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and brandy, and other things. Here I it. Met with the King and Duke of York saw Mr. Issake Houblon, the handsome in their barge, and with them to Queenman, prettily dressed and dirty, at his hithe, and there called Sir Richard Browne door at Dowgate, receiving some of his to them.
Their order was only to pull brothers' things, whose houses were on fire; down houses apace, and so below bridge and, as he says, have been removed twice at the water-side; but little was or could already; and he doubts (as it soon proved) be done, the fire coming upon them so that they must be in a little time removed fast. Good hopes there was of stopping from his house also, which was a sad con- it at the Three Cranes above, and at sideration. And to see the churches all Buttolph's Wharf below bridge, if care be filling with goods by people who them- used; but the wind carries it into the City, selves should have been quietly there at so as we know not by the water-side what this time.
it do there. River full of lighters and By this time it was about twelve o'clock; boats taking in goods, and good goods and so home, and there find my guests, swimming in the water, and only I obwhich was Mr. Wood and his wife Barbary served that hardly one lighter or boat in Sheldon, and also Mr. Moone: she mighty three that had the goods of a house in, but fine, and her husband, for aught I see, a there was a pair of virginalls in it. Having likely man. But Mr. Moone's design and seen as much as I could now, I away to mine, which was to look over my closet White Hall by appointment, and there and please him with the sight thereof, walked to St. James' Parke, and there which he hath long desired, was wholly met my wife and Creed and Wood and disappointed; for we were in great trouble his wife, and walked to my boat; and and disturbance at this fire, not knowing there upon the water again, and to the what to think of it. However, we had an fire up and down, it still encreasing, and extraordinary good dinner, and as merry the wind great.
So near the fire as we as at this time we could be. While at could for smoke; and all over the Thames, dinner Mrs. Batelier come to enquire with one's face in the wind, you were almost after Mr. Woolfe and Stanes (who, it burned with a shower of fire-drops. This seems, are related to them), whose houses is very true; so as houses were burned by in Fish-street are all burned, and they in these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, a sad condition. She would not stay in nay, five or six houses, one from another. the fright. Soon as dined, I and Moone When we could endure no more upon the away, and walked through the city, the water, we to a little ale-house on the Bankstreets full of nothing but people and side, over against the Three Cranes, and horses and carts loaden with goods, ready there staid till it was dark almost, and to run over one another, and removing saw the fire grow; and, as it grew darker, goods from one burned house to another. appeared more and more, and in corners They now removing out of Canning-street and upon steeples, and between churches (which received goods in the morning) into and houses, as far as we could see up the Lumbard-street, and further; and among hill of the City, in a most horrid malicious others I now saw my little goldsmith, bloody flame, not like the fine flame of Stokes, receiving some friend's goods, an ordinary fire. Barbary and her huswhose house itself was burned the day band away before us. We staid till, it after. We parted at Paul's; he home, being darkish, we saw the fire as only one and I to Paul's Wharf, where I had ap- entire arch of fire from this to the other pointed a boat to attend me, and took in side of the bridge, and in a bow up the Mr. Carcasse and his brother, whom I met hill for an arch of above a mile long : it in the street, and carried them below and made me weep to see it. The churches, above bridge to and again to see the fire, houses, and all on fire and flaming at which was now got further, both below once; and a horrid noise the flames made, and above, and no likelihood of stopping and the cracking of houses at their ruin.
So home with a sad heart, and there which lay at the next quay, above the find everybody discoursing and lamenting Tower Dock. And here was my neighthe fire; and poor Tom Hater come with bor's wife, Mrs. with her pretty some few of his goods saved out of his child, and some few of her things, which I house, which is burned upon Fish-streete did willingly give way to be saved with Hill. I invited him to lie at my house, mine; but there was no passing with and did receive his goods, but was deceived anything through the postern, the crowd in his lying there, the news coming every was so great. The Duke of York come moment of the growth of the fire; so as this day by the office, and spoke to us, we were forced to begin to pack up our and did ride with his guard up and down own goods, and prepare for their removal; the city to keep all quiet (he being now and did by moonshine (it being brave dryGenerall
, and having the care of all). and moonshine, and warm weather) carry This day, Mercer being not at home, but much of my goods into the garden, and against her mistress's order gone to her Mr. Hater and I did remove my money mother's, and my wife going thither to and iron chests into my cellar, as thinking speak with W. Hewer, met her there, and that the safest place. And got my bags was angry; and her mother saying that of gold into my office, ready to carry away, she was not a “prentice girl, to ask leave and my chief papers of accounts also every time she goes abroad,” my wife with there, and my tallys into a box by them- good reason was angry, and, when she selves. So great was our fear, as Sir W. came home, bid her be gone again. And Batten hath carts come out of the country so she went away, which troubled me, but to fetch away his goods this night. We yet less than it would, because of the condid put Mr. Hater poor man, to bed a dition we are in, fear of coming into in a little; but he got but very little rest, so little time of being less able to keep one in much noise being in my house, taking her quality. At night lay down a little down the goods.
upon a quilt of W. Hewer's in the office, all 3rd. About four o'clock in the morning, my own things being packed up or gone; my Lady Batten sent me a cart to carry and after me my poor wife did the like, away all my money, and plate, and best we having fed upon the remains of yesthings, to Sir W. Rider's at Bednall-greene. terday's dinner, having no fire nor dishes, Which I did, riding myself in my night- nor any opportunity of dressing anything. gown in the cart; and, Lord! to see how the streets and the highways are crowded A PLEASANT JOURNEY with people running and riding, and get
From the DIARY, April 8-11, 1667 ing of carts at any rate to fetch away things. I find Sir W. Rider tired with 8th. Up early, my Lady Batten knockbeing called up all night, and receiving ing at her door that comes into one of my things from several friends. His house chambers. I did give directions to my full of goods, and much of Sir W. Batten's people and workmen, and so about 8 and Sir W. Pen's. I am eased at my o'clock we took barge at the Tower, Sir heart to have my treasure so well secured. William Batten and his lady, Mrs. Turner, Then home, with much ado to find a way,
Mr. Fowler and I. A very pleasant pasnor any sleep all this night to me nor my sage and so to Gravesend, where we dined, poor wife. But then and all this day she and from thence a coach took them and and I, and all my people labouring to get me, and Mr. Fowler with some others away the rest of our things, and did get came from Rochester to meet us, on horseMr. Tooker to get me a lighter to take back. At Rochester, where alight at them in, and we did carry them (myself Mr. Alcock's and there drank and had some) over Tower Hill, which was by this good sport, with his bringing out so many time full of people's goods, bringing their sorts of cheese. Then to the Hill-house goods thither; and down to the lighter, at Chatham, where I never was before, and I found a pretty pleasant house and am put my Lady, Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Hemppleased with the arms that hang up there. son, and the two Mrs. Allens into the Here we supped very merry, and late to lanthorn and I went in and kissed them, bed ; Sir William telling me that old Edge- demanding it as a fee due to a principali borrow, his predecessor, did die and walk officer, with all which we were exceeding in my chamber, did make me somewhat merry, and drunk some bottles of wine afeard, but not so much as for mirth's and neat's tongue, etc. Then back again sake I did seem. So to bed in the treas- home and so supped, and after much mirth urer's chamber.
to bed. 9th. And lay and slept well till 3 in ioth. In the morning to see the Dockthe morning, and then waking, and by the houses. First, Mr. Pett's, the builder, light of the moon I saw my pillow (which and there was very kindly received, and overnight I flung from me) stand upright among other things he did offer my Lady but not bethinking myself what it might Batten a parrot, the best I ever saw, that be, I was a little afeard, but sleep over- knew Mingo so soon as it saw him, having came all and so lay till high morning, at been bred formerly in the house with which time I had a candle brought me them; but for talking and singing I never and a good fire made, and in general it heard the like. My lady did accept of it. was a great pleasure all the time I staid Then to see Commissioner Pett's house, here to see how I am respected and hon- he and his family being absent, and here I oured by all people; and I find that I wondered how my Lady Batten walked begin to know now how to receive so much up and down with envious looks to see reverence, which at the beginning I could how neat and rich everything is (and innot tell how to do. Sir William and I deed both the house and garden is most by coach to the dock and there viewed handsome), saying that she would get it, all the store-houses and the old goods for it belonged formerly to the Surveyor that are this day to be sold, which was of the Navy Then on board the Prince, great pleasure to me, and so back again now in the dock, and indeed it has one and by coach home, where we had a good no more rich cabins for carved work, but dinner, and among other strangers that no gold in her. After that back home, come, there was Mr. Hempson and his and there eat a little dinner. Then to wife, a pretty woman, and speaks Latin; Rochester, and there saw the Cathedral, Mr. Allen and two daughters of his, both which is now fitting for use, and the organ very tall and the youngest very handsome, then a-tuning. Then away thence, obso much as I could not forbear to love serving the great doors of the church, her exceedingly, having, among other which, they say, was covered with the things, the best hand that ever I saw. skins of the Danes, and also had much After dinner, we went to fit books and mirth at a tomb, on which was “Come things (Tom Hater being this morning sweet Jesu,” and I read "Come sweet come to us) for the sale, by an inch of Mall,” etc., at which Captain Pett and I candle, and very good sport we and the had good laughter. So to the Salutacion ladies that stood by had, to see the people tavern, where Mr. Alcock and many of bid. Among other things sold there was the town came and entertained us with all the State's arms, which Sir W. Batten wine and oysters and other things, and bought; intending to set up some of the hither come Sir John Minnes to us, who images in his garden, and the rest to burn is come to-day to see “the Henery,” in on the Coronacion night. The sale being which he intends to ride as Vice-Admiral done, the ladies and I and Captain Pett in the narrow seas all this summer. Here and Mr. Castle took barge and down we much mirth, but I was a little troubled went to see the Sovereign, which we did, to stay too long, because of going to Hemptaking great pleasure therein, singing all son's, which afterwards we did, and found the way, and, among other pleasures, I it in all things a most pretty house, and rarely furnished, only it had a most ill and about 9 o'clock, after we had breakaccess on all sides to it, which is a greatest fasted, we set forth for London, and indeed fault that I think can be in a house. Here I was a little troubled to part with Mrs. we had, for my sake, two fiddles, the one a Rebecca for which God forgive me. Thus base viol, on which he that played, played we went away through Rochester, calling well some lyra lessons, but both together and taking leave of Mr. Alcock at the made the worst music that ever I heard. door, Captn. Cuttance going with us. We had a fine collation, but I took little We baited at Dartford, and thence to pleasure in that, for the illness of the music London, but of all the journeys that ever and for the intentness of my mind upon I made this was the merriest, and I was Mrs. Rebecca Allen. After we had done in a strange mood for mirth. Among eating, the ladies went to dance, and other things, I got my Lady to let her among the men we had, I was forced to maid, Mrs. Anne, to ride all the way on dance too; and did make an ugly shift. horseback, and she rides exceeding well; Mrs. R. Allen danced very well, and seems and so I called her my clerk, that she the best humoured woman that ever I went to wait upon me. I met two little saw. About 9 o'clock Sir William and schoolboys going with pitchers of ale to my Lady went home, and we continued their schoolmaster to break up against dancing for an hour or two, and so broke Easter, and I did drink some of one of them up very pleasant and merry, and so walked and give him two pence. By and by we home, I leading Mrs. Rebecca, who come to two little girls keeping cows, and seemed, I know not why, in that and other I saw one of them very pretty, so I had a things, to be desirous of my favours and mind to make her ask my blessing, and would in all things show me respects. telling her that I was her godfather, she Going home, she would needs have me asked me innocently whether I was not sing, and I did pretty well and was highly Ned Wooding, and I said that I was, so esteemed by them. So to Captain Allen's she kneeled down and very simply called, (where we were last night, and heard him “Pray, godfather, pray to God to bless play on the harpsicon, and I find him to be me,” which made us very merry, and I a perfect good musician), and there, hav
gave her twopence. In several places, I ing no mind to leave Mrs. Rebecca, what asked women whether they would sell me with talk and singing (her father and I), their children, but they denied me all, Mrs. Turner and I staid there till 2 but said they would give me one to keep o'clock in the morning and was most ex- for them, if I would. Mrs. Anne and I ceeding merry, and I had the opportunity rode under the man that hangs upon of kissing Mrs. Rebecca very often. Shooter's Hill, and a filthy sight it was
uth. At 2 o'clock, with very great to see how his flesh is shrunk to his bones. mirth, we went to our lodging and to bed, So home and I found all well, and a deal and lay till 7, and then called up by Sir of work done since I went. I sent to see W. Batten, so I arose and we did some how my wife do, who is well, and my business, and then Captain Allen, and brother John come from Cambridge. he and I withdrew and sang a song or
To Sir W. Batten's and there supped, two, and among others took pleasure in and very merry with the young ladies. “Go and be hanged, that's good-bye.” So to bed very sleepy for last night's work, The young ladies come too, and so I did concluding that it is the pleasantest journey again please myself with Mrs. Rebecca, in all respects that ever I had in my life.
THE MINOR POETS
BROADLY speaking, there are two types of mid-seventeenth century verse: vers de societé and reflective lyrics. The polite verse, facile, graceful, and insouciant, was cultivated by a school of Cavalier poets, who, always a little the worse for wine, for several decades paid valiant homage to the ladies. The reflective verse is at times poignantly sensitive to the transiency of the fast-passing years, sad even in its gayety, and sometimes searchingly mystical, divining new depths of religious experience, hidden aspects of Christian faith which the study of Platonic philosophy had made possible. Catholic, Anglican, and Protestant, driven by the very conflicts of spiritual strife, pierced through the formal dressings of their faiths to the great mysteries that lie at the heart of all faith.
If the verse of this period loses much of the fragrance of out-of-doors, much of the high-pulsed, carefree abandonment of the Elizabethan school, it gains in subtlety and personal intimacy, and when this subtlety does not run to ultra refinements of mood and expression, it produces poetry that is exquisite and precious.
These Caroline and Commonwealth poets served to establish and confirm the intensely personal note in English lyricism.
Toward the close of the century the verse begins to display the classical tendencies of the next age. Robert Herrick (1591-1674) could not refrain from observing that
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness, and yet he withstood matrimony, and was compelled to forego the pleasures of the town society which he craved and to spend most of his life as a village parson in Devonshire. This wild and beautiful country, which Blackmore has immortalized in Lorna Doone, made little appeal to Herrick, yet he lent himself to the merry-makings of his humble parishioners and wrote with amused affection of his household companions: an ancient dame named Prudence, a cock and a hen, a goose, a tame lamb, a cat, a spaniel, and a pet pig. Tradition has it that he taught the pig to drink beer from a tankard, and another tradition, that he flung a sermon at his congregation and cursed them roundly for not paying attention. We would have enjoyed him. His verse is graceful and polished, but never labored.
Sir John Suckling (1609-1640) and Richard Lovelace (1618–1658) were Cavalier poets, par excellence. Suckling was educated at Cambridge, fell heir at eighteen to his father's fortune, traveled extensively, incidentally fighting under Gustavus Adolphus at Leipzig and Magdeburg, returned to become a court favorite, squandered much of his fortune in extravagant display and in gambling, fell out with the King, was received back into favor through the friendly offices of a certain “merry wench,” fitted out a troop of horsemen in white doublets and scarlet breeches and feathers to support the King in the civil war, was subsequently involved in a royalist plot, fled to Paris and poisoned himself
. All this at the age of thirty-one. He was dangerous and fascinating, and lived Lovelace was, if anything, even more of a court favorite. Oxford trained, wealthy, and handsome, he gave himself without stint to the King's cause. His charming lyric, “Stone walls do not a prison make," instinct with the indomitable spirit of a high-bred Cavalier, was actually written in prison where he was confined for his royalist sym
like his verse.