Rain, Rein, and More Reign
1661, Week 16
From the very start of this week, the heavens have been open almost non-stop, at times keeping me from objects of my affection: my work, the pub, and the opportunity to enjoy a royal display.
Oh – and my wife! Goodness, how quickly I begin to take her for granted, once we are able to be familiar again! I forget that the Sunday at the start of this week was the first night we had lain together for some eight or ten days.
It was quite sweet, really. We were at my father’s, where she still resides while the works continue on our house. I had the impression she was enjoying the break from my company, but I did not want her to see my upset – so I pretended to be willing to return home earlier than I was.
At first, she let me depart without protest. But I got as far as Fleet Bridge before she caught up with me, poor wretch – in dark and the torrential rain, too – beseeching me to spend the night at my father’s with her.
This I was very glad to do! And I’ve managed to do so almost every other day since, though of course I’ve needed to spend the odd night at home to keep a check on the workmen…
That’s not least because, to my vexation, I clearly can’t trust Will to remain there every second I’m not. On Friday night, I returned to catch him returning late from staying abroad. Ah, and I had such high hopes for him as my man. Maybe he shan’t be with us as long as I’d intended?
Oh yes – “there”. Right now, I’m writing from John Creed’s lodging at Mr Ware’s, John and I having spent the first half of this last night drinking with Mrs Harper. The streets are just too wet and filthy to head home in this light.
They were also too filthy for me to see the Knights of the Bath being made by the King on Friday, which troubled me mightily. But I did manage to see Peter Mills’ triumphant arches nearing completion between Leadenhall Street and Fleet Street in readiness for the coronation procession – how fabulously fine that is to be!
And I also happened to be with my Lord Sandwich and Sir William Penn for dinner today, after which we went to see the King create several Earls and Barons – including my Lord Chancellor (as an Earl – much deserved) and Mr Crew (as a Baron – also much deserved, though he cunningly switched allegiances after the Civil War…).
Each new Earl was led to kneel before the King by heralds and five old Earls. The patent for their title was then read, and the King, bedecked in his Vest and Sword and Coronet, passed it to the new Earl, who then kissed the King’s hand before rising.
It was almost the same for the Barons, though they were accompanied by only three of the existing order. Each new Baron, though, was also girt with a Sword of their own before being taken to the King.
Think I would rather be a Baron…
Having been kept from the office on several instances by the weather, not a lot was achieved this week. In fact, it was only today that we met with the Duke of York to learn the secret destination of the ship being sent to disrupt the Dutch’s trade routes: Algier, not Goa.
In fact, trade disruption may not be the goal as we thought, since the prince conducted this meeting in his chambers (he is a very plain man in his night habit!), and there showed us two very fine chests covered with gold and Indian varnish that were given him by the East India Company of Holland.
What were Sir Penn and I thinking? A sensible nation would never start a trade war with an ally, would it, however great the rewards might be for seizing those routes.
I must have been swayed by the thoughts of Sir Penn – something I am resolved to avoid in future, as I had cause this week to see just how wayward that man can be…
He and I spent Thursday together, first at the Battens’, then a Church fundraiser, and finally a friend’s for wine (since the weather kept us from the pub). When we finally set off homeward, we were passed by two country fellows upon one horse.
I, without much ado, gave way. But Sir Penn would not, with the result that they stroked him as they passed. True, they gave him some high words – but Sir Penn, in a fury, went over and struck them off their horse!
That was without much honour in my mind. One could perhaps blame the amount of wine we had consumed to that point, but still – it was action I felt no compulsion to take, although similarly inebriated.
Clearly I need to trust my own mind more – whatever the weather…
In return for these words of mine, please pay just one word of yours. Would you prefer to be an Earl, given large swathes of land to pass on to your kin, or a Baron, given a small piece of land to manage only within your lifetime… but also a Sword?
Speak with you again soon – and may the Lord bless you and keep you till then!
Would you prefer to be an Earl, given large swathes of land to pass on to your kin, or a Baron, given a small piece of land to manage only within your lifetime… but also a Sword?
Me, I'm like Sam: I'll take the sword. Especially knowing how hard it is to care for a garden of just one acre here at Pepys House, we definitely don't need anymore land...