Stains, Pains, and Gains
Week 24 of 1660 is so busy, Sam barely has time to note the major change that’s about to occur…
Ah, if only every day this week had been like Whitsunday. Then, I picked up Elisabeth from my father’s, and we enjoyed a wonderful leisurely stroll around the Lincoln’s Inn chambers buildings. Then dinner with my Lord, and home to bed – with my wife…
But from dawn on Monday, the week became extreme much people and business – and yes, I realise my grammar is off there, but I have been so rushed off my feet that I’ve barely time to think, let alone correct myself.
That Monday, for example, I visited nine different spots: my Lord Montagu’s to collect him; Whitehall to meet with the Duke; Covent Garden to meet my friends; King’s Street for dinner with Mr l’Impertinent; Mr Watkins’ place for Privy Seal business; the lawyer Mr Crew’s for my Lord; Dorset House to meet the Chancellor with my Lord; escorting my Lord back to Mr Crew’s; popping in on my cousin Mrs Turner; and finally home.
Ah… How my life has altered between seasons! ‘Twas mere months ago that my heart was a-flutter meeting the Duke for the first time, having the honour of being one of the first Englishmen to kiss the prince’s hand after his 12-year exile, the King and Lord Chancellor mere feet away from him.
“Sometimes an ink blot is just an ink blot…”
Now, I see them each so often, it’s barely worth writing about…! The highest drama this week was on Wednesday when, amid my rushing about with tasks at Mr Crew’s, I blotted a new carpet. And one which was hired, too!
It would have been mortifying – and indeed, in that moment, a part of me flashed forward to imagine myself blogging about how my entire career’s rise had been halted my a blot of ink of all things.
I also imagined myself writing about how things could have been saved, if only I’d thought to try getting it out myself without waiting for a servant to attend me – and so, having had that thought ahead of its time, I got it out with fair water.
Sometimes an ink blot is just an ink blot – no stain if cleaned efficiently. Though now I’m reflecting on whether writing this here diary is in fact sharpening my ability to solve problems? Let’s not forget my wealth recently surpassed 100£! Is it a coincidence I have reached such heights in the same year I began this journal?
I suppose we should see where we are in ten years’ time…
It could be seen to have gone the other way, of course. Earlier just today, my relatively new role attending my Lord required I join him at court, which was infinitely tedious. Sure, I got a piece of gold out of Major Holmes by finding him a horse from Dixwell’s, but that is hardly to be the way I could make my fortune…
“…now I’m reflecting on whether writing this here diary is in fact sharpening my ability to solve problems…”
My Lord and cousin, though, is ever on the up. Yesterday he announced how the King hath given him the place of the Great Wardrobe. Not only does that come with great fees and allowances (to add to his many existing), but he shall also take a proud position in His Majesty’s coronation ceremony next year.
And that, I think, is where I shall have to end this week’s post. I still have plenty of business to attend to, made tougher this day because I foolishly only wore one shirt in the cold weather of this morning, and so I am now wracked with great cold and pain. I cannot pause to rest, however, because my masters has great need of m–
Wait! “my masters has”? A slip of the hand, true, but one with some truth: my Lord and cousin Montagu was at Whitehall today discussing yet another place which he is to have: Clerk of the Privy Seal. And he has uttered to me in private that this may allow him to make me an Officer of the Privy Seal.
Would that be of furtherance to my career? Or shall my plate be loaded further?
Time will tell…
Speak with you again soon – and may the Lord bless you and keep you till then!