Arlington. M. Kiviet came to see if the soil around the River Thames would be suitable for making clinker bricks and to discuss some arrangements related to that.

9th January, 1666-67. To the Royal Society, which, since the unfortunate fire, was invited by Mr. Howard to meet at Arundel House in the Strand. At my suggestion, he also provided the Society with that impressive library that his grandfather in particular, along with his ancestors, had gathered. This gentleman had so little interest in books that it was more about protecting them from being misappropriated.

24th January, 1667. I visited Lord Clarendon and introduced my son, John, who is getting ready to go to Oxford, where his Lordship is Chancellor. This evening, I heard some amazing Italian voices, two eunuchs and one woman, in His Majesty's green chamber, next to his cabinet.

29th January, 1667. I went to London to prepare for my son's journey to Oxford. He had started studying Latin and Greek at a very young age and was eager to learn more than most kids his age. I decided to trust him to Mr. Bohun, a Fellow of New College, who had been his tutor at our home a few years earlier. However, at Oxford, he would be under the guidance of Dr. Bathurst, the President of Trinity College, where I enrolled him, even though he was not yet thirteen years old. He had just outgrown his long coats.8

15th February, 1667. My small book, responding to Sir George Mackenzie on Solitude, has now been published, titled "Public Employment, and an Active Life with its Perks, Preferred to Solitude."9

18th February, 1667. I attended a spectacular ball, or masquerade, at the theater in the Court, where the royal family and all the noble lords and ladies danced, incredibly stylish, the men in their beautifully embroidered, flattering vests.

19th February, 1667. I saw a comedy performed at Court. In the afternoon, I watched a wrestling match for £1,000 in St. James's Park, in front of his Majesty, with a huge crowd of lords and other spectators, judged by Mr. Secretary Morice and Lord Gerard. The western team won. There were many big bets placed.

6th March, 1667. I suggested to my Lord Chancellor, Monsieur Kiviet's plan to pave the entire Thames riverfront, or quay, from the Temple to the Tower, as far as the fire destroyed, using bricks, without piles, both durable and decorative. — There were severe frosts, snow, and strong winds during the spring equinox; in fact, it had been a year of wonders in this nation: plague, war, fire, rain, storms, and a comet.[Pg 31]

14th March, 1667. Saw "The Virgin Queen,"10 a play written by Mr. Dryden.

22d March, 1667. Had dinner at Mr. Secretary Morice's, who showed me his library, which was a well-chosen collection. This afternoon, I met with his Majesty regarding the proposal I had made about building the quay.

26th March, 1667. Sir John Kiviet had dinner with me. We went to look for clay suitable for bricks, for a major project.

4th April, 1667. The cold was so intense that there was barely a leaf on any tree.

18th April, 1667. I went to visit the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle at their home in Clerkenwell, having just returned from the north. They welcomed me warmly, and I was really impressed by the Duchess's unique style, clothing, and conversation.

22nd April, 1667. Witnessed the lavish dinner in the banquet hall at Whitehall, on the eve of St. George's day, attended by all the members of the Order of the Garter.

23rd April, 1667. In the morning, His Majesty went to chapel with the Knights of the Garter, all dressed in their habits and robes, escorted by the heralds. After the first service, they formed a procession, starting with the youngest and ending with the Sovereign, along with the Prelate of the Order and Dean, who carried the book of the Statutes of the Order around his neck. Then came the Chancellor of the Order, old Sir Henry de Vic, who wore the purse around his neck; followed by the Heralds and Garter King-at-Arms, Clarencieux, and Black Rod. The gentlemen of the chapel and choristers marched ahead of the Prelate and Dean of Windsor, singing as they went; behind them were two doctors of music in damask robes. This procession took place around the courts at Whitehall. After returning to their stalls and seats in the chapel, positioned under each knight's coat-of-arms and titles, the second service began. Then, the King made an offering at the altar, an anthem was sung; the other Knights followed with their offerings and then headed to the banqueting house for a grand feast. The King sat alone on an elevated throne at the head of the table; the Knights were seated at a table on his right, stretching the length of the room; opposite them was a display of rich gilded plate; at the lower end was the music; above on the balusters, there were wind instruments, trumpets, and kettle drums. The lords and pensioners served the King, bringing up the dishes. About halfway through dinner, the Knights toasted to the King's health, and then the King toasted to theirs, accompanied by music and the sound of cannons firing at the Tower. During the banquet, the Queen entered and stood by the King's left side but did not sit down. Then, the banquet items were thrown around the room generously. In fact, the crowd was so large that although I stayed for the supper the night before, I didn't linger long once this celebration began, fearing it would get chaotic. The feast was tremendous, with each Knight receiving forty dishes piled five or six high; the room was decorated with the richest tapestries.

25th April, 1667. I visited the Duke of Newcastle again, with whom I had known for a long time in France, where the Duchess was indebted to my wife's mother for her marriage there; she was the sister of Lord Lucas and was a maid of honor to the Queen-Mother at that time; they married in our chapel in Paris. My wife was with me, and both the Duke and Duchess insisted on taking her to the very Court.

26th April, 1667. My Lord Chancellor showed me his brand new, fully furnished palace and library; then, we went for a stroll in Hyde Park.

27th April, 1667. I had an extensive conversation with his Majesty at dinner. In the afternoon, I went once more with my wife to the Duchess of Newcastle, who welcomed her with an enthusiasm that matched her eccentric personality and unique outfit.

8th May, 1667. Settled accounts with our Receiver, which totaled £33,936 1s. 4d. Had lunch at Lord Cornbury's with Don Francisco de Melos, the Portuguese Ambassador, who is related to the Queen. Also present were Mr. Henry Jermyn and Sir Henry Capel. Afterward, I went to Arundel House to greet Mr. Howard's sons, who had just returned from France.[Pg 33]

11th May, 1667. To London; I had lunch with the Duke of Newcastle and chatted with her Grace in her bedroom after lunch, until the Lord Marquis of Dorchester and other guests arrived, at which point I left.

30th May, 1667. I went to London to meet the Duchess of Newcastle, who was quite the wannabe intellectual, poet, and philosopher, and had published several books on both subjects. She arrived at the Royal Society with much fanfare, and our Lord President welcomed her at the entrance to our meeting room, with the mace and other items carried in front of him. She was shown several experiments. I escorted her Grace to her carriage and then went home.

1st June, 1667. I went to Greenwich, where the King was testing various grenades fired from cannons at Castlehill, from the house in the park; they didn’t explode until they hit their target, while the forged ones didn’t explode at all, but the cast ones worked perfectly. The inventor was a German who was there. At the same time, a ring was presented to the King, claimed to be made of mercury, and flexible, and the gentlemen said it was set using the sap of a plant.

8th June, 1667. I went to London, worried about the Dutch, who had attacked our fleet at Chatham with a bold move, bringing part of their fleet right into the river. They caused us not just humiliation but also serious damage by burning several of our best warships that were anchored and moored there—all because we neglected to send our fleet out in time. This situation made me fear that the enemy might try to come up the Thames all the way to London (which they could have done easily and set fire to all the ships in the river). So, I sent my valuable items, like silver and other possessions, from my house to a safer location. The panic was so intense that it spread fear and chaos throughout both the city and the countryside, something I hope never to witness again; people were running without knowing why or where to. Meanwhile, ground forces were sent out with the Duke of Albemarle, Lord Middleton, Prince Rupert, and the Duke to stop the Dutch from reaching Chatham by fortifying Upnor Castle and setting up chains and bombs. However, the determined enemy broke through everything, set our ships on fire, and retreated defiantly, blocking the Thames while the rest of their fleet waited at its mouth.[Pg 34]

14th June, 1667. I went to check out the work at Woolwich, a battery designed to stop them from reaching London, which Prince Rupert was in charge of, and sank some ships in the river.

17th June, 1667. Tonight, around two o'clock, some wood and flammable materials set aside for fire-ships caught fire in Deptford-yard, creating a huge blaze and causing a panic in the Tower (since it was rumored that the Dutch fleet had arrived, landed their troops, and attacked the Tower), which could have caused more chaos before people were convinced otherwise and accepted it was just an accident. Everyone grabbed their weapons. These were difficult and distressing times.

24th June, 1667. The Dutch fleet was still blocking the river, preventing anything from entering or leaving. I was called before the Council and ordered by His Majesty to go with a few others to search the area around the city, which was in desperate need of fuel, to see if we could find any suitable peat or turf. The next day, I went out and found plenty of it and reported that there was a lot available; however, nothing else was done about it.

28th June, 1667. I went to Chatham, and from there I went to see not just what damage the Dutch had caused, but also how proudly their entire fleet was positioned right at the mouth of the Thames, from North Foreland, Margate, all the way to the Nore buoy—a terrifying sight that Englishmen had ever seen, and a disgrace that can never be erased! Those who advised his Majesty not to prepare a fleet this spring deserve—I know what—but11—

Here in the river off Chatham, just before the town, lay the wreckage of the "London" (now burned for the third time), the "Royal Oak," the "James," etc., still smoking; and now, after the damage was done, we were building small forts on the edge of the river. There were still forces, both cavalry and infantry, with General Middleton constantly watching for the movements of the enemy's fleet. I had a lengthy conversation with him, as he was an experienced commander. I told him I was surprised the King hadn’t fortified Sheerness and the Ferry, both of which were abandoned.

2nd July, 1667. I visited my Lord Arlington on behalf of his Majesty regarding the new fuel. I was mentioned because of something I wrote in my Sylva three years ago about a type of fuel needed for a particular purpose, which had obstructed a patent held by Lord Carlingford, who had been looking for it himself. He was trying to involve me in the project and offered me a share. I met with my Lord, and on the 9th, following an order from the Council, I went to the Lord Mayor to assist. In the meantime, they had conducted an experiment based on my recipe for houllies, which I mentioned in my book, made at Maestricht, mixing charcoal dust with loam, and which was successfully tested at Gresham College (then serving as the meeting place for merchants since the fire) for everyone to see. After that, I went to the Treasury to request £12,000 for the sick and wounded still under my care.

Next day, we met again about the fuel at Sir J. Armourer's in the Mews.

8th July, 1667. My Lord Brereton and others had dinner at my house, where I showed them evidence of my new fuel, which burned brightly and produced no smoke or bad odor.

10th July, 1667. I went to check out Sir Samuel Morland's inventions and machines, arithmetic wheels, quench-fires, and a new harp.

17th July, 1667. The master of the mint and his wife, Mr. Williamson, Sir Nicholas Armourer, Sir Edward Bowyer, Sir Anthony Auger, and some other friends had dinner with me.

19th July, 1667. I went to Gravesend; the Dutch fleet was still anchored in the river, where I saw five of His Majesty’s warships engage with more than twenty Dutch ships at the bottom of the Hope, exchanging many broadsides toward the buoy of the Nore, where their main fleet was located. This went on until about midnight. One of their ships caught fire, supposedly due to their own actions, as it had run aground. After witnessing this bold move and their challenges to us so far up the river, I returned home the next day, feeling quite upset about our negligence and the nation’s embarrassment. It’s well known who among the Treasury Commissioners suggested that we could skip funding a fleet this year, namely Sir W. C. (William Coventry).[Pg 36]

1st August, 1667. I received the sad news of Abraham Cowley's death, that remarkable poet and good man, my very dear friend, and it was deeply mourned.

3rd August, 1667. I attended Mr. Cowley's funeral, where his body was laid at Wallingford House before being taken to Westminster Abbey in a hearse pulled by six horses, with all the proper funeral decorum. Almost a hundred coaches from noblemen and people of status followed, including all the clever minds of the town, several bishops, and clergymen. He was buried next to Geoffrey Chaucer and close to Spenser. A fine monument has since been raised in his memory.

Now his Majesty dined again in person, in traditional style, with music and all the court ceremonies that had been paused since the recent war.

8th August, 1667. I visited Mr. Oldenburg, who is being held in the Tower as a suspected writer of intelligence. I had an order from Lord Arlington, the Secretary of State, which allowed me to see him. This gentleman was the secretary to our Society, and I believe he will be proven innocent.

15th August, 1667. Completed my account, totaling £25,000.

17th August, 1667. To the funeral of Mr. Farringdon, a relative of my wife's.

There was now a very brave horse that was being attacked by dogs until it died; but he fought them off so fiercely that none of them could latch onto him, until the men stabbed him with their swords. This cruel and barbaric sport deserved to be punished for the cruel planners who set it up just to make money, pretending that the horse had killed a man, which was a lie. I would not be convinced to watch.

21st August, 1667. I watched the famous Italian puppet show, because it was nothing less.

24th August, 1667. I was assigned, along with my fellow commissioners, to implement an order from the Council to release the prisoners of war in my care at Leeds Castle, and to lift the extraordinary[Pg 37] charge from His Majesty, after we summoned the French and Dutch agents. The peace was now announced, as usual, by the heralds-at-arms.

25th August, 1667. After evening service, I went to visit Mr. Vaughan, who was at Greenwich, a very wise and knowledgeable person, one of Mr. Selden's executors and close friends.

27th August, 1667. I visited the Lord Chancellor, who had been summoned by his Majesty for the seals a few days earlier; I found him in his bedroom, looking very upset. Parliament had accused him, and he had enemies at Court, especially the courtiers and ladies of the night, because he had opposed some of them and blocked their plans; I could name some of the key players. The truth is, he didn't make many friends during his time in power among the royal circle but favored the old rebels. He was, however, despite not being a significant lawyer, someone who maintained the form and substance of affairs in the Nation with more seriousness than some would have preferred. He was my good friend on all occasions. Nevertheless, the opposition won out, along with that faction in Parliament. There was considerable division at Court about him, and several prominent figures were advocating for him.

28th August, 1667. I had dinner with my late Lord Chancellor, along with Mr. Ashburnham and Mr. W. Legge, of the bedchamber; his Lordship seemed to be in good spirits, even though many of his friends and flatterers had deserted him.

In the afternoon, the Lords Commissioners for money welcomed a Russian Envoy in the Queen's presence chamber, with much ceremony, accompanied by soldiers, pensioners, and guards. His credentials were brought by his secretary, draped in a silk scarf, and their outfits were lavish, heavily embroidered with pearls. He delivered his speech in Russian, but without any body language or gestures, which was then interpreted aloud by a German who spoke good English. Half of his speech was just repeating the Czar's titles, which were quite grand and elaborate. The main point was that he was only there to see the King and Queen and check on their well-being, filled with compliments and flowery language. Afterward, they kissed the Majesties' hands and left as they had arrived, but their true purpose was to ask for money.[Pg 38]

29th August, 1667. We gathered at the Star Chamber to discuss the exchange and release of prisoners.

7th September, 1667. Sir John Kiviet came to discuss his brickwork with me.

13th September, 1667. Between noon and one, my second daughter was born, and she was later named Elizabeth.

19th September, 1667. I went to London with Mr. Henry Howard from Norfolk, who gave me his Arundelian marbles, those famous inscriptions in Greek and Latin that his distinguished grandfather, the magnificent Earl of Arundel, collected at great expense and effort from Greece. He was my noble friend while he was alive. When I saw these valuable artifacts sadly neglected and spread out across the garden and other parts of Arundel House, and how much the polluted air of London was damaging them, I convinced him to donate them to the University of Oxford. He kindly agreed and gave me the key to the gallery, allowing me to identify all the stones, urns, altars, etc., with inscriptions on them that were not statues. I did this, and after getting them removed and stacked together with those embedded in the garden walls, I quickly sent letters to the Vice-Chancellor about what I had obtained, suggesting that if they thought it would benefit the University (of which I had been a member), they should arrange for their transportation.

This done on the 21st, I went with Mr. Howard to his villa at Albury, where I planned the layout for his canal and garden, including a tunnel through the hill.

24th September, 1667. I returned to London, where I was instructed to hand over Chelsea College (which served as my prison during the war with Holland for those sent from the fleet to London) to our Society, as a gift from His Majesty, our founder.

8th October, 1667. Dr. Bathurst, Dean of Wells and President of Trinity College, came to dine with me. He was sent by the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, on behalf of himself and the entire University, to thank me for securing the inscriptions and to get my guidance on how to express their gratitude to Mr. Howard.

11th October, 1667. I went to see Lord Clarendon, former[Pg 39] Lord Chancellor and the highest official in England, constantly worried about what Parliament would decide regarding him.

17th October, 1667. Dr. Barlow, the Provost of Queen's College and the main librarian of the Bodleian library, came to make arrangements for the transportation of the marbles.

25th October, 1667. I received two letters from the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, along with a decree from the Convocation, certified by the Public Notary. This decree instructed four Doctors of Divinity and Law to acknowledge the University’s obligation to me for acquiring the Marmora Arundeliana. This was formally done by Dr. Barlow, Dr. Jenkins, Judge of the Admiralty, Dr. Lloyd, and Obadiah Walker from University College, who presented me with a formal written copy of the decree after delivering a generous compliment from the University.

The Vice-Chancellor's letter on the same subject was too boastful to include, along with several copies of poems that[Pg 40] were also sent to me. I completely rejected their mention of me in the inscription when I addressed the titles of Mr. Howard, now titled Lord, regarding his mission to Morocco.

These four doctors, after complimenting me, asked me to take them to meet Mr. Howard at Arundel House; I obliged. Dr. Barlow (the Provost of Queen's) gave a brief speech and then handed over a larger letter of thanks from the University, which was written in Latin, showing their appreciation for the honor given to them. After this compliment was graciously received, Mr. Howard walked the doctors to their coach. That evening, I had dinner with them.

26th October, 1667. My late Lord Chancellor was accused by Mr. Seymour in the House of Commons; and, in the evening, I returned home.

31st October, 1667. My birthday—thank God for all His blessings! I donated the Table of Veins, Arteries, and Nerves to the Royal Society, which was created in Italy from actual human bodies by a knowledgeable physician, with assistance from Veslingius (a professor at Padua), which I brought back in 1646. For this, I received public thanks from the Society, and it’s displayed in their repository with an inscription.

9th December, 1667. To visit the late Lord Chancellor.13 I found him in his garden at his newly built palace, sitting in his gout wheelchair, looking at the gates facing north and the fields. He appeared very disheartened and spoke sadly. After some time of him lamenting his situation to me, I took my leave. The next morning, I heard he had passed away; though I believe that if he had left sooner, even just to Cornbury, and rested there quietly, it would have satisfied Parliament. What upset them was his decision to stay and fight the accusation for as long as he could: they were about to send him to the Tower.

10th December, 1667. I attended the funeral of Mrs. Heath, the wife of my good friend and former schoolmate.

21st December, 1667. I saw someone named Carr put in the stocks at Charing Cross for a libel, which was burned in front of him by the executioner.

8th January, 1667-68. I witnessed intense and extravagant gambling at the Groom-Porter's, with vast piles of gold wasted in a foolish and excessive way. I regarded this as a terrible vice, inappropriate for a Christian Court.

9th January, 1668. Went to check out the festivities at the Middle Temple, which is an old wild tradition, and has nothing to do with virtue or good governance.

10th January, 1668. To visit Mr. Povey, where several high-ranking Lords were there to see his well-designed cellar and other fine features.

24th January, 1668. We went to mark out the land for building a college for the Royal Society at Arundel House, but we didn’t finish it, and we will regret that.

4th February, 1668. I watched "Horace" (written by the VIRTUOUS Mrs. Philips) performed for their Majesties. In between each act, there was a masque and an old-fashioned dance. The ladies were incredibly elegant, especially that ... Castlemaine, valued at £40,000 and more, greatly outshining the Queen.

15th February, 1668. I witnessed the audience with the Swedish Ambassador, Count Donna, held in grand style in the banquet hall.

3rd March, 1668. The impressive ship, "The Charles," was launched at Deptford. I was nearby with His Majesty. She is longer than the "Sovereign" and carries 110 brass cannons. She was built by old Shish, a straightforward, honest carpenter who is the master builder of this dock. He doesn’t express much about his craft in words and can hardly read, yet he is highly skilled in his trade. His family has been ship carpenters in this yard for over 300 years.

12th March, 1668. I visited Sir John Cotton, who welcomed me into his library, filled with valuable manuscripts in Greek and Latin, but especially renowned for the collection of Saxon and English antiquities gathered by his grandfather.

2d April 1668. To the Royal Society, where I contributed 50,000 bricks towards building a college. Among other scandalous pamphlets, there was one currently printed and circulated, a daring petition from the poor women to Lady Castlemaine.14

9th April, 1668. To London, to wrap up my detailed report on the sick, injured, and prisoners of war, totaling over £34,000.

I heard Sir R. Howard accuse Sir William Penn in the House of Lords for breaking bulk and taking valuable goods from the East India prizes that were previously captured by Lord Sandwich.

28th April, 1668. To London, regarding the purchase of Ravensbourne Mills and the surrounding land in Upper Deptford from a Mr. Becher.

30th April, 1668. We signed the documents in Sir Edward Thurland's office in the Inner Temple. I hope God blesses it for me, as it was a valuable purchase; but Sir R. Browne's strong desire for it, along with its proximity to our other lands, convinced me!

13th May, 1668. Invited by that skilled captain, Captain Cox, who was in charge of the recently built "Charles II.," now the finest ship in the fleet, created for the Duke of York, I went to Erith, where we enjoyed a wonderful dinner.

16th May, 1668. Sir Richard Edgecombe, from Mount Edgecombe near Plymouth, my relative, came to visit me; a truly virtuous and admirable gentleman.

19th June, 1668. Went to a new play with some of my family, "The Evening Lover," which had a silly plot and was very inappropriate; it upset me to see how much the stage had declined and been tainted by the immoral times.

2d July, 1668. Sir Samuel Tuke, Bart., and the lady he married today came and stayed overnight at my house, along with many friends who accompanied the bride.

23rd July, 1668. At the Royal Society, various glossa petras and other natural curiosities were presented, discovered while digging to construct the fort at Sheerness. They were identical to those brought from Malta, which are claimed to be viper's teeth, but in reality, they are from a shark, as we confirmed by comparing them with one in our collection.

3rd August, 1668. Mr. Bramstone (son of Judge B.), my old travel buddy, who is now a reader at the Middle Temple,[Pg 43] invited me to his feast, which was so extravagant and grand that nothing like it had ever been seen before. There were the Duke of Ormond, Privy Seal, Bedford, Belasis, Halifax, and a ton of other Earls and Lords.

14th August, 1668. His Majesty kindly granted me a lease for a piece of land from Brick Close to expand my front yard, for which I expressed my gratitude; then, in another conversation, he discussed a new varnish for ships as an alternative to pitch, and the gilding used to enhance his new yacht. I showed his Majesty the perpetual motion device that Dr. Stokes sent me from Cologne; and then Monsieur Colbert, the French Ambassador, arrived.

19th August, 1668. I witnessed the impressive arrival of the French Ambassador Colbert, who was welcomed in the banquet hall. I had never seen a more extravagant coach than the one he arrived in at Whitehall. While standing by His Majesty at dinner, there was that rare fruit called the king-pine, which grows in Barbados and the West Indies; it was the first time I'd ever seen one. His Majesty kindly cut it up and offered me a piece from his own plate to try; however, in my opinion, it doesn't compare to the amazing flavors described in Captain Ligon's writings and others. But it might have been affected by the long journey. It does have a pleasant acidity, though it tastes more like quince and melon than any of the other fruits he mentions.

28th August, 1668. Published my book on "The Perfection of Painting," dedicated to Mr. Howard.

17th September, 1668. I hosted Signor Muccinigo, the Venetian Ambassador from one of the most prestigious families in the State, on the day of his public entry. He left my house accompanied by several gentlemen from Venice and others in a grand procession. He stayed with me until the Earl of Anglesea and Sir Charles Cotterell (the master of ceremonies) arrived with the King's barge to take him to the Tower, where cannon fire welcomed his arrival. He then got into the King's coach, followed by many other nobles. I accompanied him to his residence, where a magnificent dinner was organized for all the guests. After he and his companions offered extraordinary compliments to my wife and me for our hospitality, I took my leave and returned home. He is [Pg 44] a highly refined individual. He later became the Ambassador in Rome.

29th September, 1668. I had a lengthy conversation with Signor Pietro Cisij, a Persian gentleman, about the situation in Turkey, which I found very satisfying. I went to check out Sir Elias Leighton's design for a cart with iron axles.

8th November, 1668. While having dinner, my sister Evelyn called for me to come up to London to see my sick brother.

14th November, 1668. I went to London for the celebration of the amazing Dean of Ripon, Dr. Wilkins, who has now become the Bishop of Chester. The event took place at Ely House, with the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Cosin, Bishop of Durham, the Bishops of Ely, Salisbury, Rochester, and others officiating. Dr. Tillotson gave the sermon. Afterwards, we attended a lavish dinner in the hall, where there were the Duke of Buckingham, judges, secretaries of state, the Lord Keeper, council members, nobles, and countless other guests who came to honor this extraordinary man, universally loved by all who knew him.

This being the Queen's birthday, there was a lot of excitement at Whitehall, and the night was celebrated with some really impressive fireworks.

My poor brother was still unwell, so I stayed with him until the 17th. That day, while having dinner at the Groom Porters, I heard Sir Edward Sutton play wonderfully on the Irish harp. He plays gracefully, but he doesn't match my good friend, Mr. Clark, a gentleman from Northumberland, who can make it produce the sounds of a lute, viol, and all the music any instrument is capable of. It's a shame that the harp isn't used more often; however, as Mr. Clark explained to me, playing it well takes complete dedication. Despite being a man of high status and talent, he started learning the instrument when he was just five years old, as I recall him telling me.

25th November, 1668. I visited Lord Sandwich, who gave me a Sembrador he had brought back from Spain. He showed me his two books of observations made during his time in Madrid, which contained several unique items he promised to share with me.

27th November, 1668. I had dinner at my Lord Ashley's (now the Earl of Shaftesbury), where the match for my niece was suggested for his only son, and my help was requested on behalf of my Lord.[Pg 45]

28th November, 1668. Dr. Patrick preached at Convent Garden on Acts xvii. 31, the certainty of Christ's coming to judgment, as it was Advent; a very fitting sermon.

19th December, 1668. I went to watch the old play "Cataline," which has been nearly forgotten for almost forty years.

20th December, 1668. I had dinner with Lord Cornbury at Clarendon House, which is now nicely decorated, especially with portraits of many of our great and modern thinkers, poets, philosophers, and renowned English figures. I really praised this collection from the Chancellor and gave his Lordship a list of more to add.

31st December, 1668. I hosted my kind neighbors, as is customary, giving thanks to Almighty God for His generous blessings over the past year.

1st January, 1669. Seeking his blessing for the new year, I went to church, where our doctor preached on Psalm 65:12, fitting for the season and the start of a new year.

3rd January, 1669. Around this time, one of Sir William Penn's sons published a disrespectful book against the divinity of our Blessed Lord.

29th January, 1669. I went to see a tall, gigantic woman who was 6 feet 10 inches tall, at 21 years old, born in the Low Countries.

13th February, 1669. I gave his Majesty my "History of the Four Impostors;"15 and he shared stories of other similar frauds. I gave my book to Lord Arlington, who I dedicated it to. It was then that he started encouraging me to write "The Dutch War."

15th February, 1669. Watched Mrs. Phillips' "Horace" performed again.

18th February, 1669. To the Royal Society, when Signor Malpighi, an Italian doctor and anatomist, sent this esteemed group the remarkable "History of the Silk-worm."

1st March, 1669. Had dinner at Lord Arlington's at Goring House, with the Bishop of Hereford.

4th March, 1669. To the Council of the Royal Society, about organizing my Lord Howard's library, which has now been donated to us.[Pg 46]

16th March, 1669. To London, to set up Mr. Christopher Wase with my Lord Arlington.

18th March, 1669. I went with Lord Howard of Norfolk to visit Sir William Ducie at Charlton, where we had dinner; the staff got our coachmen so drunk that they both fell off their boxes on the heath, so we had to leave them there and were driven to London by two of my Lord's servants. This cruel tradition of making the hosts feel welcome by getting the servants drunk had happened to my coachmen for the second time now.

My son finally returned from Oxford.

2nd April, 1669. Had dinner at Mr. Treasurer's, where there were many noblemen, including Colonel Titus of the bedchamber, the author of the famous work against Cromwell, "Killing no Murder."

I now assigned Mr. Wase to work with Mr. Williamson, the Secretary to the Secretary of State, and the Clerk of the Papers.

14th April, 1669. I had lunch with the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth and checked out the library, which wasn't very impressive.

19th May, 1669. At a meeting of the Royal Society, our grant was finalized, in which the King gives us Chelsea College and some surrounding land. It was decided that five members would be a quorum for a Council. The Vice-President was sworn in for the first time, and it was suggested how we should welcome the Prince of Tuscany, who wanted to visit the Society.

20th May, 1669. This evening, at 10 o'clock, my third daughter was born and was baptized on the 25th with the name Susannah.

3rd June, 1669. I went to say goodbye to Lord Howard, who is going to be the Ambassador to Morocco. I had lunch at Lord Arlington's, where the Earl of Berkshire, Lord Saint John, Sir Robert Howard, and Sir R. Holmes were present.

10th June, 1669. My Lord Cornbury, Sir William Pulteney, and others came to visit me. I went to London this evening to take Mr. Pepys to see my brother Richard, who is now suffering a lot from kidney stones. He had been successfully operated on, and I brought the stone, which was as big as a tennis ball, to show him and encourage him to go through with the procedure.

30th June, 1669. My wife took a pleasure trip down the river as far as the sea, along with Mrs. Howard and her daughter, the Maid of Honor, and others, including the wonderful Mrs. Blagg.16

7th July, 1669. I headed towards Oxford and stayed at Little Wycomb.

July 8, 1669. Oxford.

9th July, 1669. In the morning, the opening of the New Theater was celebrated, magnificently constructed through the generosity of Dr. Gilbert Sheldon, Archbishop of Canterbury, with an expenditure of £25,000, as Sir Christopher Wren, the architect, told me. Yet, the benefactor never saw it, as my Lord Archbishop mentioned he never did or would see it. Truly, it is a structure that rivals any from previous eras and clearly surpasses any current ones, just as this University excels all others in the world in terms of colleges, libraries, schools, students, and organization. The theater is complemented by the renowned Sheldonian printing house. Since this was during the Act and the first time the Theater was opened (previously, Acts were held in St. Mary’s Church, which seemed inappropriate since it is a space dedicated to the worship of God and the reason for constructing this grand building), it was decided to hold the present Act there and to dedicate it with the greatest splendor and formality possible, attracting many visitors and others to the University from all parts of the nation.

The Vice-Chancellor, Heads of Houses, and Doctors were seated in their official chairs, with the Vice-Chancellor's chair and desk, Proctors, etc., covered in brocatelle (a type of brocade) and gold cloth. The University Registrar read the founder's grant and the donation to the University for their academic activities during these solemn occasions. Next, Dr. South, the University's orator, gave a long and eloquent speech, which included some spiteful and inappropriate remarks about the Royal Society, suggesting they were undermining the University. This was both foolish and false, as well as in bad taste. However, putting that aside from an ill-tempered individual, the remainder of the speech praised the Archbishop and the skilled architect. After this, there was loud music from the corridor above, where an organ was located. Following that, various panegyric speeches were delivered, both in prose and verse, by young students at the podiums, using Pindarics, Eclogues, Heroics, etc., interspersed with excellent vocal and instrumental music to entertain the ladies and the rest of the audience. A speech was then made praising academic learning. This all lasted from eleven in the morning until seven in the evening, concluding with the ringing of bells, and widespread celebration and feasting.

10th July, 1669. The next day began the more formal lectures in all the faculties, held in various schools, where all the newly graduated doctors performed their exercises after the professors had finished their readings. The assembly then returned to the Theater, where the Terræ filius (the University Buffoon) entertained the audience with a long, abusive, sarcastic rant that was completely inappropriate for the seriousness of the University. It was so offensive that unless it was stopped, it would lead to negative consequences. I later expressed my concerns about it to the Vice-Chancellor and several Heads of Houses, who were thoroughly embarrassed and resolved to address the issue moving forward. The old humorous practice of joking about topics was abandoned, instead focusing on individuals, resulting in what was more akin to vulgar insults than true and noble wit. In my life, I had never witnessed such a disgraceful performance.

After this lively banter, the Proctors delivered their speeches. Then the music started, both vocal and instrumental, from the balcony corridor opposite the Vice-Chancellor's seat. Dr. Wallis, the math Professor, gave his speech and awarded one Doctor of Music following the usual ceremonies involving gown (which was made of white damask), cap, ring, kiss, and so on. Next came the debates from the Inceptor-Doctors in Medicine, including a speech from their Professor, Dr. Hyde, and their individual degrees. Following that were the Law Inceptors, their Professor's speech, and their degrees. Finally, it was the turn of the Theology Inceptors: Dr. Compton, the younger brother of the Earl of Northampton, began with great humility and received applause; then the others followed suit. After that, Dr. Tillotson, Dr. Sprat, and then Dr. Allestree delivered his speech, the King's Professor, along with their respective degrees. Lastly, the Vice-Chancellor wrapped up the event with a complimentary speech, honoring their benefactor and all relevant to the occasion.

Thus, the Theater was officially dedicated through academic activities across all the faculties with great formality; and like before, the evening featured a celebration for the new Doctor’s friends, including feasting and music. I was invited by Dr. Barlow, the esteemed and knowledgeable Professor of Queen's College.

11th July, 1669. This morning, Dr. Hall delivered the Act sermon at St. Mary's, giving a sincere and practical talk against atheism. In the afternoon, the church was so packed that I couldn't get close enough to hear, as I didn't arrive early.

12th July, 1669. Monday. The Divinity Act was held in the Theater again, where seventeen Doctors from various faculties proceeded.

13th July, 1669. I had dinner at the Vice-Chancellor's and spent the afternoon exploring the treasures of the public libraries and checking out the impressive marbles and inscriptions now set into the walls surrounding the area of the Theater. These were 150 of the oldest and most significant treasures of that kind in the scholarly world. Noticing that people were getting too close to them, and some careless individuals started to scratch and damage them, I suggested that a hedge of holly be planted at the base of the wall, kept to chest height, just to protect them. The Vice-Chancellor promised to take care of it by next season.

14th July, 1669. Dr. Fell, the Dean of Christ Church and Vice-Chancellor, along with Dr. Allestree, a professor, and some beadles and maces in front of them, came to visit me at my place. I went to see Lord Howard's sons at Magdalen College.

15th July, 1669. Two days ago, I was informed that the University intended to honor me with a Doctorate. This morning, I was accompanied by the beadles from the Law faculty, who guided me to the Theater, where I found the Duke of Ormond (the current Chancellor of the University) alongside the Earl of Chesterfield and Mr. [Pg 50] Spencer (brother of the late Earl of Sunderland). From there, we proceeded to the Convocation House, which had been specifically called for this occasion; here, we all robed in the porch in our scarlet gowns, wearing caps and hoods, were led in by the Professor of Laws and presented by name, along with a brief eulogy, to the Vice-Chancellor, who sat in the chair surrounded by all the Doctors, Heads of Houses, and masters, filling the room to capacity. Then, the Public Orator began his speech, primarily directed at the Duke of Ormond, the Chancellor, but I was also acknowledged along the way. Once this was finished, we were called up and formally made Doctors according to the tradition and seated by the Vice-Chancellor among the Doctors on his right side; afterward, the Vice-Chancellor delivered a brief speech, and with that, we greeted our fellow Doctors and the ceremony concluded, resulting in the dissolution of the convocation. Such a formal creation of honorary Doctors was rare, with a convocation specifically called and speeches given by the Orator; they could do no less since their Chancellor was to bestow this honor. I was supposed to be made Doctor along with the others at the public Act, but they postponed it in anticipation of their Chancellor. I was then taken with my fellow Doctors to a special celebration at Doctor Mewes's, head of St. John's College, where, after a lot of feasting and good words, I visited the Vice-Chancellor and other Doctors to thank them for the honor bestowed upon me. I then headed home on the 16th, reaching as far as Windsor, and returned to my house the next day.

4th August, 1669. I was invited by Sir Henry Peckham to his reading feast in the Middle Temple, a grand event, where the Archbishop of Canterbury, all the prominent Earls and Lords, and others were present. I had a lengthy conversation with my Lord Winchelsea, who is quite the talker, and the Venetian Ambassador.

17th August, 1669. To London, spending almost the whole day looking over the progress made in rebuilding the damaged city, which was now starting to recover a bit after its tragic disaster.

20th August, 1669. I attended the impressive audience of the Danish Ambassador in the Banqueting House at Whitehall.[Pg 51]

23rd August, 1669. I went to visit my esteemed neighbor, the Lord Bishop of Rochester, at Bromley, which he was currently fixing up after the damage from the recent Rebellion.

2nd September, 1669. I was quite sick today with pain in my limbs, which lasted most of the week and got worse after visiting my old friend, the Earl of Norwich, at his home in Epping Forest. There are many beautiful paintings installed into the woodwork of the rooms, brought from Spain by Mr. Baker, his Lordship's predecessor; particularly the History of Joseph, a painting of the devout and knowledgeable Picus Mirandula, and an extraordinary piece by old Breugel. The gardens were well designed, especially the potager. I returned late in the evening, crossing the river at Greenwich.

26th September, 1669. I went to church to thank God for my recovery.

3rd October, 1669. I received the Blessed Eucharist, which brought me immense joy.

21st October, 1669. To the Royal Society, meeting for the first time after a long break during vacation, as usual; where a description of the amazing eruption of Mount Etna was read; and our English traveler presented a report on his autumn journey around England, for which we hired him, bringing dried poultry, fish, plants, animals, etc.

26th October, 1669. My dear brother is still in a lot of pain; may the Lord be merciful to him!

3rd November, 1669. This is the day we gather for the poor, and we had a friendly meal together.

26th November, 1669. I heard a great talk by Dr. Patrick on the Resurrection, and afterwards, I visited the Countess of Kent, my relative.

8th December, 1669. To London, for the second edition of my "Sylva," which I presented to the Royal Society.

6th February, 1669-70. Dr. John Breton, Master of Emmanuel College in Cambridge (our vicar's uncle), preached on John 1:27; "whose shoe-latchet I am not worthy to unloose," etc. He talked about the different types of shoes and sandals worn by the Jews and other nations, the adornments for feet, and how important people had servants who would take their shoes off when they arrived home and carry them. This illustrated the dignity of our Savior, especially since even St. John the Baptist recognized his unworthiness for such a humble task. He discussed the appropriateness, respectability, and necessity of having different ranks and roles among men and servants, both in the Church and State, in opposition to the recent levelers and others in that dangerous group who wanted everyone to be the same.

3rd March, 1670. Seeing my brother [Richard] in such intense pain and starting to have convulsions, I decided to dedicate the next day to praying for God to ease his suffering and help the only option left for his recovery. He was not only very weak but also extremely reluctant to undergo surgery for the stone. However, when he finally agreed and it was time for the operation, he lost his courage and determination.

6th March, 1670. Dr. Patrick preached in Covent Garden Church. I took part in the Blessed Sacrament, asking God to help my dear brother, who was close to death. I stayed up late with him that night. It was God's will to take him from this miserable life around five o'clock this Monday morning, which filled me with immense sorrow. He was a brother I loved dearly for his many virtues; he was two years younger than me, a sober, prudent, and honorable gentleman. He had married into a fortune and left behind only one daughter and a grand estate at Woodcot, near Epsom. His body was examined, and a stone the size of a nutmeg was removed from his bladder. I returned home on the 8th, overwhelmed with sadness and mourning my loss.

20th March, 1670. A stranger preached at the Savoy French church; the Liturgy of the Church of England was now being used entirely, as translated into French by Dr. Durell.

21st March, 1670. We all accompanied the body of my dear brother to Epsom Church, where he was respectfully buried in the chapel belonging to Woodcot House. A large number of friends and local gentry attended, about twenty coaches and six horses, and countless people.[Pg 53]

22nd March, 1670. I went to Westminster, where in the House of Lords I saw the King sitting on his throne, but without his robes, while all the peers were seated with their hats on; the matter of the day was the divorce of Lord Ross. Such an event and sight hadn’t been seen in England since the time of Henry VIII.17

5th May, 1670. To London, about the position of Latin Secretary to his Majesty, a role that carries more honor and prestige than financial gain, which he had promised me the chance to have.

21st May, 1670. Mr. Henry Saville and Sir Charles Scarborough came to visit me.

26th May, 1670. I received a letter from Mr. Philip Howard, Lord Almoner to the Queen, saying that Monsieur Evelin, the chief physician to Madame (who had recently arrived in Dover to visit her brother, the King), was in town and eager to see me. However, since his visit was so brief that he couldn’t come to me, I went with my brother to meet him at the Tower, where he was exploring the magazines and other curiosities, having never been to England before. We renewed our friendship and alliance, both regretting that since he was heading back to Dover that evening, we couldn’t enjoy each other’s company longer. For details on how this French family, Ivelin, from Evelin, Normandy—a very ancient and noble house—connects to our lineage, see the collection brought from Paris in 1650.

16th June, 1670. I went with some friends to the Bear Garden, where there was cockfighting, dog fighting, and bear and bull baiting. It was a famous day for all these brutal sports, or rather barbaric cruelties. The bulls did[Pg 54] exceptionally well, but the Irish wolf dog outperformed them; it was a tall greyhound, a truly impressive creature, who defeated a fierce mastiff. One of the bulls tossed a dog right into a lady's lap as she sat in a box high above the arena. Two poor dogs were killed, and it all ended with the ape on horseback, leaving me utterly tired of the rough and filthy entertainment, which I hadn’t seen, I believe, in twenty years.

18th June, 1670. I had dinner at Goring House, where my Lord Arlington took me from Whitehall along with the Marquis of Worcester; we found Lord Sandwich, Viscount Stafford,18 the Lieutenant of the Tower, and others there. After dinner, my Lord shared the King's wish that I would agree to write the history of our recent war with the Dutch, which I had previously declined; I realized this was taken poorly, and that I would upset the King, who had specifically chosen me for this task. If I agreed to take it on, I would receive all the support from the Secretary's office and others could provide, along with additional incentives that I could not reasonably refuse.

Lord Stafford got up from the table, a bit flustered, because there were roses mixed in with the fruit when dessert was served. It turns out he had a strong dislike for them, just like Lady Selenger once did. In fact, as Sir Kenelm Digby recounts, when a rose was placed on her cheek while she was asleep, it caused a blister. But then again, Sir Kenelm was known for telling unusual stories.

24th June, 1670. The Earl of Huntington and his Countess, along with Lord Sherard, came to visit us.

29th June, 1670. I went to London for my niece Mary’s wedding. She is the daughter of my late brother Richard from Woodcot, marrying the eldest son of Mr. Attorney Montague. The ceremony took place at Southampton House chapel, followed by a lavish celebration with food, drinks, and dancing in the main hall. However, the bride stayed at my sister’s place in Drury Lane for the night.

6th July, 1670. Mr. Stanhope, the gentleman usher to her Majesty and uncle to the Earl of Chesterfield, came to visit me. He is a very impressive man, accompanied by my Lady Hutcheson.

19th July, 1670. I accompanied my esteemed friend, the excellent Sir Robert Murray, along with Mr. Slingsby, the master of the mint, to visit Mr. Slingsby's estate at Burrow-Green in Cambridgeshire. He wanted our advice on where to place a new house he was determined to build. We set off in a coach pulled by six horses with him and his wife, and we stopped for lunch halfway at Mr. Turner's place, where we enjoyed a wonderful meal with venison, music, and a gathering of local ladies and their suitors. After lunch, we continued on and arrived at Burrow-Green that evening. This had once been the home of the Cheekes family (whose daughter Mr. Slingsby married), who had previously tutored King Henry VI. The old house was large and spacious, built for traditional hospitality, but now on the verge of collapse due to age, situated in a muddy area with stiff clay, no water nearby, next to an adjoining churchyard, and other drawbacks. We chose a raised spot with beautiful old trees, a pleasant dry view to the east and west that would be suitable for a park, though there was no running water, about a mile from the old house.

20th July, 1670. We went to have dinner at Lord Allington's, who had just built an expensive house, costing around £20,000. His architect was Mr. Pratt. It’s located in a park with a lovely view and grand entrance; however, the water feature is still not quite right, and the house has its flaws too. We returned to Mr. Slingsby's.

22nd July, 1670. We went out to check out the great mere, or flat area of reclaimed fen land, not far away. On the way, we ran into Lord Arlington on his way to his place in Suffolk, along with Count Ogniati, the Spanish minister, and Sir Bernard Gascoigne; he was very eager for me to join him at Euston, which is only fifteen miles away, but I couldn't due to my company. So, passing through NEWMARKET, we stopped to see his Majesty's house there, which is currently under construction; the arches of the cellars below are well done by Mr. Samuel, the architect, but the rest is rather mediocre and hardly suitable for a hunting lodge. Many of the rooms above have the chimneys in the corners and angles, a style now introduced by his Majesty, which I absolutely do not approve of. I predict it will ruin many noble houses and rooms if[Pg 56] it continues. It works only in very small and trivial rooms, but detracts from the grandeur of larger ones. Besides, this house is situated on a dirty street, without any courtyard or entrance, like an ordinary one, when it really could and should have been built at either end of the town, right where the sports take place; but since it’s built on the site of an old rundown house of my Lord Thomond's, his Majesty was persuaded to set it on that foundation, which is the most unsuitable imaginable for a house of sport and pleasure.

We went to check out the stables and the beautiful horses, many of which were kept here at a huge cost, cared for with all the skill and kindness you could imagine.

Upon arriving at some lakes, we found Lord Wotton and Sir John Kiviet working on their drainage equipment. It seems they had taken on the challenge of transforming a large section of marshland they rented from Sir Thomas Chicheley (the master of the ordnance). They were really excited about the prospects of a bountiful harvest of hemp and coleseed, which was the crop they were expecting.

Here we visited the engines and mills for both wind and water, draining it through two rivers or ditches, dug by hand, and capable of carrying sizable barges, which crossed each other, releasing the water into the sea. This place had been the former winter; it was amazing to see it now dry and so fertile that weeds grew on the banks, almost as tall as a man and horse. Here, my Lord and his partner had built two or three rooms with Flanders white bricks, which are very hard. One of the large engines was in the kitchen, where I saw the fish swim up, even to the very fireplace, through a small channel in the room, running within a foot of the fire.

Having ridden around that huge flat area after dinner, bothered by the heat and swarms of gnats, we returned over Newmarket Heath. The path was mostly soft grass and hills, like Salisbury Plain, with the jockeys working their fine horses and racers, pushing them for speed.

23rd July, 1670. We came back from Burrow Green to London, spending some time at Audley End to check out that beautiful palace. It’s truly a cheerful piece of Gothic architecture, or rather antico moderno, but located in a hidden valley. The cellars and galleries are quite impressive.[Pg 57] It has a river nearby, a lovely avenue of linden trees, and a park.

This is in the Saffron Walden parish, known for the valuable plant that covers the entire region.

Dining at Bishop Stortford, we arrived in London late.

5th August, 1670. A neighbor sent me a servant girl who, last month, while sitting in front of her mistress working, felt a sudden pain on her arm just above the wrist, as if someone had struck her. The pain was so sharp that she had to hold her arm for a bit until it eased; however, it caused her to enter a sort of convulsion, or rather a hysterical fit. A gentleman who happened to come in looked at her arm and saw that area covered in red crosses, arranged in a most precise and astonishing way, neither swollen nor depressed, about this shape,

not appearing to be artificially made, of a reddish color, not as red as blood, the skin over them smooth, the rest of the arm bruised and discolored, with certain marks that looked like finger impressions. This had occurred three times in July, about ten days apart, the crosses starting to fade, but the new ones appearing in other different yet consistent arrangements. The maid seemed very modest and had come from London to Deptford with her mistress to avoid the chatter and pressure from curious people. She gained nothing from it, showed no signs of religious obsession; she seemed to be an ordinary, quiet, working girl, somewhat overweight, short, and ruddy. She told me various clergy and doctors had seen her but were unsatisfied; she had taken some remedies for her seizures, but they didn’t help at all; she had never had any seizures before; once since then, she seemed to hear someone say to her in her sleep that she should no longer engage with them or worry about anything that happened, but just put her trust in the merits of Christ alone.

This is what she told me, and what I saw and looked into closely. I used to know about the fraudulent nuns of Loudun, France, who caused quite a stir among the Catholics; I thought this was worth mentioning. I remember Monsieur Monconys (that curious traveler and a Roman Catholic) was not at all convinced by the stigmata of those nuns because they were so reluctant to let him scrape the letters, which were Jesus, Maria, Joseph (if I remember correctly), noting that they started to peel off with it, while this poor girl was ready to undergo any test; so honestly, I don’t know what to make of it, nor do I dare to say it’s anything supernatural.

20th August, 1670. While in Windsor, I had dinner with the Duke of Monmouth; the next day, I was invited by Lord Arlington to have lunch with the same Duke and several Lords. After lunch, my Lord and I had a private conversation for over an hour in his bedroom, where he wanted to discuss the History. I shared something I had prepared, which he liked very much, and he asked me to show it to the Treasurer.

28th August, 1670. One of the Canons preached; then came the offering from the Knights of the Order, as was customary; first the poor Knights in procession, then the Canons in their formal dress, followed by the Dean and Chancellor, then his Majesty (the Sovereign), the Duke of York, Prince Rupert; and finally, the Earl of Oxford, comprising all the Knights who were present at Court.

I had dinner with the Treasurer and talked with him about which pieces I should add. In the afternoon, the King pulled me aside onto the balcony over the terrace, really pleased with what I had started in line with his instructions, and urged me to carry on with it vigorously. He mentioned that he had instructed the Secretaries of State to provide me with all the necessary papers and details related to it, and he insisted that I make it a LITTLE KEEN, since the Dutch had treated him unfairly in their pictures, books, and pamphlets.

Windsor was now being repaired, looking very shabby and in ruins. Prince Rupert, the Constable, had started fixing up the keep, or high round Tower, and nicely decorated his hall with weapons, which was quite unique. He arranged the pikes, muskets, pistols, bandoleers, holsters, drums, back, breast, and headpieces in a remarkable way. The large, steep stairs leading up to it had walls decorated with this military gear, all new and shiny, arranged like festoons with the bandoleers, holsters, and drums clearly displayed, resembling trophies. From the hall, we went into his bedroom, which had spacious rooms draped with tapestries and delicate paintings, drastically different from the earlier rooms that showed only war and destruction.

The King spent most of his time hunting deer and strolling in the park, which he was currently landscaping with rows of trees.

13th September, 1670. To visit Sir Richard Lashford, my relative, and Mr. Charles Howard, at his amazing garden, at Deepden.

15th September, 1670. I went to visit Mr. Arthur Onslow at West Clandon, a nice, dry place on the Downs, where we had dinner in his large dining room.

17th September, 1670. To visit Mr. Hussey, who lives in a beautiful valley near Wotton, wonderfully filled with water.

23rd September, 1670. I went to Albury to check on the garden's progress, which turned out exactly as I designed it, complete with the underground passage through the mountain in the park, thirty perches long. There’s nothing like this Pausilippe20 in all of England. They were currently digging the canal and had planted the vineyard.

14th October, 1670. I spent the entire afternoon alone with the Treasurer, who handed me the confidential documents and dealings related to the Dutch war, especially the Bergen expedition, in which he played a leading role. He gave me instructions until the King returned from Newmarket, after which we both went up to his bedroom.

21st October, 1670. Had dinner with the Treasurer; and after dinner, we were alone together. I got more updates and ten notebooks of dispatches and treaties; to return them, I gave a note under my [Pg 60] hand to Mr. Joseph Williamson, Master of the Paper office.

31st October, 1670. I turned fifty years old this morning; may the Lord help me to value my days and use them for His glory! Amen.

4th November, 1670. I saw the Prince of Orange, who had just arrived to visit the King, his uncle. He has a strong, brave, and wise face, looking like both his mother and the Duke of Gloucester, who are both gone now.

I now also saw that famous beauty, but in my opinion, she had a childish, simple, and baby-like face, Mademoiselle Querouaille,21 who was recently Maid of Honor to Madame, and now would be to the Queen.

23rd November, 1670. Had dinner with the Earl of Arlington, where the Venetian Ambassador was present, and I said my formal goodbye to him as he was leaving. Lords Howard, Wharton, Windsor, and several other important people were also there.

24th November, 1670. I had dinner with the Treasurer, where the Earl of Rochester was present, a very irreverent joker.

15th December, 1670. It was the thickest and darkest fog on the Thames that anyone could remember, and I happened to be right in the middle of it. I had dinner with Monsieur Zulestein, the former Governor to the late Prince of Orange.

10th January, 1670-71. Mr. Bohun, my son's tutor, had been with us for five years, and now he is a Bachelor of Laws and a Fellow of New College. He left to go to Oxford to live there, having fulfilled his duties well and faithfully.

18th January, 1671. Today I introduced his Majesty to the remarkable young man, Gibbon,22 whom I had recently encountered by chance in a remote, humble thatched house in our parish, close to Sayes Court. I found him inside, but looking through the window, I saw him carving a large cartoon or crucifix after Tintoretto, a copy of which I had brought back from Venice, where the original painting is kept. I asked if I could come in; he politely opened the door, and I was amazed by his work, which showcased a level of skill and precise study I had never witnessed in all my travels. I inquired why he chose to work in such a secluded spot; he explained that it allowed him to focus on his craft without distractions and was curious about how I had discovered him. I asked if he would mind being introduced to someone influential, believing it could benefit him; he replied that he was still a beginner but would be open to selling his piece. When I asked the price, he said £100. Honestly, the frame alone was worth that amount, with nothing in nature as delicate as the flowers and garlands surrounding it, while the craftsmanship was robust; the artwork featured more than a hundred figures of men, among others. I also found out that he was musical and quite polite, sober, and thoughtful in his conversation. The only other person in the house was an old woman. After asking if I could visit him occasionally, I took my leave.

Of this young artist, along with how I discovered him, I informed the King and asked for permission to bring him and his work to Whitehall. I was willing to risk my reputation with His Majesty, claiming he had never seen anything like it and that he would be extremely pleased and hire him. The King said he would go see him himself. This was the first time His Majesty had ever heard of Mr. Gibbon.

20th January, 1671. The King approached me in the Queen's sitting room, away from the group of ladies, to discuss my progress on the Dutch History. I had dinner with the Treasurer, and afterward, we went to the Secretary's Office, where we talked about various details.

21st January, 1671. I was told to go see Sir George Downing, who, having served as a public minister in Holland at the start of the war, was supposed to help me understand some important points.[Pg 62]

This year, the weather has been so wet, stormy, and out of season, unlike anything we've seen in many years.

9th February, 1671. I watched the grand ball performed by the Queen and esteemed ladies at Whitehall Theater. The following day, the renowned play "The Siege of Granada" was staged there for two consecutive days; it featured truly impressive scenes and perspectives, crafted by Mr. Streeter, who clearly has a talent for it.23

19th February, 1671. Today I had lunch with Mr. Surveyor, Dr. Christopher Wren, and Mr. Pepys, Clerk of the Acts, two remarkable, clever, and knowledgeable individuals, along with some other friends. I took them to see the carving that I had suggested to the King.

25th February, 1671. One of the Lords Commissioners of Scotland for the Union came to visit me.

28th February, 1671. The Treasurer informed me that the King was kindly pleased to appoint me as a member of the Council of Foreign Plantations and offer me a salary of £500 a year to encourage me.

29th February, 1671. I went to thank the Treasurer, who was a good friend of mine and cared for me; I had dinner with him and quite a few others, and then I went to see my Lord Arlington, the Secretary of State, who I had also supported on many occasions, although I didn’t pursue either of their friendships through any kind of flattery. I kissed the King’s hand when he appointed me to the newly established Council.

1st March, 1671. I had Mr. Gibbon bring his amazing carving to Whitehall. When he arrived, I informed His Majesty, who asked me where it was. I told him it was in Sir Richard Browne's (my father-in-law) room and that if it pleased His Majesty to decide where it should be brought, I would take care of it since it was large and heavy, even though it was made of wood. "No," the King said, "show me the way; I'll go to Sir Richard's room," and he immediately followed me through the halls until we reached the room where I was also lying. As soon as he entered and saw the work, he was astonished by its beauty. After considering it for a long time and talking with Mr. Gibbon, whom I brought to kiss his hand, he ordered it to be[Pg 63] immediately taken to the Queen to show her. It was carried up to her bedroom, where she and the King admired it again. When the King was called away, he left us with the Queen, believing she would want to buy it since it was a crucifix. However, once His Majesty was gone, a French saleswoman, Madame de Boord, who used to bring petticoats, fans, and trinkets from France for the ladies, started to criticize several aspects of the work, yet she understood it no better than a donkey or a monkey. Out of frustration, I had the person who brought it take it back to the room, realizing that the Queen was so swayed by an ignorant French woman, and this incredible artist had his efforts wasted, which displeased me greatly. He eventually had to send it back to his workshop, and not long after, he sold it for £80, even though it was worth £100 without the frame, to Sir George Viner.

His Majesty's Surveyor, Mr. Wren, promised me he would hire him.24 I also spoke to His Majesty about his work at Windsor, which my friend, Mr. May, the architect there, was about to modify and repair entirely; because the next day, I had a good chance to talk to His Majesty about it in the lobby near the Queen's side, where I gave him some pages of my history. After that, I walked with him through St. James's Park to the garden, where I witnessed a very casual conversation between ... and Mrs. Nelly,25 whom they called a bold actress, as she leaned over her garden on a terrace at the top of the wall, and ... standing on the green path beneath it. I was truly saddened by this scene. After that, the King went to the Duchess of Cleveland, another woman of ill-repute, causing trouble in our nation.

5th March, 1671. I had dinner at Greenwich to say goodbye to Sir Thomas Linch, the new Governor of Jamaica.

10th March, 1671. To London, regarding the approval of my patent as a permanent member of the Council for Plantations, which is a significant honor, as most of the other Council members are mainly nobles and state officials.[Pg 64]

2nd April, 1671. To Sir Thomas Clifford, the Treasurer, to express my condolences for the loss of his eldest son, who passed away in Florence.

2nd May, 1671. The French King, now with a large army of 28,000 men around Dunkirk, had several high-ranking officials from his court, along with a huge number of gentlemen and young nobles in extravagant outfits, coming over to visit our court and pay their respects to his Majesty. I was there when they were first led into the Queen's private sitting room, where they greeted their Majesties, the Dukes of Guise, Longueville, and many other top-ranking nobles.

10th May, 1671. Had dinner at Mr. Treasurer's,26 with Monsieur De Grammont and several French noblemen, along with a guy named Blood, that brazen, audacious fellow who had recently tried to steal the imperial crown from the Tower. He pretended it was just curiosity to see the regalia, but after stabbing the guard—though not fatally—he boldly made off with it, getting past all the guards, only to be caught when his horse fell. I could never figure out how he got pardoned and even accepted back into favor, not just after this incident but after several other equally daring exploits in Ireland and here. Some thought he became a spy for various groups, getting close to the sectarians and enthusiasts, and did great service for His Majesty in that way, which no one else could do as well as he did. But it was definitely the boldest attempt—the only treason of this kind ever pardoned. This man had not only a daring but a vile, merciless look, a deceitful face, but he was very eloquent and dangerously charming.

11th May, 1671. I went to Eltham to serve as one of the commissioners regarding the subsidy currently provided by Parliament to His Majesty.

17th May, 1671. Had dinner at Mr. Treasurer's [Sir[Pg 65] Thomas Clifford] with the Earl of Arlington, Carlingford, Lord Arundel of Wardour, Lord Almoner to the Queen, a French Count, two abbots, and several other members of French nobility; and from something I had recently noticed in Mr. Treasurer's conversation, I suspected he was slightly leaning toward Rome.

25th May, 1671. I had a dinner hosted by the Trinity Company for my wife and me, in celebration of the fine on the land that Sir R. Browne, my wife's father, generously donated to establish and build their college or almshouses at Deptford, which will belong to my wife after her father passes away. It was a good and charitable act, but it would have been better allocated to the poor in that parish rather than the widows of seamen, since the Trinity Company is quite wealthy, while the other poor people in the parish are in dire need.

26th May, 1671. The Earl of Bristol's house on Queen's Street [Lincoln's Inn Fields] was designated for the Commissioners of Trade and Plantations and was decorated with the King's expensive hangings. It had seven rooms on one floor, along with a long gallery, gardens, and more. On this day, we met with the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Lauderdale, Lord Culpeper, Sir George Carteret, the Vice-Chamberlain, and myself. The Earl of Sandwich, our President, administered the oaths to us. Our role was to advise and counsel His Majesty to the best of our abilities for the effective governance of his Foreign Plantations, with the process being very similar to that for the Privy Council. We then took our places at the Board in the Council Chamber, which was a very large room filled with atlases, maps, charts, globes, and more. Then arrived the Lord Keeper, Sir Orlando Bridgeman, the Earl of Arlington, Secretary of State, Lord Ashley, Mr. Treasurer, Sir John Trevor, the other Secretary, Sir John Duncomb, Lord Allington, Mr. Grey, son of Lord Grey, Mr. Henry Broncher, Sir Humphrey Winch, Sir John Finch, Mr. Waller, and Colonel Titus from the bedchamber, along with Mr. Slingsby, Secretary to the Council, and two Clerks of the Council, who had all taken their oaths a few days prior. Once we were settled, our Patent was read, followed by the additional Patent outlining this new establishment; then, each person received a copy of the Patent and the instructions: after which, we began our work.[Pg 66]

The first thing we did was draft a circular letter to the Governors of all of His Majesty's Plantations and Territories in the West Indies and surrounding islands. This letter was meant to inform them whom they should approach for any matters and to provide us with an update on their current state and governance. However, what we focused on most was understanding the situation in New England. They seemed very independent regarding Old England and His Majesty, and given their wealth and strength, there were significant discussions about how to address them in writing. The condition of that Colony allowed them to stand against all other nearby Plantations, raising concerns about their breaking away from any dependence on this nation. His Majesty therefore emphasized the importance of this matter. We decided it was best to learn as much as we could about the situation there from those who had recently returned, so we could understand their current status and condition. Some members of our Council suggested sending them a threatening letter, but those who were more familiar with the sensitive and irritable nature of that Colony strongly opposed this idea.

A letter was then read from Sir Thomas Modiford, Governor of Jamaica; and then the Council adjourned.

Having filed a lawsuit against a guy named Cocke for money he received on my behalf, it was recommended for arbitration by that truly good man, Chief Justice Hale,27 but when that didn’t work out, I sought advice from the well-known lawyer, Mr. Jones, of Gray's Inn. On May 27th, I had a trial before Lord Chief Justice Hale, and after the lawyers bickered enough, it was sent to another arbitration. This was the very first legal case I’ve ever had with anyone, and I hope it’s the last!

1st June, 1671. An installation at Windsor.

6th June, 1671. I attended the Council, where we reviewed a very detailed and comprehensive report on the situation in Jamaica, as well as the best strategies for New England. There was a long discussion, but ultimately, it was decided that, if we were to send anything, it should just be a conciliatory letter at first until we had a clearer understanding of the current situation, as we learned they were nearly on the verge of breaking away from the Crown.

19th June, 1671. To an extravagant dinner in the grand room at Deptford Trinity House, Sir Thomas Allen was selected as Master, succeeding the Earl of Craven.

20th June, 1671. To take Colonel Middleton to Whitehall, to my Lord Sandwich, our President, for some information that he could provide about the situation of the Colony in New England.

21st June, 1671. To Council again, when Colonel Cartwright, a man from Nottinghamshire (formerly in service with Colonel Nicholls), gave us a detailed report about that area; based on this, the Council decided that the first step should be to send out a letter of amnesty.

24th June, 1671. Constantine Huygens, Lord of Zuylichem, that distinguished scholar, poet, and musician, now close to eighty years old, still a vigorous and lively man,28 came to say goodbye to me before his return to Holland with the Prince, of whom he was Secretary.

26th June, 1671. To Council, where Lord Arlington informed us that it was the King's suggestion we each contribute £20 to build a Council chamber and facilities somewhere in Whitehall, so that the King can join us and listen to our discussions; the money we spent would be reimbursed from the funds already allocated for us, specifically £1,000 per year. We all agreed to this. There were some uncertain reports from Barbados about some unrest there. On my way home, I stepped into the theater to check out the new machinery for the planned scenes, which were indeed very expensive and impressive.

29th June, 1671. To Council, where there were letters from Sir Thomas Modiford regarding the expedition and activities of Colonel Morgan and others from Jamaica on the Spanish mainland at Panama.

4th July, 1671. To Council, where we wrote and agreed on a letter to be sent to New England, and made some proposals to Mr. Gorges regarding his interest in a plantation there.

24th July, 1671. To Council. Mr. Surveyor brought us a plan for the construction of our Council chamber, to be built at the end of the Privy garden, in Whitehall.

3rd August, 1671. A full meeting at the Council. The discussion was about whether we should send a representative to New England, asking the Massachusetts to restore those who had petitioned the Council to their rightful limits and possessions; this would be the official commission only; however, secretly, it would include instructions to update us on the status of those Colonies and if they were strong enough to resist his Majesty and declare independence from the Crown, which we had been informed about and which had recently made them defiant. Colonel Middleton, upon being called in, assured us that they could be controlled by a few of his Majesty's top frigates, to disrupt their trade with the islands; but, although my Lord President was not convinced, the others agreed, and we decided to advise his Majesty to send Commissioners with a formal commission for settling boundaries, etc., along with some other instructions.

19th August, 1671. To Council. The letters from Sir Thomas Modiford were read, detailing the bold mission at Panama. They captured, burned, and looted the town filled with great treasures, but most of the valuable goods had already been shipped out and were anchored in the South Sea. After our men explored the surrounding area for sixty miles, they returned to Nombre de Dios and boarded a ship for Jamaica. No one had accomplished such a feat since the legendary Drake.

I had dinner at the Hamburg Residence, and after that, I went to the christening of Sir Samuel Tuke's son, [Pg 69] Charles, at Somerset House, performed by a Catholic priest, with a lot of unusual ceremonies. The godfathers were the King and Lord Arundel of Wardour, and the godmother was the Countess of Huntingdon.

29th August, 1671. To London, with additional papers regarding my progress in the Dutch War, submitted to the Treasurer.

1st September, 1671. Had dinner with the Treasurer, along with my Lord Arlington, Halifax, and Sir Thomas Strickland; and the next day, went home, marking the anniversary of the terrible fire in London.

13th September, 1671. A terrible storm hit tonight.

15th September, 1671. In the afternoon at Council, where letters were read from Sir Charles Wheeler about his resignation as governor of St. Christopher's.

21st September, 1671. I had dinner in the city at the fraternity feast in Ironmongers' Hall, where the four stewards selected their successors for the following year with a formal procession, garlands on their heads, and music playing ahead of them; then, approaching the upper tables where the gentlemen were seated, they toasted the new stewards; and then we all went our separate ways.

22nd September, 1671. I had lunch at the Treasurer's, where I talked with Sir Henry Jones (who has recently come over to raise a cavalry regiment) about the French conquests in Lorraine; he told me that the King sold everything to the soldiers, even a handful of hay.

Lord Sunderland was now appointed Ambassador to Spain.

After dinner, the Treasurer took me to Lincoln's Inn, to one of the Parliament Clerks, to get some of the Journals that I could take home and read, which he gave me to look over regarding the recent Dutch War. On my way home, I stopped by the Custom House, which has just been rebuilt after the terrible fire.

9th and 10th October, 1671. After evening service, I traveled to London for a trip of relaxation with Mr. Treasurer to Newmarket, where the King was at the time. We rode in a coach pulled by six impressive horses, which we changed three times—first at Bishop-Stortford, and finally at Chesterford. By night, we arrived in Newmarket, where Mr. Henry Jermain (nephew of the Earl of St. Alban) kindly hosted me. We headed straight to Court, where the King and all the English gentlemen were engaged in their autumn sports. I had dinner at the Lord Chamberlain's, and the next day, after lunch, I went to the heath, where I watched the big race between Woodcock and Flatfoot, horses belonging to the King and Mr. Eliot of the bedchamber, respectively, with thousands of spectators present; it was the most notable race in years.

This done, I went that night with Mr. Treasurer to Euston, a palace of Lord Arlington's, where we found Monsieur Colbert (the French Ambassador), and the well-known new French Maid of Honor, Mademoiselle Querouaille, who was now becoming very favored by the King. There was also the Countess of Sunderland, along with several lords and ladies who were staying in the house.

During my time here with Lord Arlington, for almost two weeks, the King visited almost every other day with the Duke, who usually went back to Newmarket, but the King often stayed here. During that time, I had the honor of sitting down to dinner with him twice, completely at ease. It was widely rumored that the beautiful lady —— spent one of those nights in bed with someone, and that a stocking was tossed, like a bride's tradition; I admit she mostly stayed in her nightclothes all day, and there was some affection and playful behavior with that young flirt; in fact, it was said I witnessed the previous ceremony, but that is entirely false; I neither saw nor heard of anything like that while I was there, even though I had been in her room, and had looked around that area late enough, and I was myself attentively observing everything. Nevertheless, it was confidently believed that she was first made a Miss, as they called these unfortunate women, with a lot of seriousness during this time.

On Sunday, a young pastor from Cambridge delivered a great sermon in the chapel, with the King and the Duke of York in attendance.

16th October, 1671. All the important people came from Newmarket and other areas of Suffolk and Norfolk to pay their respects. The entire house was packed with lords, ladies, and gentlemen; the banquet was lavish, something I had rarely witnessed, and it was extraordinarily magnificent and welcoming. For fifteen days[Pg 71], at least 200 guests were entertained, along with half as many horses, in addition to servants and guards, all at a tremendous cost.

In the morning, we went hunting and hawking; in the afternoon, until almost morning, we played cards and dice, but I have to say it was done quietly, without swearing, fights, or any confusion. I, who didn't gamble much, often had conversations with the French Ambassador, Colbert, and sometimes rode out on horseback with the ladies for fresh air, and occasionally went hunting. I was idly passing the time, but more often than not, I would retreat to my lovely apartment, where I could escape all the hustle and bustle and enjoy some leisure time to read books. My Lord Arlington was always pleasant to be around, and I shared a special friendship and kindness with him that was more than ordinary. His house is a grand structure, featuring four pavilions in the French style, along with a large main building. Even though it wasn't all built at once, but rather added onto an older house (which his Lordship bought from one Sir T. Rookwood), it has been transformed with great expense to be spacious and magnificent, both inside and out, and is also lavishly furnished. The staircase is very elegant, the garden is lovely, and the canal is beautiful, but the land is dry, barren, and terribly sandy, which gets blown around when the wind picks up. Here, my Lord consulted with me about how to arrange his fir, elm, and lime tree plantations throughout his park and in all other areas and pathways. I encouraged him to bring the park closer so that it would include his house, which he agreed to do, as it was currently about a mile away. The water for the fountains is lifted by a clever device, or very simple wheels, which also grind his grain from a small cascade of the canal, invented by Sir Samuel Morland. In my Lord's house, particularly above the staircase in the grand hall and some of the state rooms, there are fresco paintings by Signor Verrio, which are the first work he completed in England.

17th October, 1671. My Lord Henry Howard came to visit my Lord Chamberlain tonight and decided to stay for a day. He insisted that I go with him to Norwich, promising to bring me back after a day or two. I couldn’t refuse, and I was eager to see the famous scholar and physician, Dr. T. Browne, the author of "Religio Medici" and "Vulgar Errors," who was recently knighted. So, my Lord and I set off alone in his fast chariot pulled by six horses. During the ride, he talked to me about various matters and mentioned that he was planning to marry his eldest son to one of the King’s illegitimate daughters by the Duchess of Cleveland, thinking this would bring him great favor. He also told me that, despite keeping the idle woman Mrs. B—— and planning to leave £200 a year to the son he had with her, he would never marry her, as the King himself had advised him against it. Everyone knows how he kept that promise, and I felt a deep sadness hearing what he now confessed to me; that someone and a family I held in high regard because of my noble and illustrious friend, his grandfather, should be dishonored and corrupted by the shameful and immoral choices he had made since the deaths of Sir Samuel Tuke and his virtuous wife, Lady Anne Somerset, sister to the Marquis. While they were alive, their example and advice had kept this gentleman from the many excesses that damaged both his wealth and reputation.

Arriving at the Ducal palace, my Lord treated me very well; however, I had little chance to rest because he was so eager to show me the setup he had created for the entertainment of their Majesties and the entire Court not long before. Although much of it was only temporary and seemingly made of boards, it was still intact. As for the palace, it's an old, shabby building, and the newly constructed brick part is very poorly designed. I thought it would have been much better to tear it all down and build it in a better location rather than continue with it; it sits right in the market square, and although it’s close to a river, it’s a very narrow, muddy one without any real expanse.

The next morning, I went to visit Sir Thomas Browne (whom I had corresponded with for some time through letters, though I had never met him before); his entire house and garden were a paradise filled with rarities, and among the best collections, especially medals, books, plants, and[Pg 73] natural items. Among other curiosities, Sir Thomas had a collection of eggs from all the fowl and birds he could find, as that area (especially the promontory of Norfolk) was frequented, as he mentioned, by several kinds that seldom or never venture further inland, like cranes, storks, eagles, and various kinds of water fowl. He guided me to see all the notable sites of this ancient city, which is one of the largest and certainly, after London, one of the finest in England, thanks to its impressive cathedral, numerous grand churches, clean streets, and buildings made from flint that are intricately shaped and squared, which left me quite astonished; but he told me they had lost the skill of squaring flints, in which they once excelled, and which the churches, best houses, and walls are built from. The Castle is an old expanse of land, now called Marsfield, that would have been a fitting location for a Ducal palace. The suburbs are spacious, the views beautiful, along with other conveniences, including flower gardens where all the residents excel. The textile industry brings a huge trade to this bustling town.

Being back at my Lord's, who had been with me all morning, he talked to me about a plan to rebuild his house. He mentioned that he had already put up a front next to the street and a left wing, and was now planning to add another wing and a pavilion next to the garden, as well as turn the bowling green into stables. I advised him to stop all those plans and instead focus entirely on building a beautiful palace at Arundel House, in the Strand, before he went any further here, and then to place this in the Castle, which is land belonging to his Lordship.

I noticed that most of the churchyards (even though some were quite large) were filled with soil, or rather, packed with layers of dead bodies stacked on each other due to a lack of soil, even reaching the tops of the walls, and in some cases, even above the walls, giving the impression that the churches were built in pits.

18th October, 1671. I returned to Euston in Lord Henry Howard's coach, dropping him off in Norwich, along with a very clever man, Mr. White, whose father and mother (the daughter of the late Lord Treasurer Weston, Earl of Portland) I knew in Rome, where this[Pg 74] gentleman was born, and where his parents lived and died with great respect during their exile due to our civil conflicts.

21st October, 1671. Leaving Euston, I stayed the night in Newmarket, where I found the lively crowd racing, dancing, feasting, and partying; it felt more like an extravagant and wild celebration than a Christian Court. The Duke of Buckingham was very much in favor and had with him the bold Countess of Shrewsbury, along with his group of musicians, etc.

Next morning, I joined Sir Bernard Gascoyne and Lord Hawley in the Treasurer's coach to Bishop Stortford, where he treated us to a lavish supper. The next day, we headed to London and then went home.

14th November, 1671. To the Council, where Sir Charles Wheeler, former Governor of the Leeward Islands, had been complained about for several careless actions. After reviewing many of the details, it was decided to advise His Majesty to remove him and discuss what should be done to prevent the issues he had caused. This matter kept me in London for almost a week, attending Council or Committee meetings every morning until the 25th.

27th November, 1671. We decided that a proclamation should be presented to his Majesty for him to sign, regarding what Sir Charles Wheeler had done in St. Christopher's since the war, concerning the peace agreements made in Breda. He was soon after recalled.

6th December, 1671. Sir William Haywood, a well-known enthusiast of English history, came to visit me.

14th December, 1671. Went to see the Duke of Buckingham's silly show and rambling performance, called "The Recital,"29 poking fun at all plays, yet still quite inappropriate.

23rd December, 1671. The Councillors of the Board of Trade had dinner together at the Cock, on Suffolk street.

12th January, 1671-72. His Majesty renewed our lease of Sayes Court pastures for ninety-nine years, but he should have granted them to us in fee-farm, as he solemnly promised30 (and I hope he still will).

23rd January, 1672. I went to London to see Sir Richard Browne, my father-in-law, as he resigned his position as Clerk[Pg 75] of the Council to Joseph Williamson, Esq., who was accepted and knighted. The King had promised to give me this position many years ago, but after considering the renewal of our lease and other factors, I decided to hand it over to Sir Joseph. He treated us and the other clerks to a nice dinner at his home, and after dinner, we enjoyed a concert.

3rd February, 1672. An amazing snowfall; part of the week was spent discussing the commission of prisoners of war and giving instructions to our officers for a second conflict with the Dutch, as his Majesty chose the previous commissioners, including myself.

11th February, 1672. In the afternoon, that well-known convert, Monsieur Brevall, preached at the Abbey in English, very effectively and with a lot of eloquence. He had been a Capuchin but was much better educated than most in that order.

12th February, 1672. At the Council, we started discussions on how to improve the plantations by producing silks, galls, flax, senna, and other crops, and we looked into how nutmegs and cinnamon could be obtained and brought to Jamaica, since the soil and climate seem promising. Dr. Worsley was called in and offered several valuable suggestions to encourage this initiative. We decided to instruct the plantations that none of their ships should return home alone, but should wait for company and convoys. We also discussed selecting someone suitable to go as a commissioner to oversee their activities in New England and to report back periodically on how the people there are doing. In the future, we will meet at Whitehall.

20th February, 1672. Dr. Parr from Camberwell delivered a moving funeral sermon and tribute at the burial of our former pastor, Dr. Breton (who passed away on the 18th), focusing on "Blessed is the servant whom his Lord finds," etc. This good man expressed that he had never felt so deeply affected by any loss as he did by this one, except for the loss of King Charles, our martyr, and Archbishop Usher, for whom he had been chaplain. Dr. Breton had preached on the 28th and 30th of January: on Friday, after fasting all day to prepare his sermon for the following Sunday, he went to bed well but suddenly fell ill and died before help could arrive.[Pg 76]

Never had a parish experienced a greater loss. Not only was he an excellent preacher, well-suited for our diverse audience, but he also lived an exemplary life filled with charity, humility, and a helpful spirit, always engaging in good deeds. In his will, he left nearly £400 to the poor, and he specified that if any of his children died young, their portion should be used for that purpose. Personally, I lost a dear friend who had an exceptional love for me and my family.

25th February, 1672. To London, to meet with the Bishop and Sir John Cutler, our patron, to introduce Mr. Frampton (later the Bishop of Gloucester).

1st March, 1672. A full Council of Plantations met to discuss the threat to the Leeward Islands from the French, who had captured some of our ships and started to disrupt our trade. They also debated whether the new Governor of St. Christopher should report to the Governor of Barbados. The discussion was intense and lengthy.

12th March, 1672. This was when we struck the first blow against the Dutch convoy of the Smyrna fleet, led by Sir Robert Holmes and Lord Ossory. We faced little but injuries and a proper scolding for attacking our neighbors before any war had been declared. They claimed the reason was that some time earlier, the Merlin yacht had sailed through the entire Dutch fleet, and their Admiral didn't acknowledge that insignificant boat. This was certainly a flimsy reason for a quarrel, unworthy of Christian neighbors. We're likely to suffer because of this. Lord Ossory often expressed his regret to me for being involved; he had too much sense and honor to support it, even though he had been pressured into joining the expedition. There’s no doubt we could have taken this incredibly wealthy fleet by surprise if it weren't for the greed and ambition of Holmes and Spragge, who split our forces and foolishly divided our fleet, thinking either could handle the Dutch convoy alone. However, they were so eager in their attacks on our separate fleets that, while we were engaged in battle, the merchant ships slipped away and reached safety in Holland.

A few days before this, the Treasurer of the Household, Sir Thomas Clifford, hinted to me, as a confidant, that his Majesty would CLOSE THE TREASURY (and,[Pg 77] accordingly, his Majesty was using a lot of treasure there to prepare for an intended conflict); but, he said, it would soon be open again, and everyone would be happy; for this bold man, who had been the sole adviser of the King to raid that sacred fund (though some claim it was Lord Ashley's advice, who was then Chancellor of the Exchequer), was so overconfident about the success of this disgraceful plan against the Smyrna merchants, as to push his Majesty into an action that not only lost the trust of his subjects and ruined many widows and orphans whose funds were lent to him but also damaged the reputation of his Exchequer forever, which had previously been held in such high regard that he could have commanded half the wealth of the nation.

The reputation of this bank was seriously damaged, which greatly upset the people, and after that, the King’s affairs never really thrived. It didn’t cover the costs of the planned war, and then it just disappeared, I’m not sure how.

To this followed the King's declaration for universal tolerance; Catholics and a multitude of different sects were now openly participating in their public gatherings. This was attributed to the same council, with Clifford allegedly swaying towards Rome, and Lord Arlington was not free from suspicion of catering to that group, but as it has since been shown, and was clearly seen at the time, this greatly weakened the Church of England and its Episcopal governance, as intended. I'm not saying this is my own opinion, but rather what others were discussing and thinking, who were observers; I believe there could have been some concessions made without harming the current establishment, carefully managed. However, to loosen control in this way and then think they could just regain it easily was a misguided strategy and extremely harmful. The truth is, our Bishops lost their chance; had they maintained a firm hold on the King's restoration, as they easily could have, the Church of England would have thrived without disruption. Instead, they were negligent and eager for other kinds of gains while the King allowed them to reap a reward, with which, without any injustice, he could have compensated many brave gentlemen for their service who had ruined themselves during the recent rebellion.[Pg 78]

21st March, 1672. I visited the shores in my area of Kent and saw several injured and suffering men who had been in the Smyrna battle. I also went to check out the newly started Fort of Tilbury; it’s a royal project, for sure, and it will one day control a major city before they even realize it.

23rd March, 1672. Captain Cox, one of the Navy Commissioners, provided me with a yacht, and I sailed to Sheerness to check out the newly completed fort; several locations on both sides of the Swale and Medway to Gillingham and Upnore are also equipped with forts and batteries to secure the position of our warships at Chatham and protect our base.

24th March, 1672. I watched the surgeon amputate the leg of a wounded sailor, a strong and brave man who endured it with unbelievable patience, without being tied to his chair, as is usually the case during such painful procedures. I barely had the courage to be there. Since it wasn't amputated high enough, gangrene set in, and the second surgery ultimately cost the poor man his life.

Lord! What hardships are people subjected to, and what chaos and trouble do the greed, anger, and ambition of rulers cause in the world!

25th March, 1672. I traveled to Canterbury, Dover, Deal, the Isle of Thanet, via Sandwich, and then to Margate. We had plenty of severely injured men here, and the King sent his head surgeon, Sergeant Knight, to meet me, while Dr. Waldrond accompanied me throughout the journey. After arranging accommodations for the wounded, I returned through a countryside that was the best cultivated I had ever seen, with every field as flat as a bowling green, and the fences, trees, and farming in such impressive order that it filled me with joy after the distressing sights I had just experienced. Noticing that almost every tall tree had a weathercock on its top branch, with some trees having half a dozen, I found out that on a particular holiday, the farmers celebrate by feasting their workers; during this event, they put up these cocks as a kind of celebration.

On my way back to Rochester, I went to make arrangements for building a strong, tall wall around a house I had rented from a gentleman in a place called Hartlip, for a prison, paying £50 in annual rent. I appointed a Provost-Marshal and other officers, returning via Feversham. On the 30th, I attended a sermon at Rochester cathedral, and then I arrived at Sayes Court on the first of April.

4th April, 1672. I went to check out the show put on by the Catholics at Somerset House and York House, where the French Ambassador had arranged for a display of our Blessed Savior at the Last Supper with his disciples, using lifelike figures and puppets made of wax. They were dressed elaborately and seated around a large table, in a room that was beautifully decorated and lit with countless lamps and candles. This was open to everyone; the whole city came to see it. The Roman Catholics had gained such freedom at this time.

16th April, 1672. Sat in Council, preparing Lord Willoughby's commission and instructions as Governor of Barbados and the Caribbean Islands.

17th April, 1672. Met for official matters in the Star Chamber.

19th April, 1672. At the Council, we are preparing instructions for Colonel Stapleton, who is now set to become the Governor of St. Christopher's, and we heard the complaints from the Jamaican merchants about the Spaniards for preventing them from cutting logwood on the mainland, where they have no justification.

21st April, 1672. To my Lord of Canterbury, to request him to persuade Sir John Cutler, the sponsor, to find us a serious and knowledgeable person, instead of a beginner.

30th April, 1672. Congratulated Mr. Treasurer Clifford on his new title of Baron.

2nd May, 1672. My son, John, was officially admitted to the Middle Temple by Sir Francis North, his Majesty's Solicitor-General, who later became Chancellor. I pray God bless this new start, as my goal is for him to truly focus on studying law.

10th May, 1672. I received a letter from the Council instructing me to go immediately to his Majesty, whom I met in Pall-Mall, St. James's Park. When his Majesty approached me from the group, he ordered me to head straight to the coast and observe the movements of both the Dutch fleet and ours, as the Duke and many of our best people were already sailing from Portsmouth through the Downs, where an encounter was anticipated.[Pg 80]

11th May, 1672. Went to Chatham. 12th. Listened to a sermon in Rochester Cathedral.

13th May, 1672. To Canterbury; visited Dr. Bargrave, my old travel buddy from Italy, and a great expert.

14th May, 1672. I went to Dover, but the fleet didn’t show up until the 16th, when the Duke of York, along with his squadron and the French fleet, totaling 170 ships (over 100 of which were warships), sailed past after the Dutch had just retreated. I don't think I've ever seen such a bold and impressive navy on the seas. It was both a magnificent and daunting sight to see them pass by, heading east through the straits between Dover and Calais on a beautiful day. The wind was blowing so hard that I couldn’t easily board, and they quickly disappeared from view. The next day, after visiting our prisoners and the Castle, and greeting the Governor, I took a horse to Margate. From the top of the North Foreland Lighthouse (a brick tower with an iron cradle at the top where a man tends a large coal fire all year round to guide sailors when the nights are dark), we could see our fleet at anchor. The next morning, they weighed anchor and sailed out of sight to the northeast.

19th May, 1672. Went to Margate; and the next day, I was taken to meet an impressive widow, raised as a farmers’ daughter, and I think of tall stature, wealthy, attractive, and very hardworking. She reminded me of Deborah and Abigail; her house was abundantly filled with all kinds of local produce, all grown by her, and all her amenities were so solid, tidy, and well organized; she herself was so cheerful and welcoming; and her land was so well-kept and expertly managed that I was filled with admiration for her efficiency.

This town is mostly made up of brewers who produce a specific strong ale, and they primarily trade in malt, among other things. Beyond that, it has a rough layout and a poor harbor, with a small fort that isn’t very significant. The island is also not well organized; however, when it comes to farming and agriculture, it surpasses any other part of England due to the precise way they cultivate their land, to the point of being meticulous and competitive.

We went past Rickborough, saw Reculvers, and then walked through what felt like a lovely garden to Canterbury.[Pg 81]

24th May, 1672. I went to London and reported to His Majesty about my journey, informing him that I had prepared everything for any situation, and then returned home feeling quite exhausted.

31st May, 1672. I got another order to head to the beach; so I went to Rochester, where I found many wounded, sick, and prisoners who had just been brought ashore after the battle on the 28th, in which the Earl of Sandwich, an amazing person and my close friend, along with several others I cared about, were lost. My Lord (who was Admiral of the Blue) was on the "Prince," which was burned, one of the best warships that ever sailed the seas. Along with this brave man, a son of Sir Charles Cotterell (Master of the Ceremonies), and a son of Sir Charles Harbord (his Majesty's Surveyor-General), both valiant and exceptionally accomplished young men, full of virtue and courage, could have saved themselves; but they chose to die with my Lord, whom they honored and loved more than their own lives.

Here, I can’t help but reflect on the past. It was just a day or two ago when I went to Whitehall to say goodbye to his Lordship, who was staying in the Privy-Garden. He shook my hand and told me goodbye, saying he didn’t think he would see me again. I noticed something ominous in his expression: "No," he said, "they won't let me live. If I had lost a fleet (referring to his return from Bergen when he captured the East India prize), I would have fared better; but, as it pleases God—I must do something, though I don’t know what, to save my reputation." He hinted something like that to me; then I took my leave. I clearly remember that the Duke of Albemarle and my current Lord Clifford, for reasons I don’t understand, didn’t have a high opinion of his courage. Despite being an able and experienced seaman (which neither of them were), he always brought back the King’s ships without loss, even if he didn’t show as many signs of true bravery as the boldest of them. I can attest that, in the recent war, his own ship was shot up like a colander. The issue was that he completely opposed this war from the start and hated the idea of attacking the Smyrna fleet. He wasn’t in favor of Clifford’s reckless expedition at Bergen, nor was he as aggressive and confident as the Duke of Albemarle, who thought he could defeat the Dutch with just one squadron. My Lord Sandwich was both wise and brave, always managing his affairs successfully with minimal loss; he believed in careful thought and reason, while they were all about action and slaughter without any strategy. This led to whispers that my Lord Sandwich wasn’t as brave because he wasn’t reckless, knowing how devastating it was to lose a fleet like the one under his command, for which these same people would have criticized him from the other side. I’m sure this troubled him and made him fight fiercely, like a lion, even in the toughest battles, where the bravest among the rest, seeing him engaged while so many ships surrounded him, dared not, or wouldn’t, come to his aid, even though some of them could have. Thus, this brave man perished to satisfy the pride and jealousy of some I mentioned.

The loss of one of the most accomplished individuals, not just in this country but in any other, is truly lamentable. He was knowledgeable about maritime matters, politics, mathematics, and music. He had undertaken various diplomatic missions, was kind and accommodating, disciplined, pure, exceptionally talented, a true nobleman, and a great asset to the Court and his Prince. Moreover, there’s no one left who even comes close to his many virtues.

He did, I admit, serve the tyrant Cromwell when he was younger, but it was without any malice, as a soldier looking for fortune; and he willingly went along with it, even with joy, bringing an entire fleet with him from the Sound at the first news of his Majesty's return. I genuinely believe he is as loyal a subject as anyone who was not his friend. I am still deeply upset about this significant loss, and I can't think about it without feeling emotional.

2nd June, 1672. Trinity Sunday, I was in Rochester; and on the 5th, a funeral was held in the Cathedral for Monsieur Rabiniére, Rear Admiral of the French squadron, a brave man who died from his battle wounds. I organized the ceremony as respectfully as I could, inviting the Mayor and Aldermen to attend in their formal attire. Sir Jonas Atkins was present with his guards, along with the Dean and Prebendaries; one of his countrymen delivered a eulogy at the edge of his grave, which I arranged to be dug in the choir. This is elaborated on in that day’s "Gazette"; Colonel Reymes, my fellow commissioner, was kind enough to accompany me from London, even though it wasn’t his area of jurisdiction; indeed, I felt the pressure of both these wars much more than any of my colleagues, who had little involvement in theirs. I visited Upnore Castle, which I found reasonably well-defended, but not particularly significant.

Next day, I went to the fleet, now anchored at the buoy of the "Nore," where I met His Majesty, the Duke, Lord Arlington, and all the important figures, on the "Charles," which was lying in a terrible state. But the absence of Lord Sandwich made my loss even more painful and highlighted the foolishness of risking such a brave fleet and losing so many good men, all for no reason other than that the Dutch were more industrious than us and better at everything except envy.

At Sheerness, I briefed His Majesty and His Royal Highness about my duties and went back to Queenborough; the next day, I had lunch at Major Dorel's, the Governor of Sheerness; then I went to Rochester; and the following day, home.

12th June, 1672. To London to see His Majesty, to ask for money for the sick and wounded, which he promised me.

19th June, 1672. Back to London again to ask for the same thing.

21st June, 1672. At a Council of Plantations. Most of this week has been spent caring for the sick and injured.

3rd July, 1672. Lord Sandwich's funeral took place, traveling by water to Westminster, in grand style.

31st July, 1672. I hosted the Maids of Honor (including one I greatly admired for her numerous and remarkable qualities31) at a comedy this afternoon, and then went home.

1st August, 1672. I attended the engagement of Lord Arlington's only daughter (a lovely girl if there ever was one32) to the Duke of Grafton, the King's illegitimate son by[Pg 84] the Duchess of Cleveland; the Archbishop of Canterbury officiated, with the King and the nobles present. I received a token from my Lady; however, I didn’t feel much joy about the event for several reasons.

18th August, 1672. Sir James Hayes, Secretary to Prince Rupert, had dinner with me; after dinner, I was sent to Gravesend to take care of no fewer than 800 sick men. That night, I arrived at the fleet at the buoy of the "Nore," where I spoke with the King and the Duke; and, after dinner the next day, I returned to Gravesend.

1st September, 1672. I spent this week trying to raise money and reading my papers about the first Holland war to my Lord Clifford. Our Council of Plantations met at Lord Shaftesbury's (Chancellor of the Exchequer) to review and revise the draft of our new Patent, combining the Council of Trade with our political roles. After that, I went home, preparing for another trip to the seaside to gather as many of the men who had recovered on board the fleet as possible.

8th September, 1672. I was in Gravesend, then headed to Rochester, returning on the 11th.

15th September, 1672. Dr. Duport, Greek Professor at Cambridge, preached before the King, on 1 Timothy vi. 6. Not a great preacher, but a very respectable and knowledgeable man.

25th September, 1672. I had dinner at Lord John Berkeley's, who had just arrived from Ireland, where he served as Deputy. It was in his new house, or rather palace; I've heard it cost him nearly £30,000. It’s very well built and has many impressive rooms, but they aren’t very practical, as it has only one Corps de Logis; they’re all state rooms with no closets. The staircase is made of cedar, and the furniture is fit for royalty: however, the kitchen and stables are poorly located, and the corridor is even worse, as it doesn’t connect well to the wings it leads to. On the bright side, the forecourt is magnificent, as are the stables; but above all, the gardens are unmatched due to the uneven terrain and a lovely piscina. I suggested planting the holly hedges on the terrace. The porticos are modeled after a house designed by Palladio; unfortunately, it’s the worst one in his book, although my good friend, Mr. Hugh May, Lord John’s architect, made it happen.[Pg 85]

26th September, 1672. I took my Lord H. Howard (who is about to be made Earl of Norwich and Earl Marshal of England) to dinner at Sir Robert Clayton's, who is now the Sheriff of London, in his new house where we had an extravagant feast; it’s definitely built for a high-ranking official, at an outrageous cost. The cedar dining room is painted with the story of the Giants' War, done exceptionally well by Mr. Streeter, but the figures are placed too close to the eye.

6th October, 1672. Dr. Thistlethwaite preached at Whitehall on Rev. v. 2—a young but talented preacher. I received the holy Communion, with Dr. Blandford, Bishop of Worcester, and Dean of the Chapel, leading the service. I had lunch at Lord Clifford's with Lord Mulgrave, Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir Robert Holmes.

8th October, 1672. I said goodbye to Lady Sunderland, who was heading to Paris to join my Lord, who is now the ambassador there. She invited me to stay for dinner at Leicester House, and afterward, she called for Richardson, the famous fire-eater. He consumed brimstone on glowing coals in front of us, chewing and swallowing them; he melted a beer glass and ate it completely; then, taking a live coal on his tongue, he placed a raw oyster on it, which was blown on with bellows until it flamed and sparkled in his mouth, and remained there until the oyster opened up and was fully cooked. Next, he melted pitch and wax with sulfur, which he drank down as it burned; I saw it blazing in his mouth for quite some time; he also picked up a thick piece of iron, like the ones laundresses use in their smoothing boxes, when it was scorching hot, held it between his teeth, then in his hand, and tossed it around like a stone; but I noticed he didn’t want to hold that one for too long; then he stood on a small pot and, bending his body, took a glowing iron with his mouth from between his feet without touching the pot or the ground with his hands, along with various other incredible feats.

13th October, 1672. After the sermon (having been called beforehand), I went to see my Lord Keeper, Sir Orlando Bridgeman, at Essex House, where our new patent was announced and read. It established that those of us on the Council of Plantations would now also be part of the Council of Trade, merging both groups. After the patent was read, we all took our oaths and then left.[Pg 86]

24th October, 1672. The Council met, with the Earl of Shaftesbury as our president, swearing in our secretary and his assistants, Mr. Locke, a highly educated gentleman and student at Christ Church, Mr. Lloyd, and Mr. Frowde. We sent a letter to Sir Thomas Linch, the Governor of Jamaica, informing him of a Dutch plan concerning that island.

27th October, 1672. I went to hear that famous preacher, Dr. Frampton, at St. Giles's, on Psalm xxxix. 6. This preacher had been to Jerusalem twice and was not only a very devout and holy man but also exceptional in the pulpit for stirring emotions.

8th November, 1672. At the Council, we discussed the consulate of Leghorn. I was on the committee with Sir Humphry Winch, the chairman, to review the laws of His Majesty's various plantations and colonies in the West Indies, etc.

15th November, 1672. Many merchants were called in regarding the consulate of Venice, which led to significant arguments; the most prominent considered it pointless. Since it was the Queen-Consort's birthday, there was an extraordinary display of elegance, and a ball was held at Court.

30th November, 1672. I was selected as the secretary for the Royal Society.

21st December, 1672. Established the Venetian consulate.

1st January, 1672-73. After the public prayers in the chapel at Whitehall, I sincerely thanked God for all the blessings He gave me last year and humbly asked for His guidance in the year ahead. I went home, preparing to bury my poor deceased servant (Adams), who died of pleurisy.

3rd January, 1673. My son has now published his version of "Raptinus Hortorum."

28th January, 1673. I visited Don Francisco de Melos, the Portuguese Ambassador, who showed me his interesting collection of books and pictures. He was a man of good character and a virtuous person.

6th February, 1673. To the Council about addressing the misuse of the dyers with saundus, and other counterfeit substances; examined various individuals in that trade.

23rd February, 1673. The Bishop of Chichester gave a great sermon in front of the King on Colossians 2:14-15, as he can only do things well.[Pg 87]

5th March, 1673. Our new vicar, Mr. Holden, preached in Whitehall chapel on Psalm iv. 6, 7. This gentleman is an excellent and well-rounded scholar, a good and wise man; however, he doesn't have the popular style of preaching, nor is he really suited for our straightforward and common audience, unlike his predecessor. Nevertheless, there was no comparison between their depth of knowledge. But with time and experience, he may develop a more practical approach than his current one of university lectures and scholarship, which has now generally fallen out of favor for what is much more useful.

15th March, 1673. I listened to the speech given to the Lords in their House by Sir Samuel Tuke, representing the Papists, asking to repeal the penal laws; and then I had lunch with Colonel Norwood.

16th March, 1673. Dr. Pearson, Bishop of Chester, preached on Hebrews ix. 14; a truly exceptional sermon from one of the most knowledgeable theologians in our country. I had lunch at my Lord Arlington's with the Duke and Duchess of Monmouth; she is one of the smartest and most cunning women around, and she has a lot of wit. Also present was the learned Isaac Vossius.

During Lent, there’s consistently outstanding preaching by the most distinguished bishops and theologians in the country.

26th March, 1673. I was initiated as a younger brother of the Trinity House, alongside my esteemed and longtime friend, Lord Ossory (the eldest son of the Duke of Ormond), with my father-in-law, Sir Richard Browne, currently serving as Master of that Society; following this, there was a lavish feast.

29th March, 1673. I took my son to the Bishop of Chichester, the wise and devout Dr. Peter Gunning, to be taught by him before he received the Holy Sacrament. He gave him exceptional advice, which I hope God will guide him by and hold onto for his entire life; and oh, how I wish I had received such blessings and guidance when I was first welcomed into that sacred ordinance!

30th March, 1673. Easter Sunday. My son and I took part in the blessed Communion, marking his first time, along with an extra special week of preparation. I pray that God makes him a genuine and[Pg 88] good Christian, while I work to instill in him the fear and love of God and fulfill my responsibilities as a father.

At the sermon coram Rege, delivered by Dr. Sparrow, Bishop of Exeter, to a very crowded audience; I stayed to see if, as usual, the Duke of York would take Communion with the King; but he didn’t, much to everyone’s surprise. This was the second year in a row he had skipped it, especially just a day before Parliament was set to meet, which had recently passed a strict law against the rise of Catholicism. This caused great distress and outrage across the nation since the heir, and the son of a martyr for the Protestant faith, was seen to be abandoning it. Only God knows what the outcome of this will be, and wise people are worried.

11th April, 1673. I had dinner with the representatives assigned for the treaty of Nimeguen.

17th April, 1673. I took Lady Tuke to thank the Countess of Arlington for talking to the King on her behalf, since she is one of the Queen Consort's ladies. She brought us up to her new dressing room at Goring House, which had a bed, two mirrors, silver jars, vases, cabinets, and other incredibly luxurious furniture that I had rarely seen; we had reached this level of excess not only at Court but almost everywhere, even to the point of extravagance and lavishness.

Dr. Compton, brother of the Earl of Northampton, preached on 1 Corinthians 5:11-16, demonstrating the Church's authority in deciding on neutral matters; this respectable person's skill isn't in preaching, but he is expected to become a dignified and sincere good man.

I saw her Majesty's lavish dressing table in her room, made entirely of solid gold, given to her by the King, worth £4,000.

26th April, 1673. Dr. Lamplugh preached at St. Martin's, and I took part in the Holy Sacrament afterward, as required by the recent Act of Parliament, which mandated everyone in civil or military office to receive it within a month before two authentic witnesses, under threat of a £500 penalty. This was documented on parchment to be later submitted in the Court of Chancery or another Court of Record. I fulfilled this requirement at the Chancery bar, as I was one of the Council of Plantations and Trade; I also took the oath of allegiance and supremacy then, signing the clause in the Act against Transubstantiation.

25th May, 1673. My son was appointed a junior member of the Trinity House. The new master was Sir J. Smith, one of the Navy Commissioners, a strong seaman, who had stepped in and saved the Duke from dying in a fire ship during the recent war.

28th May, 1673. I took a guy named Withers, a clever shipbuilder, to the King to show him a new way of constructing ships.

29th May, 1673. I watched the Italian comedy at the court this afternoon.

10th June, 1673. My Lord Viscount Cornbury and his wife, Lady Frances Hyde, sister to the Duchess of York, along with Mrs. Dorothy Howard, maid of honor, came to visit and have dinner with me. After dinner, we went to see the impressive camp on Blackheath that was set up to invade Holland; or, as some suspected, for another design. From there, we went to the Italian glasshouse in Greenwich, where they blew glass made of finer material than that of Murano in Venice.

13th June, 1673. Mrs. Sedley,33 daughter of Sir Charles, came to visit us along with other ladies of status. He wasn't exactly the most virtuous, but he was a clever guy.

19th June, 1673. I congratulated the new Lord Treasurer, Sir Thomas Osborne, a man I had been close with in Paris, where he was a regular guest at my father-in-law's home and at our meals. Because of this, I was overly confident that I would win his favor, just like I had with his predecessor. However, I realize now that I'll never find such a friend again, and I wasted my opportunity, never thinking that Lord Clifford would so foolishly give up his position, which shocked everyone when it came to his receiving Communion. I believe he avoided it more out of a promise he made to please the Duke than out of any bias against the Protestant faith, although I noticed he was uncertain about it for quite some time.

23rd June, 1673. I went to London to join our Council, who went together to congratulate the new Lord[Pg 90] Treasurer, although he wasn't really a friend of ours since he was promoted by my Lord Arlington, whom he despised.

26th June, 1673. Visitors from the Court came to have dinner with me and check out the army that is still camped on Blackheath.

6th July, 1673. This evening I attended the funeral of my dear and wonderful friend, that good man and accomplished gentleman, Sir Robert Murray, Secretary of Scotland. He was buried by the order of His Majesty in Westminster Abbey.

25th July, 1673. I went to Tunbridge Wells to visit my Lord Clifford, the former Lord Treasurer, who was there more to distract his mind than to rest his body; people believed he was so committed to the Duke that he would rather resign his important and respected position than take the Test, which was required to hold any office. I’m sure this saddened him deeply and ultimately broke his spirit; even though he brought music and company to entertain him, and when I visited, he had me stay in his own room and wouldn’t let me leave, I could see he was struggling internally. Being naturally rough and ambitious, he couldn’t tolerate the situation he had created for himself and the need to submit to it. Additionally, he saw the Dutch war, which he had significantly influenced, as well as the closing of the Exchequer, as very unfavorable. His strong spirit couldn’t handle these setbacks. After staying there for two or three days, I received permission from my Lord to return.

In my journey, I saw my Lord of Dorset's house at Knowle, near Sevenoaks, a large, old-fashioned house.

30th July, 1673. To Council, where the matter of transporting wool was presented to us.

31st July, 1673. I went to check out the portraits of all the judges and notable figures in the Long Robe, recently painted by Mr. Wright and displayed in Guildhall, costing the city £1,000. Most of them really resemble the people they depict, although I never thought of Wright as a particularly significant artist.

13th August, 1673. I rode to Durdans, where I had dinner at my friend Lord Berkeley's place, Berkeley Castle, to celebrate his wedding anniversary. There, I met the Duchess of Albemarle and some other guests, and I returned home late that evening.[Pg 91]

15th August, 1673. My Lord Chancellor, the Earl of Shaftesbury, came to visit me.

18th August, 1673. My Lord Clifford, having just returned from Tunbridge and getting ready for Devonshire, I went to say goodbye at Wallingford House; he was packing up paintings, most of which depicted hunting wild animals and large scenes of bull-baiting, bear-baiting, and so on. I found him in his study, where I returned several important state papers and other documents he had given me when he asked me to write the "History of the Holland War," along with some private letters in which he thanked my Lord Arlington. Arlington, who was a private gentleman from a noble family but with little fortune, had helped him rise from almost nothing. The first step was his election to Parliament, then he was knighted, and later made one of the Commissioners for the sick and wounded. We spent a long time discussing that. Then, after Hugh Pollard's death, he became Comptroller of the Household and a Privy Councillor, yet still my brother Commissioner. Following Lord Fitz-Harding's death, who was Treasurer of the Household, he wrote to Lord Arlington asking him to help him get that position, which he considered the peak of his ambition. These letters were filled with such humble acknowledgments and displays of loyalty that I had never seen before. When the Earl of Southampton died, he became one of the Commissioners of the Treasury. The King wanted to consolidate this role into one person's hands, and under the guise of advocating for his patron, Lord Arlington, my Lord Clifford undermined him and secured the position for himself, assuring the King that Lord Arlington didn't want it. In fact, Lord Arlington later told me that his trust in Lord Clifford made him careless, and his particular affection for him made him intent on passing it on to Lord Clifford, everyone knowing how much he valued peace and quiet as he grew older, yet he was completely unaware of this betrayal. This was a huge act of ingratitude from Lord Clifford, keeping my Lord Arlington in the dark, constantly claiming he was advancing his interests, which were the Duke's, whose favor Lord Clifford had now gained; but that pursuit definitely led to his downfall, mainly because he went too far in his ambitions.

For the rest, my Lord Clifford was a brave, honest gentleman, ambitious but not greedy; generous, passionate, and a truly loyal friend to me in particular. When he stepped down from his position, I felt like I had lost all hope and chances. My goals weren't lofty; I just wanted to claim what his Majesty owed to my father-in-law, which was my biggest ambition, and I would have definitely secured it if this friend had stayed. Sir Thomas Osborn, who took over, was even more indebted to my father-in-law and his family, and he was an old friend of mine, but he was much more arrogant and less accommodating. I didn't expect much from him. He was a man of great natural talent, but he had no sense of generosity or gratitude.

Taking leave of Lord Clifford, he shook my hand and, looking at me intently, said goodbye, adding, "Mr. Evelyn, I will never see you again." "No!" I replied, "My Lord, what do you mean by this? I hope to see you often and in great position again." "No, Mr. Evelyn, don’t expect it. I will never see this place, this city, or the Court again," or something along those lines. In this way, not without nearly shedding tears, I parted from him. It wasn’t long after that I heard the news of his death, and from some people I believe knew, I learned he took his own life after a deep depression. This isn’t something I confidently affirm, but a servant who lived in the house and later with Sir Robert Clayton, the Lord Mayor, along with others, reported it. When I mentioned something like this to Mr. Prideaux, one of his trustees, he was reluctant to discuss it.

It was reported that, after sending his servant away unexpectedly one morning and locking himself in, he hanged himself with his cravat on the bedpost. His servant, unhappy with the way he was dismissed, looked through the keyhole (as I remember) and saw his master hanging. He broke in before he was completely dead, and after taking him down, he coughed up a lot of blood. He was heard to say, "Well; let men say what they want, there is a God, a just God above"; after which he said no more. If this is true, it’s tragic. Really, he was the main reason for the Dutch war and all the bloodshed at Bergen during the attack on the Smyrna fleet, along with that whole conflict.

This reminds me of what my Lord Chancellor Shaftesbury told not just me, but all my fellow members of the Council of Foreign Plantations. One day, while we were sitting in council and discussing a recent incident, he shared this notable story: when he was still Sir Thomas Clifford, he had a conversation where he mentioned that he would become one of the most important men in England. "Well," he said, "I know I’ll be a great man. Don’t think I’m being fanciful or vain; I’m sure I’ll be mighty, but it won’t last long. I won’t keep it, and I’ll die a violent death." "What, your horoscope says that?" my Lord asked. "It doesn’t matter; it will happen as I’ve said." "Well," replied Lord Chancellor Shaftesbury, "if I believed that, I wouldn’t try to become a great man. I’d either avoid seeking power or find a way to protect myself from that fate."

This my Lord confirmed in my hearing in front of several gentlemen and noblemen sitting in council at Whitehall. I am more confident about it, recalling what Sir Edward Walker (Garter King-at-Arms) had also told me a long time ago, when he was first made a Lord. He spoke about taking his family history to Lord Clifford when he was made a peer. Finding him busy, he suggested he go into his study and keep himself occupied there until he had time to discuss some matters about his family. There lay, Sir Edward said, on his table, his horoscope and birth chart, along with some writing underneath it, where he read that he would be raised to the highest position in the state that could be granted to him, but that he would not enjoy it for long and would die, or something to that effect; I think (but can’t say for sure) it mentioned a violent death. Sir Edward confirmed this to both me and Sir Richard Browne, and I couldn't help but note this extraordinary incident in these memoirs.

14th September, 1673. Dr. Creighton, son of the late eloquent Bishop of Bath and Wells, preached to the Household on Isaiah, lvii. 8.

15th September, 1673. I obtained £4,000 from the Lords[Pg 94] of the Treasury and addressed various issues concerning the sick and injured.

16th September, 1673. To the Council, regarding the selection of a new Secretary.

17th September, 1673. I went with some friends to visit Mr. Bernard Grenville at Abs Court in Surrey; an old house in a lovely park.

23rd September, 1673. I went to see Paradise, a room in Hatton Garden filled with beautifully painted representations of all kinds of animals on boards or cloth, crafted to stand, move, fly, crawl, roar, and make their various sounds. The man who gave us the tour had us laughing out loud with his serious poetry.

15th October, 1673. To the Council, and Mr. Locke was sworn in as secretary, Dr. Worsley having passed away.

27th October, 1673. To Council, regarding sending support to reclaim New York: and then we reviewed the commission and instructions for Sir Jonathan Atkins, the new Governor of Barbados.

5th November, 1673. Tonight, the young people of the city burned a figure of the Pope in protest after parading it through the streets in celebration. They were upset with the Duke for changing his religion and marrying an Italian woman.

30th November, 1673. On St. Andrew's Day, I first met the new Duchess of York and her mother, the Duchess of Modena.

1st December, 1673. To Gresham College, where the city had invited the Royal Society through many of their leading aldermen and officials, who treated us to refreshments to welcome us to our first meeting place, from which we had been displaced to make way for the City, as they turned it into their Exchange after the terrible fire, until their new Exchange was completed, which it now was. The Society had been hosted and had met at Arundel House until now.

2nd December, 1673. I had lunch with some friends and visited those who were sick; then, I went to an almshouse where there were prayers and assistance, with some people very ill and in distress. It was one of the best days I've ever had in my life.

3rd December, 1673. At dinner was my Lord Lockhart, the appointed Ambassador to France, a brave and composed individual.[Pg 95]

9th December, 1673. I saw the Italian Duchess and her brother, Prince Reynaldo, again.

20th December, 1673. I had a conversation with some knowledgeable strangers who were born not far from Old Nineveh. They assured me that the ruins still exist, and the buildings, vaults, pillars, and magnificent fragments are vast and amazing; 34 but they couldn't provide much information about the Tower of Babel that satisfied me. However, their description of the beauty and fragrance of the country, which is great for health and happiness, pleased me; they spoke so clearly about the excellent air and climate compared to our cloudy and gloomy country.

24th December, 1673. Visited the prisoners at Ludgate, getting instructions on the release of some.

30th December, 1673. I thanked God for his endless kindness to me over the past year and asked for his mercy and protection for the year ahead; afterwards, I invited my neighbors to spend the day with me.

5th January, 1673-74. I attended an Italian opera, the first of its kind in England.

9th January, 1674. Called by his Majesty to write something against the Dutch regarding the duties of the Flag and Fishing. Came back with some documents.

25th March, 1674. I had dinner at Knightsbridge with the Bishops of Salisbury, Chester, and Lincoln, my old friends.

29th May, 1674. His Majesty's birthday and Restoration. Mr. Demalhoy, Roger L'Estrange, and several of my friends came over to have dinner with me to celebrate the happy occasion.

27th June, 1674. Mr. Dryden, the famous poet and now laureate, came to visit me. It was the anniversary of my marriage and the first day I moved into my new little room and office, which I built below toward the south courtyard, at the east end of the parlor.

9th July, 1674. Paid £360 for the purchase of Dr. Jacombe's son's share in the mill and land at Deptford, which I bought from the Beechers.

22nd July, 1674. I went to Windsor with my wife and son to visit my daughter Mary, who was staying with Lady Tuke, and to pay my respects to the King. The next day, I attended a grand event at Sir Robert Holmes's at[Pg 96] Cranbourne Lodge, in the Forest; there were the King, the Queen, the Duke, the Duchess, and all the Court. I returned in the evening with Sir Joseph Williamson, who was recently appointed Secretary of State. He was the son of a poor clergyman from somewhere in Cumberland, educated at Queen's College, Oxford, where he became a fellow; then he traveled with ... and, upon returning when the King was restored, began working as a clerk under Mr. Secretary Nicholas. When Sir Henry Bennett (now Lord Arlington) took over, Williamson was transferred to him, who preferred comfort over work (though he was capable if he had focused on it) and left most matters to Williamson. In a short time, he let Williamson into the details of affairs so much that (as his Lordship himself told me) it became necessary to promote him; and so, through his cleverness, skill, and charm, he became the principal Secretary, absolutely dependent on Lord Arlington and rather ungrateful. It has been the fate of this helpful favorite to elevate those who soon forget their beginnings. Sir Joseph was a musician, skilled at Jeu de Goblets, very formal, a strict master to his servants, but so close with my Lord O'Brien that shortly after that gentleman's death, he married his widow,35 who, being the sister and heir of the Duke of Richmond, brought him a considerable fortune. It was said they didn't get along as well after marriage as they had before. She faced much criticism for marrying someone so lowly, given her connection to the Royal family.

6th August, 1674. I went to Groombridge to visit my old friend, Mr. Packer. The house was built within a moat, in a wooded valley. The old house had been where the Duke of Orleans was held captive, taken by someone named Waller (who owned it at the time) during the battle of Agincourt. It’s now been torn down, and a new one built in its place, although a much better location would have been on the south side of the woods, on a gentle slope. Not far away is a large [Pg 97] chapel, built not long ago by Mr. Packer's father, as a promise he made when King Charles I returned from Spain in 1625, and dedicated to St. Charles. However, I’m not sure which saint that was at the time, because as a Protestant, I don’t believe it was Borromeo.

I went to check out my farm at Ripe, close to Lewes.

19th August, 1674. The King told me how very upset the Dutch were about my book "History of Commerce;" that the Dutch Ambassador had complained to him about what I wrote regarding the Flags and Fisheries, and asked for the book to be banned. However, he reassured me that he was really pleased with what I'd done and thanked me multiple times. Since it was just around the time of the treaty of Breda (it was actually meant to be published a few months earlier when we were still at odds), the King said he had to formally recall it; but he ordered that any copies seized publicly to appease the Ambassador should be immediately returned to the printer, and that neither he nor the seller should be bothered. The truth is, what bothered the Dutch was much less than what the King himself provided me with and insisted I publish, having made it be read to him before it went to print; but the mistake was that it should have been published before peace was declared. The uproar over the book's suppression caused it to be quickly bought up, which greatly benefited the stationer. It was nothing more than the preface I had prepared to include with my "History of the Whole War;" which I decided not to pursue any further.

21st August, 1674. In one of the meadows at the foot of the long terrace below Windsor Castle, works were set up to give the King a view of the city of Maestricht, which had just been captured by the French. Bastions, walls, ramparts, wooden defenses, ditches, horn-works, counter-scarps, etc., were built. It was attacked by the Duke of Monmouth (who had just returned from the actual siege) and the Duke of York, with a small army, to showcase their tactical skills. On Saturday night, they advanced, dug trenches, set up artillery, captured the counter-scarp and ravelin after a strong defense; big guns fired from both sides, grenades were launched, mines detonated, teams were sent out, attempts to lift the siege occurred, prisoners were taken, negotiations happened; and, in short, all the elements of a formal siege were on display, and what was most remarkable was that it all happened without disorder or accidents, much to the delight of a thousand spectators. Being night, it created a striking scene. Once the siege was over, I went back to London with Mr. Pepys, where we arrived around three in the morning.

15th September, 1674. To Council, regarding the retrieval of the English who remained in Surinam, etc., following our reconciliation with Holland.

21st September, 1674. I went to see the significant damage that Lord Arlington suffered from a fire at Goring House, which was completely destroyed overnight, resulting in a tremendous loss of tapestries, silverware, rare paintings, and cabinets; barely anything was saved of the finest and most luxurious furniture that any individual possessed in England. My lord and lady were both away in Bath.

6th October, 1674. The Lord Chief Baron Turner and Sergeant Wild, Recorder of London, came to see me.

20th October, 1674. At Lord Berkeley's, I talked with Sir Thomas Modiford, the former Governor of Jamaica, and Colonel Morgan, who led that daring mission from Nombre de Dios to Panama on the American mainland. He mentioned that 10,000 men could easily conquer all the Spanish Indies because they were so complacent. They seized a lot of loot, and even more would have been taken if they hadn't been betrayed and discovered before they arrived, which gave the Spaniards time to load their immense treasure onto ships that sailed away right in front of our men, who had no boats to pursue them. They set fire to Panama and devastated the surrounding area for sixty miles. The Spaniards were so lazy and untrained that they were afraid to fire a big cannon.

31st October, 1674. My birthday, 54th year of my life. Blessed be God! It was also preparation day for the Holy Sacrament, in which I participated the next day, asking for God's protection for the coming year and committing to a more holy life, even upon the Holy Book. The Lord assist and be gracious to me! Amen.

15th November, 1674. The anniversary of my baptism: I first heard that famous and great preacher, Dr. Burnet, author of the "History of the Reformation," on Colossians iii. 10, with such a flow of eloquence and richness of content, that it revealed him to be an extraordinary person.

Being Her Majesty's birthday, the Court was extremely lavish in clothing and jewelry, to the point of extravagance.

17th November, 1674. To Council, regarding the situation in Surinam, where the Dutch have kept some English people in prison since the first war in 1665.

19th November, 1674. I heard this incredible violinist, Signor Nicholao, along with other amazing musicians, and I've never heard anyone play that instrument better. His playing was so smooth, it made the violin sound like a human voice, and at times, it felt like an entire orchestra. He did amazing things with a single note and was a fantastic composer. There was also the talented lutenist, Dr. Wallgrave, but nothing compared to the violin in Nicholao's hands. He played such beautiful pieces that amazed us all.

2nd December, 1674. At Mr. Slingsby’s, the master of the mint and my good friend, who really loves music. I listened to Signor Francisco on the harpsichord, considered one of the best masters of that instrument in Europe; then Nicholao came with his violin and left everyone speechless, except Mrs. Knight, who sang incredibly well and certainly has the greatest range of any English woman; she had recently traveled in Italy and had significantly improved in that aspect.

15th December, 1674. I watched a comedy at night, at Court, performed exclusively by the ladies, including Lady Mary and Ann, the two daughters of His Royal Highness, and my good friend Mrs. Blagg, who played the lead role and did an amazing job. They were all adorned with jewels.

22nd December, 1674. I attended the performance of the "Pastoral," where Mrs. Blagg had close to £20,000 in jewels, of which she lost one valued at about £80, borrowed from the Countess of Suffolk. The crowd was so large that it's surprising she didn't lose more. The Duke covered the loss.

20th January, 1674-75. Went to see Mr. Streeter, that excellent painter of perspective and landscape, to comfort and encourage him to undergo surgery for the stone, with which that honest man was greatly suffering.

22nd March, 1675. Had dinner at Sir William Petty's with the Bishop of Salisbury and several distinguished guests.[Pg 100] We enjoyed a magnificent meal in a beautifully furnished home; the hosts were remarkable individuals. Sir William was the son of a humble man from somewhere in Sussex and was sent to school at Oxford, where he studied Philosophy but excelled mainly in Mathematics and Mechanics. He earned a Doctorate in Medicine and became well-known, not just for his knowledge but also for bringing a young woman back to life after she had been hanged for theft. After her body was requested (as was customary) for an anatomy lecture, he bled her, placed her in bed with a warm woman, and, using various means, revived her. The young scholars pooled together some money and married her off to a man by whom she had several children, and she lived another fifteen years, as I've been told. Sir William moved from Oxford to become a tutor to a neighbor of mine; then, when the rebels were splitting their gains in Ireland, he was hired to measure and divide the land, which he did for a set fee per acre. He executed this task so accurately that it not only gave him a significant amount of money but also allowed him to purchase an estate worth £4,000 a year. Later, he married the daughter of Sir Hardress Waller; she was known for her intelligence as well as her beauty, and she was a wise woman.

Sir William, among other inventions, created the double-bottomed ship, which ended up sinking, and he was criticized for being reckless, as it was lost in a storm in the Bay of Biscay, where, I believe, fifteen other ships also failed. This vessel had a flat bottom, which was very useful for entering shallow ports and navigating in small depths of water. It was made of two separate keels held together with large timbers, allowing a strong current to flow between them; it had an enormous broad sail. He still insists that it is feasible and extremely useful; he has often mentioned that he would take the risk to sail in a similar ship if he could find sailors and get permission from his Majesty to conduct a second trial, which is what the King named the ship at its launch.

The Map of Ireland created by Sir William Petty is considered the most accurate map ever made of any country. He promised to publish it, and I've heard it cost him almost £1,000 to have it engraved at[Pg 101] Amsterdam. There isn’t a better Latin poet alive when he takes the time for it, and he’s just as skilled in council and wise state matters. However, he’s extremely meticulous in analyzing all possible outcomes, so he only takes risks when there’s clear proof. No one in the world is his equal when it comes to managing manufacturing and improving trade, or governing a colony. If I were a Prince, I would make him my second Counselor, at the very least. Nothing is too difficult for him. Plus, he’s brave; which is why I have to mention a true story about him. When Sir Aleyn Brodrick sent him a challenge over a disagreement in Ireland, Sir William, although quite short-sighted, accepted the challenge. He suggested that they meet in a dark cellar with a hatchet or axe, which of course, the other man refused.

Sir William was, despite all this, playful and easy to talk to, friendly and polite, and had such a knack for mimicking others that he could take a topic and present it, first like a serious orthodox preacher, then switching to a Presbyterian style, then to a fanatic, a Quaker, a monk and friar, a Catholic priest, with such impressive gestures and changes in voice and tone that it was impossible not to be amazed. One would think he was several people or might even believe he was genuinely passionate and almost out of his mind; then he would shift to a serious discussion. However, he rarely agreed to showcase this talent and only did so among his closest friends. My Lord Duke of Ormond once managed to get him to perform and was nearly overwhelmed with admiration; but soon after, Sir William began to deliver a serious critique of the flaws and failures of some princes and governors, which, although he didn’t name anyone, struck the Duke—who was then the Lieutenant of Ireland—so acutely that he became quite uncomfortable and wished for the spirit he had raised to be quelled, as he couldn't stand such truths yet couldn't help being pleased by them. Eventually, he transitioned to a ridiculous topic and stepped down from the stool he had been standing on; but my lord wouldn’t allow him to preach any longer. He never could gain favor at Court because he outsmarted all the schemers who approached him. Having never encountered another mind quite like his, I feel compelled to mention these details, among many others I could share. When I, who knew him in humble circumstances, visited his grand palace, he himself would marvel at how he achieved it; it wasn't due to his taste or desire for luxurious furniture and contemporary curiosities, but because his elegant wife could tolerate nothing less than magnificent. He was very careless about his own appearance and had a philosophical attitude. "What a fuss is this!" he would say, "I can lie in straw with just as much satisfaction."

He is the author of the clever analyses of the mortality statistics known as Mr. Graunt; he also wrote the helpful discussion on wool manufacturing, along with several other works in the Royal Society's records. He wrote a paraphrase of the 104th Psalm in Latin verse that circulates in manuscript form and is unparalleled. In short, nothing is beyond his understanding.

26th March, 1675. Dr. Brideoak was chosen as Bishop of Chichester when Dr. Gunning was moved to Ely.

30th March, 1675. Dr. Allestree preached on Romans, vi. 3, the importance of being baptized and dying to sin; an outstanding sermon from a remarkable preacher.

25th April, 1675. Dr. Barrow, an outstanding, devoted, and incredibly knowledgeable man—scholar, mathematician, poet, traveler, and a remarkably humble person—gave a sermon at Whitehall to the household, based on Luke xx. 27, about love and charity towards our neighbors.

29th April, 1675. I presented my first lecture, "Of Earth and Vegetation," to the Royal Society following Sir Robert Southwell's lecture, "On Water," the previous week. The President and the Society requested me to publish it.

16th May, 1675. Today, my dear friend, Mrs. Blagg, got married at the Temple Church to my friend, Mr. Sidney Godolphin, Groom of the Bedchamber to his Majesty.

18th May, 1675. I went to visit Mr. Bathurst, a Spanish merchant and my neighbor.

31st May, 1675. I went with Lord Ossory to Dept[Pg 103]ford, where we appointed him Master of the Trinity Company.

2nd June, 1675. I attended a meeting with the Lords and Commons in the Painted Chamber, discussing the issue of imprisoning some of their members. On the 3rd, at another meeting, the Lords accused the Commons of their outrageous behavior, violating privileges, breaching Magna Carta, undermining the government, and using other serious and inflammatory language, highlighting the responsibilities and respect they owed to the Lords in Parliament, as noted in the records of Henry IV. This was set to cause a significant uproar.

15th June, 1675. This afternoon, Monsieur Querouaille and his wife, the parents of the famous beauty and favorite at Court, came to see Sir R. Browne, with whom they were close friends in Brittany when Sir Richard was sent to Brest to oversee the King's maritime affairs during the later part of his exile. This gentleman lived less than a mile from Brest; Sir Richard met him there and, having been treated very kindly, felt it was only right to return the gesture here, which we did. He appeared to be a soldierly person and a decent guy, as Bretons usually are; his wife had been very attractive and seemed to be a sharp and insightful woman. While chatting with him in our garden, I found several words in the Breton language that were the same as in our Welsh. His daughter had recently become the Duchess of Portsmouth and was at the height of her favor, but he never took advantage of it.

27th June, 1675. At Ely House, I attended the consecration of my esteemed friend, the knowledgeable Dr. Barlow, Warden of Queen's College, Oxford, who has now become Bishop of Lincoln. Following the ceremony, there was an extravagant feast, which included the Duke of Ormond, Earl of Lauderdale, the Lord Treasurer, the Lord Keeper, and others.

8th July, 1675. I traveled with Mrs. Howard and her two daughters towards the Northampton Assizes for a legal case I was involved in as their trustee. We spent the night at Henley-on-the-Thames, at our lawyer Mr. Stephens's place, where he hosted us very well. The next day, we had lunch at Shotover at Sir Timothy Tyrill's, a lovely spot, and then stayed overnight in Oxford, where the Act was taking place. Mr. Robert Spencer, the uncle of the Earl of Sunderland and a friend of mine from France, generously hosted us at his residence in Christ Church.

10th July, 1675. The Vice Chancellor Dr. Bathurst (who had previously taken special care of my son) and the President of Trinity College invited me to dinner and honored me greatly during my stay. The next day, he invited me and all my guests, even though they were strangers to him, to a splendid feast. I attended all the academic events. On Sunday, at St. Mary's, a Fellow of Brasen-nose preached, significantly highlighting the importance of Church leaders.

11th July, 1675. We listened to the speeches and witnessed the ceremony for awarding degrees in Theology, Law, and Medicine. Early in the morning, I heard Dr. Morison, the Botany Professor, talk about various plants in the Botanical Garden, and I saw Dr. Plot's amazing collection of natural curiosities from Magdalen Hall, who authored "The Natural History of Oxfordshire." All these specimens were gathered from that county, and it's truly remarkable how much variety can be found in one place—plants, shells, stones, minerals, marcasites, birds, insects, models of artifacts, crystals, agates, and marbles. He was planning to visit Staffordshire next, intending to provide us with the natural, topical, political, and mechanical history just as he did for Oxfordshire. It’s a shame that this hardworking man's talents aren't being used to describe every county in England; such a work would be one of the most valuable and significant contributions ever made in any time or place.

I also went to the Bodleian Library and caught up with my old friend, the knowledgeable Obadiah Walker, who was the head of University College, which he had almost completely rebuilt or renovated. We then moved on to Northampton, arriving the next day.

On this journey, Mr. James Graham (who is the Privy Purse to the Duke) joined us for part of the way. He's a young man deeply in love with Mrs. Dorothy Howard, one of the maids of honor traveling with us. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for both of them, especially since her mother wasn’t very supportive of the relationship. This lady was not just incredibly beautiful, but also a very virtuous and admirable person, deserving to be married to the best man. I was asked for my advice, and I spoke in favor of the young man, more out of sympathy than because she didn't deserve a better match; even though he came from a good family, their social standing was quite unequal.

14th July, 1675. I went to visit Lord Sunderland's estate at Althorpe, which is four miles from the rough town of Northampton (now burned down and rebuilt). It’s located in a beautiful low area, well-watered, surrounded by impressive woods and groves in a park, with a canal, although the water isn’t flowing, which is a downside. The house is a sort of modern building made of freestone, very elegantly furnished; the rooms are quite spacious, including a gallery and grand hall; however, the kitchen being in the main part of the house and the chapel being too small were drawbacks. There’s an old but respectable gatehouse that’s slightly off-kilter, and the outbuildings are modest but intended to be removed. It used to be surrounded by a moat, in the old style, but it’s now dry and covered with a lovely lawn. Above all, the extensive gardens are exceptional and magnificently maintained, filled with the finest fruits, including an abundance of oranges and other interesting plants. The park is full of birds, especially herons, and offers a view of Holmby House, which, after being destroyed in the recent civil wars, looks like a Roman ruin surrounded by trees, creating a grand, solemn, and pleasing sight.

15th July, 1675. We presented our case on behalf of Mrs. Howard and her daughters to Baron Thurland, who had previously served as my steward. We won our case, as was just, since an insolent and disobedient son stood against his mother, likely urged on by his wife, Mrs. Ogle (an older unmarried woman), whom he had secretly married and who brought him no wealth, even though he was the heir to the Earl of Berkshire. We stayed in Brickhill, Bedfordshire, and arrived at our destination late the next day.

This was a journey full of adventures and chivalry. One of the lady's servants was deeply in love with Mrs. Howard's maid, just as Mr. Graham was with her daughter. While riding horseback behind his rival, the lovesick and jealous young man, who had a bit to drink, almost took his own life if he hadn't been stopped. He dismounted from his horse and drew his sword, attempting to stab himself more than once, but[Pg 106]was interrupted by our coachman and a stranger who happened to be passing by. After that, he ran at his rival, snatched the sword from his side (since we had knocked his own out of his hand), and suddenly pulled down his mistress, intending to run both of them through. We managed to separate them, but not without some bloodshed. This unfortunate guy ended up poisoning himself for her just a few days after they arrived in London.

19th July, 1675. The Lord Treasurer's Chaplain preached at Wallingford House.

9th August, 1675. Dr. Sprat, a prebend of Westminster and Chaplain to the Duke of Buckingham, preached on the 3rd Epistle of Jude, discussing what the original faith was, how closely it resembles the excellent faith of the Church of England, and the dangers of straying from it.

27th August, 1675. I visited the Bishop of Rochester at Bromley and had dinner at Sir Philip Warwick's place at Frogpoole [Frognall].

2nd September, 1675. I went to visit Dulwich College, established as a charitable foundation by Alleyn, a famous comedian during King James's era. The chapel is lovely, but the rest of the hospital is poorly designed; it still supports several needy individuals of both genders. It's located in a rather somber area of Camberwell parish. On my way back, I passed by some healing Spa waters at a place called Sydenham Wells, in Lewisham parish, which is quite popular in the summer.

10th September, 1675. I was casually shown the Duchess of Portsmouth's amazing apartment at Whitehall, luxuriously furnished and far more extravagant than the Queen's; there were heavy pieces of silver, entire tables, and displays of unbelievable worth.

29th September, 1675. I saw the Italian Scaramuccio perform for the King at Whitehall, with people paying to get in, which was quite scandalous and had never happened before at court performances. Having seen him perform in Italy many years ago, I was not opposed to witnessing such a brilliant example of that kind of entertainment.

14th October, 1675. Had dinner at Kensington with my old friend, Mr. Henshaw, who just returned from Denmark, where he had been staying after the death of the Duke of Richmond, who passed away there as Ambassador.

15th October, 1675. I caught a severe cold, one that later became so widespread that it not only affected us on this[Pg 107] island but also spread all across Europe, like a plague. This followed an extremely dry summer and autumn.

I took care of things, with my son set to go to France with my Lord Berkeley, who was appointed as the Ambassador-extraordinary for France and Plenipotentiary for the general treaty of peace at Nimeguen.

24th October, 1675. Had dinner at the Lord Chamberlain's with the Holland Ambassador L. Duras, a brave gentleman whom his Majesty made an English Baron from a cadet branch and granted him his seat at Holmby, in Northamptonshire.

27th October, 1675. Lord Berkeley entered the Council, collapsed in the gallery at Whitehall from a stroke, and was taken to my Lord Chamberlain's rooms. Several well-known doctors worked on him all night, and after quite a struggle, he finally regained some awareness by using hot fire pans and amber spirit on his head; however, nothing worked as well as cupping his shoulders. It was nearly a miraculous recovery. The next day, he was moved to Berkeley House. This delayed his journey for the time being and caused me to stay in town. He had entrusted all his affairs and his entire estate in England to me during his planned absence, which I felt unqualified to handle due to many commitments I had at the time. Yet, due to the strong encouragement from my lady and Mr. Godolphin (to whom I could refuse nothing), I took it on. It seems that while he was Deputy in Ireland not long before, he was wronged by someone he had left in charge of his affairs, and thus he wanted an unselfish friend to manage things for him. This involved collecting his rents, overseeing his houses and tenants, seeking support from the Lord Treasurer, and keeping in touch with him weekly—more than enough to occupy any worker in England. But what won’t friendship and love inspire someone to do?

31st October, 1675. Had dinner at my Lord Chamberlain's with my son. There were the knowledgeable Isaac Vossius and Spanhemius, the son of the famous scholar from Heidelberg; this gentleman was also quite learned, being a well-rounded intellectual. Among other works, he wrote an excellent treatise on Medals.

10th November, 1675. On the day my Lord Ambassador was set to leave, I met them with my[Pg 108] coach at New Cross. Accompanying him were my Lady, his wife, and my dear friend, Mrs. Godolphin, who, out of a deep friendship, insisted on joining my lady to Paris and staying with her for a while. This was the main reason I agreed to let my son travel, but I felt he would be safe under her watch, especially since my Lord had promised to take him under his wing, having entrusted everything he had to my care.

Thus we set out three coaches (besides mine), three wagons, and about forty horses. It being late, and my Lord still being somewhat weak, we only made it to Dartford on the first day, and then to Sittingbourne the next.

At Rochester, the major, Mr. Cony, who was in charge of caring for the sick and wounded there, offered the ladies a generous snack as we passed by his house.

12th November, 1675. We arrived in Canterbury; and, the next morning, we went to Dover.

There was in my Lady Ambassadress's company my Lady Hamilton, a lively young woman, well-liked by the family, and the wife of the brave and honorable George Hamilton, who was killed in the wars not long after. She had been a maid of honor to the Duchess and had now converted to Catholicism.

14th November, 1675. It was Sunday, and my Lord had previously given me his power of attorney, keys, seal, and his Will. We said a heartfelt goodbye to each other on the beach, as the coaches took them into the sea to the boats, which brought them to Captain Gunman's yacht, the "Mary." Once they set sail, the castle fired seventeen cannon shots in their honor, to which Captain Gunman replied with eleven. Afterward, I went to church to pray for their safe journey.

2nd December, 1675. After returning home, I visited Lady Mordaunt at Parson's Green, as her son, my Lord, was sick. This devout woman gave me £100 to spend as I saw fit for the release of poor prisoners and other charitable purposes.

21st December, 1675. I visited her Ladyship again, where I found the Bishop of Winchester, whom I had known for a long time in France; he invited me to his house in Chelsea.

23rd December, 1675. Lady Sunderland gave me ten guineas to donate to charities.[Pg 109]

20th February, 1675-76. Dr. Gunning, Bishop of Ely, preached before the King from St. John xx. 21, 22, 23, mainly criticizing an anonymous book called "Naked Truth," a well-known and popular treatise against corruption in the Clergy. However, its quotations were questionable, and it was believed to have been written by the Bishop of Hereford. Dr. Turner responded to it, as it attempted to argue for an equality of order between Bishop and Presbyter.

27th February, 1676. Dr. Pritchard, Bishop of Gloucester, preached at Whitehall on Isaiah v. 5, in a very allegorical style, as was his way, but also in a serious and clever manner.

29th February, 1676. I had dinner with Mr. Povey, one of the Masters of Requests, who is quite skilled at creating all sorts of elegant things and very formal. I had supper with Sir J. Williamson, where our Society included Mr. Robert Boyle, Sir Christopher Wren, Sir William Petty, Dr. Holden, subdean of the King's Chapel, Sir James Shaen, Dr. Whistler, and our Secretary, Mr. Oldenburg.

4th March, 1676. Sir Thomas Linch came back from his governorship in Jamaica.

16th March, 1676. The Countess of Sunderland and I took a boat to Parson's Green to visit Lady Mordaunt and talk with her about my Lord's monument. We came back by coach.

19th March, 1676. Dr. Lloyd, former Curate of Deptford, but now Bishop of Llandaff, preached before the King on 1 Corinthians 15:57, stating that although sin brings us death, through Christ, we become his conquerors.

23rd March, 1676. To Twickenham Park, Lord Berkeley's country residence, to check how the bailiffs and staff were managing things.

24th March, 1676. Dr. Brideoake, Bishop of Chichester, delivered a rather unimpressive sermon for a Bishop. I also listened to Dr. Fleetwood, Bishop of Worcester, speak on Matt. xxvi. 38, about the sorrows of Christ, a profound sorrow brought on by our sins; he wasn't a very good preacher.

30th March, 1676. Dining with my Lady Sunderland, I saw a guy swallow a knife and several large pebble stones that would rattle against each other. The knife was in a horn sheath.

Dr. North, son of Lord North, preached before the King on Isaiah 53:7, a very young but knowledgeable and outstanding person. Note: This was the first time the Duke no longer appeared in chapel, causing immense sadness and a looming crisis for this poor nation.

2d April, 1676. I was now aware that my dear friend Mrs. Godolphin was coming back from Paris. On the 6th, she arrived, and I was filled with joy as I warmly welcomed her.

28th April, 1676. My wife hosted her Majesty at Deptford, for which the Queen thanked me in the sitting room at Whitehall.

The University of Oxford gave me the "Marmora Oxoniensia Arundeliana"; the Bishop of Oxford asked me to introduce Mr. Prideaux, the editor (a young man very knowledgeable about antiquities), to the Duke of Norfolk, to present another dedication to his Grace, which I did. We had dinner with the Duke at Arundel House and then had supper at the Bishop of Rochester's with Isaac Vossius.

7th May, 1676. I talked to the Duke of York about Lord Berkeley's trip to Nimeguen. Then, I went to the Queen's Council at Somerset House regarding Mrs. Godolphin's lease of Spalding in Lincolnshire.

11th May, 1676. I had lunch with Mr. Charleton and visited Mr. Montague's new palace near Bloomsbury, built by Mr. Hooke, a member of our Society, in the French style.

13th May, 1676. Came back home and found my son had returned from France; thank God!

22nd May, 1676. Trinity Monday. A chaplain of my Lord Ossory preached, after which we took a boat to Trinity House in London. Mr. Pepys (Secretary of the Admiralty) succeeded my Lord as Master.

2nd June, 1676. I went with my Lord Chamberlain to check out a garden in Enfield town; then we headed to Mr. Secretary Coventry's lodge in the Chase. It's a lovely place, the house is spacious, the gardens are beautiful, and we had a relaxed time as there were only my Lord and me. What amazed me the most was that within a twenty-five-mile area, yet only fourteen miles from London, there isn't a single house, barn, church, or building, aside from three lodges. At this Lodge, there are three large ponds and a few enclosed areas, the rest is a solitary wilderness, yet it's home to no less than 3,000 deer. These are nice retreats for gentlemen, especially for those who enjoy studying and value their privacy.

We returned in the evening via Hampstead to check out Lord Wotton's house and garden (Bellsize House), which was built at great expense by Mr. O'Neale, an Irish gentleman who married Lord Wotton's mother, Lady Stanhope. The furniture includes some unique Indian cabinets, porcelain, and other solid and impressive items. The gallery is quite nice, and the gardens are very large but poorly maintained, although they are wooded and chargeable. The soil is a cold, wet clay that doesn't justify the expense.

12th June, 1676. I visited Sir Thomas Bond's new and impressive house in Peckham; it's situated on a flat area but features a lovely garden and a view through the meadows to London.

2nd July, 1676. Dr. Castillion, Prebend of Canterbury, preached before the King on John 15:22 at Whitehall.

19th July, 1676. Attended the funeral of Sir William Sanderson, husband of the Mother of the Maids, and author of two lengthy but poor histories of King James and King Charles I. He was buried at Westminster.

1st August, 1676. In the afternoon, after prayers at St. James's Chapel, a daughter of Dr. Leake's was baptized. The godmothers were Lady Mary, daughter of the Duke of York, and the Duchess of Monmouth; the godfather was the Earl of Bath.

15th August, 1676. Came to dine with me my Lord Halifax, Sir Thomas Meeres, one of the Commissioners of the Admiralty, Sir John Clayton, Mr. Slingsby, Mr. Henshaw, and Mr. Bridgeman.

25th August, 1676. Had dinner with Sir John Banks at his house in Lincoln's Inn Fields, discussing Mr. Upman as a tutor for his son who is going to France. Sir John Banks was a merchant who started small but had accumulated £100,000.

26th August, 1676. I had dinner at the Admiralty with Secretary Pepys and later had supper at the Lord Chamberlain’s. Captain Baker was there, who had recently tried to find the Northwest Passage. He reported an incredible depth of ice, blue like a sapphire and completely transparent. The thick mists were their main obstacle and the reason for their return.[Pg 112]

2d September, 1676. I paid £1,700 to the Marquis de Sissac, which he had lent to my Lord Berkeley, and which I heard the Marquis lost while gambling in a night or two.

The Dean of Chichester preached before the King, on Acts 24:16; and Dr. Crichton delivered the second sermon before him on Psalm 90:12, about wisely counting our days and making good use of our time.

3rd September, 1676. Had dinner at Captain Graham's, where I met Dr. Compton (brother to the Earl of Northampton), who is now the Bishop of London, and Mr. North, son of Lord North, brother to the Lord Chief Justice and Clerk of the Closet, a very promising young man. The Bishop had once been a soldier, had also traveled in Italy, and became a very serious, dignified, and exceptional bishop.

6th September, 1676. Had dinner at the Lord Chamberlain's, where the renowned beauty and scandalous lady, the Duchess of Mazarine (everyone knows her story), the Duke of Monmouth, and the Countess of Sussex (both illegitimate children of the King with the Duchess of Cleveland37) were also present, along with the Countess of Derby, a respectable lady and the daughter of my close friend, the Earl of Ossory.

10th September, 1676. I had dinner with Mr. Flamsted, the knowledgeable astrologer and mathematician, whom the King had appointed to the new Observatory in Greenwich Park, equipped with the best instruments. A genuinely honest and sincere man.

12th September, 1676. I went to London to arrange the construction of a house, or more accurately, an apartment, that had all the comforts of a house for my dear friend, Mr. Godolphin and his wife. I took on the responsibility to design, oversee, and hire workers until it was completely finished; it was located directly across from the king's wood yard by the Thames, leading to Scotland Yard.

19th September, 1676. To Lambeth, to that unique marble place[Pg 113] to order chimney pieces and other things for Mr. Godolphin's house. The owner of the workshop had built a nice home for himself; this Dutchman had contracted with the Genoese for all their marble. We also visited the Duke of Buckingham's glassworks, where they created huge metal vases that were as clear, heavy, and thick as crystal; they also produced mirrors much larger and better than any that come from Venice.

9th October, 1676. I went with Mrs. Godolphin and my wife to Blackwall to check out some Indian curiosities. The streets were slippery, and I fell against a piece of timber with such force that I couldn't speak or catch my breath for a while. I was carried into a house and had blood drawn, then I was taken to the water-side and back home, where, after resting for a day, I recovered. This was one of my greatest escapes, and I pray that the Lord Jesus keeps me mindful and grateful!

31st October, 1676. On my birthday, turning fifty-six years old, I spent the morning in prayer, asking for God's protection and giving heartfelt thanks for all the significant blessings I've received, particularly for the escape I had this month at Blackwall. I had lunch with Mrs. Godolphin and made my way home through an overwhelming and hazardous fog.

9th November, 1676. Completed the lease of Spalding for Mr. Godolphin.

16th November, 1676. My son and I were dining at my Lord Chamberlain's, where he showed us, among other things, that incredible piece by Raphael, featuring a Minister of State dictating to Guicciardini. The expression on Guicciardini's face, looking up in anticipation of what he was about to write, is so lifelike and natural that I consider it one of the finest works of that remarkable artist. There was also a woman’s head by Leonardo da Vinci, a Madonna by old Palma, and two pieces by Vandyke. One was a full portrait of himself when he was young, in a relaxed position; the other was an eunuch singing. Truly rare pieces!

4th December, 1676. I watched the grand ball performed by all the gentlemen and ladies at the Duchess of York's.

10th December, 1676. It snowed so heavily that we couldn't make it to church.

12th December, 1676. To London, in such heavy snow, that I can't remember ever seeing anything like it.[Pg 114]

17th December, 1676. With more snow falling, I couldn’t make it to church.

8th February, 1676-77. I went to Roehampton with my lady, the Duchess of Ormond. The garden and view are lovely, and the outlook is very pleasant.

15th May, 1677. The Earl of Peterborough came to ask me to be a trustee for Lord Viscount Mordaunt and the Countess, for the sale of certain lands designated by Act of Parliament to pay off debts.

12th June, 1677. I went to London to give Lord Ambassador Berkeley (who has just returned from the treaty at Nimeguen) an update on the significant responsibility that was placed on me during his absence. I managed to receive and pass on no less than £20,000, which took quite a bit of effort and time. Even while he was away, and when the Lord Treasurer wasn't particularly supportive of him, I managed to secure substantial amounts for him, frequently appealing to His Majesty on his behalf. I took care of the rest of his properties and matters completely, without ever accepting any form of recognition, solely at the request of my dear friend, Mr. Godolphin. I returned with many thanks and expressions of gratitude from Lord Berkeley and Lady Berkeley.

29th June, 1677. Now that this situation is over, and I am free from that unbearable obligation and communication, I had the time to be more at home and to focus on myself.

3rd July, 1677. I signed the sale documents for the manor of Blechingley to Sir Robert Clayton, to pay off Lord Peterborough's debts, as required by the trust of the Act of Parliament.

16th July, 1677. I went to Wotton.—22nd. Mr. Evans, the curate of Abinger, delivered an excellent sermon on Matt. v. 12. In the afternoon, Mr. Higham at Wotton led the catechism.

26th July, 1677. I had dinner at Mr. Duncomb's in Sheere, whose house is surrounded by very pleasant and fast-moving streams.

29th July, 1677. Mr. Bohun, my son’s former tutor, preached at Abinger on Philippians 4:8, very elegantly and practically.

5th August, 1677. I went to visit my Lord Brounker, who is currently at Dulwich for his health treatments.[Pg 115]

9th August, 1677. Had dinner at the Earl of Peterborough's the day after the wedding of Lord Arundel to Lady Mary Mordaunt, the daughter of the Earl of Peterborough.

28th August, 1677. I went to see my Lord Chamberlain in Suffolk; he sent his coach and six to pick me up and take me from St. Edmund's Bury to Euston.

29th August, 1677. We went hunting in the Park and took down a very fat buck.

31st August, 1677. I went hawking.

4th September, 1677. I went to visit my Lord Crofts, who is now dying at St. Edmunds Bury, and took the chance to explore this historic town and the remains of the famous monastery and abbey. There’s not much left intact, except for the gatehouse; it used to be a vast and magnificent Gothic structure, and it was quite large. The gates are made of wood, but they’re covered in iron. There are also two impressive churches, one in particular.

5th September, 1677. I went to Thetford, to the borough-town, where the ruins of a religious house stand: there is a round hill made by humans, either for some castle or monument, which creates a lovely landscape. As we went to and from there, a juggler amazed us with his skills in the Warren. I also saw the Decoy; I was quite pleased with the clever trick.

7th September, 1677. Today at my Lord's, we had dinner with Sir John Gaudy, a very good-looking man who couldn't speak but was quite smart with his gestures, and a talented painter. He was so polite and well-mannered that you couldn't notice any flaws in him. His wife and children were there too, and he joined us at church in the morning.

9th September, 1677. A stranger preached at Euston Church and gave a glowing tribute to my Lord's new church building, which is truly one of the prettiest country churches in England for its elegance and brightness. My Lord confided that he felt guilty because, after investing so much in his impressive palace there, he found God's House in such a state of disrepair. He has also rebuilt the parsonage, all in stone, which is very neat and spacious.

10th September, 1677. To entertain me, my Lord insisted on taking me to see Ipswich, where we stopped for lunch with Mr. Mann, the town’s Recorder. Our company included Lord Huntingtower, son of the Duchess of Lauderdale, Sir Edward Bacon, an educated gentleman from the family of the great Chancellor Verulam, and Sir John Felton, along with some other knights and gentlemen. After lunch, the bailiff and magistrates arrived in their formal attire with their maces to greet my Lord and invite him to the town hall, where they treated us to a spread of dried sweets and wine, accompanied by the ringing of bells, etc. Then we set out to explore the town, starting with the Lord Viscount Hereford's house, which is situated in a park near the town, resembling the one in Brussels, Flanders; the house isn't large, but quite nice, especially the hall. The fish ponds followed one another, feeding into each other, all nicely paved at the bottom. There’s a lovely painting of the Blessed Virgin in one of the parlors, appearing to be by Holbein or some other talented master. After that, we visited the Haven, seven miles from Harwich. The tide goes out every day, but since the bottom is soft mud, it’s safe for ships and a good anchorage. Ipswich's trade mainly consists of Newcastle coal, which they supply to London; however, it used to be a clothing town. Remarkably, there isn’t a single beggar asking for alms in the entire place, a testament to the wisdom of the magistrates. There are fourteen or fifteen beautiful churches there: in short, for its buildings, cleanliness, and order, it’s one of the best towns in England. Cardinal Wolsey, a butcher's son from Ipswich, had little of his magnificent foundations remaining here, aside from a school and, I believe, a library, which I didn’t see. He had plans to build something grand. Euston We returned late to Euston, having traveled about fifty miles that day.

Since I first arrived here, I’ve noticed a lot of improvements. It’s situated in a low area between two gentle hills, and the main building is now shaped like a Greek II with four pavilions, two at each corner, and a break in the front that has a railing and balustrade at the top. I had large jars placed full of earth to keep them stable on their pedestals between the statues, which look just as good as if they were made of stone. Even though the building is made of brick and has only two stories plus cellars and attics covered with blue slate, there’s plenty of space for a full court, and the offices and outbuildings are ample and well arranged. The King's apartment is painted in fresco and is magnificently furnished. There are many excellent paintings by great masters. The gallery is a lovely, impressive room; in the middle, there’s a billiard table, but the wainscoting, made of fir and painted, doesn't appeal to me as much as unpainted Spanish oak. The chapel is nice, and the porch leads down to the gardens. The orange garden is very nice and connects to the greenhouse, at the end of which there’s a dining hall, and the conservatory is several hundred feet long, decorated with maps, while the other side features the heads of the Caesars, poorly carved in alabaster. Above are several rooms for my Lord, Lady, and Duchess, with kitchens and other facilities below in a smaller layout. There are separate accommodations for servants, all distinct so they can retreat when they want to be private and have no connection with the palace. He tells me he will completely hand it over to his son-in-law and daughter, that charming young woman.

The canal running under my lady's dressing room window is filled with carp and birds, which come and get fed there. The waterfall at the end of the canal powers a corn mill that supports the family and provides water for the fountains and various functions. To cross the canal into the meadows on the other side, Sir Samuel Morland invented a screw bridge that, when turned with a key, drops you fifty feet away at the start of an uphill path lined with trees, stretching a mile long. This path also leads to the park, which is surrounded by four rows of ash trees and encircled by a nine-mile fence, making it the best spot I’ve seen for riding and hunting game. There are currently about a thousand deer, both red and fallow, along with good cover, although the soil is poor and sandy, making it hard for anything to grow well. The clusters of firs and much of the surrounding woods were planted at my suggestion years ago. This place is perfectly situated for field sports, including falconry, hunting, or racing. The mutton is small but flavorful. The stables can accommodate thirty horses and four coaches. The outbuildings form two large courtyards, allowing servants to live in comfort and ease, and the master is quite courteous. Guests are welcomed and treated as if they were at home, in pretty rooms equipped with various conveniences and privacy.

There is a library filled with great books; restrooms, a lab, a pharmacy, a decoy, and places to keep and fatten fowl. He had now built a dormitory, or vault, in his new church (near the garden), with several storage areas to bury his family.

In financing this humble structure, the church is commendable, as most houses of worship in this country look more like stables and thatched cottages than places to honor the Most High. He has built a lodge in the park for the caretaker, which is a tidy home and could belong to any gentleman. He has done the same for the parson, who hardly deserves it for complaining that my Lord temporarily removed him from his miserable hovel while it was being constructed. He has also built a nice inn a short distance from his palace, with a stone bridge over a nearby river, and repaired all the tenants' homes, so everything around his estate is neat and accommodating, which I think is still only worth about £1,500 a year. I believe he currently has one hundred domestic servants in his household.

His lady (one of Brederode's daughters, grandchild of a natural son of Henry Frederick, Prince of Orange) is a kind and helpful woman. They enjoy fine things and aim to live comfortably, lavishly, and hospitably; however, this extravagant lifestyle has led my Lord into considerable debt. My Lord himself doesn’t indulge in any costly vices except for building, wanting everything to be luxurious, refined, and princely. He doesn’t gamble but reads a lot, being fluent in Latin, French, and Spanish. He has traveled extensively and is the most cultured and genteel person his Majesty associates with, so much so that public Ministers seek him out more than the other nobles. While he was Secretary of State and Prime Minister, he earned a lot but spent it just as quickly, even before establishing a reserve to maintain his status; and now, as he begins to lose favor (with the Duke not being a supporter), he doesn’t know how to cut back. He is the son of a Doctor of Laws, whom I have met. After being sent from Westminster School to Oxford with the intention of becoming a clergyman and priest of Arlington, a village near Brentford, when he finished his Master of Arts, the Rebellion broke out. He joined the King’s Army, and after receiving an Noble facial injury, he gained favor and rose from modest beginnings to become an Earl, Knight of the Garter, Lord Chamberlain of the Household, and long-time favorite of the King, during which time the King married his natural son, the Duke of Grafton, to his only daughter and heiress, noted for her beauty and virtue, worthy of the greatest prince in Christendom. My Lord is also a sensible and insightful person in business, and he speaks well; unfortunately, many of those he has helped have turned out to be ungrateful. The many kindnesses and favors I have received from this noble gentleman compel me to write this, and I regret that he is in such difficult circumstances.

Having spent almost three weeks at Euston, I was really happy when he finally allowed me to look back home, although he urged me to stay longer. To convince me, he even offered to take me to Lynn-Regis, a busy town about twenty miles away that I had never visited, as well as to the Traveling Sands, located about ten miles west of Euston. These sands have caused significant damage to the area, moving from place to place and, like the sands in the deserts of Libya, completely burying some gentlemen’s estates, as documented in the printed account that was brought to our Society, which describes it in detail at large.

13th September, 1677. My Lord’s coach took me to Bury, and after a stop at Newmarket, I visited Audley-End to see the house again. I stayed overnight at Bishop-Stortford and then headed home the next day. I was joined on my journey by Major Fairfax, from a younger branch of the Lord Fairfax family—a soldier, a traveler, a talented musician, and a good-natured, well-mannered gentleman.

18th September, 1677. I chose Mr. Phillips (nephew of Milton) for the service of my Lord Chamberlain, who wanted a scholar to read to him and keep him entertained occasionally.

12th October, 1677. Went to Marden with Sir Robert Clayton, an estate he had recently purchased from my relative, Sir John Evelyn, of Godstone, in Surrey. Sir Robert transformed a shabby farmhouse into an impressive residence at great expense. It's located in such a secluded area among hills that, despite being only about sixteen miles from London, it seems almost unbelievable; the roads leading to it are so winding and complicated. The gardens are expansive and well-walled, with the agricultural setup being very practical and clearly arranged. The barns, grain stacks, animal stalls, pigeon house, etc., are all excellent examples of proper management. There are countless tree plantations, especially walnuts. The orangery and gardens are quite remarkable. Inside the house, there are large and elegant rooms. He and his wife, who is very knowledgeable about distillation, hosted me very generously for three or four days. I strongly urged him to repair an old, neglected church located on the hill above the house, and I left him in a good mindset to do so and to improve its endowment; there are only about four or five houses in the parish, aside from that of this extremely wealthy scrivener. This place is very chilly in the winter due to the winding hills, and it lacks running water; however, I found the solitude very pleasing. The ground is filled with wild thyme, marjoram, and other fragrant plants, making it perfect for bees; I believe he had nearly forty hives of those industrious insects.

14th October, 1677. I went to church in Godstone and visited the old Sir John Evelyn's DORM, which is next to the church, paved with marble, where he and his wife rest on a grand monument; he in armor made of white marble. The inscription is just a summary of his specific family branch, on black marble.

15th October, 1677. Returned to London; in the evening, I saw the Prince of Orange and had dinner with Lord Ossory.

23rd October, 1677. Saw the Prince of Orange again; his marriage to Lady Mary, the oldest daughter of the Duke of York and Mrs. Hyde, the late Duchess, was just announced.

11th November, 1677. This week, I was busy sorting things out between old Mrs. Howard and Sir Gabriel Sylvius regarding his long and serious intentions towards Mrs. Anne, her second daughter, who is a maid of honor to the Queen. My friend, Mrs. Godolphin (who really cared for the young lady), worked hard on this, feeling sorry for the lovesick knight. Even though there was a significant age gap between them, it all worked out in the end, and they got married on the 13th in Henry VII's Chapel, officiated by the Bishop of Rochester. Besides my wife and Mrs. Graham, her sister, there were only a few others, including Mrs. Godolphin. We had lunch at the old lady's place and dinner at Mr. Graham's in St. James's.

15th November, 1677. The Queen's birthday, a big ball at Court, where the Prince of Orange and his new Princess danced.

19th November, 1677. They left, and I saw Lady Sylvius board the ship. She was heading to Holland with her husband, who was appointed Hoffmaester to the Prince, a significant position. We parted with much sadness, given the great respect and honor I had for her, a truly devout and virtuous woman.

27th November, 1677. Had dinner at the Lord Treasurer's with Prince Rupert, Viscount Falkenburg, Earl of Bath, Lord O'Brien, Sir John Lowther, Sir Christopher Wren, Dr. Grew, and other knowledgeable individuals.

30th November, 1677. Sir Joseph Williamson, Principal Secretary of State, was elected President of the Royal Society, after my Lord Viscount Brouncker had held the position for the past sixteen years, and therefore decided it was time to Update, so that this long tenure would not be seen as a disadvantage.

4th December, 1677. On his first day in the chair, he treated us to an amazing supper.

20th December, 1677. I took to my Lord Treasurer a report on the Earl of Bristol's Library, at Wimbledon, which my Lord was considering buying, until I informed him that it was a very incomplete collection, mostly made up of books on judicial astrology, romances, and trivial items.

25th December, 1677. I gave my son a position, with guidance on how to manage his young years; I pray God grants him the wisdom to use it well!

23rd January, 1677-78. I had dinner with the Duke of Norfolk, marking the first time I had seen him since his older brother passed away in Padua, Italy, where he had lived for over thirty years. The Duke had just announced his marriage to his mistress, whom he had promised me he would never marry. I went with him to visit the Duke of Buckingham, then to my Lord[Pg 122] Sunderland, who is now Secretary of State, to show him that rare painting by Vosterman (son of the late Vosterman), which was a view or landscape of my Lord's palace, etc., at Althorpe in Northamptonshire.

8th February, 1678. Having dinner at my Lord Chamberlain's, I had a lengthy conversation with Count de Castel Mellor, who was recently the Prime Minister of Portugal. He sided with his ruler, King Alphonso, and was exiled by his brother, Don Pedro, who is now the Regent. However, he conducted himself with such integrity during his term that, although he was cleared of any wrongdoing and his property was returned to him, they still wouldn’t allow him to come back. He is a very knowledgeable and respectable man.

18th February, 1678. My Lord Treasurer called me to join him in traveling to Wimbledon, which he had recently bought from the Earl of Bristol. After having breakfast privately with him in his room, I went with him and two of his daughters, my Lord Conway, and Sir Bernard Gascoyne. We looked around his gardens and the changes made, then returned late at night.

22nd February, 1678. Dr. Pierce preached at Whitehall, on 2 Thessalonians iii. 6, criticizing our recent schismatics, in a logical talk, but a bit too harsh, and not really suitable for the audience there.

22nd March, 1678. Dr. South preached in front of the King, an exceptional sermon on this text, "A wounded spirit who can bear!" Note: Now our Communion table was set up like an altar; the church steeple, clock, and other repairs were completed.

16th April, 1678. I showed Don Emmanuel de Lyra (Ambassador of Portugal) and Count de Castel Mellor the Repository of the Royal Society and the College of Physicians.

18th April, 1678. I went to check out the new Bedlam Hospital, wonderfully constructed and nicely situated in Moorfields, since the terrible fire in London.

28th June, 1678. I went to Windsor with my Lord Chamberlain (the castle is currently undergoing extensive repairs) to see the remarkable work of Verrio, an unmatched carving by Gibbons.

29th June, 1678. I returned with my Lord by Hounslow Heath, where we saw the newly raised army camped out, supposedly aimed at France, but which[Pg 123] upset Parliament. His Majesty and a lot of others were in the field, and the whole army was lined up; it was a very impressive sight. They had introduced a new type of soldier called Grenadiers, skilled at throwing hand grenades, each one carrying a pouch full of them; they wore fur hats with peaked crowns like Janizaries, making them look very fierce, and some had long hoods hanging down the back, like we picture fools. Their clothing was also a mix of yellow and red.

8th July, 1678. My Lord Longford, the Treasurer of Ireland and nephew of the knowledgeable Lord Aungier, who I’ve known for quite a while, came to dine with me. Also present were Lady Stidolph and other guests.

19th July, 1678. The Earl of Ossory came to say goodbye to me, heading to Holland to lead the English troops.

20th July, 1678. I went to the Tower to test a metal with the Assay-master, which turned out to be just sulfur; then I met Monsieur Rotière, the outstanding engraver from the Mint, who rivals even the ancients in both metal and stone; 38 he was currently sculpting a horse for the King's statue, which will be cast in silver and stand one yard high. I had dinner with Mr. Slingsby, the Master of the Mint.

23rd July, 1678. I went to visit Mr. Elias Ashmole's library and collection of curiosities in Lambeth. He had several manuscripts, mostly astrological, which he is really into, although I don't think he's particularly learned, just very hardworking, as his History of the Order of the Garter shows. He showed me a toad trapped in amber. The view from a turret is quite stunning, being so close to London yet not revealing any houses around. The famous John Tradescant left his collection to this gentleman, who has donated them to the University of Oxford and set up a lecture series on them above the laboratory, modeling it after the Royal Society.

Mr. Godolphin became the King’s official in charge of the royal garments.

25th July, 1678. I received £70 from an unknown source to be distributed among poor people; I[Pg 124] later found out it was from my dear friend (Mrs. Godolphin), who had often given me large amounts to donate to charity.

16th August, 1678. I visited Lady Mordaunt, who gave me £100 to allocate for charitable purposes, like helping prisoners and the needy. She had often sent me money for similar causes; she was a truly good person and one who loved and respected God exemplarily.

23rd August, 1678. After Sir Robert Reading insisted, I went to visit the Duke of Norfolk at his new palace in Weybridge, where he has spent nearly £10,000 on a copyhold in a miserable, barren sandy spot by the roadside; I've never seen such expense for such little return. The rooms are paneled, and some of them are richly decorated with cedar, yew, cypress, and more. There are some great paintings, especially that extraordinary piece by Holbein, where the Duke of Norfolk, Charles Brandon, and Henry VIII are dancing with three ladies, all with very affectionate expressions and lively movements beautifully captured. It's a real shame (as I told my Lord of Arundel, his son) that such a treasure is being given away.

24th August, 1678. I went to visit my Lord of St. Alban's house in Byfleet, which is an old, large building. From there, I went to the paper mills, where I saw them making a rough white paper. They sort the rags—linen for white paper, wool for brown paper; then they crush them in troughs into a pulp, using pestles or hammers, similar to what they do at powder mills. Next, they put it into a vessel of water and dip a frame that's tightly woven with wire as fine as a hair and as close as a weaver's reed; on this, they gather up the pulp, allowing the excess water to drain through the wire. They skillfully flip it over and shake it out like a pancake onto a smooth board between two pieces of flannel, then press it in a large press, with the flannel absorbing the moisture. After that, they hang it up to dry on strings, just like drying linen in a laundry. Then they dip it in alum water, and finally, they polish it and fold it into quires. They add some gum to the water where they soak the rags. The pattern you see on the sheets is created by the wire.

25th August, 1678. After evening prayer, I visited Mr. Sheldon (nephew of the late Archbishop of Canterbury),[Pg 125] and his beautifully melancholic garden; I noticed the largest arbor thuyris I had ever seen. The place is well-watered, and there are many interesting curiosities from India displayed in the house.

There was at Weybridge the Duchess of Norfolk, Lord Thomas Howard (a good and honorable man, with whom my son had spent some time at Arundel House), who had just returned from Rome, where he had been for a while; also one of the Duke's daughters, from his first wife. My Lord took me around the house and casually showed me all the hiding spots for Catholic priests, and where they held mass, because he wasn't a strict Catholic. He mentioned that he never trusted them with any secrets and always relied on Protestants for important matters.

I went this evening with my Lord Duke to Windsor, where there was a magnificent Court, as it was the first time his Majesty had moved there since it was renovated.

27th August, 1678. I said goodbye to the Duke and had dinner at Mr. Henry Bruncker's place at the Abbey of Sheene, which used to be a Carthusian monastery. There’s still one of their solitary cells with a cross remaining. Inside this large area, there are several nice villas and beautiful gardens with excellent fruit, especially Sir William Temple's (who was recently an ambassador to Holland) and Lord Lisle's, the son of the Earl of Leicester, who has several unique paintings, particularly one of Sir Brian Tuke by Holbein.

After dinner, I walked to Ham to check out the house and garden of the Duke of Lauderdale, which is actually on par with some of the best villas in Italy. The house is decorated like one fit for a great prince, and the gardens include flower beds, orange groves, tree-lined paths, courtyards, statues, scenic views, fountains, and aviaries. All of this is located by one of the loveliest rivers in the world, making it truly amazing.

Hence, I went to my good friend, Sir Henry Capel [at Kew], brother to the Earl of Essex; it's an old wooden house; but his garden has the finest fruit of any plantation in England, as he is the most hardworking and knowledgeable about it.

29th August, 1678. I was summoned to London to meet with the Duke of Norfolk, who, at my specific request, generously handed over the Arundelian Library to the Royal[Pg 126] Society. He asked me to oversee the books and relocate them, only requiring that the Herald's chief officer, Sir William Dugdale, be allowed to take those that were related to heraldry and the marshal's office—armory books and genealogies—since the Duke holds the title of Earl Marshal of England. For our Society, I secured nearly one hundred manuscripts, some in Greek, which are particularly important, in addition to printed books. The printed books, despite being among the oldest editions, hold significant value; I regard them as nearly equivalent to manuscripts. Included are most of the Church Fathers, printed in Basel, before the Jesuits tainted them with their censorship lists; there’s also a valuable manuscript of Vitruvius. Many of these books were gifts from Popes, Cardinals, and other notable figures to the Earls of Arundel and Dukes of Norfolk. The late magnificent Earl of Arundel acquired an impressive library in Germany, which is part of this collection. For the honor I have for the family, I wouldn't have encouraged the Duke to part with these books had I not noticed his negligence towards them, allowing priests and others to take and dispose of whatever they wanted, resulting in the loss of many rare items that are irretrievably gone.

Having taken care of things here, I went to the Royal Society to inform them about what I had acquired, so they could call a meeting and set a date to visit the Duke to thank him for this generous gift.

3rd September, 1678. I went to London to have dinner with Mrs. Godolphin and found her in labor; she gave birth to a son, who was baptized in the room, named Francis, with Sir William Godolphin (head of the family), Mr. John Hervey, Treasurer to the Queen, and Mrs. Boscawen, sister to Sir William, as the sponsors.

8th September, 1678. While I was at church, I received a letter from Mr. Godolphin, saying that my dear friend, his wife, was very ill and asking for my prayers and help. My wife and I took a boat right away and went to Whitehall, where, to my deep sorrow, I found out that she had been struck down by a new fever, which was prevalent during this extremely hot autumn, and it was so severe that it was believed she wouldn’t survive for many hours.

9th September, 1678. She died at the age of 26, leaving her dear husband,[Pg 127] and all her family in deep sorrow, especially me, as I lost the most remarkable and priceless friend anyone could ever have. There was never a more virtuous and unwavering friendship; she was truly a religious, wise, and admirable person, loved and admired by everyone for every possible quality of her gender. She has gone to receive the reward for her exceptional kindness and all her other Christian virtues, too blessed a person to engage with the living, suited as she was, by her holy life, to be welcomed into the heavenly realms. In terms of intelligence, beauty, kindness, loyalty, discretion, and all other attributes, she was simply unmatched. How will I ever repay her for the countless good deeds she did for my soul by constantly encouraging me to make our friendship rooted in faith? She was the best wife, the best partner, the best friend any husband could ask for. But I’m not here to define her character, HAVING PLANNED TO DEDICATE HER VALUABLE LIFE TO FUTURE GENERATIONS.

Her husband, overwhelmed by unbearable grief, collapsed as if dead. The King and the entire Court shared in their sorrow. For the poor and unfortunate, her loss was devastating; everyone had some reason to honor her memory. She was so diligent and prepared for any eventuality that, as if she anticipated her end, she received the sacrament just the Sunday before, after a deeply reflective time. She organized all her household matters meticulously and left a letter for her husband, to be opened in case she died during childbirth. In this letter, with heartfelt and endearing words from a loyal and virtuous wife, she asks him to care for her memory and continue to show kindness to those she left behind, even her household staff. She also made sure to leave generous legacies to them and to the poor. It had been seven years since she served as maid of honor to the Queen, and she considered me a father, a brother, and even a friend. We often prayed, visited the sick, and engaged in all holy duties together. She was very dear to my wife and cared deeply for my children. But now she is gone! My only comfort is knowing that she is at peace in Christ, and I will see her again soon. She wished to be buried in her family’s dormitory, nearly three hundred miles away from all her other friends. Her husband was so devastated by this profound loss that he entrusted all the arrangements for her funeral to me. After closing the eyes and shedding a tear on the cheek of my beloved friend, still beautiful in death, I had her body embalmed and encased in lead, with a brass plate attached that bore an inscription and other details befitting her worth, all done with as much care and diligence as my sorrowful heart allowed. I then went home for two days, which I spent in solitude and deep reflection.

17th September, 1678. She was taken to Godolphin, in Cornwall, in a hearse pulled by six horses, accompanied by two coaches with six horses each, along with about thirty relatives and servants. Her husband’s brother, Sir William, two more of his brothers, and three sisters went with the hearse; her husband was so overwhelmed with grief that he couldn't travel such a long distance until he felt more composed. I traveled as far as Hounslow with a heavy heart but had to turn back due to some urgent matters. The body was taken out of the hearse every night and respectfully placed in a home with candles around it, attended by her servants, until it reached Cornwall; she was then honorably laid to rest in the parish church of Godolphin. This funeral cost nearly £1,000.

With Mr. Godolphin, I went through and organized his lady’s papers, most of which were Prayers, Meditations, Sermon notes, Discourses, and Collections on various religious topics, along with many of her own well-composed pieces, thoughtfully arranged as if she had been studying theology her entire life. We discovered a diary of her serious resolutions aimed at practical virtue, along with letters from close friends, all neatly organized. It amazed us to see the amount she had read and written, especially considering her youth.

1st October, 1678. The Parliament and the entire nation were alarmed by a conspiracy of some prominent Catholics aimed at the destruction of the King and the establishment of Catholicism, uncovered by Oates and Dr. Tongue,39[Pg 129] LAST I KNEW, I WAS THE TRANSLATOR OF THE __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ "Jesuits' Morals"; I went to meet and talk with him at Whitehall, along with Mr. Oates, who had recently converted from the Catholic Church and had now returned again with this discovery. He seemed to be a bold man and, in my opinion, recklessly indiscreet; but everyone believed what he said. This completely shifted the attitude and actions of Parliament, which was becoming corrupt and politically motivated after long sessions and court practices; yet, despite all this, Catholicism was not accepted. This discovery united them all against it, and nothing was done but to explore the details of this conspiracy. Oates was encouraged, and everything he claimed was taken as truth; the reality was that Catholics were becoming very bold and active everywhere since the Duke stopped attending the chapel.

16th October, 1678. Mr. Godolphin asked me to keep the trust that his wife had placed in me for his little son, urging me to extend the affection I had for his beloved wife to him and his family.

21st October, 1678. The murder of Sir Edmondbury[Pg 130] Godfrey, who was found strangled around this time, clearly at the hands of the Catholics, since he was a Justice of the Peace and was familiar with their activities, as he was close with Coleman (a servant of the ... now accused), stirred up the entire nation against them.

31st October, 1678. Since I have turned 58, I felt the need to humbly pray to God, asking Him to lift the heavy burden still resting on my family and to bring us comfort after the loss of my dear friend.

5th November, 1678. Dr. Tillotson preached before the Commons at St. Margaret's. He stated that the Catholics had become so bold as to deny that the gunpowder conspiracy ever existed; however, he insisted that he had several letters written by Sir Everard Digby (one of the traitors), in which he boasted about suffering for it. He added that the plan was arranged so that no more than two or three Catholics would be blown up, and they were the ones who weren’t worth saving.

15th November, 1678. The Queen's birthday. I have never seen the Court look more splendid, nor the nation more anxious and unsettled. Coleman and a man named Staly had now been tried, found guilty, and executed. Because of this, Oates became so bold as to accuse the Queen of plotting to poison the King; which, without a doubt, that pious and virtuous woman could never have considered, and in my opinion, Oates's claims made it completely implausible. He probably thought it would please some people who would have been happy if His Majesty had married a fertile woman; but the King was too kind a husband to let any of this affect him. However, several Catholic lords were sent to the Tower, accused by Oates; and all Roman Catholic lords were permanently excluded from Parliament by a new Act, which was a heavy blow. The King's, Queen's, and Duke's servants were banished, and a loyalty test was required for anyone who wanted to hold a public office and not be suspected of being Catholic. I went with Sir William Godolphin, a member of the House of Commons, to see the Bishop of Ely (Dr. Peter Gunning) to find out whether masses were considered idolatry, as the text stated, [Pg 131] which was phrased in a way that several good Protestants found troubling, and Sir William, despite being a knowledgeable and excellent theologian himself, had some doubts about it. The Bishop's view was that he could accept it, though he wished it had been worded differently in the text.

15th January, 1678-79. I went with Lady Sunderland to Chelsea and had lunch with the Countess of Bristol [her mother] in the large house that used to belong to the Duke of Buckingham, which is a spacious and nice place due to its size and good location. The house is big but poorly designed, even though Lord Bristol, who bought it after selling Wimbledon to the Lord Treasurer, spent a lot of money on it. There were various paintings by Titian and Vandyke, as well as some by Bassano, all very impressive, especially a painting of Adonis and Venus, a Duke of Venice, and a butcher at his stall selling meat to a Swiss. Also by Vandyke, there was a portrait of Lord Bristol alongside one of the Earl of Bedford displayed together. In the garden, there was a unique collection of orange trees, and she kindly gave me some.

16th January, 1679. I had dinner tonight with Mr. Secretary at the home of Mr. Houblon, a French merchant, who had his house decorated like royalty and treated us to a wonderful feast.

25th January, 1679. The Long Parliament, which had been in session since the Restoration, was dissolved due to the influence of the Lord Treasurer, despite the belief that several members were on his payroll. This left all the politicians at a loss, as they were very eager to investigate the recent conspiracy by the Catholics.

30th January, 1679. Dr. Cudworth preached before the King at Whitehall, on 2 Timothy iii. 5, listing the dangers of the last days, in which, among other evils, treason would be one of the worst, relating it to the current situation, as carried out under the guise of reform and righteousness; concluding that the prophecy was specifically referring to the present age, as one of the last days; the sins mentioned there are more prevalent than ever.

2nd February, 1679. Dr. Durell, Dean of Windsor, preached to the household at Whitehall, on 1 Cor. xvi. 22; he read the entire sermon from his notes, which I[Pg 132] had never seen a Frenchman do before, as he is from Jersey and was educated in Paris.

4th February, 1679. Dr. Pierce, Dean of Salisbury, preached on 1 John, iv. 1, "Test the spirits, since there have been so many misleading ones coming into the world lately"; he condemned the harmful teachings of Mr. Hobbes.

My brother Evelyn was now selected as Knight for the County of Surrey, competing against my Lord Longford and Sir Adam Brown of Bechworth Castle. The people who came out to support him were so numerous that I believe they drained nearly £2,000 from him through a pretty awful custom.

1st April, 1679. My friend, Mr. Godolphin, was appointed as one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury and of the Privy Council.

4th April, 1679. The Bishop of Gloucester preached in a way that closely resembled Bishop Andrews, full of subdivisions and scholarly insights, delivered with great enthusiasm. The Holy Communion followed.

20th April, 1679. Easter Sunday. Our vicar gave an excellent sermon on 1 Cor. v. 7. The Holy Communion followed, during which my daughter, Mary (who is now around fourteen years old), and I received for the first time. May the Lord Jesus continue to bless her and enhance this wonderful beginning!

24th April, 1679. The Duke of York, who was rejected by the Commons for his refusal to conform, went to Flanders; this sparked a lot of conversation.

4th June, 1679. I had dinner with Mr. Pepys in the Tower, as he had been detained by the House of Commons for misconduct in the Admiralty when he was secretary; I think he was wrongly accused. Here, I greeted my Lords Stafford and Petre, who were imprisoned for the Popish plot.

7th June, 1679. I witnessed the splendid procession and arrival of the Portugal Ambassador.

17th June, 1679. I was the godfather to a son of Sir Christopher Wren, the surveyor of the King’s buildings, that brilliant and knowledgeable man, along with Sir William Fermor and my Lady Viscountess Newport, the wife of the Treasurer of the Household.

Thence to Chelsea, to Sir Stephen Fox and my lady,[Pg 133] to discuss the purchase of the Countess of Bristol's house there, which she asked me to find a buyer for.

19th June, 1679. I had dinner at Sir Robert Clayton's with Sir Robert Viner, the prominent banker.

22d June, 1679. Several Jesuits were executed in connection with the plot, and there was a rebellion in Scotland led by the extremists, leading to a grim outlook for public affairs.

25th June, 1679. The new Commissioners of the Admiralty came to see me, including Sir Henry Capell, brother of the Earl of Essex, Mr. Finch, the eldest son of the Lord Chancellor, Sir Humphry Winch, Sir Thomas Meeres, Mr. Hales, and some of the Commissioners of the Navy. I accompanied them to London.

1st July, 1679. I had dinner at Sir William Godolphin's, and with that knowledgeable gentleman, I went for a walk in Hyde Park, where there was a dazzling cortège.

3rd July, 1679. I sent some venison to Mr. Pepys, who is still in prison, and then I went to have dinner with him.

6th July, 1679. There were now papers, speeches, and slander openly shouted in the streets against the Dukes of York and Lauderdale, among others, who were unpopular with Parliament, showing an excessively shameful freedom; however, the people and Parliament had gained momentum due to the faults of the powerful.

A child was brought to London, the son of Mr. Wotton, who used to be the assistant to Dr. Andrews, the Bishop of Winton. This child could read and fully understand Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Arabic, Syriac, and most modern languages. He debated theology, law, and various sciences; he was knowledgeable in both church and secular history, as well as in politics. At just eleven years old, he was so incredibly learned that people considered him a miracle. Dr. Lloyd, one of the most educated scholars in this country across all types of literature, along with Dr. Burnet, who had rigorously tested him, left astonished and said they didn’t believe anyone like him had ever existed. He had only been taught by his father, who was also learned and admitted that his son knew everything he knew. However, what was even more impressive than his remarkable memory was his judgment and creativity. He was challenged with various difficult questions that needed maturity of thought and experience. He was also skilled in chronology, antiquities, and mathematics. In short, he was an intellectus universalis, surpassing everything we read about Picus Mirandula and other prodigies, yet he remained a very humble child.

14th July, 1679. I went to check on things at Parson's Green, as my Lady Viscountess Mordaunt (now ill in Paris, where she went for her health) had appointed me as a trustee for her children, a responsibility I couldn’t decline for this most excellent, caring, and virtuous lady, who I have known for a long time.

15th July, 1679. I had lunch with Mr. Sidney Godolphin, now one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury.

18th July, 1679. I went early to the Old Bailey Sessions House for the famous trial of Sir George Wakeman, one of the Queen's physicians, and three Benedictine monks; the first (whom I was well acquainted with and considered a decent man who would never be involved in such a thing) for allegedly trying to poison the King; the others as accomplices in the scheme to destabilize the government and promote Catholicism. The courtroom was packed with judges, the Lord Mayor, and countless spectators. The main accusers were Dr. Oates (as he called himself) and a less notable man named Bedlow. Their testimonies weren’t very compelling, and I suspect a lot of it was based on hearsay, although they did swear to certain details, which raised doubts about their credibility; the circumstances also didn’t align enough to provide the court or jury with the complete assurance they had hoped for. After a long and exhausting trial lasting nine hours, the jury found them not guilty, much to the delight of the Catholics, and insufficient negative impact on the witnesses, particularly Oates and Bedlow.

This was a happy day for the lords in the Tower, who, if the trial had gone against the prisoners, would have been in serious danger. Personally, I see Oates as a vain and arrogant man, inflated by the support of the Commons for having uncovered something genuinely true, particularly his exposure of Coleman’s dangerous schemes, proven through his own letters. This also highlights the long-standing plot of the Jesuit faction among the Catholics to undermine the Church of England. However, I have many reasons to doubt that he was truly entrusted with the significant secrets he claimed, or had solid grounds for accusing various noblemen. It’s almost miraculous that among the numerous commissions he claimed to have delivered to them from P. Oliva and the Pope, he, who had no qualms about sharing all other documents, didn’t reveal any of those alleged commissions or even take a copy or witness of any of them. The Commons—some prominent members, that is—had elevated him to such an extent that they accepted everything he said as gospel, carelessly destroying everyone he labeled as conspirators without hesitation. He didn’t hesitate to target anyone who crossed his path. Indeed, the murder of Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, suspected to have been orchestrated by the Jesuits due to his close ties with Coleman (a rather active individual whom I also knew), and their fear that he could expose their wrongdoings, angered not only the Commons but the entire nation. Much of the hostility directed at the more honest Catholics who lived peacefully can be attributed to that horrific act.

The sessions wrapped up, and I had dinner—or more like a late meal—with the judges in the large room attached to the venue before heading home. While I usually didn't enjoy attending major trials, especially since they were typically well-documented by shorthand reporters, I felt drawn to this particular one. I hoped to gain a better understanding and form my opinion based on the visible details, like the carriages and other aspects involving the people involved, about a case that had caused such a stir across the nation.

22nd July, 1679. Had lunch at Clapham, at Sir D. Gauden's; then went with him to Windsor to help him with a matter for his Majesty. I stayed that night at Eton College, in the Provost's lodgings (Dr. Craddock), where I was kindly hosted.

23rd July, 1679. To Court: after lunch, I visited the amazing painter, Verrio, whose fresco works in the King's palace at Windsor will keep his name alive as long as those walls stand. He showed us his lovely garden,[Pg 136] beautiful flowers, and interesting items, as he is also a talented gardener.

I went to Clifden, this amazing place with natural rocks, trees, and views, owned by the Duke of Buckingham, along with lavish buildings. The grottos in the chalky rocks are nice; it’s a romantic spot, and the whole place fits the most poetic description of solitude, cliffs, scenery, or anything that looks like what people dream about. The structure somewhat resembles Frascati in its front, and from the platform, there’s a round view all the way to the horizon, which, with the winding Thames, is impressive. The staircase is unique because of its materials; the cloisters, descents, gardens, and path through the woods are grand and stately, but the land around is sadly barren and only grows ferns. In fact, as I mentioned to his Majesty that evening when he asked how I liked Clifden, I said honestly that it didn’t impress me as much as Windsor did for the view and park, which is incomparable; there’s only one narrow opening here that offers any variety, while at Windsor, the vistas are vast and open everywhere.

Returning, I stopped by my cousin Evelyn's place, which is a really nice spot in the forest, about two miles from Clifden. It has beautifully maintained gardens, and the house is a solid old structure. What's unique is that some of the rooms have dovetail flooring with no nails, perfectly fitted together. One of the closets is paneled with plain wood arranged in a diamond pattern, very sturdy and attractive.

7th August, 1679. Had dinner at the Sheriff's, where the Company of Drapers and their wives were invited. There was an extravagant feast, in line with the city's traditions, complete with music and everything, rivaling the level of service you’d find at any prince's court in Europe.

8th August, 1679. I went this morning to show my Lord Chamberlain, his Lady, and the Duchess of Grafton the amazing work of Mr. Gibbon, the carver, whom I first recommended to his Majesty. His house is set up like a gallery, filled not only with his own work but also with various excellent paintings from the best artists. After that, I went to Sir Stephen Fox's, where we spent the day.

31st August, 1679. After evening service, I went to visit a[Pg 137] neighbor, Mr. Bohun, who is related to my son's late tutor of the same name. He is a wealthy Spanish merchant living in a nice place that he has decorated with many curiosities, especially several carvings by Mr. Gibbons and some paintings by Streeter.

13th September, 1679. I went to Windsor to congratulate His Majesty on his recovery; I shook the Duke’s hand, who had just returned from Flanders41 to visit his brother the King. There were various bold and foolish discussions about this, especially since the Duke of Monmouth had been sent away.

19th September, 1679. My Lord Sunderland, one of the main Secretaries of State, invited me to dinner, along with the King's illegitimate son, the Earl of Plymouth, the Earl of Shrewsbury, the Earl of Essex, the Earl of Mulgrave, Mr. Hyde, and Mr. Godolphin. After dinner, I went to pray at Eton and visited Mr. Henry Godolphin, a fellow there, and Dr. Craddock.

25th September, 1679. Mr. Slingsby and Signor Verrio came over for dinner, and I served them China oranges from my own trees, which I believe are as good as any that have ever been tasted.

6th October, 1679. A very rainy and unhealthy time.

23rd October, 1679. Had dinner at my Lord Chamberlain's, the King having just returned from his Newmarket activities.

4th November, 1679. Had dinner at the Lord Mayor's; and, in the evening, attended the funeral of my dear, godly, and scholarly friend, Dr. Jasper Needham, who was laid to rest at St. Bride's Church. He was a genuine and devout Christian, and someone who cared for me deeply. Dr. Dove delivered a eulogy honoring his memory. In losing him, I lost one of my closest and most sincere friends.

5th November, 1679. I was invited to dinner at Lord Teviotdale's, a Scottish Earl, a knowledgeable and cultured nobleman. Afterward, we went to see Mr. Montague's new palace near Bloomsbury, built by our curator, Mr. Hooke, somewhat in the French style; it was beautifully furnished, and had a nice, though overly exposed, garden.42

6th November, 1679. Had dinner at the Countess of Sunderland's, and this evening attended the remarriage of the Duchess of Grafton to the Duke (his Majesty's illegitimate son), who is now twelve years old. The ceremony took place in my Lord Chamberlain's (her father's) rooms at Whitehall, conducted by the Bishop of Rochester, with the King present. It was a sudden and unexpected event, especially since everyone thought the first marriage would fall apart; however, once the decision was made, I received a private invitation from her mother to attend. I must admit I could offer her little joy, and I told her so, but she insisted the King had decided, and there was no turning back. This sweetest, most hopeful, most beautiful child, also the most virtuous, was sacrificed to a boy who had been poorly raised, with nothing motivating them other than the King's wishes. I pray God that the beautiful child finds this to her benefit, as, if my instincts are correct, she will in a few years become such a paragon that she would befit the wife of the greatest Prince in Europe! I stayed for supper, where the King sat between the Duchess of Cleveland (the mother of the Duke of Grafton) and the lovely bride, the Duchess; there were several noble individuals and ladies present, but without any ostentation. My regards to Lord Arlington's family, and the sweet child made me view all this with sadness. Although the Duke of Grafton is inclined towards the sea, which I gather his father plans to use him for, he may emerge as a straightforward, useful, and sturdy officer; if refined, he could be a respectable person, as he is extremely handsome, far surpassing any of the King's other illegitimate children.

8th November, 1679. At Sir Stephen Fox's, and discussing the agreement for the Countess of Bristol's house in Chelsea, for around £500.

November 18, 1679. I had dinner at the Lord Mayor's, having been invited by the Countess of Sunderland to accompany her on this special day, so she could witness the grandeur and ceremony of this Prince of Citizens. No one has ever surpassed him in the majesty of his palace, lavish feasts, and overall magnificence. The Lord Mayor's connection to my family goes back to his apprenticeship with Mr. Abbot, his uncle, who was a scrivener and a respectable man. He had been sentenced to death at the start of the troubles forty years ago for being involved in a rebellion for King Charles I but managed to escape execution. I often turned to him for help with financial matters. Robert Clayton, who was just a boy then and Abbot’s nephew, became incredibly wealthy after his uncle's death, earning a reputation as one of the richest citizens. He married a generous woman, which complemented his hospitable nature. With no children and the addition of his business partner and fellow apprentice, who also left his estate to him, he became extraordinarily wealthy. He was a wise magistrate, and although some envied him, I think it was without just cause. People suspected him of being harsh in his dealings, particularly with the Duke of Buckingham, from whom he acquired a significant portion of his estate, but I never witnessed any wrongdoing on his part, given his profession. The reputation and integrity of his uncle, Abbot, attracted many from the royal party to him, granting him not just great credit but also immense wealth, allowing him to serve in this office with remarkable magnificence and honor.

20th November, 1679. I had dinner with Mr. Slingsby, the Master of the Mint, along with my wife, who was invited to enjoy some music, which was beautifully performed by four of the most famous musicians: Du Prue, a Frenchman, on the lute; Signor Bartholomeo, an Italian, on the harpsichord; Nicholao on the violin; but, above all, the viol d'amore, a five-string instrument played with a bow, which resembled an ordinary violin but was played in a unique style by a German. There was also a flute douce, which is quite popular now for vocal accompaniment. Mr. Slingsby often hosted these gatherings at his home, and his son and daughter played very skillfully.

21st November, 1679. I had dinner at the Lord Mayor's to accompany my esteemed and generous friend, the Earl of Ossory. It was a Friday, a private day, but the feast and entertainment could have easily suited a King. No city in the world, as far as I know, displays such a welcoming atmosphere and impressive leadership.

23rd November, 1679. Dr. Allestree preached to the household on St. Luke xi. 2; Dr. Lloyd preached on Matt. xxiii. 20 before the King, demonstrating how poorly the Catholics interpreted those words of our blessed Savior to support the false infallibility they claim. I’ve never heard a more Christian and excellent discourse; however, some were upset that he seemed to imply that the Church of Rome was a true church, but that was a misleading interpretation. He never asserted anything that could be more damaging to them, highlighting how much the current Church of Rome had erred. There was not even a hint of censure in this sermon, and no one among the clergy has shown greater zeal against the errors of the Catholics than this pious and highly educated man. I had lunch at the Bishop of Rochester's and then went to St. Paul's to hear the brilliant Dr. Sprat, who recently took over from Dr. Outram at St. Margaret's. His strength was a great memory, never using notes, with a quickness of expression in a very clear and straightforward style, rich in substance and easily conveyed.

26th November, 1679. I met the Earl of Clarendon with my fellow executors of the Will of my late Lady Viscountess Mordaunt, namely, Mr. Laurence Hyde, one of the Treasury Commissioners and recently the Plenipotentiary Ambassador at Nijmegen; Andrew Newport; and Sir Charles Wheeler; to review, audit, and manage this year's accounts of the estate of this remarkable Lady, as directed by her Will.

27th November, 1679. I went to meet Sir John Stonehouse, with whom I was discussing a marriage between my son and his daughter-in-law.

28th November, 1679. The Duke of Monmouth arrived unexpectedly from Holland to see his Majesty, while the Duke of York was on his way to Scotland, where the King had sent him to live and govern. The bells and bonfires in the city celebrated the Duke of Monmouth's arrival, much to the dismay of some at Court. This Duke, known as the Protestant Duke (even though he was the son of a woman of questionable reputation), became an idol to the people.

4th December, 1679. I had dinner with Lord Ossory and the Earl of Chesterfield at the newly arrived Portugal Ambassador's place at Cleveland House, a grand palace that's too nice for that notorious.... The staircase is lavish, along with the gallery and garden; but most impressive were the expensive furnishings owned by the Ambassador, especially the ornate Japan cabinets, of which I think there were about a dozen. There was a billiard table, [Pg 141] with just as many hazards as our usual tables; the aim is just to hit the ball until it goes into a hazard, without crossing the middle area or touching the pin. If you fail to hit the ball every time, you lose the game, or if it goes into a hazard. It's actually harder to get a ball into a hazard, even with so many, than on our tables because the borders are perfectly level, and the edges aren’t padded. The balls are also larger, and they mostly use the thin, pointed end of the cue, which is tipped with brass or silver. The hospitality was very polite; however, aside from a nice mixed dish, the food was quite lacking, prepared in their style, not at all suitable for an English appetite, which prefers substantial dishes. There were decent chickens, but they were burnt to a crisp, and the desserts weren’t good either.

30th December, 1679. I went to meet Sir John Stonehouse and share the details of the settlement for my son, who is now courting the young lady, his daughter-in-law, the daughter of Lady Stonehouse.

25th January, 1679-80. Dr. Cave, the author of "Primitive Christianity" and other works, a devout and knowledgeable man, preached at Whitehall to the household, focusing on James iii. 17, about the importance of grace and charity.

30th January, 1680. I had dinner with Sir Stephen Fox, who is now one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury.

19th February, 1680. The documents for my son's marriage settlement and jointure were completed and signed. The bride was expected to bring £5,000, in exchange for a settlement of £500 a year for current maintenance, which would also be her jointure, and £500 a year after my wife and I pass away. However, with God's blessing, it will be at least £1,000 a year more in a few years. I pray that God makes him deserving of it and a comfort to his wonderful mother, who deserves so much from him!

21st February, 1680. Pancake Day. My son married Mrs. Martha Spencer, the daughter of my Lady Stonehouse from a previous marriage, at St. Andrew's, Holborn, by our Vicar, using the church of Dr. Stillingfleet, the Dean of St. Paul's, who is the current incumbent. We later had dinner at a house in Holborn; and after the ceremony and dancing were finished, they spent their first night together at Sir John Stonehouse's lodgings in Bow Street, Covent Garden.[Pg 142]

26th February, 1680. To the Royal Society, where I met an Irish Bishop and his wife, who was the daughter of my esteemed and devout friend, Dr. Jeremy Taylor, the late Bishop of Down and Connor; they came to visit the Repository. She appeared to be a knowledgeable woman, surpassing the usual abilities of her gender.

3rd March, 1680. I had lunch at my Lord Mayor's, to meet with Lady Beckford, whose daughter (a wealthy heiress) I had suggested to my brother at Wotton for his only son, as she is the daughter of the lady by Mr. Eversfield, a gentleman from Sussex.

16th March, 1680. To London, to collect £3,000 of my daughter-in-law's dowry, which was given in gold.

26th March, 1680. The Dean of Sarum preached on Jerem. xlv. 5, for an hour and a half from his commonplace book, about kings and important figures taking time away for themselves. There was hardly any Scripture in it.

April 18, 1680. At the earnest invitation of the Earl of Essex, I went with him to his house at Cashiobury in Hertfordshire. It was a Sunday, but after leaving his place in St. James's Square early, we arrived by ten o'clock. He thought this was too late to attend church, so we had prayers in his chapel. The house is new, a simple structure built by my friend, Mr. Hugh May. There are several nice rooms and excellent carvings by Gibbons, especially the chimney piece in the library. In the entrance, there's a painting by Verrio of Apollo and the Liberal Arts. I particularly liked one room that was decorated with yew. Some of the chimney mantels are made of Irish marble, which my Lord brought from Ireland when he was Lord-Lieutenant, and they are not much inferior to Italian marble. The tympanum, or gable, at the front features a nice bass-relief of Diana hunting, carved in Portland stone. I don't like the middle doors being round, but once the hall is finished as planned—being an oval with a cupola—along with the other wing, it will be a very impressive palace. The library is large and very nicely furnished, with all the books richly bound and gilded; however, there are no manuscripts except for the Parliament Rolls and Journals, the transcribing and binding of which, he assured me, cost him £500.

No man has worked harder than this noble[Pg 143] Lord in landscaping his estate, complete with paths, ponds, and other charming features. However, the soil is rocky, harsh, and uneven, and the water is not close enough to the house, even though there's a fast-flowing, clear stream just a stone's throw away in the valley, aptly named Coldbrook, since it is indeed very cold, yet it produces good trout. It's unfortunate that the house wasn’t built in a better location; it seems it was constructed right where the old one stood, which I believe he only intended to renovate. This leads people into irreversible mistakes and results in minimal gain.

The land around is very rich in wood, but the coldness of the area limits growth. Black cherry trees thrive and can grow to be quite large, some reaching eighty feet tall; they also create beautiful avenues. There’s a nice oval at the end of a lovely path, surrounded by triple rows of Spanish chestnut trees.

The gardens are quite unique, and they can't be anything else, given the skill of the artist managing them, Mr. Cooke, who, when it comes to the mechanics, knows his math and claims to know astrology. There's a fantastic collection of the finest fruits.

As for my Lord, he is a serious, wise, sensible, and thoughtful person, not less educated than most noblemen today, very knowledgeable about English history and current events, hardworking, thrifty, organized, and skilled in many areas. His Lady (the sister of the late Earl of Northumberland) is a wise, though somewhat sad, woman, who focuses too much on her little daughter, whom she loves excessively. They have a promising son at the Academy.

My lord had recently returned from his position as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, where he demonstrated his skills in administration and governance, as well as his ability to significantly increase his wealth without any criticism. He had served as an extraordinary ambassador in Denmark, and, in short, he was exactly the kind of person worthy of being the son of his esteemed father, the late Lord Capel, who gave his life for King Charles I.

We spent our mornings walking or riding, and making plans, and our afternoons in the library, so I occupied my time for three or four days with[Pg 144] a lot of satisfaction. He enjoyed sharing various details about the current state of affairs during our conversations. Since he was not a big supporter of the D——, he was now sidelined, as his integrity and skills weren't quite a match for the situation. On the 21st, I went back to London.

30th April, 1680. To a meeting of the executors of the late Viscountess Mordaunt's estate, to discuss the sale of Parson's Green, which is currently being negotiated with Mr. Loftus, and to finalize the half-year's account.

1st May, 1680. There was a meeting of the trustees for the poor of our parish. This year, I decided to be one of the collectors of their rents, to set an example for others. My son was added to the trustees.

This afternoon, Sir Edward Deering from Surrendon in Kent, one of the Lords of the Treasury, came to visit me, along with his daughter, who is married to my good friend, Sir Robert Southwell, the Clerk of the Council and now the Extraordinary Envoy to the Duke of Brandenburgh and other princes in Germany. Prior to this, he had served in Portugal and is a serious, wise, and decent man.

May 13, 1680. I attended the funeral of old Mr. Shish, master shipwright at His Majesty's Yard here. He was an honest and remarkable man, and his death is a public loss due to his exceptional success in building ships (despite being completely uneducated) and for training so many of his children to be skilled artisans. I held up the pall alongside three knights who honored him, and he truly deserved it. It was this good man's practice to rise at night and pray, kneeling in his own coffin, which he had kept nearby for many years. He was born in that famous year of the Gunpowder Plot, 1605.

14th June, 1680. The Countess of Clarendon, Dr. Lloyd, Dean of Bangor (who later became Bishop of St. Asaph), Dr. Burnet, author of the "History of the Reformation," and my old friend, Mr. Henshaw, joined us for dinner. Afterward, we all went to visit the Observatory, where Mr. Flamsted showed us several rare instruments, particularly the large quadrant.

24th July, 1680. I went with my wife and daughter to Windsor to see the impressive court, which is almost completed. In the courtyard, there was a statue of the King on horseback, recently cast in copper and placed on an ornate pedestal made of white[Pg 145] marble. This was the work of Mr. Gibbons, funded by Toby Rustate, a page to the royal household. Through his remarkable frugality, he accumulated a significant fortune and has done many charitable acts, including this one as a tribute to his master, which cost him £1,000. He is quite simple-minded, uneducated, but an honest and loyal person.

We all had dinner at the Countess of Sunderland's, then went to see Signor Verrio's garden, and from there to Eton College to greet the provost. We listened to a Latin speech from one of the alumni (since it was election time) and were invited to have supper, but we said our goodbyes and made it back to London that night in plenty of time.

26th July, 1680. My esteemed friend, the Earl of Ossory, spotted me this morning after the sermon in the private gallery. He called out to me and said he was about to leave on his journey (heading to Tangier, where he was appointed Governor and General of the forces to recover the recent losses we suffered from the Moors while Inchiquin was Governor). I asked if he would stop by my house (as he always did whenever he left England for an expedition). He replied that he had to depart from Portsmouth, "so let’s have dinner together today; I’m completely alone, and I have something to share with you; I’m not feeling well, I need some privacy, and I would appreciate your company."

Once he was back in his room and settled on a couch, he asked his secretary for a copy of a letter he had written to Lord Sunderland (the Secretary of State), wanting me to read it. The letter pointed out how upset he was that Lord Sunderland told the King, right in front of Lord Ossory, that Tangier shouldn’t be kept and would definitely be lost. Yet, he added that it was appropriate for Lord Ossory to be sent so they could explain the situation to the public, which was assumed to mean the next Parliament, where all such failures would likely be scrutinized. Lord Ossory was very offended by Lord Sunderland's remarks and also not pleased with the King, who, deciding to send him with an insufficient force, seemed, as Lord Ossory understood it, to be willing to send him off to a dangerous mission that many believed was impossible. There would only be about 300 or 400 cavalry and 4,000 infantry available for the garrison and everything else needed to defend the town, set up a camp, repel the enemy, and fortify any ground they could secure. This deeply affected Lord Ossory, making him feel so undervalued as to be put in a position where he might not only lose his reputation but also be blamed for any failures and setbacks, especially since they had originally promised 6,000 infantry and 600 cavalry to be fully effective.

My Lord, being an incredibly brave and courageous person, who had proven himself in various notable battles, both at sea and on land; so loved and respected by the people, who relied on him in every situation worthy of such a leader;—he saw this as a significant lack of regard from his Majesty, despite all his services, and the accomplishments of his father, the Duke of Ormond, as well as a scheme by some who envied his character. It clearly took such a strong hold on his mind that he, who was the most fearless person in the world (and assured me he would go to Tangier with ten men if his Majesty commanded him), could not cope with this unkindness. After sharing this with me over dinner, he went with his Majesty to meet the sheriffs at a grand supper at Fishmongers' Hall; but feeling unwell, he took his leave from the King and returned to his lodgings. Not sleeping well that night, he was advised to move to Arlington House for better care. His illness developed into a severe fever, which worsened, and despite all that six of the best physicians could do, he became delirious, with moments of clarity, during which Dr. Lloyd (who later became Bishop of St. Asaph) administered the Holy Communion, which I also received. He died the following Friday, the 30th of July, to the deep sorrow of everyone who knew or heard of his great worth, and none suffered a greater loss than I did. He often said I was the oldest friend he had in England (when his father was in Ireland), as we had known each other for about thirty years, having met abroad when he rode at the Academy in Paris, and we were rarely apart.

His Majesty never lost a more worthy subject, nor a father a better or more devoted son; a loving, generous, good-natured, and incredibly helpful friend; someone who had done countless kindnesses for others before they even realized it; and he never promoted anyone who wasn’t deserving. No one was braver, more modest, or more humble, sober, and virtuous in every way. Unfortunate England in this [Pg 147] illustrious person's loss! There was widespread mourning for him and countless tributes paid. I stayed by his bedside night and day until his last breath to close his beloved eyes! O sad father, mother, wife, and children! What else can I say? He deserved everything a sincere friend, brave soldier, virtuous courtier, loyal subject, honest man, generous master, and good Christian could hope for from his prince and country. One more thing to note is that he often expressed to me his disgust for that base and unworthy act he was forced to take part in, engaging the Smyrna fleet during peacetime. Although he acted like a great captain in that situation, he told me it was the only stain on his life, and it troubled him deeply. Even though he was ordered to do it and was never questioned further, he always spoke of it with regret and revulsion. The Countess was at her daughter’s home, the Countess of Derby, about 200 miles away.

30th August, 1680. I went to visit a French gentleman, Monsieur Chardin, who had traveled to the East Indies, Persia, and other distant places three times. He arrived here on our return ships from those regions, and since it was said that he was a highly knowledgeable and curious man, the Royal Society asked me to greet him on their behalf and invite him to join them. Sir Joseph Hoskins and Sir Christopher Wren came with me. We found him at his lodgings, dressed in his Eastern attire, a very handsome man, extremely friendly, a modest and well-mannered individual, not someone prone to exaggerate. He spoke Latin and understood Greek, Arabic, and Persian from eleven years spent traveling in those areas, where he was in search of jewels and had become quite wealthy. He appeared to be about 36 years old. After the usual polite exchanges, we inquired about the extraordinary sights he must have encountered on his overland journey to places few, if any, Northern Europeans usually visit, such as the Black and Caspian Seas, Mingrelia, Bagdad, Nineveh, Persepolis, and so on. He told us that the most remarkable things worth our attention would be the drawings he had commissioned of some noble ruins and other sites; besides his own modest skill in that area, he had brought along two talented painters to capture landscapes, measure, and design the remains of the palace that Alexander burned in his revelry at Persepolis, along with various temples, columns, reliefs, and statues still standing, which he claimed surpassed any sculpture he had seen in Rome, Greece, or any other place where grandiosity was valued. He mentioned there was an inscription in letters that were not decipherable, though complete. He expressed regret that he couldn't satisfy the Society's curiosity at that moment since his belongings had not yet arrived from the ship, but he promised to meet with them upon his return from Paris, where he was headed the next day, intending to come back quickly and stay longer, as the persecution in France did not allow Protestants, of whom he was one, to live peacefully.

He told us that Nineveh was a huge city, now all buried in ruins, with people building on the underground vaults, which seemed to be the first floors of the old city. He mentioned that large vases made of fine clay, columns, and other antiques were often found there. He explained that the straw the Egyptians demanded from the Israelites wasn't used for burning or covering the rows of bricks like we do; instead, it was chopped up to mix with the clay, which would otherwise crack when dried in the sun (since they didn't bake in a furnace). He also mentioned that in Persia, there is still a group called Ignicolæ, who worship the sun and fire as gods. He described the women of Georgia and Mingrelia as being, without comparison, the most beautiful people in the world in terms of shape, features, and figure, which is why the Grand Seignor and Bashaws had gotten many of their wives and concubines from there. He noted that in the past hundred years, there had been Amazons among them, a sort of brave women who were warriors. He remarked on the extreme fertility of Persia, and spoke about Japan and China, as well as the many major mistakes of our recent geographers, as we brought up topics for discussion. We then said our goodbyes, missing the chance to see his papers; however, others told us that he indeed dared not open or show them until he had first shown them to the French King, but he himself said nothing about that.

2nd September, 1680. I had the chance, with the King still at Windsor, to explore his private library at Whitehall at my leisure. I went expecting to find some interesting things, but even though there were about 1,000 volumes, there were few significant ones that I hadn't read before. Most of them were books that had been dedicated or presented to him over time; there were a few histories, some travel books and French texts, a lot of maps and sea charts, entertainment works, and items related to the navy, along with some mathematical instruments. The rarest finds were three or four Roman Catholic breviaries, filled with intricate miniature and monastic painting and gilding, one of which was exquisitely done, featuring impressive figures, grotesques, and detailed compartments, showcasing the height of that intricate art. One breviary had a note written by King Henry VII., gifting it to his beloved daughter, Margaret, who later became Queen of Scots, asking her to pray for his soul and signing his name in full. There was also a manuscript illustrating the philosophers' great elixir, depicted in various excellent miniatures, but the text was in high Dutch. Another manuscript, in quarto format and over 300 years old, was a textbook on medicine in French, featuring delicately painted miniatures of plants in the botanical section. Additionally, there was a thick folio manuscript containing various exercises, such as essays, speeches, translations, etc., authored by King Edward VI., all written in his own hand with a clear signature, along with many Greek texts interleaved and corrected in the style of schoolboys' exercises, done exceptionally well. Some letters to his teacher demonstrated that this young prince was extraordinarily advanced in his learning, and as Cardan, who had been in England, noted, impressively knowledgeable for his age. His journal also indicated his early maturity and concern for state affairs.

There are also many fancy books, some with gold embossing and engravings on stones, medals, etc. I spent three or four whole days, locked away and alone, surrounded by these books and curiosities. In the other private areas nearby, there are several of the best paintings from the great masters like Raphael and Titian, but the one I admire above all is the "Noli me tangere" of our blessed Savior to Mary Magdalene after his Resurrection by Hans Holbein; I've never seen such reverence and a sense of heavenly wonder captured in a painting.[Pg 150]

There are also various interesting clocks, watches, and pendulums of exceptional craftsmanship, along with other curiosities. An elderly woman who kept these lodgings clean and held all the keys allowed me to come in whenever I wanted for a small fee, thanks to a friend.

6th September, 1680. I had dinner with Sir Stephen Fox, now one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury. He started as a poor boy from the choir of Salisbury, then caught the attention of Bishop Duppa, and later served my Lord Percy (brother to Algernon, Earl of Northumberland), who helped him get a junior position among the kitchen clerks and on the Greencloth side. He was so humble, diligent, hardworking, and sensible in his role that, while the King was in exile, Mr. Fox was often called upon for various tasks by both the King and the Lords around him, being trusted with both receiving and paying the little money they had. When he returned to England with his Majesty after enduring great hardship and suffering, the King found him so honest and hardworking, and also so capable and willing, that he advanced him from a kitchen clerk to the Greencloth position and made him the paymaster of the entire army. His skill and reliable dealings earned him such credit with the bankers that he could quickly borrow large sums from them in times of need. The constant flow of money and the soldiers' reasonable payments to him for keeping in touch with them made him so wealthy that he is believed to be worth at least £200,000, earned honestly and without envy, which is almost miraculous. Despite all this, he remains as humble and willing to help as ever.

He is generous and lives honorably, with a kind nature, good manners, and is highly regarded by His Majesty. He is so useful that, after being knighted long ago, he was also appointed as one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury and is next in line for the Cofferer's position after Harry Brouncker. He married his oldest daughter to Lord Cornwallis, giving her £12,000 and helping that troubled family as well. He matched his son with Mrs. Trollop, who brings not only a significant amount of money but also around £2,000 a year. Sir Stephen's wife (an excellent woman) is the sister of Mr. Whittle, one of the King's surgeons. In short, no one has been more fortunate than Sir Stephen; he is a good-looking man, virtuous, and very religious.

23rd September, 1680. Some German strangers and Signor Pietro, a well-known musician who had spent a long time at Queen Christina's Court in Sweden, came to my house. He sang beautifully to a guitar, with a great tenor and bass, and set many of Abraham Cowley's pieces to Italian composition, which turned out really well. He told me that in Sweden, summer heat in some parts was as extreme as winter cold; he claimed it was so cold that for many months, the streets of all the towns were deserted, with no creatures stirring as everyone retreated to their stoves. He praised that romantic Queen's intelligence and language skills, her majestic demeanor, and her sharp wit, saying that the histories she had read about other countries, especially Italy and Rome, had made her look down on her own. He mentioned that the real reason she resigned her crown was the noblemen pestering her to marry and the promise from the Pope that he would make her Queen of Naples, which also led her to change her religion; however, she was deceived by his cunning Holiness, who played on her ambitions. He also noted that her secretary was killed at Fontainebleau because he revealed the intrigue with the Pope. But after all this, I tend to believe it was her crazy extravagance and extreme vanity that had drained the vast treasures her father, the great Adolphus, had brought from Germany during his campaigns and incredible successes, and that if she hadn't resigned voluntarily, anticipating the outcome, the Estates of her kingdom would have forced her to do so.

30th October, 1680. I went to London to be alone since my birthday was the next day, marking my sixtieth year. I started to take a deeper look at my entire life to make and solidify my peace with God, carefully reflecting on all my past actions as much as I could remember. What a difficult and uncertain, yet necessary task! Lord, please be merciful to me and accept me! Who can say how often he sins? Teach me, then, to count my days so that I can focus my heart on wisdom and make my calling and election certain. Amen, Lord Jesus![Pg 152]

31st October, 1680. I spent the entire day in activities. A stranger gave a sermon at Whitehall44 based on Luke 16:30, 31. Then I went to St. Martin's, where the Bishop of St. Asaph preached on 1 Peter 3:15. The Holy Communion followed, and I took part, humbly asking for God's help in the significant work I was about to undertake. In the afternoon, I listened to Dr. Sprat at St. Margaret's on Acts 17:11.

I started and spent the entire week reflecting on my life, asking for forgiveness for my mistakes, and seeking help and blessings for the future, so I could be somewhat prepared for the time that was approaching, rather than trying to start the important work when it's too late to do so. Lord Jesus, please help and guide me! So, I didn't go out much until November 5th, when I heard Dr. Tenison, the current vicar of St. Martin's; Dr. Lloyd, the previous vicar, had been appointed Bishop of St. Asaph.

7th November, 1680. I took part in the sacred Communion, which completed and strengthened my decision to fully commit myself to God, to whom I had now solemnly dedicated the remaining days of my life in this world. The Lord empowers me, an unworthy servant, a wretched sinner, still relying on His infinite goodness and mercy to accept my efforts.

15th November, 1680. Sir Richard Anderson, his wife, their son and his wife, who is my daughter-in-law's sister, came over for dinner.

30th November, 1680. The annual election at the Royal Society took me to London, where the outstanding individual and great philosopher, Mr. Robert Boyle, was elected President, a role he truly deserved to have held from the beginning; however, neither his health issues nor his modesty could serve as an excuse any longer. I requested to be excluded from the Council this year due to my residence being in the countryside. As per tradition, the Society had a joint dinner.

The trial of Lord Viscount Stafford, who was accused of plotting the King's death, began on that significant day, and I was there. He was the second son of Lord Thomas Howard, the Earl of Arundel and Surrey, and the Earl Marshal of England, and he was the grandfather of the current Duke of Norfolk, whom I knew well and received many favors from. Coincidentally, it was also his birthday. The trial took place in Westminster Hall, in front of the King, the Lords, and the Commons, just like the trial of the great and wise Earl of Strafford forty years earlier (with only one letter difference in their names) for alleged poor governance in Ireland, which happened in the same place, with Lord Stafford’s father serving as High Steward at that time. The seating area was raised significantly above the hall’s paved floor, built on a wooden platform. The throne, woolsacks for the judges, long benches for the peers, and a chair for the Lord Steward were all arranged just like in the House of Lords. Both sides were scaffolded up to the roof for the House of Commons members. At the upper end, to the right of the King’s position, there was a box for his Majesty, while to the left were boxes for prominent ladies, and above, there was a gallery for ambassadors and public ministers. At the lower end, or entrance, there was a bar, and a place for the prisoner, along with the Lieutenant of the Tower of London, the ax-bearer, and guards, as well as Lord Stafford’s two daughters, one of whom was the Marchioness of Winchester; there was also a box for Lord Stafford to retreat to. On the right side, in another box slightly higher up, stood the witnesses; on the left were the prosecutors representing the Commons of England: Serjeant Maynard, the prominent lawyer who had prosecuted the Earl of Strafford forty years before and was now nearly eighty; Sir William Jones, the former Attorney-General; Sir Francis Winnington, a well-known lawyer; and Mr. Treby, currently the Recorder of London. They appeared not in their gowns as lawyers but in cloaks and swords to represent the Commons of England. They were joined by gentlemen of quality and noted parliamentary figures, including Mr. Hampden, Dr. Sacheverell, Mr. Poule, Colonel Titus, and Sir Thomas Lee. The first two days, during which the commission and impeachment were read, were just a tedious prelude to the facts, and I was mostly absent. However, on Thursday, I was comfortably seated among the Commons when the witnesses were sworn in and examined. The main witnesses were Mr. Oates (who referred to himself as Dr.), Mr. Dugdale, and Turberville. Oates testified that he delivered a commission from the Pope to Viscount Stafford to be the Paymaster-General of an army that was intended to be raised; Dugdale claimed that while at Lord Aston's, the prisoner straightforwardly asked him to murder the King; and Turberville said that in Paris, Stafford similarly proposed the act to him.

3rd December, 1680. The testimonies of my Lord's witnesses were collected to discredit the King's witnesses; they were quite unimpressive individuals, but since they were fifteen or sixteen, they occupied the entire day, and in reality, they ended up causing my Lord more harm than help.

4th December, 1680. Other witnesses from the Commons came to support the King's testimony, including some Peers, some from the Commons, and others of good standing, who disproved all the previous day's objections and validated the King's witnesses recti in curiâ.

6th December, 1680. Sir William Jones summarized the evidence; following him were all the other managers, and then Mr. Henry Poule delivered a passionate speech. After that, my Lord, as he did on all occasions and often during the trial, spoke in his own defense, completely denying the charge and claiming that he had never seen Oates or Turberville at the time and in the way they said. Honestly, their testimony didn’t hold much weight with me; Dugdale's was the only one that seemed to pressure him the most, to which my Lord spoke at length, but it was disorganized and without any clear structure.

One thing my Lord said about Oates really affected me: that a person who, during his testimony, would so boastfully claim that although he joined the Church of Rome, he was never a Papist or part of their religion—while he appeared to abandon the Protestant faith, doing so only as a spy—was quite hypocritical. He admitted he took their sacrament, worshiped images, went through all their oaths and rules, swore to keep secrets, and promised loyalty, but with the intention of betraying them later. For someone to be such a hypocrite, to even turn idolater (as we in the Church of England would call it), swearing before God that he was completely theirs and devoted to their cause, and yet (as he pretended) trusted; I say that the testimony of such a morally corrupt person should not even be accepted against the life of a peer—my Lord saw this as a monstrous thing that would surely bring dishonor to our religion and nation. Honestly, I agree with his Lordship: a man like that’s testimony shouldn't be taken seriously at all. But because of something significant he revealed against Coleman, he gained such esteem with Parliament that now I think he held nothing back, believing everyone should take his word as Gospel. This, along with other factors, started to make me question things, especially how someone who went among the Papists on such a mission, claiming to handle many letters and commissions from the Pope and the group—indeed delivering them to numerous influential people—could not keep even one to show, nor a single copy of any commission, which someone skilled at opening letters certainly could have done to convincingly prove his accusations against those he targeted; but as I said, he gained credibility on Coleman. As for the others he ferociously went after, I am little inclined to trust his testimony, given that he's such a petty person, so passionate, ill-mannered, and so shamelessly audacious; it’s unlikely that shrewd politicians like the Jesuits would confide in him with their most risky and confidential secrets.

7th December, 1680. On Tuesday, I was back at the trial, where a verdict was being requested. After my Lord spoke as much as he could to deny the accusations and the managers addressed the objections, the Peers adjourned to their House and returned in about two hours. In the meantime, the judges were asked whether having just one witness for any single crime could be enough to convict someone of treason. They all agreed that in cases of treason, all acts are relevant; even though no one should be condemned based on a single witness for one act, multiple acts with the same intent could be valid, which applied to my Lord's case. Once that was settled and the Peers were back in their seats, the Lord Chancellor Finch (who was also the Lord High-Steward today) moved to the woolsack next to the King’s throne. After summoning the Lieutenant of the Tower to bring forth[Pg 156] his prisoner, and calling for silence, he asked each of the eighty-six Peers whether William, Lord Viscount Stafford, was guilty of the treason he was accused of or not guilty.

Then the peer being addressed stood up, placed his right hand on his chest, and declared guilty or not guilty, upon my honor, then sat down as the Lord Steward recorded their votes on paper. When everyone had finished, there were only 31 not guilty votes and 55 guilty votes. After a call for silence, the Lord Steward spoke to the prisoner, with the axe turned edgeways against him, highlighting the severity of his crime, considering he was honored by the King’s father and had received many favors from the current King. After discussing the offense and lamenting his own unfortunate position of having to begin his role with this case, he pronounced the sentence of death by hanging, drawing, and quartering, adhering to protocol with great seriousness and gravity. After a brief pause, he informed the prisoner that he believed the Lords would plead for the omission of some aspects of the sentence, with beheading being the only exception. Then, breaking his white staff, the court was dissolved. My Lord Stafford spoke very little during this final part and only thanked the Lords after the sentence was announced, conducting himself modestly, as was fitting.

It was noted that all his family and connections condemned him, except his nephew, the Earl of Arundel, who was the son of the Duke of Norfolk. It's important to mention that the entire trial was conducted with extreme seriousness; I had never witnessed such a dignified and impressive scene before. Besides the countless spectators, including gentlemen and foreign ministers who observed and listened to all the proceedings, the accused was facing the conscience of all the Commons of England as his accusers, while all the Peers acted as his judges and jury. He also had the option to choose any counsel he wanted to guide him during his plea, who stood by his side. Still, I can hardly believe that a man of his age and experience would enlist the help of people he had never met before (including one who visited him as a stranger in Paris) POINT BLANK to murder the King: only God, who knows our hearts, can reveal the truth. Lord Stafford was not particularly well-liked, especially by his own family.

12th December, 1680. This evening, looking out of my room window toward the west, I saw a meteor that was a strange bright color, shaped a lot like a sword blade, while the rest of the sky was calm and clear. What this could mean, only God knows; but I remember seeing something similar back in 1640, around the time of the trial of the great Earl of Strafford, just before our bloody Rebellion. I pray that God keeps his judgments away from us! Recently, we've had several comets, which I believe are due to natural causes and don’t really have an effect on their own, yet I can’t ignore them. They might be warnings from God, as they often precede his reactions. After many days and nights of snow, cloudy, and dark weather, the comet was noticeably dimmer.

17th December, 1680. My daughter-in-law gave birth to a son, named Richard.

22nd December, 1680. A serious public fast for God to stop any Catholic plots, prevent His judgments, and bless the actions of Parliament that is currently meeting, which targeted the succession of the Duke of York.

29th December, 1680. The Viscount Stafford was executed by beheading at Towerhill.

10th February, 1680-81. I attended the wedding of my nephew, John Evelyn of Wotton, who was married by the Bishop of Rochester at Westminster, in Henry VII's chapel, to the daughter and heir of Mr. Eversfield, from Sussex, with a dowry of £8,000. The ceremony was a small affair, held with just a few friends at Lady Beckford's, the bride's mother.

8th March, 1681. I visited and had dinner at the Earl of Essex's, where I spent most of the afternoon alone with him. After that, I went to see my (still living) godmother and relative, Mrs. Keightley, who is the sister of Sir Thomas Evelyn and my father's niece. She is now eighty-six years old, lively, and in perfect health, her eyesight is just as good as ever, and she has a pleasant face that makes her look no older than fifty.

27th March, 1681. The Parliament is now meeting in Oxford. There's a lot of anticipation regarding the royal succession issue, which the House is addressing.[Pg 158]

An unusually sharp, cold spring, with no leaves on the trees, frost and snow still on the ground: while the entire nation was in a state of great unrest.

11th April, 1681. I said goodbye to Dr. Lloyd (Bishop of St. Asaph) at his home in Leicester Fields, as I am now going to live in his diocese.

12th April, 1681. I had dinner at Mr. Brisbane's, Secretary to the Admiralty, who is a knowledgeable and hardworking individual. Dr. Burnet also arrived to thank me for some papers I had contributed to his outstanding "History of the Reformation."

26th April, 1681. I had dinner at Don Pietro Ronquillo's, the Spanish Ambassador, at Wild House, who treated me with remarkable kindness. The dinner was abundant, half prepared in the Spanish style and half in the English style. After dinner, he took me into his bedroom, where we had a long conversation about religion. Although he was knowledgeable in politics and a skilled advocate, he knew very little about religion and couldn't defend any controversial points; however, he wasn’t aggressive about it. When we parted, he earnestly encouraged me to humbly pray to the blessed virgin for guidance, assuring me that he had seen several people who were initially opposed to the Roman Catholic faith be wonderfully enlightened and convinced through her intercession. He urged me to come and visit him often.

29th April, 1681. Just one rain shower this entire month.

5th May, 1681. I had dinner with Sir William Fermor from Northamptonshire and Sir Christopher Wren, the King’s architect and surveyor, who was currently working on the Cathedral of St. Paul and the column commemorating the city’s fire, as well as overseeing the construction of fifty parish churches. This remarkable individual was truly a genius.

16th May, 1681. Lady Sunderland came to ask me to suggest a match to Sir Stephen Fox for her son, Lord Spencer, to marry Mrs. Jane, Sir Stephen's daughter. I tried to excuse myself as much as I could because I was honestly worried he would turn out to be a reckless man. Although he was a young man of remarkable talent and had a great education that could make him a respectable person, his early tendencies toward extravagance made me nervous that[Pg 159] I wouldn't be acting as a true friend to Sir Stephen by proposing it, especially since this was his only daughter, well-raised, and likely to inherit a substantial portion of her father's wealth. Lord Sunderland had lost a lot from gambling and other wasteful spending and was no longer Secretary of State, having fallen out of favor with the King for siding with the Commons on the succession issue; although, I’ve been told he didn’t do this out of personal belief or for the sake of the Protestant faith, but misunderstanding the ability of his side to succeed. However, Lady Sunderland was so eager and persistent that I eventually mentioned it to Sir Stephen, who responded that it would be too great an honor, noting that both his daughter and my Lord were very young. He was determined never to marry her off without the mutual agreement of both parties, along with other objections that I couldn't argue against. He asked me to convey to the Countess how much he appreciated the honor, that his daughter and her son were too young, that he wouldn't do anything without her agreement, which he believed she wouldn’t be able to express wisely until she was sixteen or seventeen, of which she currently lacked four years, and that I should decline as politely as I could.

20th May, 1681. Our new curate preached, a pretty hopeful young man, but a bit inexperienced, just arrived from college, full of Latin phrases that will eventually fade away. He read prayers really well.

25th May, 1681. Sir William Walter and Sir John Elowes came to visit me, and the next day, the Earl of Kildare, a young man related to my wife, along with some other guests. There had hardly been any rain since Christmas.

2nd June, 1681. I went to Hampton Court, where the gentlemen from Surrey presented their addresses to the King, whose hand I kissed, with an introduction by the Duke of Albemarle. While at the Privy Council, I took another opportunity to chat with Sir Stephen Fox about his daughter and to revisit that matter. I at least got to this point: If the young people liked each other after four years, he would first want to look at a specific detail of my Lord's current estate if I could share it with him privately. He would set her portion at £14,000, although it seemed possible that he could easily make it £50,000, considering his eldest son has no children and is becoming quite overweight.[Pg 160]

12th June, 1681. The drought continued, unmatched in severity in England's history, and it was said to be widespread.

14th August, 1681. There was no sermon this afternoon, which I believe hasn't happened twice in this parish in the last thirty years; God has been so gracious to us, and indeed to the whole nation. God help us not to misuse this great privilege by our recklessness, division, or unfaithfulness, especially considering the blessings He hasn't given to any other nation in the world!

23rd August, 1681. I went to Wotton, and the next day, I was invited to Mr. Denzil Onslow's place at Purford, where there was a large gathering and an incredible feast, unlike anything I had ever seen at a country gentleman's table. What made it even more impressive was that everything served was sourced from his estate, including venison, rabbits, hares, pheasants, partridges, pigeons, quails, and a variety of fresh fowl in season from his decoy close to his house, along with all kinds of fresh fish. After dinner, we headed to the decoy to watch some sport, where I saw more herons than I had ever seen before.

The seat is located on flat, dry pasture land that hardly gets watered, and it has been greatly improved since Mr. Onslow purchased it from Sir Robert Parkhurst, who invested a good amount of money in it. The house is made of timber, but it’s spacious, featuring a large dining room, and the hall is decorated with paintings of birds and hunting scenes, created by Mr. Barlow, who is exceptional at capturing life in his art.

30th August, 1681. From Wotton, I went to visit Mr. Hussey (at Sutton in Shere), who has a beautiful place with plenty of water, near my brother's. He is the most meticulous when it comes to organizing his home and farm facilities, including everything related to agriculture, that I have ever seen—his granaries, equipment, tools, utensils, plows, carts, stables, wood stacks, woodhouses, even his chicken coops and pig troughs. I felt like I was looking at old Cato or Varro; everything was substantial and perfectly organized. The only drawback he faces is the large amount of sand that the stream brings, which quickly fills his canals and fish ponds. The rest of my time at Wotton was spent walking around the[Pg 161] grounds and beautiful woods, where I had often enjoyed my solitude in my youth; and so, on the 2nd of September, I returned home once again.

6th September, 1681. My beautiful grandchild died and was buried on the 8th [at Deptford].

14th September, 1681. Had dinner with Sir Stephen Fox, who suggested that I consider buying Chelsea College, which the King had previously given to our Society and now wanted to buy back to build a hospital or infirmary for soldiers there. He requested my help as a member of the Council of the Royal Society.

15th September, 1681. I had another chance to visit the King’s private library at Whitehall.

To visit Sir Samuel Morland's house and see his machinery.

17th September, 1681. I went with Monsieur Faubert to discuss renting the Countess of Bristol's house for an academy, as he has recently arrived from Paris due to his faith and is planning to settle here.

23rd September, 1681. I went to visit Sir Thomas Bond's beautiful house and garden in Peckham.

2nd October, 1681. I went to Camberwell, where that good man Dr. Parr (recently chaplain to Archbishop Usher) preached on Acts 16:30.

11th October, 1681. Went to Fulham to visit the Bishop of London, where I first saw the Sedum arborescens in bloom, and it was incredibly beautiful.

5th November, 1681. Dr. Hooper preached on Mark xii. 16, 17, in front of the King, about the takeover of the Church of Rome. He is one of the top preachers in the country.

15th November, 1681. I had dinner with the Earl of Essex who, after we finished eating in his study where we were alone, told me how scandalized and hurt he was by the rumors that he was involved in the marriage of his lady's niece, the wealthy young widow of the late Lord Ogle, the only daughter of the Earl of Northumberland. He showed me a letter from Mr. Thynn, apologizing for not informing his lordship about his marriage. He also shared the whole story of that unfortunate lady being betrayed by her grandmother, the Countess of Northumberland, and Colonel Bret, for money; [Pg 162] and although, due to the insistence of the Duke of Monmouth, he had provided the grandmother with details of the jointure that Mr. Thynn claimed he would arrange for the lady, he strongly advised against the marriage as it was by no means a suitable match for someone who, by both heritage and wealth, could aspire to marry the greatest prince in Christendom. He also suggested the Earl of Kingston or Lord Cranburn, but he was definitely not in favor of Mr. Thynn.

19th November, 1681. I had dinner with my good friend, Mr. Erskine, Master of the Charter House, who is the uncle of the Duchess of Monmouth; a wise and knowledgeable man, more suited to be a privy councillor and state minister than to have been set aside.

24th November, 1681. I was present at the audience of the Russian Ambassador before both of their Majesties in the Banqueting House. The gifts were carried before him, held up by his attendants in two lines in front of the King's State, and included a tapestry (one piece of which was surely brought from France since the Ambassador passed through that country on his way from Spain), a large Persian carpet, furs of sable and ermine, etc.; but nothing was as splendid and exotic as the Ambassador who arrived shortly after the King's restoration. This current Ambassador was extremely upset that his coach was not allowed to enter the Court until he was informed that no King's Ambassador had that privilege; he was then calmed, yet insisted on getting a written confirmation of it from Sir Charles Cotterell, the Master of the Ceremonies, as he seemed worried he might upset his Master if he missed even the slightest detail. It was said he condemned his son to lose his head for shaving off his beard and adopting the French style in Paris, and that he would have carried out the sentence if the French King hadn't intervened—but I'm not sure about that.

30th November, 1681. Sir Christopher Wren was chosen as President [of the Royal Society], Mr. Austine as Secretary, along with Dr. Plot, the talented author of the "History of Oxfordshire." It was a truly remarkable event.

11th January, 1681-82. I observed the audience with the Morocco Ambassador, whose entourage was not large. He was welcomed in the Banqueting House, with both their Majesties present. He approached the throne without offering any kind of reverence, not bowing his head or body. He spoke through an English renegade, for whom there was a guarantee of safe return. They were all dressed in Moorish attire, wearing colorful cloth or silk cassocks with buttons and loops, along with an alhaga, or large white woolen mantle that could cover both head and body, a sash, or small turban, and they were barefoot but wore leather socks like the Turks, carrying rich scimitars and large calico-sleeved shirts. The Ambassador had a string of pearls intricately woven into his turban. I imagine the old Roman style was not much different regarding the mantle and bare legs. He was an attractive man, well-featured, with a wise expression, shrewd, and extremely polite. Their gifts included lions and ostriches; their mission was about peace at Tangier. However, the noise and chaos of the crowd were unbearable, causing the officers to struggle to maintain order, which astonished these foreigners at first, as there was nothing so orderly, precise, and conducted with such silence as is customary at public events in their country, and indeed throughout the Turkish domains.

14th January, 1682. I had dinner at the Bishop of Rochester's at the Abbey, celebrating his wedding day after twenty-four years. He shared with me how he had been treated by Sir William Temple, anticipating that he might be involved as a delegate regarding Lady Ogle, who was likely to become a point of contention due to her marriage to Mr. Thynn. He also discussed how earnestly the late Earl of Danby, the Lord Treasurer, sought his friendship and the honest and straightforward advice he offered him about his mistakes and biases; particularly regarding the removal of Sir John Duncomb from the position of Chancellor of the Exchequer and Sir Stephen Fox from his role as Paymaster of the Army. The Treasurer justified his decision by saying that Fox had too much influence with the bankers and wealthy individuals, indicating that he could obtain funds only through Fox's connections. "For that reason," the Bishop said, "I would have made him my ally, as Sir Stephen is both honest and reputable." He also mentioned Fox's grand demeanor and his difficulty in being approached, along with various other failures that ultimately made him disliked.

24th January, 1682. To the Royal Society, where at the Council we approved a new rule for more carefully evaluating candidates, to determine their actual usefulness; also regarding honorary members, that none should be admitted without a diploma.

This evening, I attended a gathering hosted by the Morocco Ambassador at the Duchess of Portsmouth's stunning residence at Whitehall. There was a lavish feast with desserts and music. Both the Ambassador and his entourage displayed remarkable restraint and humility, seated at a long table with a lady between two Moors. Among the guests were the King's illegitimate children, including Lady Lichfield and Sussex, along with the Duchess of Portsmouth, Nellie, and others, all adorned as beautifully as jewels and as grandly as possible. The Moors neither admired nor seemed to pay attention to anything, including the decor, tasting the banquet with decent restraint. They drank a little milk and water, but not a single drop of wine; they also had a sorbet and jacolatt. They did not look around, stare at the ladies, or show any surprise, maintaining a composed indifference in their demeanor, responding only to questions with wit and charm. They took their leave solemnly, wishing God's blessings upon the Duchess of Portsmouth and her son, the little Duke of Richmond. The King arrived just as the Ambassador was departing. This man, who had no real home in this setting, was entertained by the city's nobility and frequently rode in Hyde Park, where he and his escort showcased impressive horsemanship, skillfully throwing and catching their lances at full speed. They rode in a short style, able to stand upright while galloping, handling their spears with remarkable agility. Occasionally, he attended the theaters, where he couldn't help but laugh at foolish or absurd antics, though he tried to conceal it with great modesty and seriousness. In short, the Russian Ambassador still at court seemed like a fool compared to this cultured stranger.

27th January, 1682. This evening, Sir Stephen Fox informed me again about the King’s decision to proceed with the establishment of a Royal Hospital for retired soldiers on the piece of land that the Royal Society sold to the King for £1,300. He mentioned that he would allocate £5,000 per year for it and construct facilities worth £20,000 for the care and accommodation of four companies, totaling 400 men, designed to operate like a college or monastery. Sir Stephen, who was not only in charge of this project but was also, as I realized, a major benefactor deserving of his fortune gained through the soldiers, asked for my assistance in determining how to structure its governance. So, in his study, we organized the roles of governor, chaplain, steward, housekeeper, surgeon, cook, butler, gardener, porter, and various other officials, along with their respective salaries and duties. I insisted on including a library and suggested several books, hoping that some soldiers might take the opportunity to study during their free time. We then made initial calculations and noted our ideas for further consideration to present to the King and the Archbishop. He also tasked me with thinking about suitable laws and regulations for the governance, aiming for a discipline as strict as that found in any religious community.

After dinner, in walked the famous tenor, Mr. Abel, just back from Italy; I had never heard a more exceptional voice; you would have thought it was a woman's, it was so high and so well and expertly handled, with Signor Francesco accompanying him on the harpsichord.

28th January, 1682. Mr. Pepys, former Secretary to the Admiralty, showed me a large book that covers all the mechanical aspects and techniques of building royal ships and warships, created by Sir Anthony Dean. It's such a precise work, detailing everything from the very keel to the lead block, rigging, cannons, supplies, crew, and even every individual pin and nail, presented in an incredibly impressive and interesting way, with both geometric and perspective drawings, along with various sections. I don't believe anything like this exists anywhere else in the world. I consider this book to be an extraordinary treasure.

7th February, 1682. My daughter, Mary, started learning music from Signor Bartholomeo and dancing from Monsieur Isaac, who are considered the best teachers.

Having experienced several violent episodes of fever, I resorted to soaking my legs in milk up to the knees, heated as much as I could stand: and sitting in a deep churn or basin, covered with blankets, while drinking carduus posset, then going to bed and sweating, I not only avoided that expected episode but had none afterward, only remaining weak, so I couldn’t go to church until Ash Wednesday, which I hadn’t missed, I think, for twenty years, so gracious had God been to me.

After this warning and advice, I started to review and organize all my writings, accounts, letters, and papers; took stock of the belongings and other items in the house, arranged everything as neatly as I could, and wrote my will. I wanted to ensure that as I grew older, I wouldn't be distracted by these worldly matters when it was time for Almighty God to call me away from this temporary life. Alongside this, I prepared some special meditations and prayers for when I might be sick. May the Lord Jesus make them beneficial for my poor soul on that day, so that I may receive mercy and acceptance!

1st March, 1682. My second grandchild was born, and was baptized the next day by our vicar at Sayes Court, and named John.46 I ask God to bless him!

2nd March, 1682. Ash Wednesday. I went to church: our vicar preached on Proverbs, highlighting the attention and vigilance needed to keep the heart in the right place. The Holy Communion followed, during which I thanked God for his kindness to me during my recent illness, and for giving me this wonderful chance to praise him in the community and receive the cup of salvation with fresh and serious commitments.

Came to see and congratulate me on my recovery: Sir John Lowther, Mr. Herbert, Mr. Pepys, Sir Anthony Deane, and Mr. Hill.

10th March, 1682. Today, Colonel Vrats and some of his accomplices were executed for the horrible murder of Mr. Thynn, orchestrated by the main instigator, Koningsmark. He faced execution like a fearless hero, believing he had done a favor for the cowardly Count Koningsmark, who hoped to marry his wealthy widow, the Lady Ogle, and had been let off by a corrupt jury. Vrats told a friend of mine who accompanied him to the gallows that he didn’t fear death at all and hoped that God would treat him with respect. No man went to his end so unconcerned about his grim fate.

24th March, 1682. I went to see the body of that stubborn man, Colonel Vrats, with the King's permission for his body to be taken back to his home country, as he came from a good family. He was one of the first to be embalmed using a special technique created by a coffin-maker named William Russell, which kept the body intact without removing the organs or seemingly using any tar-like substance. The flesh looked vibrant, soft, and plump, as if he were just sleeping. He had been dead for nearly fifteen days and lay in a very elaborate coffin lined with lead, far too extravagant for such a bold and horrific murderer.

At the meeting of the Royal Society, some pieces of amber were displayed, sent by the Duke of Brandenburg. One piece contained a spider, and another had a gnat, both perfectly preserved. There was a discussion about tinting glass, especially with red, and the challenges glass painters faced in finding a red color that effectively penetrates glass. It was noted that the more translucent colors, like blue and yellow, didn't really sink into the surface of the usual painted materials, only penetrating very little unless mixed in with the glass itself, while other reds and whites barely went beyond the surface at all.

5th April, 1682. To the Royal Society, where a Council decided which collections should be published monthly, like the transactions that had recently stopped but were now in high demand from the curious both overseas and at home.

12th April, 1682. This afternoon, I went to dinner with several members of the Royal Society, where we had a meal prepared entirely using Monsieur Papin's digesters. They cooked both fish and meat to such tenderness that even the toughest beef and mutton were as soft as cheese, using no water or any other liquid, and just under eight ounces of coal, resulting in an incredible amount of gravy. To top it off, we had a jelly made from beef bones, which was the clearest and most flavorful jelly I had ever seen or tasted. We ate pike and other fish, bones included, without any trouble; but nothing compared to the pigeons, which tasted just like they had been baked in a pie. All of these dishes were stewed in their own juices, with no added water other than what was naturally present in the digester, similar to a water bath; the natural juices worked on the tougher parts and made even the hardest bones tender. However, for more details on extracting tinctures, preserving and stewing fruit, and saving fuel, it's best to refer to Dr. Papin's book, which he published and dedicated to our Society, of which he is a member. He has since traveled to Venice with the former Resident here (who is also a member of our Society), who brought this remarkable mechanic, philosopher, and physician to establish a philosophical gathering in that city. This philosophical dinner created a lot of laughter among us and pleased everyone present. I sent a glass of the jelly to my wife, putting to shame anything the ladies have ever made with their best hartshorn.[Pg 168]

The season was unusually rainy, with storms and thunder.

25th May, 1682. Sir Stephen Fox and Sir Christopher Wren asked me to join them in going to Lambeth to get the Archbishop's approval for the plan and design of the college to be built at Chelsea. It was a quadrangle measuring 200 feet square, based on the larger quadrangle at Christ Church, Oxford, designed to accommodate 440 people, along with a governor and officers. This was agreed upon.

The Duke and Duchess of York had just arrived in London after his escape and shipwreck while traveling by sea to Scotland.

28th May, 1682. At the Rolls' chapel, the famous Dr. Burnet preached on 2 Peter 1:10, explaining very well what was meant by election; namely, that it is not the result of an unchangeable decree, but is called election because those who accepted the Gospel readily became chosen or valued by God. It would be pointless to make our calling and election secure if they were unchangeable, as the strict Presbyterians claim. In the afternoon, I went to St. Lawrence's church, a new and uplifting building.[Pg 169]

29th May, 1682. I informed the Bishop of Rochester about what Maimburg published regarding the reasons behind the late Duchess of York's change in beliefs, in his "History of Calvinism"; and I also wrote to the Bishop of Winchester about it, since he was involved, urging him to present his defense.

31st May, 1682. The Morocco Ambassador was welcomed as an honorary member of the Royal Society and signed his name and titles in Arabic. I was appointed by the Council to go and congratulate him.

19th June, 1682. The Bantam, or East India Ambassadors (at this time we had in London the Russian, Moroccan, and Indian Ambassadors), were invited to dinner at Lord George Berkeley's (now Earl), and I attended the gathering to observe the exotic guests. They were both quite unattractive and bore a resemblance to some type of monkeys. We sat at two separate tables, with the Ambassadors and interpreter on one side. Their clothing was luxurious Indian silks, adorned with gold, including a tight waistcoat that reached their knees, trousers, bare legs, and caps on their heads shaped like fruit baskets. They carried poisoned daggers tucked into their attire, the handles decorated with grotesque serpent or devil heads, extremely sharp, and made of Damascus steel. They did not wear swords. The second Ambassador (who was apparently sent in case the first should die during their long journey), having been to Mecca, wore a Turkish or Arab sash, with a bit of cloth hanging down behind his neck, along with some other differences in costume. He was partially of African descent, bare-legged and barefoot, and was regarded as a very holy man. They sat cross-legged like Turks and sometimes adopted postures resembling those of apes and monkeys; their nails and teeth were as black as jet and shiny, the result of constantly chewing betel to prevent toothaches, which are prevalent in their country, and is considered beautiful.

The first ambassador had an olive complexion, a flat face, narrow eyes, a short nose, and thick lips, and no hair was visible; they wore several rings made of silver, gold, and copper on their fingers, signifying knighthood or nobility. They were from Java Major, where the princes converted to Islam only about fifty years ago; the locals are still pagans and idol worshippers. They seemed[Pg 170] dull and heavyset, not amazed by anything they saw; however, they were very surprised by how our laws gave us ownership of our property, thinking we were all kings since they couldn’t understand how subjects could possess anything without the consent of their Prince, as they were all slaves; they liked the idea and admired our happiness. They were very serious, and I believe clever in their own way. Their food was cooked and served to them by several overweight slaves who wore only loose-fitting shorts, which looked very strange and off-putting. They ate their pilaf and other dishes without spoons, skillfully using their fingers to scoop the food and tossing it into their mouths without spilling a drop.

17th July, 1682. The Duke of Grafton and the young Earl of Ossory, son of my very dear late friend, came to have dinner with me.

30th July, 1682. I visited our good neighbor, Mr. Bohun, whose entire house is filled with all sorts of elegant items, especially from India; in the hall, there are Japanese screens instead of wainscoting, and there’s an excellent pendulum clock encased in the intricate floral design by Mr. Gibbons, located in the middle of the vestibule. The landscapes on the screens depict the lifestyle and countryside of China. But most notably, his wife’s cabinet is beautifully decorated on the fret, ceiling, and chimney with Mr. Gibbons’s finest carvings. There are also some of Streeter’s best paintings and many valuable curiosities made of gold and silver as found in the mines. The gardens are meticulously maintained, and the entire place is very pleasant and well-watered. The owners are friendly neighbors, and Mr. Bohun has also built and funded a hospital for eight needy people, complete with a lovely chapel and all necessary accommodations.

1st August, 1682. To the Bishop of London at Fulham, to review the additions that Mr. Marshall made to his fascinating book of miniature flowers and collection of insects.

4th August, 1682. With Sir Stephen Fox, to check the foundations of the Royal Hospital that has started at Chelsea.

9th August, 1682. The Council of the Royal Society was advised to act as trustees and visitors,[Pg 171] or supervisors, for the Academy that Monsieur Faubert hoped to establish through contributions from respectable gentlemen and noblemen, aimed at educating youth and reducing the significant costs the nation incurs each year by sending children to France for military training. We aimed to provide him with as much support as our recommendation could offer.

15th August, 1682. Dr. Rogers, a long-time acquaintance from Padua, came to visit me. He was the Consul for the English nation and a student at that university, where he earned his Doctorate in Medicine. He presented me with the Latin speech he recently gave at the anniversary of the famous Dr. Harvey at the College of Physicians in London.

20th August, 1682. Tonight, I saw another comet, near Cancer, very bright, but the tail wasn't as long as the previous one.

29th August, 1682. Had dinner at Lord Clarendon's with Lord Hyde, his brother, who is now the favored one and invited himself to dinner at my place the following Tuesday.

30th October, 1682. It’s my birthday, and I’m now reaching my significant milestone of 63. After seriously reflecting on the years that have passed, I’m giving thanks to Almighty God for all His merciful protection and patience, asking for forgiveness for my sins and unworthiness, and seeking His blessing for the year ahead. I went with Lady Fox to check on her building and give some direction for the garden at Chiswick. The architect is Mr. May—somewhat slow and heavy-handed, and not very easily grasped. The garden is way too narrow, the location lacks water, it’s close to a busy road, and near another big house owned by Lord Burlington. There’s very little land around it, so I’m surprised at the expense; but women will always get their way.

25th November, 1682. I was invited to dinner with Monsieur Lionberg, the Swedish Resident, who hosted a lavish party in honor of his King’s birthday. The guests included the Duke of Albemarle, the Duke of Hamilton, the Earl of Bath, the Earl of Aylesbury, Lord Arran, Lord Castlehaven, the son of the man who was executed fifty years earlier, and several other notable figures. I was really worried about drinking (since it was a Dutch feast), but since the Duke of Albemarle was supposed to wait on His Majesty that night,[Pg 172] excess was prohibited; to avoid any issues, I quietly slipped away and left as soon as we finished eating.

28th November, 1682. I attended the Royal Society meeting to review last year's accounts, where I was unexpectedly hit by a fainting spell that temporarily blurred my vision; but thankfully, I regained it after a brief rest.

30th November, 1682. I was in a lot of danger and pressured to run for election,48 having received so many votes, but thanks to my friends, my distant home, and my frequent health issues, I asked them to support Sir John Hoskins instead, one of the Masters of Chancery; he’s a highly knowledgeable scholar as well as a lawyer, and he was elected.

7th December, 1682. Went to congratulate Lord Hyde (the great favorite) who was just appointed Earl of Rochester and recently married his oldest daughter to the Earl of Ossory.

18th December, 1682. I sold my East India investment of £250 principal for £750 to the Royal Society, after being with that organization for twenty-five years, which was incredibly beneficial, by the grace of God.

23rd January, 1682-83. Sir Francis North, son of Lord North and the Lord Chief Justice, was appointed Lord Keeper following the death of the Earl of Nottingham, the Lord Chancellor, so I went to congratulate him. He is a knowledgeable, educated, and clever man. Besides being a wonderful person with a creative and kind nature, he is also very skilled in music, painting, the new philosophy, and finer arts.

29th January, 1683. Had dinner at Sir Joseph Williamson's, where there was a select group from our Society, including Sir William Petty, Dr. Gale (that knowledgeable schoolmaster from St. Paul's), Dr. Whistler, Mr. Hill, and others. The conversation was lively and philosophical, covering various important topics, such as the hereditary succession of the Roman Emperors and the Pica mentioned in the preface to our Common Prayer, which refers only to the Greek Kalendarium. These discussions were mixed with lighter subjects.

2nd February, 1683. I attended court at St. James's, where I saw the sea charts presented by Captain Collins. This hardworking man was showing them to the Duke after mapping out the coastline from the mouth of the Thames all the way to Wales, meticulously measuring every creek, island, rock, depth, harbor, sandbank, and tide. He plans to continue next spring until he has completed the whole island, all measured using chains and other instruments—a very precise and valuable project. He claimed that of all the maps produced since then, none are as accurate as those from Joseph Norden, who first made them during Queen Elizabeth's reign; all maps since then are flawed.

12th February, 1683. This morning I received the news of the death of my father-in-law, Sir Richard Browne, Knt. and Bart., who died at my house at Sayes Court today at ten in the morning, after suffering from gout and dropsy for nearly six months, in his 78th year. The funeral was held on the 19th at Deptford, with as much dignity as the status of the person and our relationship to him required; invited guests included the Bishop of Rochester, several noblemen, knights, and all the members of the Trinity Company, of which he was Master, along with others from the area. The vicar delivered a brief yet fitting sermon on Psalm xxxix. 10, discussing the fragility of our mortal state, concluding with a thorough and well-earned tribute to the deceased, mentioning his honorable lineage and ancestors, education, proficiency in Greek and Latin, modern languages, travels, public roles, notable loyalty, reputation abroad, and particularly the honor of supporting the Church of England in its public worship during the persecution by the recent rebels' usurpation and regicide, as recognized by various Bishops, Doctors of the Church, and others, who sought refuge in his house and family in Paris, arguing for the church's visibility and existence based on Sir R. Browne's chapel and gatherings there during their disputes with the Papists. He also spoke of his significant and loyal sufferings during thirteen years of exile with the current King, his return with him in the notable year 1660; his honorable role at home, his timely retreat to gather himself, his advanced age, illnesses, and death.

He gave the Trinity Corporation the land in Deptford where those almshouses for twenty-four widows of retired seamen are built.[Pg 174] He was born in the famous year of the Gunpowder Plot, in 1605, and since he was the last male of his family, my wife—his only daughter—was his heir. His grandfather, Sir Richard Browne, was a key figure under the great Earl of Leicester (who was a favorite of Queen Elizabeth) in managing the Netherlands. He served as Master of the Household to King James and was the Cofferer; I believe he was the first to regulate the arrangements across England for the King’s household, including provisions and travels,49 etc. This was such a significant service and so appreciated by the entire nation that he received acknowledgments and public thanks from all the counties. He died from the rupture of a vein after giving a passionate speech about the arrangements in a Parliament session of King James. On his mother’s side, he was a Gunson, Treasurer of the Navy during the reigns of Henry VIII, Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth, and, as shown by his extensive pedigree, he was related to several members of the English nobility. Thus ended this honorable man, after so many changes and upheavals, in the same house where he was born. "Lord, teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom!"

By a special clause in his will, he specified that his body should be buried in the churchyard under the southeast window of the chancel, next to the burial sites of his ancestors, since they came from Essex to Sayes Court. He was quite upset about the new trend of burying everyone inside the church and chancel, which used to be reserved for martyrs and significant individuals. This excess of turning churches into burial sites was seen as a bad and disrespectful example, harmful to the living’s health, not to mention the constant disruption of the floor and pews, along with various other unpleasant issues. Dr. Hall, the devout Bishop of Norwich, also wished to be buried in the same way, as noted in his will.

16th March, 1683. I went to check out Sir Josiah Child's amazing investment in planting walnut trees around his estate and creating fish ponds that stretch for many miles in Epping[Pg 175] Forest, in a rather desolate area, as many newly wealthy individuals often choose to do. He started out as a merchant's apprentice and managed the East India Company's stock, which has reportedly brought him a fortune of £200,000; he recently married his daughter off to the eldest son of the Duke of Beaufort, the former Marquis of Worcester, with a dowry of £50,000 and various other prospects.

I had dinner at Mr. Houblon's, a wealthy and kind French merchant, who was building a house in the Forest, close to Sir J. Child's place, where the late Earl of Norwich lived for a while, which he got from his wife, the widow of Mr. Baker. It’s going to be a nice villa, about five miles from Whitechapel.

18th March, 1683. I went to hear Dr. Horneck preach at the Savoy Church, on Phil. ii. 5. He was born in Germany, a truly moving preacher, a person with a saintly life, and he has written an excellent book on Consideration.

20th March, 1683. Had dinner at Dr. Whistler's place, at the Physicians' College, with Sir Thomas Millington, both of them knowledgeable men; Dr. W. is the most amusing person by nature, and currently the Censor of the college. I was consulted here about where they should build their library; it's a shame this college is located so close to Newgate Prison and in such a hidden spot, which is a problem with the placement of most of our public buildings and churches in the city, due to the greed of a few individuals, and the King not intervening, even though he had the power to do so after the terrible fire.

21st March, 1683. Dr. Tenison preached at Whitehall on 1 Cor. vi. 12; I consider him to be one of the most effective preachers in the Church of England, known for his holy lifestyle, great knowledge, and creativity. The effort and dedication he puts into his parish will, I fear, wear him out, which would be an immense loss.

24th March, 1683. I attended Dr. Charleton's lecture on the heart in the Anatomy Theater at the Physicians' College.

30th March, 1683. Going to London for my trip next week to celebrate the upcoming Easter, as there are so many notable preachers performing at the Court and other places during Holy Week.[Pg 176]

6th April, 1683. Good Friday. In the afternoon, as is customary, there was a sermon for the King at Whitehall; Dr. Sprat preached on behalf of the Bishop of Rochester.

17th April, 1683. I attended the launch of the last of the thirty ships commissioned by Parliament, named the "Neptune," a second-rate ship, one of the finest vessels in the entire navy, built by my kind neighbor, young Mr. Shish, his Majesty's master shipwright at this dock.

1st May, 1683. I went to Blackheath to check out the new fair, which was the first organized by Lord Dartmouth. This was the first day, supposedly for selling cattle, but I think it was really about making money for the new tavern at the bowling green, built by Snape, the King's farrier, who’s always coming up with ideas. There was nothing there but a huge crowd of drinkers from London, peddlers, and others, and I suspect it’s too close to London to benefit the countryside much.

March was unusually hot and dry, and April was excessively wet.

I planted holly all along the edges of the garden and the long walkways. 50

9th May, 1683. Had dinner at Sir Gabriel Sylvius's and then went to visit the Duke of Norfolk to see if he would sell any of his cartoons and other drawings by Raphael and the great masters. He said that if he could sell them all together, he would, but that the late Sir Peter Lely (our famous painter) had taken some of his best. The person who asked me to negotiate for them was Vander Douse, grandson of that great scholar and friend of Joseph Scaliger.

16th May, 1683. I had dinner and visited with Sir Richard Anderson of Pendley and his wife, and then we headed to London.

8th June, 1683. On my way home from the Royal Society, I met Mr. Wilbraham, a young man from Cheshire.

11th June, 1683. The Lord Dartmouth was elected Master of the Trinity House; he was the son of George Legge, the former Master of the Ordnance, and one of the grooms of the bedchamber. He was a close favorite of the Duke, an active and knowledgeable gentleman in maritime matters.

13th June, 1683. To our Society, where we welcomed the Count de Zinzendorp, Ambassador from the Duke of Saxony, a charming young man; we demonstrated various experiments on magnetism, a topic the Society was currently exploring.

16th June, 1683. I went to Windsor, having dinner on the way at Chiswick, at Sir Stephen Fox's place, where I met Sir Robert Howard (the ultimate pretender), and Signor Verrio, who brought his sketches and designs for the painting of the staircase in Sir Stephen's new house.

What was new at Windsor since my last visit, and what surprised me, was the amazing fresco painting in St. George's Hall, depicting the legend of St. George, the triumph of the Black Prince, and his welcome by Edward III. The ceiling isn’t completely finished yet. Then there's the Resurrection in the Chapel, where the Ascension figure, in my opinion, rivals the works of the most famous Roman masters. The Last Supper is also depicted above the altar. I appreciated the clever design of the hidden organ behind the altar, as well as the incredible and truly unmatched carving by our Gibbons, who is undoubtedly the greatest master in terms of creativity and uniqueness that the world has ever seen at any time; I have no doubt he will also become a great master in the art of sculpture.

Verrio's invention is impressive, his artwork rich and vibrant, classic and grand; his figures seem to come alive; and, as long as the walls hold up (which is the only concern due to the salts that could potentially cause damage over time in this damp climate), his work will keep his name alive for generations.

The terrace now wrapped around the old castle; the grass was neat, level, and oddly well-turfed; the paths to the new park and other walkways were lined with elms and limes, along with a lovely canal and a spot for birds; equally remarkable and noteworthy was the impressive feat of pumping a massive amount of clear water to the towering height of the castle for the use of the entire house, thanks to the remarkable invention of Sir Samuel Morland.[Pg 178]

17th June, 1683. I had dinner at the Earl of Sunderland's with the Earls of Bath, Castlehaven, Lords Viscounts Falconberg, Falkland, the Bishop of London, the Grand Master of Malta, the brother of the Duke de Vendôme (a young reckless guy), and Mr. Dryden, the poet. After evening prayer, I walked in the park with Lord Clarendon, where we talked about the Bishop of Salisbury (Dr. Seth Ward), his cleverness, and so on. Dr. Durell, the former Dean of Windsor, had passed away, and Dr. Turner, one of the Duke’s chaplains, was appointed dean.

I visited Lady Arlington, the Queen's wardrobe manager, who had just started her dinner when we heard that the Queen was going for a walk in the park, even though it was almost eleven at night. This news made the Countess quickly get up and leave her dinner to us.

By this, one can gauge the sheer level of slavery and subjugation that courtiers experience, who barely have time to eat and drink as they wish. It reminded me of Horace's "Mouse," and made me grateful for my own private situation.

Here was Monsieur de l'Angle, the famous minister of Charenton, who had recently escaped from the persecution in France regarding the terrible situation of the Protestants there.

18th June, 1683. I was there and witnessed the humble submission and petition of the Lord Mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen on behalf of the city of London regarding the quo warranto against their charter, which they presented to the King in the presence chamber. They delivered it while kneeling, and then the King and Council went into the council chamber, while the mayor and his colleagues remained in the presence chamber. After a short while, they were called in, and my Lord Keeper gave a speech to them, emphasizing the disorderly and riotous behavior during the recent election, especially voting for Papillon and Du Bois after the Common hall had been formally dissolved, along with other wrongdoings and attacks on the government that had led to the King’s disapproval. He indicated that without this submission and under the conditions the King would set for their obedience, he would surely rule against them, which he had so far held off from doing. The conditions required were as follows: they should not elect a mayor, sheriffs, aldermen, recorder, common serjeant, town clerk, coroner, or steward of Southwark without the King’s approval; and if they presented someone he did not approve of, they were to proceed with a second choice; if that was also disapproved, the King would nominate someone; and if within five days they agreed to this, all previous issues would be forgotten. So, they passively gave up their long-standing privileges after having dined and been entertained by the King. This was a significant and noteworthy moment. The outcomes of this will be revealed over time. Many of the older and most knowledgeable lawyers and judges believed they could not lose their charter but could face personal punishment for their misdeeds; however, most of the younger judges and rising legal minds thought differently.

The Popish Plot, which had previously created such a commotion, started to noticeably fade due to the foolishness, deceit, shamelessness, and recklessness of Oates. As a result, the Catholics began to feel more empowered than ever, and those who had fled returned to London from abroad. There had been such sudden changes and frantic actions over the past seven years, without anything stable or sensible.

19th June, 1683. I came back to town in a carriage with the Earl of Clarendon. As we passed by the magnificent palace his father had built just a few years ago, which they were now tearing down after selling it to some contractors, I turned my head the other way until the carriage had moved past it. I didn’t want to bring it up, as it would have certainly upset him to see their former glory diminished so quickly.

28th June, 1683. After the Popish Plot, a new conspiracy, referred to as the Protestant Plot, was uncovered. Certain Lords and others were said to be planning to assassinate the King and the Duke as they traveled from Newmarket, alongside a nationwide uprising, particularly from the city of London, which was discontent with the current Government. As a result, several people were sent to the Tower, including Lord Russell, the eldest son of the Earl of Bedford, the Earl of Essex, Mr. Algernon Sidney, son of the old Earl of Leicester, Mr. Trenchard, Hampden, and Lord Howard of Escrick, among others. A proclamation was issued against my Lord Grey, the Duke of Monmouth, Sir Thomas Armstrong, and a man named Ferguson, who had fled abroad. Some were accused of wanting to kill the King, while others were only aiming to seize him and convince him to change his advisors, citing potential dangers associated with Popery if the Duke were to succeed, as he had recently been readmitted to the councils and cabinet secrets. Lords Essex and Russell were deeply regretted, as many believed they had no harmful intentions against the King or the Church; some speculated that their enemies had tricked them for not supporting recent policies regarding France, Popery, and the persecution of the Dissenters. They were exposed by Lord Howard of Escrick and some traitorous members of their group, and the plot was fortunately thwarted; had it succeeded, it would likely have led the Government into unknown and perilous situations—God forbid!

Was born my granddaughter at Sayes Court, and baptized with the name of Martha Maria, with our Vicar presiding. I pray God bless her, and may she choose the better path!

13th July, 1683. While visiting Sir Thomas Yarborough and his wife in Covent Garden, we received the shocking news that the Earl of Essex had committed suicide by cutting his throat, just three days after becoming a prisoner in the Tower. This occurred on the very day that Lord Russell was on trial and received a death sentence. I was extremely surprised by this event, as I knew the Earl of Essex to be a very sober and religious man, well-adjusted, and quite loyal to the King. It’s known that the King and Duke were at the Tower and passed by his window around the same time this morning when the Earl asked for a razor, then locked himself in a closet and committed this horrific act. Many were puzzled by how he managed to do it in the way he was found, as the wound was so deep and wide—cutting through the esophagus, windpipe, and both jugular veins, reaching down to the vertebrae of his neck, with only a little skin holding his head on. The way the razor was gaping and the fact that he cut his own fingers was quite strange; even more so considering that after cutting the jugulars, he had the strength to go that far—an executioner would have had a hard time doing more with an axe. People had odd thoughts about it.

The shocking news reaching Hicks's Hall about Lord Russell's trial is said to have significantly affected the jury and all the judges against him. Some claimed that he had hinted at times that if he were ever in danger of losing his life due to some public disaster, those who were eager for his estate would fail in their aim; and that he had spoken positively about the Earl of Northumberland and others who had taken their own lives. However, these statements sound so unlike his usual calm and sensible talk that I find it hard to believe them. I can't guess what could have driven him to such a wicked act. My Lord Clarendon, his brother-in-law, who had been with him just the day before, assured me he was very cheerful, claiming it was a sign of his innocence and loyalty; most people believe that the King had no serious intentions against him, although he was completely unyielding towards Lord Russell and some others. Personally, I think the cunning and ambitious Earl of Shaftesbury had turned them against the current state of affairs at Court, not intending to destroy the monarchy (which Shaftesbury had confidently told me he would support to his last breath, having experienced the misery of being under harsh tyranny), but perhaps to promote someone else whom he could control and shape to his own ideal, without much regard for the established religion under the hierarchy, which he held in low esteem. But when he saw that those he had rallied to rise failed to meet his expectations, and as the day went on, he reproached his accomplices that a second day for such a venture was never successful, he slipped away and fled to Holland, where the fox died, three months before these unfortunate Lords and others were discovered or suspected. Everyone mourned Essex and Russell, especially the latter, who was thought to have been drawn in under the pretense of trying to rescue the King from his current advisors, and to protect the church from Catholicism, and the nation from the feared arbitrary government; while the others who had fled, particularly Ferguson and his group, surely harbored some bloody plan to establish a Commonwealth and turn everything upside down. Sydney shares these tragic principles.

I had a long conversation today with Monsieur Pontaq, the son of the famous and wise chief president of Bordeaux. This gentleman owned the excellent vignoble of Pontaq and O'Brien, from which some of the finest Bordeaux wines come; and I think I can honestly say of him what was inaccurately said of St. Paul, that much learning had driven him to madness. He had studied philosophy quite well, particularly the Rabbis, and was extremely drawn to mystical ideas, an incessant talker and somewhat distracted by reading a lot of the extravagant Eastern Jews. He spoke all languages, was very wealthy, had a good-looking appearance, and was well-mannered, around forty-five years old.

14th July, 1683. I visited Mr. Fraser, an educated Scottish gentleman, whom I had previously recommended to Lord Berkeley for teaching and guiding his son, who has since died at sea. He had recently been in Holland at the sale of the renowned Heinsius's library and showed me some very rare and interesting books, along with some manuscripts, which he had bought at a good price. There were three or four miniature herbals, well done, various Roman antiquities from Verona, and many books from Aldus's printing.

15th July, 1683. An old man, a stranger, preached on Jeremiah 6:8, about not listening to instruction, which foretells disaster for a people. He followed Bishop Andrew's style, filled with logical divisions, short and fragmented sentences, and Latin phrases, which are now completely out of style in the pulpit. The preaching has shifted to a much more beneficial approach of straightforward and practical talks. In fact, this nation, or any other, has never had such an abundance of these kinds of discourses, which I believe are the reason we aren't thriving as well as we should be.

The public was in a state of great confusion over the recent plot and conspiracy; the King was very sad, [Pg 183] and he wasn't moving about without extra guards. All the entrances and private doors around Whitehall and the Park were closed, and only a few were allowed to walk there. Meanwhile, the Catholics were feeling quite happy; and honestly, they had good reason, seeing their own plot fall apart and become a joke, while now there was a conspiracy of Protestants, as they referred to them.

The Turks were also hostile toward the German Emperor, almost taking control of Upper Hungary and advancing toward Vienna. On the other side, the French King (believed to have invited the infidels) was causing trouble for his Spanish and Dutch neighbors, having nearly taken over all of Flanders, driven by his ambition for a fifth universal monarchy. All this violence and chaos in Christendom clearly stemmed from our failures at home, indulging in a pointless peace while focusing on nothing but luxury, ambition, and raising money for our vices. To this, add our irreligion and atheism, great ingratitude, and self-interest; the apostasy of some, and allowing the French to grow so powerful while the Dutch became so weak. In short, we were reckless, insane, and overflowing with prosperity; constantly shaking the old foundations and never staying true to anything. May the Lord in His mercy avert this grim warning, and may we not provoke Him until He can bear it no longer!

This summer we let twenty French warships pass through our Channel towards the Sound to assist the Danes against the Swedes, who had turned away from the French alliance. We didn’t have enough forces ready to protect our coasts or monitor what was going on, even though our nation has never had a better navy; still, the sea had never seen such a small fleet.

19th July, 1683. George, Prince of Denmark, who arrived today, came to marry Lady Anne, daughter of the Duke; so I went home after seeing the young gentleman at dinner at Whitehall.

20th July, 1683. Several of the lower-class conspirators were executed at Tyburn; and the next day,

21st July, 1683. Lord Russell was executed in Lincoln's Inn Fields, the executioner striking him three brutal blows. The speech he gave and the letter he handed to the Sheriff declaring his innocence, the nobility of his family, and the virtue and worthiness of the unfortunate[Pg 184] gentleman stirred a lot of sympathy and led to various discussions about the plot.

25th July, 1683. I saw Prince George of Denmark again: he had the Danish look, blonde, and was rather quiet. He spoke French poorly, seemed a bit dull, but was said to be brave. In fact, he had courageously saved and brought his brother, the King of Denmark, to safety during a fierce battle against the Swedes, when both kings were actively engaged.

28th July, 1683. He married Lady Anne at Whitehall. Her court and household were to be arranged like the Duke's, her father's, and they would remain in England.

1st August, 1683. Mr. Flamsted, the renowned astronomer, visited me from his Observatory at Greenwich to take measurements from my pendulum, etc.

2nd August, 1683. The Countesses of Bristol and Sunderland, the aunt and cousin of the late Lord Russell, came to visit me to express their condolences for his tragic fate. The next day, Colonel Russell, the uncle of the late Lord Russell and brother to the Earl of Bedford, arrived with Mrs. Middleton, that renowned and truly extraordinary beauty, who is the daughter of my relative, Sir Robert Needham.

19th August, 1683. I went to Bromley to visit our Bishop, an excellent neighbor, and to congratulate him on becoming the Archbishop of York. On the 28th, he came by to say goodbye as he was getting ready for his journey and stay in his province.

28th August, 1683. My dear little granddaughter, Martha Maria, passed away, and on the 29th she was buried in the parish church.

2nd September, 1683. This morning, after the service was finished, the church read the Declaration outlining the recent conspiracy against the King's life.

3rd September, 1683. I went to check on what the Duke of Beaufort had done to his recently bought house in Chelsea, which I once helped sell for the Countess of Bristol. He made significant changes, but he could have built a better house with the materials and money he spent.

I met the Countess of Monte Feltre, whose husband I had known before. He was a subject of the Pope, but after becoming a Protestant, he moved to England and married into the Saville family from Yorkshire. The Count, her late husband, was a very educated man, a skilled politician, and a decent person. She was with her sister, who was very talented in painting, and they certainly didn't hold back on makeup. They both had a sharp sense of humor.

9th September, 1683. On the day of public thanksgiving for the King's recent protection, the previous Declaration was read again, and a special service was held for the occasion. A heartfelt sermon was delivered on the divine right of Kings, based on Psalm 144:10: "You have delivered David from the danger of the sword."

15th September, 1683. The knowledgeable anatomist, Dr. Tyson,52 came to visit me along with a few other members of our Society.

16th September, 1683. At the beautiful villa and garden of Mr. Bohun, in Lee. He showed me the zinnar tree, or platanus, and mentioned that since they started planting this type of tree around the city of Ispahan in Persia, the plague, which used to affect the area significantly, had greatly reduced its deadly impact and made it much healthier.

18th September, 1683. I went to London to see the Duchess of Grafton, who is now heavily pregnant, a very virtuous and beautiful woman. While dining with her at my Lord Chamberlain's, I ran into my Lord of St. Alban's, who has now become so blind that he couldn’t even see to eat. He has lived a comfortable life, enjoying plenty even while his Majesty suffered; he has lost huge amounts playing cards, but at about eighty years old, he still plays, with someone sitting beside him to call out the spots on the cards. He ate and drank with remarkable appetite. He is a wise old courtier and has become quite wealthy since his Majesty's return.

After dinner, I walked to check out the sad destruction of Clarendon House, that expensive and luxurious palace[Pg 186] of the late Lord Chancellor Hyde, where I often had such good times with him, and sometimes felt so down. I was visiting him just the day before he fled from the furious Parliament, which was accusing him of poor management and envious of his status, who went from being a private lawyer to being the father-in-law of the Duke of York, and as some would say, trying to arrange the King’s marriage with the Infanta of Portugal, which was unlikely to happen. They blamed him for much of our misery; that he, as the sole minister and favorite at the King’s restoration, neglected to reward the King’s supporters, choosing instead those who were the source of our troubles. But perhaps many of these accusations were unfair, as he managed the government much more smoothly than it has been since. I could name a few who greatly contributed to his downfall—the jesters and the MRS., who couldn’t stand him. It’s true that he had a cheerful personality, in the old English way; but France was now on top, and we had become a completely different nation. With the Chancellor gone and dying in exile, his successor, the Earl, sold what cost £50,000 to build, to the young Duke of Albemarle for £25,000, to pay off debts that remain a mystery, with his son being no extravagant spender. Some think the Duchess, his daughter, may have been a burden on him. However it was, this grand palace is set for destruction, to cover the enormous loss the Duke of Albemarle has made of his estate since the old man died. He sold it to the highest bidder, and it went to some wealthy bankers and tradesmen, who paid £35,000 for it and the surrounding land; they plan to build a new town, essentially, and a very magnificent square. It’s said they already have materials worth more than what they paid just from the house. Look at the ups and downs of worldly matters! I was shocked by this demolition, as much as I was by the little army of workers and builders leveling the ground, laying foundations, and designing grand buildings at a cost of £200,000, if they complete their plans.

19th September, 1683. During my strolls, I went into a goldbeater's workshop, where he showed me the amazing flexibility of that shiny and smooth metal. He said it had to be finer than the standard, like what was[Pg 187] old angel-gold, and that he once had £100 worth of it stamped with the agnus dei and minted during the holy war; it had been discovered in a crumbling wall somewhere in the North, near Scotland. He beat some of it into thin sheets and sold the rest to collectors of antiques and medals.

23rd September, 1683. We finally received the great news that the King of Poland lifted the siege of Vienna, which had terrified all of Europe and brought shame to the French. It's believed that the French brought in the Turks for distraction so that the French King could more easily take Flanders and continue his unjust conquest of the empire, while we remained indifferent and under some deadly spell.

There was a day when a collection was held to help rebuild Newmarket, which had been destroyed by an accidental fire. This fire forced the King to leave earlier than planned, which thwarted the assassins who were expecting to meet him. This unexpected turn of events made the King more determined to make Winchester the location for his autumn field activities in the future, planning to build a palace where the old castle used to be. It was definitely a better choice than Newmarket for its views, air quality, enjoyment, and supplies. The surveyor has already started the foundation for a palace, which is estimated to cost £35,000, and the King is purchasing land around it to create a park, etc.

4th October, 1683. I went to London after getting a note from the Countess of Arlington about a significant opportunity I could gain by approaching His Majesty regarding his current judgment against the city charter. I completely turned down the proposal, as I wasn't comfortable with these drastic actions, and I felt quite sorry that His Majesty was often compelled to take such measures against such a great city, which could lead to serious consequences for him. So, I returned home. At this time, Lord Chief Justice Pemberton was removed from his position. He was considered the most knowledgeable judge and an honest man. Sir George Jeffreys was promoted, known for being quite ignorant but extremely bold. Sir George Treby, Recorder of London, was also dismissed, and an obscure lawyer named Genner took his place.[Pg 188] Eight of the wealthiest and top aldermen were ousted, and the remaining ones were only appointed justices of the peace, no longer able to wear gowns or gold chains; the Lord Mayor and two sheriffs were kept in their positions under new grants as custodes, at the King's discretion. The splendor and magnificence of the most esteemed city in the world changed in an instant, sparking much discussion and speculation about where all of this would lead. Wise men supported the traditional foundations.

Following the king this morning through the gallery, I joined the few who were with him in the Duchess of Portsmouth's Changing room within her bedroom, where she was in her morning gown, her maids combing her hair as she had just gotten out of bed, while the king and some gentlemen were standing around her. What caught my attention was the extravagant and luxurious decor of her room, which had been rebuilt two or three times to satisfy her lavish spending, while the queen's accommodations were hardly better than those of some gentlemen's wives. Here, I saw the new French tapestry, which was exceptional in design, delicacy of craftsmanship, and an incredible imitation of the finest paintings—beyond anything I had ever seen. Some pieces depicted Versailles, St. Germain, and other palaces of the French king, featuring hunting scenes, figures, landscapes, and exotic birds, all rendered in incredible detail. There were also Japanese cabinets, screens, mantel clocks, large vases made of silver, tables, stands, fireplace accessories, sconces, candlesticks, and so much more, all made of solid silver and in great quantity, in addition to some of the queen's best paintings.

Having had enough of that, I dined at Sir Stephen Fox's and went happily home to my modest, but peaceful villa. What satisfaction can there be in the wealth and luxury of this world, bought with wrongdoing and disgrace?

10th October, 1683. I visited the Duchess of Grafton, who hasn't given birth yet, and after dining with her father, Lord Chamberlain, we went to see Montague House, a recently built palace by Lord Montague, who married the stunning Countess of Northumberland. It's an impressive and spacious palace. Signor Verrio's fresco paintings, especially the funeral pyre of Dido on the staircase, the labors of Hercules fighting the Centaurs, his relationship with Dejanira, and the Apotheosis or reception among the gods on the walls and ceiling of the grand room above— I believe it surpasses anything he has done before, in terms of design, color, and creativity, comparable to the greatest old masters or the highly praised works in Rome. In the rest of the chamber, there are some excellent paintings by Holbein and other masters. The garden is large and has good air, but the exterior of the house doesn't match the interior. The courtyard at the entrance and the wings for offices are too close to the street, which is very narrow and poorly built, so the corridor isn't proportionate to the rest, failing to hide the courtyard from being overlooked by neighbors; all of this could have been avoided if they had placed the house further into the grounds, of which there was enough available. Overall, it is a beautiful palace built in the French pavilion style by Mr. Hooke, the Curator of the Royal Society. Accompanying us were Lady Scroope, the witty one, and Monsieur Chardine, the famous traveler.

13th October, 1683. My old and respected friend, Mr. Packer, came to visit me, bringing his nephew Berkeley, who is the grandson of the honest judge. He is a very clever, virtuous, and religious man, living near Worcester, and he has a keen interest in gardening.

17th October, 1683. I was at the court-leet of this manor, my Lord Arlington, His Majesty's High Steward.

26th October, 1683. Mr. Brisbane, Secretary to the Admiralty, a knowledgeable and pleasant man, came to visit and have dinner with me.

30th October, 1683. I went to Kew to visit Sir Henry Capell, brother of the late Earl of Essex; but he was away at Cashiobury. After checking out his garden and the changes made there, I headed back home. He had renovated his house, adding a dome to his hall, and there was an artificial fountain in a niche; however, the room feels a bit too gloomy to me and could be greatly improved with some good fresco painting on the walls. The two greenhouses for oranges and myrtles, which connect to the rooms below, are really well designed. There's a dome made from pole-work between two elms at the end of a path, which looks lovely since it's covered with the trees; but overall, there are too many fir trees in the garden.[Pg 190]

17th November, 1683. I rented a house on Villiers Street, York Buildings, for the winter, as I had many important matters to take care of and to provide for my daughters' education.

23rd November, 1683. The Duke of Monmouth, who was previously labeled a traitor in the supposed conspiracy that led to Lord Russell's recent execution, arrived at Whitehall this evening and surrendered himself, which sparked various discussions.

26th November, 1683. I went to congratulate the Duchess of Grafton, who was in labor with her first child, a son, whom she wanted me to see. She had become even more beautiful, if that was possible, and was filled with virtue and kindness. She talked with me about many details, showing great wisdom and seriousness beyond her age.

29th November, 1683. Mr. Forbes showed me the layout of the garden being made at Burleigh, at Lord Exeter's, which I considered one of the most impressive I had ever seen.

The entire court and town are in deep mourning for the death of the King of Portugal, her Majesty's brother.

30th November, 1683. At the anniversary dinner of the Royal Society, the King sent us two female deer. Sir Cyril Wych was elected as President.

5th December, 1683. I was invited today to the wedding of Mrs. Castle, to whom I owed a debt of gratitude. This wedding was for her fifth husband, a lieutenant-colonel in the city. She was the daughter of a man named Burton, a broom maker, and his wife, who sold kitchen goods in Kent Street. God blessed them, and the father became very wealthy and was a straightforward man; he served as sheriff of Surrey, where I have sat on the bench with him. One of his other daughters married Sir John Bowles, and this daughter was a jolly, friendly woman. At the wedding were the Lord Mayor, the Sheriff, several Aldermen, and people of stature; most notably, Sir George Jeffreys, who had just been appointed Lord Chief Justice of England, along with Mr. Justice Withings, who danced with the bride and had a great time. These important men spent the rest of the afternoon, until eleven at night, drinking toasts, smoking tobacco, and engaging in discussions that were far less serious than you'd expect from judges, especially since just a day or two earlier, they had condemned Mr. Algernon Sidney, who was executed on the 7th at Tower Hill, based solely on the testimony of that monster, Lord Howard of Escrick, and some documents found in Mr. Sidney's study that were allegedly written by him, but not definitively proven, nor dated properly. They seemed to have been written before the King’s Restoration and then pardoned under the Act of Oblivion; thus, even though Mr. Sidney was known to strongly oppose monarchy (the subject of the paper was a response to one from Sir E. Filmer), it was thought he received very harsh treatment. It’s also worth noting that he had been a determined enemy of the last king and was in open rebellion against him; he was a man of great courage, intelligence, and talent, which he displayed both at his trial and at his execution. When he stepped onto the scaffold, instead of making a speech, he simply told them that he had made peace with God, that he was there not to speak but to die; he handed a paper to the sheriff and another to a friend; said a prayer as brief as a grace, laid down his neck, and told the executioner to proceed.

The Duke of Monmouth, now that he has his pardon, denies there was any treasonous plot; for this, he is expelled from Whitehall. This is a big letdown for some who had gone after Trenchard, Hampden, etc., who, due to a lack of a second witness, had been released from the Tower on their habeas corpus.

The King had now added more guards with a new type of dragoons, who also carried grenades and were dressed in a Polish style, wearing long pointed caps that looked very fierce and unusual.

7th December, 1683. I went to the Tower and visited the Earl of Danby, the former Lord High Treasurer, who had been imprisoned for four years. He welcomed me warmly. I had dinner with him and stayed until night. We talked about many topics, and his wife expressed her frustration about her husband being kept in prison for so long. Here, I greeted the wife of Lord Dumblaine, who had previously been married to Emerton, and there was that scandalous situation involving her that had come up before the delegates.

23rd December, 1683. Smallpox is widespread and deadly; the Thames is frozen.

26th December, 1683. I had dinner at Lord Clarendon's, where I was supposed to meet the clever and knowledgeable Sir George Wheeler, who has published the excellent[Pg 192] description of Africa and Greece. He is a young knight with a good estate and has recently taken holy orders.

27th December, 1683. I went to visit Sir John Chardin, a French gentleman who had traveled to Persia three times by land and conducted many fascinating studies during his journeys, which he was now beginning to recount. This year in England, we were experiencing one of the harshest frosts in many years, and he told me that the cold in Persia was even more intense, with ice of incredible thickness. He mentioned that they hardly used iron in that country because it was so damp (even though the air was remarkably clear and healthy), and oil wouldn’t protect it from rusting. As a result, they didn’t have clocks or watches; they only had a few padlocks for doors and boxes.

30th December, 1683. Dr. Sprat, now the Dean of Westminster, preached to the King at Whitehall, on Matt. vi. 24. Reflecting on the events of the past year, I thanked God for His blessings and prayed for His guidance in the future.

1st January, 1683-84. The weather remained unbearably harsh, with rows of booths set up on the Thames; the air was extremely cold and heavy, something not experienced in many years. Smallpox was very deadly.

2d January, 1684. I had dinner at Sir Stephen Fox's place: after dinner, a guy came in who ate live charcoal, glowing hot, putting it out in his mouth, and then chewing and swallowing it. There was also a dog that seemed to perform many intelligent actions.

6th January, 1684. The river is completely frozen.

9th January, 1684. I crossed the Thames on the ice, which had gotten so thick that it could support not only rows of stalls where they were roasting meat and various shops selling goods, as if it were a town, but also coaches, carts, and horses moved across it. I traveled from Westminster stairs to Lambeth and had dinner with the Archbishop, where I met Lord Bruce, Sir George Wheeler, Colonel Cooke, and several clergymen. After dinner and a conversation with his Grace until evening prayers, Sir George Wheeler and I walked over the ice from Lambeth stairs to the Horse-ferry.

10th January, 1684. I went to Sir Robert Reading's place, where after dinner we enjoyed some music, but it couldn't compare to the music[Pg 193] that Mrs. Bridgeman played for us on the guitar with such incredible skill and talent.

16th January, 1684. The Thames was packed with people and tents selling all kinds of goods, just like in the city.

24th January, 1684. The frost is becoming more and more severe. The Thames in front of London is still lined with booths set up in neat rows, with all kinds of trades and shops stocked with goods, even a printing press where people, including ladies, wanted their names printed along with the date when it was done on the Thames. This trend became so popular that it was estimated the printer made £5 a day for printing just a line at sixpence a name, in addition to what he earned from ballads, etc. Coaches were running from Westminster to the Temple, and from various other wharves back and forth, while in the streets, there were sledges, skating, bull-baiting, horse and carriage races, puppet shows, and drinking spots, making it seem like a wild carnival on the water, despite it being a harsh time for the land. The trees were splitting as if struck by lightning, and many men and cattle were dying in various places. The seas were so frozen that no ships could leave or enter. Birds, fish, and all our exotic plants and greens were perishing everywhere. Many deer parks were destroyed, and all kinds of fuel became so expensive that there were significant efforts to keep the poor alive. This extreme weather was felt across much of Europe, even as far as Spain and the southern regions. London, due to the intense cold air preventing the smoke from rising, was filled with thick smoke from coal that made it hard to see across the street. It also filled the lungs with heavy particles, making it difficult to breathe. There was no water available from the pipes and pumps, and brewers and various other tradespeople couldn’t work, leading to constant accidents and disasters.

4th February, 1684. I went to Sayes Court to see how the frost had affected my garden, where I found that many of the greens and rare plants were completely destroyed. The oranges and myrtles looked very sick, the rosemary and laurels[Pg 194] appeared totally dead, but the cypress seemed likely to survive.

5th February, 1684. It started to thaw, but then froze again. My coach traveled from Lambeth to the Horse-ferry at Milbank, Westminster. Most of the booths were already taken down; however, there was still a map or landscape etched in copper showing all kinds of the camp, along with various activities, sports, and pastimes there, in memory of such a remarkable frost.

7th February, 1684. I had dinner with my Lord Keeper, [North], and while walking alone with him for a while in his gallery, we talked about music. He mentioned that he had been trained in it since childhood, and could sing his part at first sight. Then, when we discussed painting, which he was also passionate about, as well as other creative subjects, he asked me to visit him more often.

8th February, 1684. I went this evening to visit that great and knowledgeable expert, Monsieur Justell. The weather had turned to a complete thaw and rain; however, the Thames was still frozen.

10th February, 1684. After eight weeks without news from overseas, a lot of information arrived from abroad.

February 12, 1684. The Earl of Danby, former Lord Treasurer, along with the Roman Catholic Lords accused of high treason in the Popish Plot, were granted their habeas corpus and released on bail after five years of imprisonment in the Tower. Mr. Hampden and others were also put on trial and heavily fined for being suspected of the recent plot that led to the deaths of Lord Russell and Colonel Sidney; additionally, there was a person attempting to prove that the Earl of Essex had been murdered in the Tower; and Mr. Johnson, the author of the well-known work called Julian.

15th February, 1684. News that the Prince of Orange has accused the Deputies of Amsterdam of crimen læsæ Majestatis and of being pensioners to France.

Dr. Tenison shared with me his plan to build a library in St. Martin's parish for everyone to use, and he asked for my help, along with Sir Christopher Wren, regarding its layout and construction—a worthy and commendable initiative. He mentioned that there were about thirty or forty young men in his parish who were either mentors to young gentlemen or chaplains to noblemen. When he reprimanded them for spending too much time in taverns or coffeehouses, they replied that they would study or use their time better if they had books. This inspired the dedicated Doctor to pursue this project; it's really a shame that such a large city as London doesn't have a fitting public library. There should be one at St. Paul's; the west end of that church (if it ever gets finished) would be a great spot for it.

23rd February, 1684. I went to see Sir John Chardin, who asked for my help with engraving the plates, translating, and printing his account of the amazing Persian monument near Persepolis, along with other rare artifacts that he had had illustrated from the originals during his second trip to Persia, which we finalized. After that, I went with Sir Christopher Wren to Dr. Tenison's, where we created the drawing and estimated the costs for the library that is set to begin this next spring near the Mews.

Great anticipation regarding the Prince of Orange's efforts in Holland to persuade the people of Amsterdam to agree to the new taxes, which we opposed, by a false politic alignment with French interests.

26th February, 1684. Dr. Turner, our new Bishop of Rochester, came to visit me.

28th February, 1684. I had dinner at Lady Tuke's, where I heard Dr. Walgrave (the doctor for the Duke and Duchess) play beautifully on the lute.

7th March, 1684. Dr. Meggot, the Dean of Winchester, delivered an amazing sermon (the King being away in Newmarket), on Hebrews 12:15, emphasizing the importance of being mindful so that we don't fall short of God's grace. Afterwards, I went to visit Dr. Tenison at Kensington, where he was recovering after being ill with smallpox.

15th March, 1684. At Whitehall, Mr. Henry Godolphin, a prebend of St. Paul's and brother to my good friend Sydney, preached on Isaiah 1:7. I had lunch at the Lord Keeper's and took him to see Sir John Chardin, who showed him his detailed sketches of his travels in Persia.

28th March, 1684. There was such a huge crowd of people with their children waiting to be healed from the Evil that six or seven were crushed to death while trying to get tickets at[Pg 196] the surgeon's door. The weather started to be milder and more bearable; however, there were no signs of spring at all.

30th March, 1684. Easter Sunday. The Bishop of Rochester preached for the King; afterwards, His Majesty, accompanied by three of his legitimate sons, the Dukes of Northumberland, Richmond, and St. Alban (sons of Portsmouth, Cleveland, and Nelly), approached the altar. The three boys entered before the King within the rails, on the right side, while three bishops stood on the left: London (who officiated), Durham, and Rochester, along with the subdean, Dr. Holder. The King, kneeling before the altar and making his offering, was first received by the Bishops, and then by His Majesty; after which he went to a canopied seat on the right side. Note, there was perfume burned before the service began. I had received the Sacrament at Whitehall early with the Lords and household, with the Bishop of London officiating. Then I went to St. Martin's, where Dr. Tenison preached (having recovered from the smallpox); then I went back to Whitehall as mentioned above. In the afternoon, I went to St. Martin's again.

4th April, 1684. I came back home with my family to our house at Sayes Court, after living in London for five months; there was hardly any sign of spring.

30th April, 1684. A letter I wrote to the Royal Society about the severe effects of the past winter was read, and they requested that it be published in the next edition of their "Transactions."

10th May, 1684. I went to visit my brother in Surrey. I stopped by Ashtead, where Sir Robert Howard (Auditor of the Exchequer) welcomed me warmly at his newly-built house, which is situated in a park on the Downs, with the entrance facing south. It’s downhill to the house, which isn't large, but the outbuildings are quite convenient. The staircase is painted by Verrio with the story of Astraea; among the other figures is a portrait of the painter himself, and it looks quite like him. The rest of the artwork is done well, but I didn’t like the columns at all. There’s also an oval portrait of Sir Robert himself, all done in fresco. The place has one major flaw: there’s no water except what is drawn up by horses from a very deep well.

11th May, 1684. I visited Mr. Higham, who was sick, and he passed away three days later. His grandfather and father[Pg 197] (who baptized me), along with him, had now served as rectors of this parish for 101 years, since May, 1583.

12th May, 1684. I returned to London, where I found that the Admiralty Commissioners had been abolished, and the position of Admiral was restored to the Duke, giving him control over all sea affairs. However, the King signed off on all petitions, papers, warrants, and commissions so that the Duke, not acting as Admiral by official appointment, wouldn't face the penalties of the recent law against Catholics and Dissenters holding positions and refusing the oath and test. Everyone was pleased with this change, as those in the former Commission showed complete ignorance in their duties, which seriously harmed the Navy.

The complete destruction of the Low Country was at risk because of the siege of Luxembourg, unless it was rescued in time, and because of the stubbornness of the Dutch, who refused to help the Prince of Orange, having been swayed by the French.

16th May, 1684. I received £600 from Sir Charles Bickerstaff for the fee farm of Pilton, in Devon.

26th May, 1684. Lord Dartmouth was elected Master of the Trinity Company, which had just returned from destroying Tangier. In the sermon delivered on this occasion, Dr. Can noted that in the 27th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, casting anchor from the front of the ship was criticized as a sign of complete ignorance. While it’s true that our sailors don’t do this, the ships in the Mediterranean are constructed differently than ours, and this practice still continues there.

Luxembourg was given up to the French, making them the rulers of all the Netherlands, giving them access to Germany, and setting the stage for a push towards universal monarchy; that we should allow this, when we could have easily stopped it, is truly shocking. Thus, the poor Prince of Orange is left devastated, and this nation, along with all the Protestant interests in Europe, is at risk, unless God, in His infinite mercy, intervenes like a miracle, and our leaders change their plans. The French fleet was besieging Genoa, but after causing significant damage to that beautiful city with their bombs, they left in disgrace.

11th June, 1684. My cousin, Verney, who inherited a huge fortune, came to say goodbye to us before heading into[Pg 198] the country; a truly admirable and good young man.

12th June, 1684. I went to give advice and guidance about the construction of two streets in Berkeley Garden, keeping the house and as much of the garden as the width of the house. In the meantime, I couldn’t help but lament that such a beautiful place (by far the most impressive gardens, courtyards, and facilities, grand porticos, etc., anywhere in town) should be so limited and turned into rental properties. But with the grand estate and gardens next to it, built by the late Lord Chancellor Clarendon, all demolished and planned for piazzas and buildings, it provided some justification for Lady Berkeley's decision to lease out her land at such an excessive price as was offered, nearing £1,000 a year in pure ground rents; the madness of the time had led to a building frenzy around a city that was already far too disproportionate to the nation: 53 I had seen it almost double in size compared to what I remember.

22nd June, 1684. Last Friday, Sir Thomas Armstrong was executed at Tyburn for treason, without a trial, having been declared an outlaw and captured in Holland, based on the conspiracy involving the Duke of Monmouth, Lord Russell, and others. This led to discussions among people and lawyers, since the judgment and execution were based on an outlawry.54

2d July, 1684. I went to the Observatory at Greenwich, where Mr. Flamstead took his observations of the eclipse of the sun, now nearly three-quarters obscured.

There had been an unusually hot and dry spring, and the drought was still going on, something I had never experienced before.

13th July, 1684. A light drizzle; the leaves are falling from the trees like it’s autumn.[Pg 199]

25th July, 1684. I had dinner at Lord Falkland's, the Treasurer of the Navy, where after dinner we enjoyed some amazing music. Among the performers were Signor Pietro Reggio and Signor John Baptist, both renowned—one for his voice and the other for his exceptional harpsichord skills, with few, if any, in Europe surpassing him. There was also a Frenchman who sang an impressive bass.

26th July, 1684. I returned home, where I found my Lord Chief Justice [Jefferies], the Countess of Clarendon, and Lady Catherine Fitzgerald, who had dinner with me.

10th August, 1684. We finally got rain after a drought that no one in England had ever experienced.

24th August, 1684. Extremely hot. We haven't had more than one or two significant rainstorms in the past eight or nine months. Many trees have died from lack of water.

31st August, 1684. Mr. Sidney Godolphin was appointed Baron Godolphin.

26th September, 1684. The King returned from Winchester, and there was a large crowd at Whitehall.

At this time, the Earl of Rochester was moved from the Treasury to the President of the Council; Lord Godolphin was appointed as the first Commissioner of the Treasury to take his place, and Lord Middleton (a Scot) was made Secretary of State instead of Lord Godolphin. These changes were very surprising and unclear, leading to plenty of discussion.

There was now an ambassador from the King of Siam in the East Indies, to his Majesty.

22nd October, 1684. I went with Sir William Godolphin to see the rhinoceros, or unicorn, which I believe is the first one ever brought to England. It belonged to some East India merchants and was sold (if I recall correctly) for over £2,000. At the same time, I also went to see a crocodile that was brought from some of the West Indian Islands, looking like the Egyptian crocodile.

24th October, 1684. I had dinner at Sir Stephen Fox's with the Duke of Northumberland. He appeared to be a young man of great ability, well-mannered, polite, and humble; he had just returned from traveling and had fought in the siege of Luxembourg. Of all the King’s children (there were now six Dukes), he seemed the most accomplished and worthy of recognition. He is exceptionally handsome and well-built. We can't yet tell what the Dukes of Richmond and St. Alban's will become; they are very charming young boys.

26th October, 1684. Dr. Goodman gave a sermon before the King on James ii. 12, about the law of liberty: an excellent talk and well-organized. He is the author of "The Prodigal Son," a treatise worth reading, and another about the old religion.

27th October, 1684. I went to the Lord Chamberlain’s, where I had dinner with the Black Baron and Monsieur Flamerin, who had been exiled from France for a duel for quite some time.

28th October, 1684. I escorted Lord Clarendon through the city amidst all the fireworks and festivities of the Lord Mayor's show, to the Royal Society, where he was nominated as a member; and then took him out for dinner.

I went to St. Clement's, a beautifully designed church where a young pastor delivered an inspiring sermon on 1 Cor. vi. 20, encouraging us to be thankful and to honor God for the creation of our bodies and the value of our humanity.

2nd November, 1684. A sudden shift from mild, warm weather to an intense cold rain, frost, snow, and storms, conditions that had rarely been experienced. This winter weather started as early and severe as the previous winter did late; up until around Christmas, there had been hardly any winter at all.

4th November, 1684. Dr. Turner, having moved from Rochester to Ely after the death of Dr. Peter Gunning, preached before the King at Whitehall on Romans 3:8. It was an outstanding sermon defending the Church of England against the harmful doctrines of the Church of Rome. He asked for just five clergymen who left our Church to join that of Rome during the nearly twenty years of turmoil and rebellion in England, which, in my honest observation, was a significant truth.

15th November, 1684. Since it was the Queen's birthday, there were fireworks on the Thames in front of Whitehall, featuring displays of castles, forts, and other fiery devices like girandolas and serpents, along with the King and Queen's emblems and mottos, all showcased in flames that had never been seen here before. But the most impressive part was the various fires and skirmishes in the water, which actually moved a[Pg 201] long distance, burning beneath the surface and occasionally surfacing, creating loud noises like muskets and cannons, with grenades and countless other effects. It is reported to have cost £1,500. The event concluded with a ball, where all the young ladies and gentlemen danced in the grand hall. The court hadn’t looked so splendid and richly dressed since his Majesty's Restoration.

30th November, 1684. In the morning, Dr. Fiennes, son of Lord Say and Seale, preached before the King on Joshua 21:11.

3rd December, 1684. I took Mr. Justell and Mr. Slingsby (Master of the Mint) to check out Mr. Sheldon’s collection of medals. The series of Popes was rare, as were several of the modern ones, especially the one commemorating John Huss's martyrdom at Constance; there were also medals of Roman Emperors, Consulars, some Greek ones, etc., made of copper, gold, and silver; not many were truly antique; there was a medallion of Otho Paulus Æmilius, etc., which was ancient. They were priced at £1,000; however, I don't think they are worth more than £200.

7th December, 1684. I went to see the new church at St. James's, which was beautifully built; the altar was particularly decorated, the white marble enclosure intricately and lavishly carved, the flowers and garlands on the walls done by Mr. Gibbons in wood: a pelican with her chicks at her breast, right above the altar in the carved section and border surrounding the purple velvet trimmed with I. H. S., richly embroidered, and the magnificent plate, which was donated by Sir R. Geere, said to be worth £200. There was no altar anywhere in England, nor has there been abroad, that was more elegantly decorated.

17th December, 1684. Early in the morning, I went into St. James's Park to see three Turkish or Asian horses that had just arrived and were being shown to His Majesty for the first time. There were four, but one died at sea during the three-week journey from Hamburg. They were captured from a Bashaw during the siege of Vienna, at that famous recent raising of the siege. I had never seen such a delicate creature as one of them, a bright bay with two white feet and a blaze; it had such a beautiful head, eyes, ears, neck, chest, belly, haunches, legs, pasterns, and feet, all perfectly proportioned. It was spirited, proud, and nimble, able to halt and turn with such swiftness in such a small space that it was truly impressive. Despite all this, it was so gentle and manageable that it reminded me of what Busbequius said about them, criticizing our European grooms who train horses so harshly that most retain bad habits. They trotted like deer, as if they were floating above the ground. The asking price was five hundred guineas for the first, three hundred for the second, and two hundred for the third, which was brown. All of them were beautifully shaped, but the last two weren't quite as perfect as the first.

It was judged by the spectators, including the King, Prince of Denmark, Duke of York, and several members of the Court—noble individuals skilled in horses, particularly Monsieur Faubert and his son (who were master trainers at the Academy and regarded as the best in Europe)—that no horses had ever been seen in these parts that could compare to them. In addition to this, the equipment featured embroidery on the saddle, housings, quiver, bow, arrows, scimitar, sword, mace, or battle-ax, à la Turcisq; the Bashaw's velvet mantle furred with the most exquisite ermine I had ever seen; all of which had silver ironwork for the common furniture, intricately crafted and double-gilded to an astonishing value. Such was the embroidery that I had never encountered anything like it before. The reins and headstall were made of crimson silk, adorned with chains of gilded silver. There was also a Turkish royal standard made from a horse's tail, along with various other accessories belonging to a general's horse, which showcased how impressively and magnificently those infidels present themselves in battle; nothing could be more glorious. The gentleman (a German) riding the horse was dressed in all this gear. The horses had iron shoes that were rounded and closed at the heel, with a hole in the center about as wide as a shilling. The hooves were in perfect condition.

18th December, 1684. I went with Lord Cornwallis to watch the young gallants practice. Mr. Faubert had just completed a new riding arena, setting it up for the academy. There were the Dukes of Norfolk and Northumberland, Lord Newburgh, and a nephew of (Duras) Earl of Feversham. The exercises included: 1. running at the ring; 2. throwing a javelin at a Moor's head; 3. firing a pistol at a target; and finally, picking up a gauntlet with the tip of a sword. All of these were done at full speed. The Duke of Northumberland almost succeeded at every one, a dozen times, I think. The Duke of Norfolk performed exceptionally well. Lords Newburgh and Duras didn't seem as skilled. Here I noticed the difference between what the French call "bel homme à cheval" and "bon homme à cheval"; the Duke of Norfolk being the former, a rather fine person on a horse, while the Duke of Northumberland exemplified both perfectly, being both graceful and an excellent rider. However, the Duke of Norfolk mentioned he hadn't practiced this exercise in the past twelve years. In the field were the Prince of Denmark and Lord Lansdowne, son of the Earl of Bath, who had been made a Count of the Empire last summer for his service before Vienna.

20th December, 1684. A heinous murder was committed by Mr. St. John, the eldest son of Sir Walter St. John, a respectable gentleman, against a knight of high standing, in a tavern. The perpetrator was sentenced but then pardoned. Numerous dreadful murders and duels occurred during this period, unlike anything previously seen in England, leading to significant complaints and unrest.

1st January, 1684-85. The weather was extremely cold, and the frost lasted so long and fiercely that the Thames froze solid, although the ice would sometimes melt and then freeze again.

11th January, 1685. A young man preached on St. Luke 13:5, using the long-winded and repetitive style typical of the Presbyterians.

24th January, 1685. I had dinner at Lord Newport's, who had some amazing paintings, especially one of Sir Thomas Hanmer by Vandyke, which is one of the best he ever created; another painting by our English Dobson; but above all, there was a stunning piece of Christ in the Virgin's lap by Poussin, an incredible work; along with something from most other renowned artists.

25th January, 1685. Dr. Dove preached before the King. I saw a scene of excessive gambling this evening, with the King surrounded by his three mistresses, unlike anything I’ve seen before—outrageous indulgence and disrespect.

27th January, 1685. I had dinner at Lord Sunderland's, where I was invited to hear the famous voice of Mr. Pordage, who had just returned from Rome; his singing was in the Venetian style, absolutely masterful, and he had a fantastic voice that could do both treble and bass. Dr. Walgrave accompanied him on his THEORBO LUTE, playing in a way that was beyond imagination, and he is definitely one of the greatest masters in Europe on that beautiful instrument. Pordage is a priest, as Mr. Bernard Howard mentioned to me in private.

There were in the room where we dined, and in his bedroom, those incredible pieces by Columbus, a Flagellation, the Grammar School, and the Venus and Adonis by Titian; and by Vandyke, that painting of the late Earl of Digby (the father of the Countess of Sunderland) and Earl of Bedford, Sir Kenelm Digby, along with two ladies of exceptional artistry; besides the one of Moses and the burning bush by Bassano, and several other works by the greatest masters. A marble head of M. Brutus, etc.

28th January, 1685. I was invited to Lord Arundel's place in Wardour (who has just been released after six years in the Tower due to suspicions from what's known as Oates's Plot), where, after dinner, Mr. Pordage entertained us with his singing, while the incredible artist, Signor John Baptist, played the harpsichord. My daughter Mary was with us, and she also sang, bringing great joy to both of the masters and a crowd of nobility present.

She did the same at Lord Rochester's the following evening, where we had the French boy famous for his singing, and he indeed had a beautiful voice and had been well trained. I also heard Mrs. Packer (the daughter of my old friend) sing privately before His Majesty and the Duke, with that incredible bass, Gosling, accompanying her, but her singing was so loud that it overshadowed much of the sweetness. Certainly, no woman had a stronger or better ear, if only she could have controlled it. She would shine in a large church among the nuns.

4th February, 1685. I went to London after hearing that his Majesty had been caught off guard in his bedroom by an apoplectic fit the previous Monday (2nd February). If it weren't for Dr. King, that excellent surgeon and physician, who happened to be there and had his lancet in his pocket to let him bleed, the King would certainly have died right then. This could have led to disastrous consequences, as the only people present were Dr. King and one other person, as I've been told. The Doctor showed remarkable skill, courage, and quick thinking by bleeding him during the fit, without waiting for other physicians, which typically should have been done, and for which he might need a formal pardon, I've heard. This act saved the King's life temporarily, but it was just a brief stay of execution. He continued to complain and showed signs of relapse, frequently fainting, and even exhibiting some epileptic symptoms, until Wednesday. He was cupped, bled from both jugulars, and given both vomits and purges, which helped him enough that by Thursday there were signs of recovery mentioned in the public "Gazette." However, around noon that day, the physicians found him feverish. They seemed pleased, thinking it would be easier to treat than his previous fits, so they prescribed the famous Jesuit's powder. But it made him worse, and some very skilled doctors present believed it wasn't a fever but rather the result of his frequent bleeding and other intense treatments on his head. They suggested that the powder might stop his circulation and bring back his earlier fits, which had now left him very weak. He endured Thursday night with great difficulty. When he complained of pain in his side, they drew another twelve ounces of blood from him; this was done by six in the morning on Friday, and it brought him some relief, but it didn’t last. Now in significant pain and struggling to breathe, he was dozing off, and after some struggles, the physicians, losing hope, he passed away at half past eleven in the morning on the sixth of February, 1685, in the 36th year of his reign and at the age of 54.

Prayers were solemnly offered in all the churches, especially in both Court Chapels, where the chaplains took turns every fifteen minutes from the time he started to be in danger until he passed away, following the rituals outlined in the Church services. Assisting the King in his devotions were the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London, Durham, and Ely, but notably Dr. Ken, the Bishop of Bath and Wells. It is said they strongly encouraged him to receive the Holy Sacrament, but he told them he would think about it, which he did until it was too late. Others quietly suggested that the Bishops and Lords, except the Earls of Bath and Feversham, had been asked to leave the night before, and that Father Huddleston had taken it upon himself to perform the Catholic rites. He gave his pants and keys to the Duke, who was almost always kneeling by his bedside, in tears. He also entrusted him with the care of his legitimate children, all except the Duke of Monmouth, who was in Holland and currently in his bad graces. He asked the Queen to forgive him (not without reason); she had recently sent a Bishop to explain why she had not been visiting him more often, due to her deep sorrow, and to request that the King would excuse her if she had ever upset him. He spoke to the Duke about being kind to the Duchess of Cleveland, and especially to Portsmouth, and that Nelly should not be left in poverty.

Thus died King Charles II, a man with a strong and healthy constitution, seemingly destined for a long life. He was a prince with many virtues and significant flaws; charming, approachable, not violent or cruel; his expression intense, his voice loud, well-built, and every movement suited him. He loved the sea and was skilled in navigation; he didn’t pursue many other studies, but he had a laboratory and was knowledgeable about various practical medicines and basic mechanical mathematics. He enjoyed planting and construction, introducing a more refined lifestyle that eventually led to luxury and excessive spending. He had a special knack for storytelling and witty anecdotes, of which he had countless, making some jesters and immoral individuals too bold and familiar, not deserving of the favor they took for granted. He loved having a pack of little spaniels follow him and sleep in his bedroom, where he often allowed the females to give birth and nurse, making the place quite unpleasant and the entire court dirty and foul-smelling. He would have undoubtedly made a great king if not for his overwhelming attraction to women, which troubled him and kept him constantly needing to fund their insatiable demands, to the detriment of many needy individuals who had served both him and his father with distinction. He frequently and easily changed favorites, to his own great disadvantage.

As for other public events and unfortunate failures, I don't intend to list them here; but it's clear that no king has had more glorious opportunities to make himself, his people, and all of Europe happy, and to prevent countless disasters, had he not been too trusting and allowed himself to be influenced by cunning individuals and some wicked and irreverent people who tainted his otherwise capable nature. He had been shaped by many hardships during his exile, which provided him with plenty of experience and insight into people and situations; however, those malicious individuals distracted him from performing the duties befitting a great king. The history of his reign will undoubtedly be the most remarkable for its variety of events and circumstances, surpassing anything from earlier times: the tragic and sorrowful death of his father, his exile and struggles, his miraculous return, conspiracies against him, parliaments, wars, plagues, fires, comets, and revolutions happening abroad during his time, along with countless other details. He was always kind to me and very gracious on all occasions, so I cannot help but feel deep sorrow for his loss, which I do with all my heart for many reasons, as well as out of duty.

With His Majesty deceased, the Duke, now King James II, went straight to Council and, before discussing any matters, expressed his deep sorrow. He told their Lordships that since the succession had come to him, he would strive to emulate his predecessor's compassion and care for the people. He asserted that, despite being misrepresented as wanting absolute power, they would see the opposite; the laws of England had granted him as much authority as he could desire. He would aim to uphold the Government in both Church and State as established by law, as its principles supported monarchy, and its members had proven to be good and loyal subjects; and that he would never stray from the legitimate rights and privileges of the Crown, nor would he infringe on anyone's property. He emphasized that just as he had often risked his life for the nation, he would continue to do so and protect all its lawful rights and freedoms.

[Pg 209]

This is what he said, and the Lords wanted it published because it would reassure a concerned public about this change, which the King agreed to. Then the Council members were sworn in, and a Proclamation was ordered to be issued stating that all officers would keep their positions to ensure public justice continued until the King decided otherwise. After that, the King stood up, and the Lords accompanied him to his bedroom. While he rested, exhausted from grief and lack of sleep, they returned to the Council chamber to organize the ANNOUNCING of his Majesty. After some discussion, they agreed it should be conducted in the same way King James I was proclaimed after Queen Elizabeth's death, and that the Lords would ride through the city in their coaches for added solemnity. I, along with several other gentlemen waiting in the Privy gallery, was then allowed into the Council chamber to witness the decisions being made. Together with the Lords, Lord Marshal, Heralds, and other Crown officers, we first went to Whitehall gate, where the Lords stood on foot, bareheaded, while the Herald proclaimed the King's title to the Imperial Crown and succession. This was accompanied by three trumpet and kettledrum sounds, which ended with cheers from the crowd. Then a herald called for the Lords' coaches in order of rank, and I joined the procession in Lord Cornwallis's coach, first heading to Temple Bar, where the Lord Mayor and his fellow officials met us on horseback, dressed formally, and proclaimed the King. From there, we went to the Exchange in Cornhill, and then returned in the[Pg 210] same order we had set out. Upon arriving at Whitehall, we all went and kissed the hands of the King and Queen. He had been resting but was now up and in informal clothing. The Queen was still in her room but extended her hand, looking quite distressed, which I believe she was, as she had always behaved with such grace since arriving in England, earning her widespread affection.

Thus ended this sad and not happy day.

I can never forget the unbelievable luxury and wrongdoing, gambling, and complete disregard for God (it was Sunday evening), which I witnessed a week ago. The King was sitting and flirting with his mistresses, Portsmouth, Cleveland, and Mazarin, along with a French boy singing love songs57 in that stunning gallery. About twenty of the top courtiers and other wayward individuals were playing Basset around a large table, with a pot of at least 2,000 in gold in front of them. Two gentlemen who were with me expressed their astonishment at the scene. Six days later, it was all gone.

It was required that those who mourn should do so as they would for a father, in the most respectful way.

10th February, 1685. I was asked by the County Sheriff to show up and help announce the King, so I went to Bromley the next day. There, I met the Sheriff and the leader of the Kentish Troop, along with around 500 cavalry and countless spectators, two of the King's trumpeters, and a Sergeant with other officers. They gathered the horsemen in a large field near the town and then marched with their swords drawn to the market place. After forming a circle and sounding the trumpets, the High Sheriff read the proclamation titles to his bailiff, who repeated them loudly. Following a lot of cheers from the crowd, they toasted the King's health with a long flint glass that was a yard in length, raised by the Sheriff, Commander, Officers, and prominent gentlemen. After that, everyone dispersed, and I went home.

13th February, 1685. I sold my interest in Honson Grange in Staffordshire, which brought in about £20 a year. Since it was quite far away, I decided to sell it to a farmer named Burton. It was given to me as part of my daughter-in-law's inheritance, which was only a fourth of what was divided among her mother and three sisters.

14th February, 1685. The King was quietly buried in a vault beneath Henry VII's Chapel at Westminster last night, without any ceremony, and soon forgotten after all this show. The entire Court’s demeanor changed to a more serious and respectful behavior; the new King showing no interest in indecency or foolishness. All the high-ranking officials broke their staffs over the grave, as per tradition.

15th February, 1685. Dr. Tenison preached to the household. The second sermon was supposed to be in front of the King; however, much to the dismay of his subjects, he publicly attended mass for the first time in the small Oratory at the Duke's lodgings, with the doors wide open.

16th February, 1685. I had dinner at Sir Robert Howard's, the auditor of the exchequer, a guy who claims to be skilled in all sorts of arts and sciences, which got him made fun of in a comedy as Sir Positive; he wasn't mean-spirited, but he was incredibly proud of himself. He was the son of the late Earl of Berkshire.

17th February, 1685. This morning, the King handed the staff and key back to Lord Arlington, the Chamberlain; to Mr. Savell, the Vice-chamberlain; and to Lords Newport and Maynard, who are the Treasurer and Comptroller of the household. Lord Godolphin became the Chamberlain to the Queen; Lord Peterborough was appointed groom of the stole, replacing the Earl of Bath; the Treasurer's staff was given to the Earl of Rochester; and his brother, the Earl of Clarendon, took over as Lord Privy Seal, replacing the Marquis of Halifax, who was made President of the Council; the Secretaries of State remained the same as before.

19th February, 1685. The Lord Treasurer and the other new officials took their oaths at the Chancery Bar and the Exchequer.

The late King had the revenue from excise, customs, and other recent duties granted for his lifetime only, so these were now leased out to various individuals, based on the belief that the late King could lease them for three years after his death. Some of the old commissioners refused to participate. The lease was made just the day before the King died;58[Pg 212] most of the Judges (though some argue not the best lawyers) declared it legal, but four disagreed.

The clerk of the closet had closed off the late King's private prayer room next to the Privy-chamber above, but the King had it reopened and insisted that prayers be said as before.

22nd February, 1685. Several very useful writings against Dissenters, Catholics, and Fanatics, along with resolutions for various issues, were now published by the London theologians.

4th March, 1685. Ash Wednesday. After evening prayers, I headed to London.

5th March, 1685. To my sorrow, I saw the new pulpit set up in the Catholic Oratory at Whitehall for Lent preaching, mass being openly celebrated, and the Catholics gathering at Court with more confidence than ever seen in England since the Reformation, making everyone anxious about what this might lead to.

A Parliament was now called, and a lot of effort was put into securing elections that would support the Court's interests, as most of the corporations were now able, thanks to their new charters, to choose whichever members they wanted.

Several envoys and important figures came to express their condolences for the death of the late King, and they were received by the Queen-Dowager on a mourning bed, with the entire room, including the ceiling and floor, draped in black, and candles lit, creating an atmosphere that was incredibly somber and solemn. The Queen-Consort sat on a throne with a black cover, hosting the gathering (as the Queen used to do), and she did so with great dignity.

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

7th March, 1685. My daughter, Mary, contracted smallpox, and it quickly became clear that she wouldn’t recover. This is a great sorrow for me: but may God's will be done!

10th March, 1685. She received the blessed sacrament; after which, preparing herself to endure whatever God decided to inflict, she faced the rest of her illness with remarkable patience and devotion, along with an extraordinary sense of resignation and a blessed state of mind. She passed away on the 14th, leaving us in indescribable sorrow and grief, and not just us, but all who knew her, many of whom were exceptional, noble, and virtuous individuals. Her stature, appearance, beauty, and graceful movements were the least of her attributes compared to the virtues of her mind. From an early age, she was notably pious and religious, dedicating part of each day to private prayer, reading, and other virtuous activities; she collected and wrote out many of the most useful and insightful passages from the books she read in a sort of commonplace book, including excerpts from Dr. Hammond on the New Testament and many of the best practical essays. She had studied and absorbed a significant amount of history and geography. The French language was as familiar to her as English; she understood Italian and could provide a thoughtful account of what she read and observed, aided by a very good memory and insight. She made prudent and thoughtful reflections on the conversations she participated in, which were always with people of high quality, enhancing her own understanding. She had an excellent singing voice and played thorough-bass on the harpsichord, achieving such skill that among the students of those two renowned masters, Signors Pietro and Bartholomeo, she was considered the best; the sweetness of her voice and the way she managed it made her singing as pleasing to the eye as it was to the ear. I mention this particularly because it was a widely shared observation, and many distinguished individuals in music sought the pleasure of hearing her, the last occasion being at Lord Arundel's, at Wardour.

What can I say, or rather not say, about how cheerful and pleasant her humor was? She treated even the lowest servant in the household with respect, without any hint of pride. She often read to them, helped educate them, instructed them, and prayed with them when they were sick, which made her incredibly beloved by everyone. Her piety was such a strong part of who she was that as soon as she got close to her equals or superiors, she would try to inspire them by subtly introducing something religious that encouraged them to embrace devotion. She had one or two close friends with whom she would spend entire days fasting, reading, and praying, especially before the monthly communion and other important occasions. She despised flattery, and although she was very witty, her playful teasing was so innocent and clever that it was very enjoyable. Occasionally, she would watch a play, but since the theater had become inappropriate, she expressed her boredom with it, feeling that spending time there was pointless vanity. She never played cards unless she was really pushed to do so and only for the sake of companionship; but this happened so infrequently that I wouldn't even consider it a fault.

No one could read prose or poetry better or with more insight; and as she read, so she wrote—not only with perfect spelling, but also with a maturity of judgment, precision in her sentences, careful word choice, and a familiarity in her style that left me and others amazed by some of her letters. She had a knack for performing any funny part or poem, displaying a level of playfulness that was more enjoyable than watching it acted out on stage; she danced with the most grace I had ever seen, and her teacher, Monsieur Isaac, would agree. However, she rarely demonstrated that perfection except in the elegance of her demeanor, which had a lively modesty that’s hard to describe. There was nothing forced about her—she was natural and effortless both in her behavior and her conversation, which was always meaningful, not trivial, and the extraordinary sweetness of her voice, even in casual chats, was very charming. There was nothing cuter than when she played with little kids, whom she would cuddle and entertain with great joy. But she preferred the company of serious and sober men from whom she could learn and better herself. She helped me with reading and praying; her mind held unique ideas, and she was overly curious about everything, though I sometimes had to hold that curiosity in check.[Pg 215]

Nothing was more enjoyable for her than to spend time in my Study, where she would gladly have spent entire days. As I mentioned, she had read plenty of history and all the greatest poets, including Terence, Plautus, Homer, Virgil, Horace, and Ovid; all the best romantic writers and modern poems. She could compose happily and create beautiful symbols, like in the "Mundus Muliebris," which lists the countless ways and adornments belonging to women. However, all of these were trivial compared to the virtues that filled her soul; she was genuinely religious, incredibly dutiful to her parents, whom she loved with deep respect. We were relaxed and free, and there was nothing we enjoyed more than having her with us; we didn't need any other company. She was kind to her sisters and continuously helped them grow with her unwavering devotion. Oh, dear, sweet, and cherished child, how will I cope with losing all this goodness and virtue without the bitter sorrow and reluctance of a loving parent? Your affection, duty, and love for me were those of both a friend and a child. You were equally precious to your mother, whose care and example for you were unparalleled, and your gratitude toward her was just as evident. Oh! how she grieves your absence! How lonely have you left us! We both will carry your memory to the grave! May God alone (in whose embrace you are at rest and happy!) help us to let you go and relinquish all our joys (for you truly were everything to us) to His blessed will! May He be glorified by our acceptance, and grant us the grace to thank Him for the virtues He instilled in you, your righteous life, and your pious and holy death, which is indeed our only comfort. We hasten, through the infinite love and mercy of the Lord Jesus, to soon be with you, dear child, and with you and those blessed saints like you, to glorify the Redeemer of the world for all eternity! Amen.

It was when she was 19 that she fell ill. An accident contributed to her sickness; she had a premonition about it just two days before returning home, after visiting a thoughtless woman with Lady Falkland. This woman casually mentioned that one of her servants was sick with smallpox (who, in fact, died the next day). My poor child[Pg 216] admitted that this left a mark on her spirits. Four gentlemen of high standing were interested in marrying her, and I openly let her choose, trusting her judgment. She showed a strong indifference to the idea of marriage, saying to her mother (just the other day), if I could be sure of your life and my dear father’s, I would never want to leave you. I love you and this home, where we serve God, above all else, and I don’t think I could ever be happier. I understand the ups and downs of life, and I've seen its emptiness. If it weren't for decency rather than desire, and your belief that it's what’s best for me, I wouldn't want to change my situation. Instead, I would prefer to share the fortune you plan for me with my sisters and uphold the reputation of our family. This was expressed so thoughtfully and sincerely that it clearly came from an extraordinary child who loved her parents deeply.

In London, she contracted this deadly illness, and the reason she was there was this: my Lord Viscount Falkland's wife, who was our neighbor (since he was the Treasurer of the Navy), became very fond of my daughter. When they returned to the city in the autumn, nothing would satisfy their persistent requests except allowing her to go with my Lady and spend some time with her; I complied with great reluctance. While she was there, my Lord, being musical, I noticed my Lady wouldn't let her go until Christmas, so I was open to her taking advantage of the opportunity to learn from Signor Pietro, who had an excellent way of both composing and teaching. It was the end of February before I could persuade my Lady to let her leave; however, as my Lord went to Oxfordshire to stand for Knight of the Shire, she expressed her desire to come home, feeling exhausted by the shallow and trivial conversations of the town, the theaters, the court, and meaningless visits that consumed so much valuable time and sometimes made her miss that consistent practice of piety that brought her the most satisfaction. She grew tired of this lifestyle, and I think she didn't go to the Court more than three times during this period, except when her mother or I took her. She didn't care about making an appearance; she knew the Court well, having spent one summer there at Windsor with Lady Tuke, one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting (a very virtuous relative of hers); she wasn't fond of that flashy environment, which had become horrifically immoral, even though there was a plan by Lady Rochester and Lady Clarendon to make her a maid of honor to the Queen as soon as a vacancy arose. But she didn't focus on that or anything as much as she did on serving God, leading a calm and orderly life, and finding ways to better herself in the most essential skills, in which she had already made significant progress.

This is the brief history and flawed character of my beloved child, whose devotion, goodness, and unmatched qualities deserve a tribute more lasting than brass and marble. The memory of the righteous is invaluable. I could elaborate on every part of this quick summary, but I need to calm my overwhelming emotions for now, with so many thoughts about an exemplary Christian and dutiful child rushing to my mind. I can never express enough, oh dear, my precious child, whose memory means so much to me!

This dear child was born at Wotton, in the same house and room where I took my first breath, my wife having gone to stay with my brother during the great illness that year on the first of that month, and at the exact hour I was born, on the last: that is, October.

16th March, 1685. She was buried at the southeast end of the church in Deptford, next to her grandmother and several of my younger children and relatives. I had hoped she would be laid to rest among my own parents and family at Wotton, where I also wish to be buried when God calls me from this uncertain, temporary life, but certain circumstances didn’t allow it. Our vicar, Dr. Holden, delivered her funeral sermon based on Phil. 1:21, "For me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain." He gave a relevant discourse, as those who attended told me (since my grief prevented me from being there), ending with a humble recounting of her many virtues and remarkable faith, moving the audience to tears and admiration. I was somewhat pleased that such words were spoken, for the edification and encouragement of other young people.

Divers noble persons honored her funeral, some attending in person, others sending their carriages, of which there were[Pg 218] six or seven with six horses, including the Countess of Sunderland, the Earl of Clarendon, Lord Godolphin, Sir Stephen Fox, Sir William Godolphin, Viscount Falkland, and others. About sixty rings were given out to her friends.

Thus lived, died, and was buried the joy of my life, and ornament of her gender and of my poor family! May God Almighty, in His infinite mercy, grant me the grace to accept with gratitude what I have, or had, and surrender it to His divine will, restoring health and comfort to my family in His good time: "Teach me to number my days, that I may apply my heart to wisdom," so I can be prepared for my end, and that I may commend my spirit into the hands of my blessed Savior! Amen!

Upon looking into her closet, it's amazing how many collections she had gathered from historians, poets, travelers, and others, but most of all, there were devotions, reflections, and resolutions related to those reflections, all neatly organized in a book; prayers, meditations, and devotions for specific occasions, along with many lovely letters to her close friends; one addressed to a clergyman (whose name isn’t mentioned) in which she expresses her hope that he would be her spiritual mentor and not judge her for her many mistakes and the imperfections of her youth, but instead ask God to give her the courage to share all her faults with him, seeking his help and spiritual guidance. I remember she often asked me to recommend her to such a person; however, I felt it wasn't the right time to do so since she tended to be overly scrupulous, and I was aware of the genuine innocence and integrity of her life.

It’s amazing how someone who had gained so much knowledge in various areas of education, especially music, both singing and playing instruments, dancing, social visits, and engaging conversations, could achieve even half of what she did. However, since she never cared for games or cards, which waste so much valuable time, she was always busy, yet that did not take away from her delightful conversations. She truly was a little miracle while she was alive, and that’s how she passed away!

26th March, 1685. I was invited to the funeral of Captain Gunman, the excellent pilot and seaman who had acted so bravely during the Dutch war. He died[Pg 219] from gangrene, which resulted from his fall from the pier at Calais. He was the captain of the yacht that took the Duke (now King) to Scotland and was blamed for not warning in time when the yacht ran aground, leading to so many deaths; but I am absolutely certain he was in no way at fault, either through negligence or intention, as he demonstrated not only during the investigation of the incident but also in the defense he provided to me, which would satisfy any reasonable person. He was a sober, frugal, cheerful, and moderate man; we have very few seamen like him left.

8th April, 1685. Having calmed down a bit after my recent distress, I went to London to listen to Dr. Tenison (since it was a Wednesday in Lent) at Whitehall. I noticed that even though the King wasn’t in his seat up in the chapel, the Doctor still made his three bows, which they didn’t do when the late King was absent; back then, they only made one bow. I asked why, and I was told he had special instructions to do so. The Princess of Denmark was in the King's private room, but she sat on the left side of the chair, with the Clerk of the Closet standing by the King’s chair as if he were present.

I ran into the Queen Dowager as she was leaving Whitehall for her new residence at Somerset House.

Today, my brother from Wotton and Mr. Onslow were running for election in Surrey against Sir Adam Brown and my cousin, Sir Edward Evelyn. They were outsmarted in the election by a trick from the Sheriff, who took advantage of my brother's supporters leaving the small village of Leatherhead to find shelter and accommodations, as the afternoon was stormy. They planned to return for the election the next morning, but by that time, they were already outnumbered by the other party by several hundred votes, as I've been told. The Duke of Norfolk led the group for Sir Edward Evelyn and Sir Adam Brown. For this Parliament, some very unremarkable and lesser people (including some of gentlemen's servants, clerks, and individuals without any reputation or influence) were put forward as candidates; however, the community wanted to elect my brother whether he agreed or not, and he lost due to the aforementioned trick. Sir Adam Brown was so deaf that he couldn't hear a single word. Sir Edward Evelyn was an honorable gentleman, well-liked by His Majesty.[Pg 220]

10th April, 1685. I got to Whitehall early to hear Dr. Tillotson, Dean of Canterbury, preach on Eccles. ix. 18. I came back in the evening and visited Lady Tuke, where I found Sir George Wakeman, the physician. I had seen him tried and cleared of the charges related to the plot to poison the late King, based on the accusations from the notorious Oates; and I truly believed he was innocent.

14th April, 1685. As I usually do, I went to London to spend Holy Week.

17th April, 1685. Good Friday. Dr. Tenison preached at the new church at St. James, on 1 Cor. xvi. 22, about God's endless love for us, which he highlighted with many examples. The Holy Sacrament followed, and I took part in it. May the Lord keep me grateful! In the afternoon, Dr. Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, preached in Whitehall chapel, with a large audience of Lords, the two Archbishops, and many others, who had come to town for the coronation and the upcoming Parliament. I had dinner with the Countess of Sunderland and Lord Godolphin, then went home.

23rd April, 1685. It was the coronation of the King and Queen. The ceremony was as magnificent as described in print. The Bishop of Ely preached, but, to the disappointment of the people, there was no Sacrament, which should have taken place. However, the King begins his reign with high hopes and expectations for significant reforms regarding the recent vices and inappropriate behavior of both the Court and the country. Having attended the previous King's coronation, I was not eager to witness this ceremony.

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

7th May, 1685. I was in Westminster Hall when Oates, who had stirred up so much trouble in the kingdom by exposing a supposed plot by Catholics, which alarmed several Parliaments and led to the execution of various priests, noblemen, and others, was on trial for perjury at the King's bench. However, since the proceedings were very lengthy, I didn’t make an effort to see how it concluded, considering it would be reported anyway. Many Roman Catholics were in the hall, hoping for a satisfying conviction and downfall of a person who had been so offensive to them, and I truly believe he had caused a lot of harm and great injury to many through his aggressive and unfounded actions; he had initially been so ridiculously inflated and supported that his arrogance became unbearable.

Mr. Roger L'Estrange (a gentleman I had known for a long time, and a person of great qualities, despite some quirks) initially came out against the Dissenters in several pamphlets. For the past few years, he had shifted his focus to those whom they called Whigs and Trimmers, under the title "Observator," which was published three or four times a week. In these publications, claiming to support the Church of England, he seemed to cater to another group with various remarks that fueled conflicts rather than resolved them, especially since no one had given any reason to escalate things.

10th May, 1685. The Scots were really proud to be the first Parliament called by the King, so they granted the excise and customs to him and his successors forever; the Duke of Queensberry made impressive speeches, especially reminding everyone about the urgent need to deal with the recent violent Field-Conventiclers who had committed shocking murders. Meanwhile, the elections for the upcoming Parliament in England were believed to be happening in a pretty questionable manner in most places. Hopefully, it turns out better than some people expect!

16th May, 1685. Oates was sentenced to be whipped and put in the pillory with the maximum severity.

21st May, 1685. I had dinner at my Lord Privy Seal's with Sir William Dugdale, Garter King-at-Arms, who wrote the "Monastic Life" and other scholarly works; he told me he was 82 years old and had perfect sight and memory. They showed a draft of the exact shape and dimensions of the crown the Queen was crowned with, along with the jewels and pearls, their weight and value, which added up to £100,658 sterling, confirmed[Pg 222] at the bottom of the paper by the jeweler and goldsmith who set them.

22nd May, 1685. In the morning, I went with a French gentleman and my Lord Privy Seal to the House of Lords, where we were seated by his Lordship next to the bar, just below the bishops, quite conveniently for hearing and seeing. After a short while, the Queen and the Princess of Denmark entered and stood just above the archbishops, at the right side of the House near the throne. Meanwhile, several Lords, who hadn't completed it before, took the test and the 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 quite decently, as well as the prayers that followed, standing the whole time. Then the King entered, wearing the crown, and after taking his seat, the Commons were introduced, and with the House being full, he brought out a paper containing his speech, which he read clearly enough, saying: "That he intended to call a Parliament from the moment of his brother's death, as the best way to settle all the affairs of the nation, making things easiest and happiest for himself and his subjects; that he would confirm everything he had stated in his declaration at the first Council regarding his views on the principles of the Church of England, their loyalty, and that he would defend and support it, preserving its government as established by law; that, while he would not invade anyone's property, he would also never forsake his own prerogative; and, as he had risked his life in defense of the nation, he would continue to do so; that, having given this assurance of his care for our religion (his words were YOUR religion) and property (which he did not say lightly, but with seriousness), he had no doubts about receiving suitable expressions of duty and kindness from his subjects, especially in settling his revenue for life, given the many critical needs of governance, which he would not allow to be uncertain; that some might suggest it would be better to support him from time to time only, out of their desire for frequent Parliaments; but that would be a very inappropriate approach, since the best way to encourage him to meet more often would be to treat him well, and therefore[Pg 223] he anticipated their prompt cooperation, so that this short session could conclude to their satisfaction."

At every moment during this, the House erupted in loud cheers. Then he informed them about that morning's news of Argyle landing in the West Highlands of Scotland from Holland, and the treasonous declaration he had released, which he would share with them. He assured them he would do his best to ensure it received the punishment it deserved, confident in Parliament's eagerness and willingness to support him as he wished. This led to another "Vive le Roi," and with that, his Majesty left.

As soon as the Commons returned and formed a grand committee, they quickly addressed the issue and unanimously voted to grant the revenue to his Majesty for life. Mr. Seymour gave a strong speech against several elections and suggested that those members who he claimed were problematic should step aside until their legitimacy was established; however, no one supported him. The truth is, many of the new members had elections that were widely criticized, as many were individuals with no status or influence in the nation or the areas they represented, particularly in Devon, Cornwall, Norfolk, etc., and were said to have been backed by the Court, thanks to the new charters that changed the electorate. It was reported that Lord Bath brought back at least fifteen charters into Cornwall, earning him the nickname "Prince Elector." In his speech, Seymour warned the House that if this situation continued, they could impose any religion and laws they wanted, and although he had never paid attention to the people's fears and suspicions before, he was now genuinely worried about Popery. According to the printed list of 505 members, there were only about 135 who had served in previous Parliaments, especially the one recently held at Oxford.

In the House of Lords, Lord Newport made an exception for two or three young peers, who needed a few months, and some only four or five days, to reach adulthood.

The Catholic Lords, who had previously been released from their confinement related to the plot, were now cleared of their charges, which I congratulated Lord Arundel of Wardour on.[Pg 224]

Oates, who had just been publicly shamed at several locations and whipped from Newgate to Aldgate only two days earlier, was placed on a sledge today since he couldn't walk due to his recent beating. He was dragged from prison to Tyburn, enduring more whipping all the way, which some considered harsh and unusual; however, if he was guilty of lying under oath and causing the deaths of many innocent people (which I fear he was), then his punishment was exactly what he deserved. I happened to pass by just as they were executing him. What a strange turn of events!

Note: there was no speech made by the Lord Keeper [Bridgman] after his Majesty, as usual.

It was rumored he wouldn’t stay in that position for long, and many think the daring Chief Justice Jefferies, who was made Baron of Wem in Shropshire and who went through a tough process in that court, is likely to get that job. I congratulated him the morning before on his new title, as he had always been very kind to me.

24th May, 1685. We hadn’t had any rain for many months, so the caterpillars had already eaten all the winter fruit across the entire land, and they even killed several large old trees. I had never experienced such two winters and summers.

4th June, 1685. Sir Gabriel Sylvius came to visit and say goodbye to me, as he was about to head off as an Envoy Extraordinary to Denmark, accompanied by his secretary and a French chaplain. He shared the terrible persecution of Protestants in France; there were only about ten churches left for them, and those were also under threat of destruction. They were ordered to baptize their children within twenty-four hours of birth, or else a Catholic priest would be called in, raising the child in Catholicism. In some areas, they were thirty leagues away from any minister or place of worship. This persecution had angered the most hardworking people in the nation and forced many to flee to Switzerland, Burgundy, Holland, Germany, Denmark, England, and the colonies. With Sir Gabriel were his wife, Sir William Godolphin and his sisters, and my Lord Godolphin's little son, who was under my care. I took them to the water side where Sir Gabriel boarded his ship, and the others returned to London.

14th June, 1685. We now have confirmed news that the Duke of Monmouth has landed at Lyme in Dorset[Pg 225]shire and has declared himself King of England. I pray God keeps us safe from the chaos these events may bring!

Such a lack of rain has never happened, as far as I can remember.

17th June, 1685. The Duke arrived with only 150 men; however, the entire kingdom was on edge, worried that those opposed to the government would join him, and many of the local militias rushed to his side. Upon landing, he released a Declaration accusing the King of usurpation and various terrible crimes, claiming his own right to the throne, and offering to convene a free Parliament. This declaration was ordered to be burned by the hangman, the Duke was declared a traitor, and a reward of £5,000 was put up for anyone who could kill him.

At this time, the words engraved on the monument in London, suggesting that the Catholics set the city on fire, were removed and erased.

The severe drought is ongoing.

18th June, 1685. I got a warrant to send out a horse with twelve days' worth of supplies, etc.

28th June, 1685. We are now experiencing plenty of rain after two years of extreme drought and harsh winters.

Argyle was captured in Scotland, executed, and his group was scattered.

2d July, 1685. There's no significant report on the troops sent against the Duke, even though large forces were deployed. There was a fierce skirmish, but he refused to engage in a confrontation and continued to stay in the strongholds.

Dangerfield was punished for perjury, just like Oates.

8th July, 1685. News came in about Monmouth's complete defeat, and the following day, we learned he was captured by Sir William Portman and Lord Lumley along with the local militia. It seems the cavalry, led by Lord Grey, were newly formed and inexperienced, and they couldn’t hold up against the fire. This left the infantry exposed to the King's troops. Monmouth had led his foot soldiers quietly and in good order, hoping to surprise Lieutenant-General Lord Feversham, who was recently encamped, and launched a strong attack, exchanging both heavy and light fire. However, the cavalry broke their ranks, forcing Monmouth to abandon the fight and flee with Grey, leaving their men to be slaughtered, totaling around 2,000. The total number reported was over 8,000; the King's forces were only about 2,700. Most of the slain were Mendip miners, who fought bravely with their tools and sold their lives dearly, while their leaders fled and were captured the next morning, not far apart from each other. Monmouth had walked sixteen miles, changing into a poor coat, and was found by Lord Lumley in a dry ditch covered with ferns, without a sword, pistol, or any weapon, and could have easily passed for a common farmer, except for his long, gray beard that made him hard to recognize, had it not been for the George medal found in his pocket. It’s said he was shaking violently and could hardly speak. Grey was captured not far from him. Most of his followers were Anabaptists and poor cloth workers from the area, as no notable gentlemen had joined him. The key instigators, Ferguson, Matthews, and others, were not found yet. The £5,000 reward for capturing Monmouth was to be shared among the militia as agreed by Sir William Portman and Lord Lumley. After the battle, a playful argument escalated into a heated exchange between Sherrington Talbot (a respectable gentleman, son of Sir John Talbot, who had performed admirably) and Captain Love, both militia leaders, about whose soldiers fought better, which led to them drawing their swords and facing off. Sherrington was mortally wounded right then and there, causing great sorrow among those who knew him. He was Sir John’s only son.

9th July, 1685. Just as I was entering the lodgings at Whitehall, a little before dinner, my Lord of Devonshire was standing very close to His Majesty's bedchamber door in the lobby when Colonel Culpeper approached. In a rude manner, he looked my Lord in the face and asked if this was the time and place for excluders to appear. My Lord initially ignored him, knowing him to be a hothead, but when Culpeper repeated his question, my Lord asked if he was referring to him. Culpeper confirmed that he meant his Lordship. My Lord replied that he was no excluder (which he indeed wasn’t). When the other insisted again, my Lord told him he was lying. In response, Culpeper slapped him on the ear, which my Lord returned, knocking him down. They were quickly separated, and Culpeper was apprehended. His Majesty, who had been in his bedchamber the whole time, ordered him to be taken to the Greencloth officer, who sent him to the Marshalsea, as he deserved. My Lord Devon had nothing said to him.

I had dinner tonight at Lambeth with my old friend Mr. Elias Ashmole, Lady Clarendon, the Bishop of St. Asaph, and Dr. Tenison, where we enjoyed a lavish feast.

10th July, 1685. The Count of Castel Mellor, a close ally and prime minister to Alphonso, the former King of Portugal, after years of exile, has been welcomed back and summoned home by Don Pedro, the current King, who recognized his remarkable integrity despite all his hardships. He asked me to spend part of the day with him, helping him gather books and other curiosities to take back to Portugal.

Mr. Hussey, a young man who pursued my late dear child, but whom she couldn’t bring herself to love back, has now died from the same cruel disease. I felt very sorry about this because he never found happiness after my daughter's passing. I also wouldn’t have been against the match if she could have gotten past her feelings of reluctance.

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

Monmouth was brought to London today and examined by the King, to whom he showed great humility and admitted he was led astray by Ferguson, the Scot, whom he called a bloody villain. He was sent to the Tower and had a meeting with his former Duchess, which he received coldly, as he had lived dishonestly with Lady Henrietta Wentworth for two years. He stubbornly claimed that his relationship with that scandalous woman was not a sin; seeing that he could not be persuaded until his last breath, the religious leaders sent to help him decided it was not appropriate to give him Holy Communion. For the rest of his wrongdoings, he expressed deep regret and died without any visible fear. He refused to use a cap or any other adornment, and while lying down, he told the executioner to do his job better than he had with the late Lord Russell, giving him gold in the process. However, the executioner fumbled and made five attempts before he managed to behead him, which incensed the crowd so much that if he hadn’t been guarded and escaped, they would have torn him to pieces.

The Duke didn’t give a speech on the scaffold (which was on Tower Hill), but handed over a paper with no more than five or six lines for the King. In it, he renounced any claim to the Crown, confirmed that his late father, the King, had indeed told him he was nothing more than a bastard son, and asked his Majesty to show kindness to his wife and children. I got this account from Dr. Tenison (Rector of St. Martin's), who, along with the Bishops of Ely and Bath and Wells, was sent by his Majesty and attended the execution.

Thus ended this former Duke, beloved by his father and the ladies, being very handsome and skillful, an excellent soldier and dancer, a favorite among the people, of a laid-back nature, corrupted by lust; manipulated by deceitful schemers, who would have lifted him up just to exploit him, taking advantage of the King being of a different religion, to rally a group of discontented men. He failed and was lost.

He was a great guy, had a virtuous and amazing wife who brought him immense wealth, and a second dukedom in Scotland. He served as Master of the Horse, General of the King his father's army, Gentleman of the Bedchamber, Knight of the Garter, Chancellor of Cambridge—in short, he had endless accomplishments. Look where ambition and lack of principles got him! He was beheaded on Tuesday, July 14. His mother, named Barlow, was the daughter of some very lowly people and was a beautiful woman of questionable reputation, whom I had often seen in Paris; she died in misery without anything to bury her with. Yet this Perkin had been led to believe that the King had married her, which was a monstrous and ridiculous lie! To prove the falsehood of the claim, the King his father (if he really was his father, given he looked much more like a guy named Sidney who was familiar with his mother) publicly and solemnly denied it, and it was recorded in the Council Book several years ago, with the endorsement of all the Privy Councillors. 60

[Pg 229]

If it hadn't pleased God to stop this attempt early on, it seems there would have formed an unstoppable force that would have ruthlessly proceeded to destroy the Church and Government; such was the widespread discontent and anticipation of the opportunity. For my part, I viewed this deliverance as very significant. Such a flood of fanatics and people with immoral beliefs would undoubtedly have led to total disorder, cruelty, injustice, theft, sacrilege, and chaos, an inevitable civil war, and endless misery end. Thank God, the threat was thankfully averted, and there is a promising chance for peace moving forward, if we reform, show gratitude, and properly appreciate this blessing!

18th July, 1685. I went to watch the gathering of the six Scottish and English regiments that the Prince of Orange had recently sent to the King from Holland due to this rebellion, but they were now returning since they weren't needed. They were all dressed sharply and well-disciplined, and they were set up on Blackheath with their tents. The King and Queen came to watch them practice and check out their camp, which looked very tidy and impressive.

By a major mistake from the Secretary of His Majesty's Forces, it was ordered that they be stationed in private homes, which went against an Act of Parliament. However, after I informed His Majesty about it promptly, it was stopped.[Pg 230]

The two horsemen that my son and I sent to the county troops have now returned home after being away for a month, which has cost us a lot.

20th July, 1685. The Trinity Company met today, which was supposed to be on the Monday after Trinity, but it was postponed because the Royal Charter was so lengthy that it couldn't be ready in time. Some additional privileges were granted. Mr. Pepys, Secretary to the Admiralty, was chosen as Master for the second time. Present were the Duke of Grafton, Lord Dartmouth, Master of the Ordnance, the Commissioners of the Navy, and members of the Corporation. We went to church, as usual, and then took a barge to the Trinity House in London, where we had a large dinner with over eighty people at one table.

7th August, 1685. I visited Mr. Watts, the keeper of the Apothecaries' garden of herbs at Chelsea, where there's an incredible collection of unique plants, including many rare annuals and the tree that produces Jesuit's bark, which has been so effective in treating quartan fevers. What was particularly clever was the underground heat, provided by a stove under the conservatory, which is all brick-vaulted, allowing him to keep the doors and windows open even during the harshest frosts, while only keeping out the snow.

15th August, 1685. Mr. Boscawen came to visit us, along with my Lord Godolphin's little son, whose education his father had entrusted to me so far.

27th August, 1685. My daughter Elizabeth passed away from smallpox shortly after marrying a young man, who is the nephew of Sir John Tippett, Surveyor of the Navy, and one of the Commissioners. On the 30th, she was buried in the church at Deptford. Thus, in less than six months, we lost two children due to our unworthiness and for reasons known only to God, whom I sincerely ask from the depths of my heart to grant us the grace to properly respond to all these hardships, so we may improve and fully submit to His infinitely wise will in all things. Amen!

3rd September, 1685. Lord Clarendon (Lord Privy Seal) wrote to inform me that the King, pleased to send him as Lord-Lieutenant to Ireland, also nominated me as one of the Commissioners to[Pg 231] carry out the duties of Privy Seal during his time there, and I need to see the King to thank him for this great honor.

5th September, 1685. I went with his Lordship to Windsor (we stopped to eat at Sir Henry Capel's in Kew), where his Majesty welcomed me with remarkable kindness. I kissed his hand and expressed how grateful I was for his gracious favor towards me, promising that I would do my best to serve him with complete sincerity, hard work, and loyalty, motivated not just by duty but also by my own desire. He assured me he had no doubts about it and was pleased to have the chance to show his kindness to me. After that, many dignitaries came to congratulate me.

6th September, 1685. Sunday. I went to pray in the chapel and listened to Dr. Standish. The second sermon was given by Dr. Creighton, based on 1 Thess. iv. 11, encouraging unity and peace, and to focus on our own affairs, as the Apostle advised. After that, I went to hear a Frenchman preach before the King and Queen in that magnificent chapel next to St. George's Hall. As Their Majesties went to mass, I stepped away to admire the stunning painting in the Hall, which is worthy of the painter’s honor, Signor Verrio, for its artistry and creativity. The scene depicts Edward III. receiving the Black Prince, who approaches him in a Roman triumph. The entire ceiling portrays the story of St. George. The throne, the carvings, and everything else are unmatched; I believe they are on par with the best I've seen abroad, and in many respects, they surpass them.

I had dinner at Lord Sunderland's, along with (among others) Sir William Soames, the appointed Ambassador to Constantinople.

At about 6 o'clock, Sir Dudley and his brother Roger North arrived with the Great Seal from my Lord Keeper, who had passed away the day before at his home in Oxfordshire. The King immediately called for a council, and everyone was speculating about who would likely succeed this important position; most believed it would be none other than my Lord Chief Justice Jefferies, who had vigorously prosecuted the recent rebels and was currently on the Western Circuit to punish those still detained in various counties, and was close to returning. I took my leave of his[Pg 232] Majesty, who spoke very kindly to me, and that night while having supper at Sir Stephen Fox's, I promised to have dinner there the next day.

15th September, 1685. I went with Mr. Pepys to Portsmouth, where the King was visiting for the first time since taking the throne to check on the state of the fortifications. We took a coach with six horses and set off late after dinner, but we still reached Bagshot that night. While they were preparing supper, I visited Mrs. Graham, who had been a maid of honor to the Queen Dowager and is now married to James Graham, Esq., who manages the King's private purse. Her house is a short walk in the forest, just a quarter of a mile from Bagshot town. She insisted that I stay for supper and spend the night, but since I had to stick with my companion, I returned to our inn after she gave me a tour of her well-kept and nicely furnished home, as she was an excellent housewife and a wise and virtuous woman. There’s a park filled with red deer surrounding her house. Her eldest son was sick with smallpox but was expected to recover, while her other children were running around among the infected, which she allowed intentionally so they could get the disease early while they were young, believing it would be better for them in the long run. The severity of this cruel illness, so recently affecting my own family, supported much of what she said.

16th September, 1685. The next morning, we set out early and arrived at Winchester in time to meet the King, who was staying at the Dean's (Dr. Meggot). I found very few people with him, other than my Lords Feversham, Arran, Newport, and the Bishop of Bath and Wells. His Majesty was discussing with the bishops about miracles and the amazing things the Saludadors61 would do in Spain, like crawling into hot ovens without getting hurt, and that they had a black cross in the roof of their mouths, yet were known to be notorious and profane people. His Majesty then mentioned that he was so skeptical about miracles, fearing he might be tricked, that if he were to witness one himself, without another witness, he would think it was an illusion of his senses. They then talked about a boy who was said to have had a missing leg restored, a claim strongly made by Fr. de Santa Clara and others. The Bishop added a well-known miracle from Winchester, where a poor, miserably sick, and frail child (who I believe had long remained unbaptized) was healed immediately after baptism; he also mentioned the healing effect of King Charles, his Majesty's father's blood, which restored sight to someone who was blind.

There was talk about second sight occurring in some people, especially Scots. In response, his Majesty and I think Lord Arran mentioned that Monsieur... a French nobleman, recently in England, saw the late Duke of Monmouth enter the theater in London and suddenly shouted to someone sitting in the same box, "Look how he enters without a head!" Later, his Majesty talked about some relics that had caused strange healings, particularly a piece of our blessed Savior's cross that healed a man's rotten nose just by touching it. He also mentioned the golden cross and chain taken from the coffin of St. Edward the Confessor at Westminster, brought to the dean by one of the singing-men who, while the scaffolds were being taken down after his Majesty's coronation, spotted a hole in the tomb, saw something shiny, reached in, and brought it out. The dean then presented it to the King. His Majesty reminded the Bishop how earnestly the late King (his brother) pleaded with him during his last moments to take out what he had in his pocket. "I thought," said the King, "it was for some keys that might lead to some cabinet his Majesty wanted me to secure"; but he said, "you’ll remember that I found nothing in any of his pockets except a gold cross and a few insignificant papers." He then showed us the cross and kindly placed it in my hand. It was gold, about three inches long, with an enameled and embossed crucifix on one side, the rest was engraved and adorned with goldsmith work, and it had two nice broad amethysts (or so I guessed), and a dangling pearl at the bottom; inside, it held a small fragment believed to be from the true cross and a Latin inscription in gold and Roman letters. As more guests arrived, this conversation came to an end. I can't forget a decision his Majesty made, which he had recently discussed at the Council Board at Windsor or Whitehall, that all the enslaved people in the colonies should be baptized, strongly denouncing the wrongness of their masters prohibiting it out of a mistaken belief that they would be ipso facto free. But his Majesty was determined to have them baptized, and the Bishop praised him for that piety.

I went out to check out the new palace that the late King had started and almost finished. It's located on the hillside where the old castle used to be. It's an impressive structure with three sides and a corridor, all made of brick, featuring cornices, windows, and stone columns at the breaks and entrances. It was meant to be a hunting lodge for His Majesty when he visits this area, and it has an amazing view. I think over £20,000 had already been spent on it, but His current Majesty doesn’t seem interested in completing it for now.

Hence to see the Cathedral, a magnificent building, and well-maintained. The coffins of the six Saxon Kings are still there, whose bones had been scattered by the disrespectful rebels of 1641, probably hoping to find some valuable relics, and were later collected again and placed into new coffins, which stand above the stalls of the choir.

17th September, 1685. Early the next morning, we went to Portsmouth a bit before the King arrived. The road was full of people, with women dressed in their best, excited to see the King pass by. He did, riding on horseback for a good part of the[Pg 235] way. The Mayor and Aldermen, with their mace and in their formal attire, were at the entrance of the fort, a mile from the town, where the Mayor gave a speech to the King. As soon as the King arrived in Portsmouth, the fort's guns were fired, along with those of the garrison. Nearly 3,000 soldiers lined the streets and the platform to God's House (the name of the Governor's residence). After reviewing the new fortifications and shipyard, the King was treated to a magnificent dinner by Sir ... Slingsby, the Lieutenant Governor, with all the gentlemen in his party seated at the table with him. I would have joined them, but I had already promised to dine with Sir Robert Holmes, Governor of the Isle of Wight, at a private house, where we also enjoyed a lavish and plentiful meal of excellent venison, fowl, fish, and fruit.

After dinner, I went to wait on His Majesty again, who was putting on his boots in the Town Hall next to the house where he dined. After greeting some ladies who came to kiss his hand, he mounted his horse to head for Winchester, where he returned that night. This hall is decorated with various arms, similar to the hall and keep at Windsor. From here, you can see the shipyard and dock, the fortifications, and other things.

Portsmouth, when completed, will be quite strong and have a grand quay. There are currently thirty-two warships in the harbor. I was invited by Sir R. Beach, the Commissioner, where, after a big dinner, Mr. Secretary and I stayed the night, and the next morning we headed out for Guildford, where we arrived at a good hour, and then the day after to London.

I had been to Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight twice before, many years ago. I found this area of Hampshire beautifully wooded, especially around Colonel Norton’s house and estate. Although he is still alive and made peace through Colonel Legg, he was once a fiercely commanding leader during the first Rebellion. His house is large and situated low along the road from Winchester to Portsmouth.

From what I saw during this journey, I believe that the King's endless hard work, dedication, seriousness, and strong understanding and experience in managing affairs make me predict great happiness for the nation in terms of its political leadership. If he continues like this, there’s nothing more we could wish for to achieve our prosperity, except that he followed the national religion.

30th September, 1685. Lord Clarendon's commission for Lieutenant of Ireland was officially sealed today.

2nd October, 1685. I received a letter from Mr. Pepys with the note at the bottom saying, "I have something to show you that I may not have another time," and that I shouldn’t miss having dinner with him. So, I went. After dinner, he took me and Mr. Houblon (a wealthy and significant merchant whose father had fled Flanders during the persecution by the Duke of Alva) into a private room and told us that he had recently been alone with his Majesty. They were discussing my late Lord Arlington, who died a Roman Catholic but had always appeared to be a Protestant, taking all the tests, etc., until (I believe) the day of his death. His Majesty said that as far as his inclinations were concerned, he had known them to be uncertain for a long time, but out of fear of losing his positions, he didn't think it wise to declare himself. The King said that there are people who believe the Church of Rome grants dispensations for attending church and similar things, but that's not true; because if that were possible, he himself would have had the best reason to take advantage of it. Indeed, he said, in some matrimonial cases, there are occasionally dispensations, but hardly in any other cases.

This familiar conversation led Mr. Pepys to respectfully ask the King if he could bring up a delicate topic. He mentioned that it had been quietly discussed among many whether the late King had reconciled with the Roman Catholic Church. He humbly requested the King’s forgiveness if he was overstepping by addressing a matter he shouldn’t be probing into. The King openly told him that he was a Roman Catholic during his life and remained one in death. He explained that he had recently stated it was due to political and state reasons, known only to him and his brother, the King. The King asked Mr. Pepys to follow him into his private room, where he opened a cabinet and showed him two papers handwritten by the late King on both sides of a quarter of a sheet. These contained several arguments against the doctrines of the Church of England, accusing it of heresy, novelty, and the fanaticism of other Protestant sects. Among the main points was the refusal to acknowledge the authority and infallibility of the Roman Catholic Church, arguing how improbable it was that for so many centuries there had been no debate on this until recently, and how unlikely it was that our Savior would leave His Church without a visible leader during His absence. The writing was so well crafted that it didn’t seem to me to have been hastily assembled by the late King, yet it was all in his own handwriting, filled with corrections and annotations. If it wasn’t provided by some priest, then perhaps these were arguments he had heard repeatedly over time and had then gathered. In conclusion, he expressed his view that the Protestant religion, specifically the Church of England, was without a solid foundation and therefore false and perilous. After showing him these documents, the King kindly lent him copies of the two papers, signed by him at the bottom with four or five lines of attestation.

These were the documents I saw and read. I thought this interesting passage was worth noting. Even though all the arguments and objections were weak and have been refuted countless times by our theologians; they are the kind of points that their priests suggest to their followers, as if the only true church is the Roman Catholic Church, with no salvation outside of it, and no acceptable reformation, basing all their mistakes on the unquestionable authority of St. Peter's successors, yet failing to prove anything logically or considering any counterarguments that could be made against it. Everything here was assumed, with a conclusion and preference implied.

I was really sad to see all this, although it was just as we expected, given his late Majesty's strong indifference, neglect, and lifestyle. He had been misled, only pretending to follow a different belief for worldly reasons, which gave our enemies a significant advantage. Both the Court and the young people and influential figures of the nation became corrupt and extremely irreverent. God was angered, making his reign very troubled and unsuccessful, filled with wars, plagues, fires,[Pg 238] and a loss of reputation due to the public’s affection for a life of pleasure and indulgence, which a corrupt Court had popularized. I think about it with sadness and compassion when I reflect on how good-natured and kind that unfortunate Prince was; how much potential he had to become the most celebrated King to ever reign over Britain, had he stood firm for the Church for which his martyred father suffered. If he had been grateful to Almighty God, who so miraculously restored him to power with a wonderful religion; had he committed to supporting and spreading it as he should have, not only for the benefit of his kingdom but for all the Reformed Churches in Christendom, which are now weakened and nearly destroyed due to our negligence in allowing them to be supplanted, persecuted, and destroyed, as seen in France, which we ignored. The consequences of this will become clear over time, and I hope it doesn’t go any further. The agents and representatives of the Church of Rome will never stop until they have crushed the Church of England, knowing it’s the only one powerful enough to stand against them. They can never challenge her arguments honestly, but remain vulnerable to the undeniable strength of her principles, her history, and the purity of her doctrine. Even though God may allow the profession of her faith here to fade away again as darkness and superstition take over, I am very confident that the doctrine of the Church of England will never be extinguished; it will remain visible, if not prominent, until the end of the world. I have countless reasons that support my belief, which I will refrain from mentioning here.

In the meantime, regarding the conversation between His Majesty and Mr. Pepys, and those documents, I greatly appreciate His Majesty's straightforward and honest declaration of his own religion, without hiding it for political reasons. I believe he has a very sincere and genuine nature, someone you can trust, and he takes his commitments seriously. With this assurance, I hope that the Church of England can endure, and when it pleases God to enlighten him and change his heart (for that is solely in the Lord's control), it can thrive as well. In any case, regardless of what happens to the Church of England, it is undoubtedly the most ancient, apostolic, and remarkable of all the Christian denominations in the world.

8th October, 1685. I had my portrait painted this week by the renowned Kneller.

14th October, 1685. I went to London to finish setting up my place at Whitehall.

15th October, 1685. Since it was the King's birthday, there was a formal ball at Court, accompanied by instrumental and vocal music beforehand. I happened to be standing right next to the Queen and the King, who chatted with me about the music.

18th October, 1685. The King was now constructing a structure that spanned from east to west, connecting the court and garden to the street, and building a new chapel for the Queen, whose accommodations would be in this new building, along with a new council chamber and offices next to the south end of the banqueting house. I returned home to London the next morning.

22nd October, 1685. I went with Lady Clarendon to her house in Swallowfield, Berks, and had dinner at Mr. Graham's lodge in Bagshot along the way; the house, recently renovated and spacious enough for a large family, is situated in a park.

So, we went to Swallowfield; this house is like the classic residences of honorable gentlemen who practiced traditional hospitality, but the gardens and water features are as refined as possible, thanks to careful planning and significant investment. My lady is exceptionally talented with flowers, while my lord is diligent with planting. I’ve hardly seen a place that shows off its beauty more than here, not only with the delicious and rare fruits in the garden but also with the numerous trees around the property that greatly enhance its charm and value. There’s one orchard with 1,000 golden apples and other cider varieties; paths and groves of elm, lime, oak, and various other trees. The garden is filled with all sorts of fragrant shrubs that perfume the air. The layout of the spaces, paths, and flower beds is fantastic. The nurseries and kitchen garden are full of the most desirable plants; there are two elegant orange houses well-stocked, but above all, the canal and fish ponds are remarkable, one fed by a clear stream and the other by a dark running water source, supplied by a quick and swift river, which is so well and abundantly stocked with fish that I’ve never seen anything like it for pike, carp, bream, and tench. At every meal, we had carp and pike large enough for a prince’s table, and it added to our enjoyment to see the hundreds caught by the net. The cook stood by as we chose what we wanted, getting carp that would have been worth twenty shillings each in London. The waters are lined with Calámus aromaticus, which my lady has used to decorate a closet that holds the scent beautifully. There’s also a lovely sweet-smelling willow and other exotic plants, as well as a fine bowling green, meadow, pasture, and woods; in short, everything that makes a country home delightful. Additionally, there’s a well-stocked library in the house.

26th October, 1685. We came back to London, having been treated to all kinds of hospitality and generous freedom by that incredibly devout and virtuous lady. She was getting ready to go to Ireland with her husband, who had been appointed Lord Deputy, and she went to this family estate to get things in order during her absence. But never have good people and neighbors been more saddened than everyone in the area (especially the poor) by the departure of this kind woman; everyone was in tears, and she was just as reluctant to leave them. Among them was a young woman living a simple life, the daughter of a poor laborer, who had supported her (now deceased) parents through her work. For many years, she had turned down marriage and refused any assistance from the parish, except for the small hermitage my lady provides her rent-free. She gets by on four pence a day from spinning, claiming she has plenty and can help others, living in great humility and contentment, without any sign of pretense or eccentricity. She is always working, praying, or reading, demonstrates a solid understanding of her faith, visits the sick, and hardly ever talks; she is very modest, with a straightforward yet appropriate demeanor, possessing a pleasant appearance, dressed simply but neat and tidy. In short, she seems like a remarkable saint, leading a devout life not often seen in villages these days.

27th October, 1685. I was invited to dinner at Sir Stephen[Pg 241] Fox's with my Lord Lieutenant, where there was an amazing spread that I had rarely seen before. This dinner was also a trial for a master chef that Sir Stephen recommended to accompany his Lordship to Ireland. The table was filled with all the seasonal delicacies, as well as exquisite dishes made with artistic flair—venison, hearty meats, fowl, both baked and boiled dishes, and an abundance of desserts, all beautifully prepared. Joining us for dinner were my Lord Ossory and his wife (the Duke of Beaufort's daughter), my Lady Treasurer, Lord Cornbury, and other guests.

28th October, 1685. At the Royal Society, an urn filled with bones was presented, uncovered during the repairs of a highway in a field in Camberwell, Surrey; it was found intact with its lid, among many others, believed to be genuinely Roman and ancient.

Sir Richard Bulkeley told us about a chariot he invented that couldn’t be tipped over, no matter how uneven the ground was. He gave us an amazing account of its performance in terms of ease, speed, and safety. However, there were still some issues that needed fixing—it could only carry one person, it was prone to catching fire every ten miles, and with ten rollers, it made an incredibly loud noise that was nearly unbearable. A solution needed to be found for these problems.

31st October, 1685. I had dinner at the home of our esteemed Lord Chancellor Jefferies, who treated me with great respect. This was the former Chief Justice who had recently been on the Western Circuit to try the Monmouth conspirators and had previously delivered harsh justice among the undesirables in Westminster Hall, for which his Majesty honored him by elevating him first to Baron and now to Lord Chancellor. Some years ago, he had dealings in Deptford; he has a confident and fearless spirit and has supported the Court's interests in all the toughest situations. He has a cruel nature and is a servant of the Court.

3rd November, 1685. The French persecution of the Protestants was brutal, exceeding even the actions of the most savage of people: countless individuals of high birth and wealth left everything behind, barely escaping with their lives, and scattered throughout Europe. The French tyrant[Pg 242] revoked the Edict of Nantes, which had been created in their favor, without cause; suddenly destroying all their churches, banishing, imprisoning, and sending all the ministers to the galleys; looting the common people, and exposing them to all kinds of abuse by soldiers sent to loot and destroy them; taking their children; forcing people to attend Mass, then executing them as heretics; burning their libraries, pillaging their property, destroying their fields, banishing or sending people to the galleys, and seizing their estates. It was reported that 40,000 managed to sneak through Geneva alone (as all the usual routes were heavily guarded by sea and land) heading toward Switzerland. In Holland, Denmark, and across Germany, several hundred thousand were dispersed; in England, where many individuals from all walks of life sought refuge and welcome as distressed Christians and confessors, they found the least encouragement due to the unfortunate state of the times and the cold indifference of those who should have embraced them; I hope this is not held against us. The notable Claude fled to Holland; Allix and several others came to London, and wealthy individuals arrived who had left everything behind. France was nearly depopulated, the bankers were devastated, the tyrant's revenue sharply decreased, manufacturing halted, and everyone there, except the Jesuits, condemned what was happening, with even the Catholics themselves disapproving. What the further intentions are, time will reveal; but it undoubtedly suggests some significant change.

I was shown the speech that the Bishop of Valentia on Rhone made on behalf of the Clergy, praising the French King as if he were a God, for persecuting the poor Protestants. He stated that "his victory over heresy was greater than all the conquests of Alexander and Caesar, and that this was exactly what was wished for in England; and that God seemed to elevate the French King to this power and noble action, so he could help do the same here." This statement is very bold and striking; many are reflecting on Archbishop Usher's prophecy, which seems to be unfolding in France and impacting the orthodox in other reformed churches. One thing that caught attention is that the "Gazettes," which were still being printed twice a week, keeping us informed about events all over Europe, never mentioned this remarkable situation in France; nor was there any report published by anyone, except for private letters and those fleeing persecution. I won’t guess why there was this silence; it just seemed very strange in a Protestant country that we were unaware of what Protestants were enduring, while significant collections were being made for them in other places that appeared to be more hospitable and Christian.

5th November, 1685. It was an incredibly rainy morning, and I was feeling unwell from a bad cold, so I didn’t go to church, which made me very sad, as it was the first anniversary of the Gunpowder Conspiracy that had been observed for eighty years under a prince of the Catholic faith. Bonfires were banned on this day; what does this mean!

9th November, 1685. The Parliament started. In his speech, the King asked for a permanent military force instead of a militia, as well as immunity and exemption for Catholic officers from the Test; these requests were surprising and unwelcome to the Commons. He also asked for additional funding, which they agreed to, but they didn't thank the King for his speech until they had more time to think it over.

12th November, 1685. The Commons delayed completing the bill for the Supply to discuss the Test and Catholic officers; this passed by just one vote.

14th November, 1685. I had dinner at Lambeth, and the Archbishop took me there in his barge; present were the Deputy of Ireland, the Bishops of Ely and St. Asaph, Dr. Sherlock, and other scholars; Sir William Hayward, Sir Paul Rycaut, and others.

20th November, 1685. The Parliament was postponed until February, with several members from both the Lords and Commons objecting to parts of the King’s speech regarding the Test and the ongoing presence of Catholic officers in power. This came as a major surprise in a Parliament that many expected would agree to everything.

Popish pamphlets and pictures were sold openly; no books or responses to them came out until long after.

21st November, 1685. I stepped down from my role in resolving the conflict between Mr. Thynn and his wife.[Pg 244]

22nd November, 1685. So far, it has been a very wet, warm season.

4th December, 1685. Lord Sunderland was announced as President of the Council, while still keeping his position as Secretary. The troops stationed in various parts of the kingdom are behaving very arrogantly, which has led to numerous complaints.

Lord Brandon, who was tried for the recent conspiracy, was found guilty and pardoned; the same goes for Lord Grey, his accuser and witness.

Persecution in France is rampant, and the French boldly board our ships to take away the fleeing Protestants; some manage to escape in barrels.

10th December, 1685. Went to Greenwich after being appointed to the new Commission of Sewers.

13th December, 1685. Dr. Patrick, Dean of Peterborough, preached at Whitehall in front of the Princess of Denmark, who, since the King took the throne, always sat in the King’s chamber and received the same bows and ceremonies directed at her space as the King did when he was there in person.

Dining at Mr. Pepys's, Dr. Slayer showed us an amazing experiment. He first poured a very cold liquid into a glass and then carefully added another liquid that also looked cold and clear. This resulted in a white cloud forming, followed by boiling, various flashes of light, and actual flames mixing with the liquid. When shaken a bit, it created real, glowing orbs of fire that stuck to the sides of the glass, resembling a universe of stars and constellations, burning intensely and looking like celestial bodies for quite some time. It seemed to demonstrate a theory about how light emerges from chaos and how universal light collects into luminous entities. This substance, or phosphorus, was made from human blood and urine, highlighting the vital heat in living creatures. A truly remarkable experiment!

16th December, 1685. I went with my Lord-Lieutenant as far as St. Alban's, leaving town with him along with nearly 200 coaches filled with all the great officers and nobility. The next morning, after saying my goodbyes, I returned to London.[Pg 245]

18th December, 1685. I had dinner at the grand event his Majesty hosted for the Venetian Ambassadors, Signors Zenno and Justiniani, along with ten other noble Venetians from their most distinguished families, like Cornaro, Maccenigo, etc., who came to congratulate their Majesties on ascending to the Crown. The dinner was incredibly lavish, spread across four tables, with music, kettledrums, and trumpets that sounded with every toast. The dessert was served on twelve enormous platters stacked so high that people sitting across from each other could hardly see one another. The Ambassadors didn't touch the sweets, which had undoubtedly taken days to arrange so beautifully; they left them for the onlookers who came out of curiosity to see the dinner and were very pleased to watch all that elaborate setup demolished in no time, the treats cleared away, and the tables tidied up. His Majesty entertained them for three days, which (just for the food) cost him £600, as the Clerk of the Greencloth (Sir William Boreman) confirmed to me. After dinner, I witnessed their procession, or cavalcade, to Whitehall, with countless coaches in tow. The two Ambassadors had four coaches of their own and around fifty footmen, if I remember correctly, along with other lavish gear suitable for the occasion, even though the Court was still in mourning. After that, I headed to the audience they had in the Queen's presence chamber, while the Banqueting House was filled with goods and furniture until the galleries on the garden side, council chamber, and new chapel, currently under construction, were finished. They went to their audience in the simple black gowns and caps they always wear in the city of Venice. I was invited to ride with the two Ambassadors in their coach for supper that night as they returned to their own lodgings since they were no longer at the King's expense; however, I declined as I was tired.

19th December, 1685. My Lord Treasurer invited me to dinner, where I met Monsieur Barillon, the French Ambassador, a knowledgeable and shrewd diplomat.

20th December, 1685. Dr. Turner, who is the brother of the Bishop of Ely and was once my son's tutor, preached at Whitehall on Mark viii. 38 about Christians submitting to their persecutors. Some parts of his sermon were quite reckless given the current situation and the fury of the cruel French tyrant towards the poor Protestants.

22nd December, 1685. Our official permission to act as Privy Seal during the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland's absence was sealed today by the Lord Chancellor. After that, we went to St. James, where the Court was gathered for the construction at Whitehall. His Majesty handed the seal to Lord Tiviot and me, as the other Commissioners had not yet arrived, and then he let us kiss his hand. There were two Venetian Ambassadors and a large crowd; among them was the first Catholic Nuncio in England since the Reformation, which highlighted how dramatically things had changed, causing widespread concern.

24th December, 1685. All three of us Commissioners took our oaths on our knees, administered by the Clerk of the Crown, in front of my Lord Chancellor. We took three different oaths: allegiance, supremacy, and the oath for the Lord Privy Seal, which we took while standing. After that, the Lord Chancellor invited us to dinner, but since it was Christmas Eve, we politely declined, planning to finalize several items at the office at three in the afternoon. So, joined by three of the Clerks of the Signet, we gathered and sealed various documents. Among them was a pardon for West, who, knowing about the recent conspiracy, had disclosed the other conspirators to save himself. There were also another pardon and two indemnities; after agreeing to a two-week vacation, I headed home.

31st December, 1685. Reflecting on the events of the past year and having settled my accounts, I humbly asked Almighty God to forgive the sins that had caused distress in my sorrowful family; that He would accept our humility and, in His time, bring comfort back to us. I also expressed my gratitude to God for all His unmerited mercies and protections, asking for His continued grace and safety. The winter had been unusually wet and mild up to this point.

1st January, 1685-6. Asking for God’s ongoing protection for the new year, I attended the public services. The Dean of the Chapel and the Clerk of the Closet were present, namely, the Bishop of London[Pg 247] and ..., while the Bishops of Rochester and Durham took their places; the former had opposed the intended toleration and demonstrated a commendable commitment to the established reformist faith.

6th January, 1686. I had dinner with the Archbishop of York, where Peter Walsh, the well-known Catholic priest admired for his moderation, was present. He claims that the Church of England is a genuine part of the Catholic Church. He usually attends our public prayers without hesitation and doesn’t accept the Pope's infallibility, only his primacy of order.

19th January, 1686. The Privy Seal was issued, which included the appointment of Mrs. Sedley (the mistress of ——) as Countess of Dorchester. The Queen was very upset about this; I noticed during two dinners when I was near her that she barely touched her food or spoke a word to the King or anyone else around her, even though she usually was quite cheerful and engaging. The Roman Catholics were also very angry because they had long valued the sanctity of their religion and their converts.

Dryden, the famous playwright, along with his two sons and Mrs. Nelly (miss to the late ——), were said to go to mass; such converts were not a big loss to the Church.

This night, Lord Montague's palace in Bloomsbury was completely destroyed by fire, a place that was more glorious in its art and furnishings than anything else in England. This occurred because a servant carelessly placed some goods by the fire during a damp season; in fact, such a wet and mild season hadn't been seen in anyone's memory.

At this Seal, they also approved Sir Henry Waldegrave's elevation to Peer. He had married one of the King’s natural daughters from Mrs. Churchill. My fellow Commissioners signed these two Seals in the morning before I arrived in town, which I was fine with. We also approved Privy Seals for £276,000 for various expenses, including pensions, guards, wardrobes, and the privy purse, among other things, in addition to several pardons, and one more that I must note (and thankfully I wasn't there for), appointing Mr. Lytcott as Secretary to the Ambassador to Rome. Since we were three Commissioners, any two made a quorum.[Pg 248]

21st January, 1686. I had dinner at Lady Arlington's, the Groom of the Stole to the Queen Dowager, at Somerset House, where the Countesses of Devonshire, Dover, and others were present; in total, there were eleven ladies of high status, with no one but me as the sole man.

24th January, 1686. Unimaginable cruelties to the persecuted Protestants of France, unlike anything seen in any age, even among the Pagans.

6th February, 1686. Since this was the day his Majesty started his reign, the Council ordered it to be celebrated with a special service and sermon, which the Bishop of Ely delivered at Whitehall on Numb. xi. 12; a royal address on the nature of kingship. It was quite surprising that this day, which marked the death of the previous Majesty, was observed as a celebration instead of the day of the current King's coronation. It is believed this had been the custom in the past, although it hadn't happened since the reign of King James I.

The Duchess of Monmouth, sitting in the same pew as me at church, looked very sad and troubled.

8th February, 1686. I took the test in Westminster Hall, in front of the Chief Justice. I then moved in at Whitehall, in the Lord Privy Seal's accommodations.

12th February, 1686. My major case was heard by my Lord Chancellor, who agreed to a rehearing. I had six top lawyers on my side, while my opponent had three, one of whom was the silver-tongued solicitor. My Lord Chancellor chastised him passionately for a minor issue. Thank God for His incredible kindness to me today!

19th February, 1686. Many violent and infamous duels took place around this time. The Duke of Grafton killed Mr. Stanley, the brother of the Earl of [Derby], after what can only be described as an unbearable provocation. Hopefully, his Majesty will finally take serious action to put an end to this un-Christian practice.

Lord Sunderland was now the Secretary of State, the President of the Council, and the Prime Minister.

1st March, 1686. Sir Gilbert Gerrard came to discuss his son marrying my daughter, Susanna. Since the father was in a bit of trouble with the King and there were some suspicions about him, I refused to consider any proposal until[Pg 249] the King gave me permission, which he kindly did. However, after several meetings, we called it off because he was unwilling to secure anything substantial for my daughter's future children. Additionally, I discovered that most of his estate was tied up in coal pits as far away as Newcastle, and it was under leases from the Bishop of Durham, who had the authority to grant concurrent leases, among other complications.

7th March, 1686. Dr. Frampton, the Bishop of Gloucester, preached on Psalm 44:17-19, discussing the various struggles of the Church of Christ from its beginnings to today. His message was particularly relevant to the current situation, as many were uncertain and facing significant temptations due to the support the Papists were receiving. This led to feelings of jealousy and discouragement among the people. The Bishop praised the Church of England, encouraging everyone to remain steadfast and committed.

10th March, 1686. A Council of the Royal Society about deciding what to do with Dr. Ray's book of Fishes, which was printed at the Society's expense.

12th March, 1686. A document was set to be sealed, indicating a 21-year lease to someone named Hall, who called himself the King’s printer (he recently converted to Catholicism) for printing missals, religious services, biographies of saints, prayer books, etc., all of which were specifically prohibited from being printed or sold by various Acts of Parliament; I declined to seal it, stating my objections, so it was set aside.

14th March, 1686. The Bishop of Bath and Wells preached on John vi. 17, delivering a powerful and moving sermon. After discussing the importance of fasting and other acts of repentance, he encouraged steadfastness in the Protestant faith, denounced the shocking atrocities committed by the French, and urged generous donations. This sermon was particularly well-received since it was unexpected from a Bishop who had been criticized for being sympathetic to Catholicism, which no one could prove was the case. In fact, all our Bishops did their best to clear their names and dispel the accusations against them; none were more passionate in their opposition to Catholicism than they were.

16th March, 1686. I witnessed a review of the army near London in Hyde Park, with around 6,000 cavalry and infantry, all in great condition; His Majesty and countless spectators were present.[Pg 250]

17th March, 1686. I went to my house in the country, choosing not to be present at what was going to happen at the Privy Seal the next day. In the morning, Dr. Tenison delivered an outstanding sermon at Whitehall, based on Timothy ii. 3, 4.

24th March, 1686. Dr. Cradock (Provost of Eaton) preached at the same place, on Psalm 49:13, discussing the emptiness of worldly pleasures.

28th March, 1686. Dr. White, Bishop of Peterborough, preached in a very eloquent style on Matthew 26:29, emphasizing the importance of submitting to God's will in all circumstances and at all times.

29th March, 1686. The Duke of Northumberland (the natural son of the late King and the Duchess of Cleveland) married in a very modest way and, with the help of his brother Grafton, tried unsuccessfully to run away with his wife.

A brief was read in all churches to support the French Protestants who came here seeking protection from the unimaginable cruelty of the King.

2nd April, 1686. Sir Edward Hales, a Catholic, appointed Governor of Dover Castle.

15th April, 1686. The Archbishop of York has now died from smallpox at the age of 62. He was a heavy-set man. He was a dear friend of mine and, while Bishop of Rochester (from where he was promoted), he was an excellent neighbor. His loss is beyond words for the entire church, especially for that Province, as he was a learned, wise, strong, and truly worthy bishop. I see this as a significant blow to the struggling Church of England during this challenging time.

18th April, 1686. In the afternoon, I went to Camberwell to visit Dr. Parr. After the sermon, I went with him to his house, where he showed me the Life and Letters of the late learned Primate of Armagh (Usher), including a letter from Bishop Bramhall to the Primate, warning about the Catholic practices aimed at misleading this nation by sending a hundred priests into England, who were to adapt to all sects and conditions in order to spread their teachings more easily among us. This letter led to the entire edition being seized, on the grounds that it was a political or historical account unrelated to theology, even though it had been approved by the Bishop; this[Pg 251] clearly showed how much influence the Catholics had—that a Protestant book containing the life and letters of such an important figure was not to be published. There were also many letters to and from most of his learned correspondents in Europe. I have no doubt this book will overcome this unfair obstacle.

Several judges were removed, and new compliant ones were installed.

25th April, 1686. Today in our church, we read the announcement for a collection to help the Protestant French who have been so cruelly, barbarically, and inhumanly oppressed without any charges against them. This had been anticipated for a long time and was finally published after much difficulty, as the French Ambassador's influence was blocking it.

5th May, 1686. Since there was a Seal, we were concerned we might have to approve a document exempting Dr. Obadiah Walker and four others. One was a fallen curate from Putney, and the others were officials from University College, Oxford, who still held their positions, fellowships, and parish duties, running public schools and enjoying all their previous benefits, even though they no longer attended or participated in the public prayers or communion with the Church of England, nor did they take the Test or oaths of allegiance and supremacy, which went against twenty Acts of Parliament. This exemption also conflicted with the King's own gracious declaration at the start of his reign, which rightly upset every good Protestant; we couldn’t have approved it safely under the Privy Seal, so it was done by an immediate warrant, signed by Mr. Solicitor.

This Walker was an educated man, living a monk-like life, to whom I had recommended, over thirty years ago, the sons of my good friend, Mr. Hyldyard, of Horsley in Surrey, believing him to be quite different from what he turned out to be—a hypocritical secret Catholic. Because of this, he led Mr. Hyldyard's eldest son, Sir Edward Hale's eldest son, and several others astray, causing significant unrest throughout the nation and the University, as his public betrayal now shows. Now, all efforts are being made to bring in Catholicism, which God, in His mercy, prevent!

This day was marked in the old Exchange by the common hangman, a translation of a book written by the famous Monsieur Claude, detailing only factual events concerning the horrific massacres and brutal actions of the French King against his Protestant subjects, without any rebuttal to the facts presented; such was the overwhelming influence and power of the French Ambassador here, who was surely very angry at the compassionate and truly generous support from everyone in the country for the aid of those unfortunate victims who came seeking refuge.

About this time, the Duke of Savoy, encouraged by the French King to eliminate the Protestants of Piedmont, killed many thousands of innocent people, as if there was a widespread plan to wipe out everyone who wouldn’t attend mass across Europe. Quod Avertat D. O. M.! No trust in princes!

12th May, 1686. I refused to authorize Doctor Walker's license for printing and publishing various Catholic books. I raised my concerns with my Lord of Canterbury (with whom I went to discuss it in the Council Chamber) and with my Lord Treasurer that evening at his place. My Lord of Canterbury advised me to follow my own conscience in this matter; Mr. Treasurer suggested that if I could set aside my conscience, he believed there were no other risks. Despite this, I still stuck to my refusal.

29th May, 1686. There was no sermon on this anniversary, as there usually had been ever since the current King took the throne.

2nd June, 1686. Such storms, rain, and terrible weather are rarely seen at this time of year. The camp at Hounslow Heath, due to illness and other weather problems, had to go back to quarters; the storms were followed by extremely hot weather, causing many to fall ill. There was a lot of feasting, especially in Lord Dunbarton's quarters. There were many suspicions and discussions about the purpose of this encampment.

A seal today; mostly for pardons and waivers of Knight Baronets' fees, which had been ignored for so many years, causing significant dissatisfaction among several families who had served his Majesty. Lord Tyrconnel has gone to Ireland with extensive powers and commissions, creating just as much discussion as the camp, especially with the appointment of nineteen new Privy Councillors and Judges, among which there are only three Protestants, and Tyrconnel has been made General.

New judges were also present, including Milton, a Catholic (brother of the Milton who wrote for the Regicides), who took his seat without passing the Test. Scotland denied the Catholics there the freedom to celebrate mass.

The French persecution is more brutal than ever. The Protestants in Savoy successfully fend off the French soldiers sent to kill them.

The King's main doctor in Scotland renouncing the Protestant faith voluntarily announces his recantation in Edinburgh.

11th June, 1686. I went to check out Middleton's water reservoir at the New River and the nearby New Spa Wells.

20th June, 1686. An unusual period of intense and sudden rain. The camp remains in tents.

24th June, 1686. My Lord Treasurer finalized my significant matter with Mr. Pretyman, and I hope God will eventually grant a successful outcome.

25th June, 1686. Now his Majesty, starting with Dr. Sharp and Tully, began to silence and suspend several excellent clergy for preaching against Catholicism.

27th June, 1686. Today marks thirty-nine years since I got married—thank God for all his blessings!

The young new Lord Chief Justice Herbert stated from the bench that the government of England was entirely in the hands of the King; that the Crown had absolute power; that penal laws were tools given to the Crown to ensure the enforcement of the law, but did not restrict the King's authority; that he could pardon any offenses against the law and waive the penalties, so why couldn't he just ignore them altogether? This led to the abolition of the Test. Everyone was shocked. There were significant concerns about what the outcome of these actions would be.

6th July, 1686. I had dinner with the Countess of Rochester, who was joined by the Duchess of Buckingham and Madame de Governè, whose daughter was married to the son of the Marquis of Halifax. She described the French King and Dauphin, and the ongoing persecution; she said they kept many of the cruelties hidden from the King. The Dauphin was so scared of his father that he didn’t dare express his feelings; he hated writing and priests, spent all his time hunting, and seemed oblivious to what was happening around him.

This woman came from a wealthy and prominent family and had escaped here for safety.

8th July, 1686. I visited the Archbishop at Lambeth, where I had lunch and met the famous preacher and writer, Dr. Allix, who is undoubtedly a very knowledgeable and impressive person. The Archbishop and he conversed in Latin quite fluently.

11th July, 1686. Dr. Meggot, Dean of Winchester, preached to the household in St. George's Chapel at Windsor, the late King's magnificent chapel now taken over by the Catholic priests. Dr. Cartwright, Dean of Ripon, preached before the prominent figures of the Court in the same location.

We just heard the sad news about the Bishop of Oxford's death, which is a huge loss for the struggling Church right now. Several candidates for his position and the Deanery, like Dr. Parker, South, Aldrich, and others, including Dr. Walker (who is now renouncing his faith), came to Court and were probably quite busy.

13th July, 1686. Note that while I was standing by the Queen at basset (cards), I noticed she was really upset about losing £80; her friendly demeanor has shifted to being quite formal since she was elevated.

The season is really rainy and not ideal for camping. His Majesty is in a great mood.

14th July, 1686. We set up at our office the constitution of certain commissioners who were given full power over all ecclesiastical affairs, in a way that was as broad, or even broader, than the recently abolished High Commission Court; for they had not only the authority to inspect and visit all Bishops' dioceses, but also to change any laws and statutes they thought necessary to alter among the colleges, even those founded by private individuals; to punish, suspend, fine, etc., administer oaths, and summon witnesses. The main goal was to suppress zealous preachers. In summary, it was the complete power of a Vicar-General—take note of the implications! Among the clergy, the commissioners included the Archbishop of Canterbury [Sancroft], the Bishop of Durham [Crewe], and Rochester [Sprat]; among the temporals, the Lord Treasurer, the Lord Chancellor [Jefferies] [Pg 255] (who would always be part of the quorum), the Chief Justice [Herbert], and the Lord President [Earl of Sunderland].

18th July, 1686. I went to visit Sir John Chardin at Greenwich.

4th August, 1686. I had dinner at Signor Verrio's, the well-known Italian painter, who is now settled in the King’s garden at St. James's, which he has turned into a delightful paradise.

8th August, 1686. Our vicar has gone to settle his country living in Rutlandshire, having been given St. Dunstan in the East by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I went to visit the Marquis Ravigné, now my neighbor in Greenwich, who has retired from the persecution in France. He was the representative of all the Protestants in that kingdom in the Paris parliament and served as Ambassador several times in this and other courts; a person with great knowledge and experience.

8th September, 1686. Dr. Compton, Bishop of London, was suspended on Monday, supposedly for failing to silence Dr. Sharp at St. Giles's over a sermon where he passionately criticized Roman Catholic doctrine. After consulting lawyers, the Bishop learned he couldn't proceed against Dr. Sharp without presenting witnesses and following legal procedure, but my Lord Chancellor overruled this, and the Bishop was sentenced without even being given a chance to defend himself. This was seen as a very unusual way of handling the situation and was widely criticized, even more so because two Bishops, Durham and Rochester, were part of the commission and voted, while the Archbishop of Canterbury chose not to participate. He was only suspended from his duties, and that suspension was lifted soon after. He was the brother of the Earl of Northampton, had once been a soldier, traveled in Italy, but eventually became a sober, serious, and outstanding bishop.

12th September, 1686. Buda has now been captured from the Turks; a form of thanksgiving was ordered to be used in the (still existing) Protestant chapels and church of Whitehall and Windsor.

The King of Denmark was laying siege to Hamburg, undoubtedly due to the French's scheme, to drag the Protestant Princes into a fresh war, while Holland, etc., was involved, creating a situation ripe for new conflicts: the extreme persecution of the poor Protestants was still intensifying more than ever.

22nd September, 1686. The Danes pull back from Hamburg, with the Protestant Princes coming to their aid, and the Emperor sending his threats to the King of Denmark, while also demanding the return of the Duke of Saxe Gotha. In this way, it pleased God to thwart the French plans, which were clearly aimed at igniting a new war.

14th October, 1686. His Majesty's birthday; I was present when he got up in his bedroom, then later in the park, where four companies of guards were assembled. The officers and such were impressively wealthy and dashing; they didn’t lead their troops directly, but rather their immediate superiors, with the colonels on horseback alongside the King as they marched. The ladies looked just as splendid at Court, where there was a ball that night; however, there was a limited representation of high society. All the shops in both the city and suburbs were closed, observed with the seriousness of any holiday. There were bonfires at night in Westminster, but they were not allowed in the city.

17th October, 1686. Dr. Patrick, Dean of Peterborough, preached at Covent Garden Church on Ephesians 5:18-19, discussing how early saints worshipped God with hymns and used them often at all times, in contrast to the sinful way of partying and excess in this wicked age. Afterwards, I met with my Lord Chief Justice of Ireland, where we had a long and private conversation about the terrible state that kingdom would be in if Tyrconnel's advice succeeded at Court.

23rd October, 1686. I went with the Countess of Sunderland to Cranbourne, a lodge and walking area of my Lord Godolphin's in Windsor Park. One room in the house was kept when the old one was taken down because the late Duchess of York was born there; the rest was built and added by Sir George Carteret, Treasurer of the Navy. Later, the whole place was bought by my Lord Godolphin, who asked me to come see it and give advice on which trees should be cut down to improve the living area, as it was surrounded by old, decaying pollards that polluted the air. It sits on a gradual rise that, although not obvious, provides a view over the Keep of Windsor, about three miles northeast of it. The ground is clayey and damp; the water is terrible; the park is lovely; the house is decent, and the gardens are nice. After dinner, we returned to London, using two coaches with six horses each, which we changed at Hounslow.

24th October, 1686. Dr. Warren preached before the Princess at Whitehall, focusing on Matthew 5, discussing the blessedness of the pure in heart and beautifully describing the joy of the beatific vision. In the afternoon, Sir George Wheeler, knight and baronet, preached on Matthew 4 about the necessity of repentance at St. Margaret's in a sincere and devout manner, reasonably well executed. This gentleman, who had returned from his travels in Greece, fell in love with the daughter of Sir Thomas Higgins, who served as his Majesty's resident in Venice and was the niece of the Earl of Bath, and married her. Upon returning to England and being honored with a knighthood, he decided to become a preacher and was ordained. He published a knowledgeable and insightful book about his travels and is a very respectable individual, somewhat formal and particular, but exceedingly devout.

27th October, 1686. There was a grand display of the Lord Mayor both on land and water, full of solemnity, even though his power has been greatly reduced by the loss of the city's previous charter.

5th November, 1686. I went to St. Martin's in the morning, where Dr. Birch preached quite boldly against the Catholics, from John 16:2. In the afternoon, I listened to Dr. Tillotson at Lincoln's Inn chapel, using the same text, but in a more careful manner.

16th November, 1686. I went with some of my family to spend the gloomy winter in London at my son's house in Arundel Buildings.

5th December, 1686. I had dinner at my Lady Arlington's, Groom of the Stole to the Queen Dowager at Somerset House, where several French noblemen, who had been forced to leave their country due to persecution, also dined.