Clothes Maketh a Man PANIC!
Week 25 of 1661 begins with a delivery crisis. But as life goes on, Sam reflects on whether ignorance really is bliss…
“I’ll take your cloth tonight,” he said! “On the King’s yacht, the finest of ships,” he said! “We’ll arrive Monday,” he said! Such a delivery will surely escalate my Lord’s admiration for me beyond measure, I thought…!
But when the purser had still not arrived by the time I’d drunk the last drop of my morning draught, I asked my boy Will to look for him on the horizon. He returned with news that the King’s yacht had set forth with the Duke the night before.
The night before! It had probably left before the cloth arrived with me…!
Immediately, I was at a great loss what to do. Poor Will wore out his shoes as I sent him running up and down to investigate potential solutions. A carrier would only reach Deal on Wednesday. Water would be faster, but more expensive. Either meant trusting a stranger with 300£ of the finest materials.
Barely a week into the seeing of all things done in my Lord’s absence that he entrusted unto me so lovingly, and I was on the cusp of ruining it all.
In the end, I opted to send them by a hoy, whose sailor assured me he would get them to my Lord by the end of the very next day, not least because the wind was with them. The small sailing vessel was named Martha and Mary. With blessings from our Lord’s two most-favoured women, it would certainly arrive safely and on time, yes?
I’ll be honest. I didn’t check. I still haven’t. Right now, ignorance is bliss.
“…I am now become the most negligent man in the world as to the matter of news.”
As if to honour that chosen state of mind, life bestowed plentiful instances of bliss upon me in the days that followed, including visits from two great old friends – Mr Carter (now a parson) and Mr Cole – who were each still of the old good humour that we were of at college and school respectively. I was very glad to see them.
On most of the other days, though, I had city friends to make merry with. One night, in fact, we sat and drank at Sir William Penn’s until 11 of the night!
Then there was Mrs Lambert, a beauty in oh so many regards. Elisabeth and I went by water on Tuesday to visit her husband, Captain Lambert, who proudly showed off their turret-garden – and we did indeed take great pleasure in that. But the fine needlework of Mrs Lambert was the best I ever saw in my life, and afterwards she gave us a very handsome treat: musique that she made upon the Harpsicon.
With a great deal of pleasure, we stayed with the Lamberts till 8 at night – a full three hours or so. But oh, the Lamberts have a pretty witty child that they keep in their house, and who grew quite attached to Elisabeth and me. She would not let us leave without her – and so she fell a-crying by the waterside when we had to depart, the darling.
I also got to enjoy Ben Johnson’s incomparable play that is The Alchemist, bought some exquisite green say for our parlour curtains (looks just like silk from the right angle), and had a jolly night at the Royal Exchange discussing the potential of purchasing a property in Brampton which would have expanded the estate I am to inherit there from my Uncle Robert (though in the end, I found it too much for me to buy).
The painful cold I’d been suffering since my foolish trip out with just one shirt last week finally subsided, and – oh! Oh, oh, oh! The painters are finished! Not only does our stairway look fresh and new, but our house is now clean after all this dirt and trouble, which was great content to me.
And yet…
In all my exchanges with friends and colleagues this week, I noticed that I am now become the most negligent man in the world as to the matter of news.
As a result, I can discuss none – and so while my friends make very much of me with their hospitality, I cannot reciprocate with the gossip that they have maybe come to expect of me.
So I am resolved to try harder. Fortune has placed me in the most fabulous circles – the son of a tailor regularly praying in the same chapel as the King! I should attempt to be in a better position to answer such questions as,
“How does the Duke of York feel about Princess Anne really?”
“What is the latest from Ireland?”
…and of course…
“So did Lord Sandwich receive that 300£-worth of material you sent him? Or is your head going to roll because it has gone astray…?”
In return for these words of mine, please pay just one word of yours. What one word makes you wonder if you’re living your life right?
Speak with you again soon – and may the Lord bless you and keep you till then!