Stung and Stanke
As the personal trials of recent weeks continue, Sam is mightily grateful for old friends in Week 29 of 1661…
How apt a metaphor is this: My father and I thought to ride up and down all the lands we can now call ‘ours’ thanks to my late Uncle Robert’s Will – but barely had our travels begun, I took a sting on my left hand. Soon it was very much swelled, and inhibited many of the week’s tasks.
The sights were glorious, though. We saw Portholme, purportedly England’s largest meadow, and the impressive construction works underway around my Lord’s manor at Hinchingbrooke.
I also made it into Cambridge early in the week, prompted by needing a haircut. I was up at 3 a-clock, at the barber’s by 7, and knocking on my brother John’s door at Christ’s College by 8, only to find the sloth in bed. Ah, it vexed me so – how can he ever hope to achieve all a Cambridge education has to offer if he isn’t up before sunrise? My elder brother John wouldn’t have succumbed to such slovenliness, had he not succumbed to sickness in his youth.
Still, I took the opportunity to visit some old sights of beauty – such as King’s College Chapel. In my time at Magdelene College – heavens, only 11 years ago – there had been but one chorister and no organ. Now the instrument is restored, and the scholars in their surplices are at the service in abundance! It would be my wish for everyone to have a chance to see and hear that very Chapel in all its resonant glory – though I suppose it would need some marvel of technology that would allow for audiences greater than the 600 or so that the Chapel has capacity for.
I also looked in on some old friends – Dr Fairbrother, Clement Sankey, Lewis Phillips, Dr Symcottes, Robert Ethell, John Davenport, and many more – and took them to either The Crown in Huntingdon or Rose Tavern in Cambridge.
At the latter, as luck would have it, we bumped into Mr Turner and his wife as well on Monday, they being come to settle their son at Trinity. And so, with good friends old and new, we were very merry, and I treated them as well as I could.
But alas, this was a dot of joy amid a canvass of discontent. My aunt continued in her base hypocritical tricks even when my father and I were abroad from the house – which we knew because my cousin Jane Perkin (of whom we’ve been making great use) and the maid did tell us every day – and of course my stepcousins Jasper and Tom persisted in their caveat against the Will.
In an attempt to resolve things amicably, I appealed to Sergeant Bernard, the Recorder of Huntingdon who resides at Brampton Manor, to host and preside over a meeting between Jasper and me. Our discourse was as fair as I could desire, but in the end Jasper would let no issue come of our discourse till his brother Tom would come.
Sir Bernard also advised me that a mortgage due on my Uncle Robert’s estate from one Richard Piggott will likely got to my Uncle Thomas as the heir-at-law, which broke my heart on the other side. What woes our family can bring us!
Ah, but speaking of family… I also paid a visit to my Great Uncle Talbot in Impington. Despite setting all alone, he was like a man out of the world. He can hardly see, but all things he does pretty livelily. Such an inspiration. Together with his son John, I felt buoyed up as I journeyed from there to Gravely to enquire for a surrender of my Uncle Robert’s in some of the copyholders’ hands there.
But alas, I heard of none, and so was again put in very great trouble of mind, and with a sad heart rode home to Brampton.
Things came to a head earlier today, when I found my father in Goody Goreham’s alehouse (once owned by my Uncle Robert, now owned by my father and I!) together with stepcousins Jasper and Tom. Our discourse was calm – but again, came to no issue.
“What woes our family can bring us!”
How I despise the uncertainty! In all this, I have remained as cheerful as I can be in front of my father, for want of easing his troubles. And at least I can say that has been made somewhat easier with the help of the Stankes – Will and his wife Joan (or Goody), who have cared for our business in our absence. We think ourselves nothing but happy for having lighted upon them to be our caretakers; they are wonderful, joyful people.
Oh – and I am now pretty well again of my left hand. Lord, I am grateful for such small mercies.
Scold me not for desiring some more substantial ones?
In return for these words of mine, please pay just one word of yours. What one word describes a small niggle that can often absorb your entire focus?
Speak with you again soon – and may the Lord bless you and keep you till then!
What one word describes a small niggle that can often absorb your entire focus?
For me, that's "Gravel".