A Job Lot of Jobs
1660, Week 30
These last few days have been the busiest of my life so far – but only so far. Now I am employed thrice over, I barely have time to write. I fear I may need to halt this blog after less than a year of posts.
I’ll work my hardest to continue it, though. After all, these three jobs will leave me “privy” to a lot of meaty gossip that I’m sure shall be worth recording…
Oh, to go back to the start of this week, though. That Sunday was a glorious day – not in terms of weather, since that was grey and damp, but mightily in terms of joy. My wife and I, my father and mother, and my brother Tom all dined delightedly at my Uncle Fenner’s.
From there, I went to Whitehall for a pleasant walk with my Lord Sandwich in the garden. He reminded me that my new position as an official on the Navy Board entitled me to hire a boat for a journey home atop the Thames, even though it was a Sunday. This I did – after some drinks were had with him and Mr Sheply.
Back home, as a means of sharing my day’s gratitude with Heaven, I read a chapter of my Bible and some prayers from the Common Prayer Book – the first time I have ever read prayers in this new house of mine.
It could be some time before I’m able to rest as contentedly as I did that night…
That day was immediately followed, you see, by the dubious joy of meeting with Mr Barlow to seal our agreement. Somewhat ominously, the scrivener we visited to write out the agreement for us was in bed with gout.
Can gout be auspicious? Well, ‘tis a painful swelling requiring leeching, and this agreement will be a leech on my salary. All the work for half the money, the other half buying me the privilege of having the job in the first place. Ah, how I pray my Lord is right that this position will be worth more than just the salary…
Straight after, though, I joined my Lord for a meeting with the Royal Secretary to be sworn in as an officer of the Privy Seal. Thus, the following day, I shared this news with Mr Watkins of Whitehall – with some cruel glee, I guiltily admit.
Mr Watkins had hoped his son would take this job, you see. It was mightily mean of me to tease Mr Watkins so. But by doing, I balanced out the frustration forced upon me by Mr Barlow. I’m sure that’s how the world works: Mr Watkins will now take his frustration out on some other for their lack of fortune. And so mockery drives the actions of mortals.
While I tripled my number of offices, my Lord merely exchanged one for another of greater repute. I heard he received the highest of praises for his services to the country as he stepped down from his position in the House of Commons, and then received the warmest of welcomes when he stepped up into the House of Lords just a few days later. I wonder if I will ever match the fame of my most fortunate cousin?
Whether I do or do not, I resolved towards the end of this week to enjoy the luxuries afforded to me by my positions – including further privileged transport options around town, my first ever trim at a barber’s, and a business dinner – at The Leg of all places – with my new colleagues from the Privy Seal office.
Granted, I did opt to pay for the entirety of that business luncheon. But doing so immediately put me in their good graces, something I’m sure shall be of great use as the work wears on…
I can’t end this week’s post without noting that I also enjoyed a raucous return to Wood’s at the Pall Mall on Thursday, meeting up with all the ‘old gang’: Doling, Symons and his wife, Luellin, and Scobell’s rich and pretty wife, who had brought with her a cousin. We stayed out till past 10 making merry as was our wont in Cromwell’s time.
Ah, those were the days. Days of gaiety – but also days of reliance on others so to afford my pleasures, and the deepest of anxiety when betwixt creditors.
Now I am increasingly self-reliant. Will this bring greater gaiety, or greater anxiety?
Time, I’m sure, will tell…
My purse
I am most lately 100l clear in my purse.
In return for the smiles you took from these words, please send them to a friend!
Your smiles will then be compounded twice: once for sharing joy with your friend, then again for my undying gratitude. {:-)