Mourning to Morning
I caught sight of the Duke of Gloucester yesterday, on his way by river to be laid in his final resting place at Westminster. Shortly after, I and Mr Chaplin and friends celebrated his life at The Hoope tavern with two or three quarts of wine and some 200 walnuts.
I paid the price for my merry mourning when I arrived at my Lord’s earlier today, and there vomited up all my breakfast. I’m still feeling queasy now.
If I’m honest, though, I’ve been feeling queasy all week, for which I can think of three likely reasons – chief among them, of course, the mourning of Gloucester. It is now the mode of all the ladies in town to wear their mourning clothes, and so the streets seem darker than usual.
That’s not just because of the colour, though – it’s also the price! I gave Elizabeth 15l to buy our mourning clothes at the start of the week, and she spent it all – but even that vast amount, a third of a typical week’s wages, did not allow her to return with a hatband or stockings or various other items!
Luckily, I was able to purchase the extra essentials before we met with many friends in The Mitre for our main meal of mourning on Wednesday. But Elizabeth was late to that because her tailor failed to appear on time – no doubt accepting a high offer for business elsewhere.
Honestly, how people aim to make money from national grief. It’s despicable.
Similarly with the second cause of my physical distress, I fear, though this time it was parliamentary officials seeking to line their purses by exploiting our military funding crisis. Sir Batten, Pen, Wayte and I all met with the Committee this week to appeal for the funds needed to afford the urgent disbanding of 25 ships, yet this was opposed by a Colonel Birch.
I found Birch to be very impertinent and troublesome – one letter easily switchable to a much more relevant name. The ill method he and his supporters propose for disbanding of the navy (and indeed the army) will cost the King more than if they have nothing to do with it, by reason of their delays and scrupulous enquiries into the accounts – and yet they promise Parliament to save them a great deal of money!
Honestly… Will such exorbitant bureaucracy ever end? Maybe in 300 years or so…
Speaking of exorbitance, though, we did put on a grand State welcome this week for the Spanish Ambassador, the Prince de Ligne. I was fortunate enough to see it – all 16 coaches drawn by fine black horses, the Prince given a coach to ride comparable to that of the King’s.
I heard the Prince was most impressed and grateful for the display. Perhaps our good King is closer to ending the disagreements between our nations than we have ever been…?
That hasn’t been the only example of exuberance this week I’ve seen either. Work on the new Pall Mall is progressing pleasantly; they have even built a river into it.
Ah, but that reminds me of the third reason for my week’s nagging discontent: the sluggishness of the workmen in my house. Even having me there watching over them several mornings of this week did not harry them along.
Can I blame them? Or is it that the national mourning for Gloucester has slowed the country’s pace? After all, there has been little to do at the office this week for me, too…
But no, that can’t be true for all. This week also saw the arrival of Wayneman, brother to our maid Jane, who is come to replace the thief William as our new boy. He impressed me finely within a day, quickly learning from his sister how to prepare me for bed – even though, with the sickness brought on from last night’s debauch, I was not in my best state.
I even heard the boy read, which he doth pretty well. On top of that, I find him a pretty well-looked boy. I think he will please me.
Ah… I began this entry with talk of mourning, but found a way to write of new beginnings too – the Ambassador, the Mall, the boy… Why, then, do I still feel a wretched sense of foreboding? I can’t still be nauseous from last night?
Mmmmmaybe it has something to do with the brief encounters I’ve had with Miss Diana this week. On both occasions, she expressed a desire to speak with me urgently, for business apporting to our… meeting in Axe Yard the other week.
Over the gate of my Lord’s neighbours earlier this afternoon, she and I made an arrangement to meet and speak tomorrow afternoon. I dread to think what this urgent news may be…
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My purse
I am most lately 240l clear in my purse.
What events or occurrences have been known to leave you feeling queasy or uneasy?