soldier, had also travelled Italy, and became a most sober, grave, and excellent prelate. 6th September. Supped at the Lord Chamberlain's, where also supped the famous beauty and errant lady, the Duchess Mazarin (all the world knows her story), the Duke of Monmouth, Countess of Sussex (both natural children of the King by the Duchess of Cleveland), and the Countess of Derby, a virtuous lady, daughter to my best friend, the Earl of Ossory. 10th. Dined with me Mr. Flamsteed, the learned astrologer and mathematician, whom his Majesty had established in the new Observatory in Greenwich Park, furnished with the choicest instruments. An honest, sincere man. 12th. To London, to take order about the 1 "A cornet of horse.] 2 Hortense Mancini, Duchesse Mazarin, the most beautiful of Cardinal Mazarin's nieces, 1646-99. Before the Restoration Charles II. had been anxious to marry her. In March, 1660, she had become the wife of the Marquis Armand de la Meilleraye (son of the marshal of that name), a man of moderate nobility, but extremely rich. Mazarin gave her the greater part of his fortune, and made the pair Duke and Duchess Mazarin. Her husband proved a jealous and eccentric bigot, from whom she was eventually separated, leading a wandering and irregular life in Italy and elsewhere, which brought her in 1675 to London, where her former royal admirer gave her a pension of £4000 (see post, under 4th February, 1685, and 11th June, 1699). Lord Sandwich has a beautiful painting of her by Mignard at Hinchingbrooke; and Fielding says that Sophy Western resembled her (Tom Jones, bk. iv. ch. ii.).] 3 Evelyn slips here. The Duke of Monmouth's mother, it is well known, was Lucy Walter of Haverfordwest, sometimes called Mrs. Barlow (see ante, p. 16). Lady Anne Palmer (b. 1661), on the other hand (if she be intended), who married Thomas, fifteenth Lord Dacre, subsequently Earl of Sussex, was a daughter of the Duchess of Cleveland by Charles II. John Flamsteed, 1646-1719, author of Historia Cœlestis Britannica, and other works. A distinguished astronomer; and in the comprehensiveness of his scientific knowledge, second only to Sir Isaac Newton. building of a house, or rather an apartment, which had all the conveniences of a house, for my dear friend, Mr. Godolphin and lady, which I undertook to contrive and survey, and employ workmen until it should be quite finished; it being just overagainst his Majesty's wood-yard by the Thames side, leading to Scotland-yard. 19th September. To Lambeth, to that rare magazine of marble, to take order for chimneypieces, etc., for Mr. Godolphin's house. The owner of the works had built for himself a pretty dwelling-house; this Dutchman had contracted with the Genoese for all their marble. saw the Duke of Buckingham's glass-work, where they made huge vases of metal as clear, ponderous, and thick as crystal; also looking-glasses far larger and better than any that come from Venice.1 We also 9th October. I went with Mrs. Godolphin and my wife to Blackwall, to see some Indian curiosities; the streets being slippery, I fell against a piece of timber with such violence that I could not speak nor fetch my breath for some space: being carried into a house and let blood, I was removed to the water-side and so home, where, after a day's rest, I recovered. This being one of my greatest deliverances, the Lord Jesus make me ever mindful and thankful! 31st. Being my birthday, and fifty-six years old, I spent the morning in devotion and imploring God's protection, with solemn thanksgiving for all his signal mercies to me, especially for that escape which concerned me this month at Blackwall. 1 [The workmen, the principal of whom was one Rosetti, were Venetians, acting under the patronage of the Duke. They had come to England circa 1670, and established themselves at Vauxhall, where there is still a Glasshouse Street. Buckingham-says Lady Burghclere-"took out a patent for extracting glass and crystals from flint" as early as 1663 (George Villiers, 1903, p. 147).] 396 DIARY OF JOHN EVELYN 1676 Dined with Mrs. Godolphin, and returned home through a prodigious and dangerous mist. 9th November. Finished the lease of Spalding, for Mr. Godolphin. 16th. My son and I dining at my Lord Chamberlain's, he showed us amongst others that incomparable piece of Raphael's, being a Minister of State dictating to Guicciardini, the earnestness of whose face looking up in expectation of what he was next to write, is so to the life, and so natural, as I esteem it one of the choicest pieces of that admirable artist. There was a Woman's head of Leonardo da Vinci; a Madonna of old Palma, and two of Vandyck's, of which one was his own picture at length, when young, in a leaning posture; the other, an eunuch, singing. Rare pieces indeed!1 4th December. I saw the great ball danced by all the gallants and ladies at the Duchess of York's. 10th. There fell so deep a snow as hindered us from church. 12th. To London, in so great a snow, as I remember not to have seen the like. 17th. More snow falling, I was not able to get to church. 1 [Lord Arlington's picture, of which Evelyn here makes mention, is not by Raphael, though long attributed to him, and even engraved as his. It is now given to Sebastian del Piombo; and the persons shown are held to be Ferry Carondelet, Archdeacon of Bitonto, with his secretary. It is at present in the Duke of Grafton's collection. Vandyck's "eunuch, singing," is the portrait of the organist, Hendrik Liberti. These particulars have been kindly supplied by Mr. Laurence Binyon of the Department of Prints and Drawings, British Museum. vant, it may be added, says that the portrait of the Archdeacon was presented to Lord Arlington by the Dutch Government.] APPENDIX II LETTER OF JEREMY TAYLOR TO JOHN EVELYN Feb. 17, 1657-8. DEAR SIR, If dividing and sharing griefs were like the cutting of rivers, I dare say to you, you would find your stream much abated; for I account myself to have a great cause of sorrow not only in the diminution of the numbers of your joys and hopes, but in the loss of that pretty person, your strangely hopeful boy. I cannot tell all my own sorrows without adding to and the causes of yours; my real sadness in your loss are so just and so reasonable, that I can no otherwise comfort you but by telling you, that you have very great cause to mourn: So certain it is, that grief does propagate as fire does. You have enkindled my funeral torch, and by joining mine to yours, I do but increase the flame. Hoc me malè urit, is the best signification of my apprehensions of your sad story. But, Sir, I cannot choose but I must hold another and a brighter flame to you-it is already burning in your breast; and if I can but remove the dark side of the lantern, you have enough within you to warm yourself, and to shine to others. Remember, Sir, your two boys 2 are two bright stars, and their innocence is secured, and you shall never hear evil of them again. Their state is safe, and heaven is given to them upon very easy terms; nothing but to be born and die. It will cost you more trouble to get where they are; and amongst other things one of the hardnesses will be, that you must overcome even this just and reasonable grief; and indeed, though the grief hath but too reasonable a cause, yet it is much more reasonable that you master it. For besides that they are no losers, but are the person that complains, do but consider what you [See ante, p. 130.] 1 [See ante, pp. 127-130.] 2 would have suffered for their interest: you [would] have suffered them to go from you, to be great Princes in a strange country; and if you can be content to suffer your own inconvenience for their interest, you commend your worthiest love, and the question of mourning is at an end. But you have said and done well, when you look upon it as a rod of God; and he that so smites here, will spare hereafter; and if you by patience and submission imprint the discipline upon your own flesh, you kill the cause, and make the effect very tolerable; because it is in some sense chosen, and not therefore in no [any] sense unsufferable. Sir, if you do look to it, time will snatch your honour from you, and reproach you for not effecting that by Christian philosophy which time will do alone. And if you consider that of the bravest men in the world we find the seldomest stories of their children, and the Apostles had none, and thousands of the worthiest persons that sound most in story died childless; you will find that it is a rare act of Providence so to impose upon worthy men a necessity of perpetuating their names by worthy actions and discourses, governments, and reasonings. If the breach be never repaired, it is because God does not see it fit to be; and if you will be of this mind it will be much the better. But, Sir, if you will pardon my zeal and passion for your comfort, I will readily confess that you have no need of any discourse from me to comfort you. Sir, now you have an opportunity of serving God by passive graces; strive to be an example and a comfort to your lady, and by your wise counsel and comfort stand in the breaches of your own family, and make it appear that you are more to her than ten sons. Sir, by the assistance of Almighty God I purpose to wait on you some time next week,1 that I may be a witness of your Christian courage and bravery; and that I may see, that God never displeases you, as long as the main stake is preserved, I mean your hopes and confidences of heaven. Sir, I shall pray for all that you can want, that is, some degrees of comfort and a present mind: and shall always do you honour, and fain also would do you service, if it were in the power, as it is in the affections and desires of, Dear Sir, Your most affectionate and obliged friend and servant, JER. TAYLOR. 1 [See ante, p. 130.] |