Sing a Song of Sickness
Week 26 of 1661 sees Sam begin singing lessons, though others seem to be losing breath around him…
It’s bad to be ill, yes – but it’s a different kind of disconcerting to have so many falling ill around you.
My father is gone to Brampton to attend to my Uncle Robert, who we learned this week is taken with a dizziness in the head. My sister Pal fared similarly, and so stayed with our father most of this week.
Perhaps worst of all, Elisabeth has a sore belly, which is now grown dangerous – or so Dr Williams spent Monday telling us.
How do I know this occurred on Monday? Well, partly because that was the Midsummer holiday, of course. But also because that was the day the doctor, my father, and I dined at the Exchange, as I can tell from my copy of the receipt.
Even without that slip, though, I would surely remember our great wrangling with the master of the house over the bill, which seemed exceedingly high.
You know what we need? Dining establishments to provide a written list of all the meals they can offer along with the prices for each. Then we would know what we’re signing up for when we place an order. Perhaps I should suggest it to the more friendly house masters…
Ah, but it would never catch on. House masters will never give up the freedom to adjust their prices to the look of their patrons’ apparel. Maybe that was the problem last Monday: I have started wearing clothes befitting the social heights I’ve climbed. Maybe I should send back the beaver-fur hat I purchased for a whole 4£ 5s from Mr Holden.
That, though, would go against one of my guiding principles: To acquire a position, one must act as if one has already acquired said position.
Yes, I am distracting myself from the continuing moans of agony from my wife, as I have indeed been doing all week – largely with work, or else out with colleagues old or new, seeing plays (Johnson’s Bartholomew Fayre again), wrestling in the park, admiring the great store of gallant beauties walking through Gray’s Inn, and of course drinking – much drinking.
That’s not to say I haven’t been here for Elisabeth. I’ve managed to be home for bed every night, and even invited my friends to be entertained in our parlour one evening, for which Jane prepared a very gallant collation.
But let’s face it – there’s little I can do for her. I believe she has been entertained, though, through my pursuit of a new hobby: I have purchased singing lessons from Mr Goodgroome, the tutor recommended by my good friend and royal musician Humphrey Madge, for 20s per month.
I was home all yesterday morning practising the first song he has given me – ‘La Cruda La Bella’. Were it in English, I believe the first line would translate as, “Why are you leaving me, o cruel, o beautiful one?”
Elisabeth joked, “Because Mr Goodgroome only gave you one song to practice!”
At least, I think she joked. However she meant it, I gently reminded her of my guiding principle, which indeed I taught her in the music instruction I gave her…
Oo, speaking of which… Before my father set off to care for my uncle, I asked him to pass on the news that I have 600£ in ready money to buy land adjoining his in Brampton. In truth, I am not worth above 500£ – but I hope he may think me to be a greater saver than I am, and so consider me a sure home for his inheritance.
Well, he is ill. One must consider these things…
One last illness to mention is James Chetwind’s consumption, though it had not stopped him from joining us at the Bell Tavern in the Strand earlier today. I mention him largely because I need to remember in my prayers that the remedies Dr Williams has prescribed for Elisabeth do not have the same effect as the tobacco James has been urged to chew. He has grown fat because of it…
Ah, but he was in good spirits – which surely could not all have stemmed from the book of Laws of Ecclesiastical Politie that he so earnestly recommended to me. And yet, just a few weeks ago, he was fearful of death.
That’s the way to look at it. Remember: act as if one has already acquired said position.
With that philosophy, I’m sure Elisabeth, Pal, and Uncle Robert will be right as rain in just a couple of weeks.
In return for these words of mine, please pay just one word of yours. What one word describes a fear of yours?
Speak with you again soon – and may the Lord bless you and keep you till then!