In the meantime, as to the discourse of his Majesty with Mr. Pepys, and those papers, as I do exceedingly prefer his Majesty's free and ingenuous profession of what his own religion is, beyond concealment upon any politic accounts, so I think him of a most sincere and honest nature, one on whose word one may rely, and that he makes a conscience of what he promises, to perform it. In this confidence, I hope that the Church of England may yet subsist, and when it shall please God to open his eyes and turn his heart (for that is peculiarly in the Lord's hands) to flourish also. In all events, whatever does become of the Church of England, it is certainly, of all the Christian professions on the earth, the most primitive, apostolical, and excellent.
8th October, 1685. I had my picture drawn this week by the famous Kneller.
LONDON
14th October, 1685. I went to London about finishing my lodgings at Whitehall.
15th October, 1685. Being the King's birthday, there was a solemn ball at Court, and before it music of instruments and voices. I happened by accident to stand the very next to the Queen and the King, who talked with me about the music.
18th October, 1685. The King was now building all that range from east to west by the court and garden to the street, and making a new chapel for the Queen, whose lodgings were to be in this new building, as also a new Council chamber and offices next the south end of the banqueting house. I returned home, next morning, to London.
22d October, 1685. I accompanied my Lady Clarendon to her house at Swallowfield, in Berks, dining by the way at Mr. Graham's lodge at Bagshot; the house, newly repaired and capacious enough for a good family, stands in a park.
Hence, we went to Swallowfield; this house is after the ancient building of honorable gentlemen's houses, when they kept up ancient hospitality, but the gardens and waters as elegant as it is possible to make a flat by art and industry, and no mean expense, my lady being so extraordinarily skilled in the flowery part, and my lord in diligence of planting; so that I have hardly seen a seat which shows more tokens of it than what is to be found here, not only in the delicious and rarest fruits of a garden, but in those innumerable timber trees in the ground about the seat, to the greatest ornament and benefit of the place. There is one orchard of 1,000 golden, and other cider pippins; walks and groves of elms, limes, oaks, and other trees. The garden is so beset with all manner of sweet shrubs, that it perfumes the air. The distribution also of the quarters, walks, and parterres, is excellent. The nurseries, kitchen-garden full of the most desirable plants; two very noble orangeries well furnished: but, above all, the canal and fish ponds, the one fed with a white, the other with a black running water, fed by a quick and swift river, so well and plentifully stored with fish, that for pike, carp, bream, and tench, I never saw anything approaching it. We had at every meal carp and pike of a size fit for the table of a Prince, and what added to the delight was, to see the hundreds taken by the drag, out of which, the cook standing by, we pointed out what we had most mind to, and had carp that would have been worth at London twenty shillings a piece. The waters are flagged about with Calámus aromaticus, with which my lady has hung a closet, that retains the smell very perfectly. There is also a certain sweet willow and other exotics: also a very fine bowling-green, meadow, pasture, and wood; in a word, all that can render a country seat delightful. There is besides a well-furnished library in the house.
LONDON
26th October, 1685. We returned to London, having been treated with all sorts of cheer and noble freedom by that most religious and virtuous lady. She was now preparing to go for Ireland with her husband, made Lord Deputy, and went to this country house and ancient seat of her father and family, to set things in order during her absence; but never were good people and neighbors more concerned than all the country (the poor especially) for the departure of this charitable woman; everyone was in tears, and she as unwilling to part from them. There was among them a maiden of primitive life, the daughter of a poor laboring man, who had sustained her parents (some time since dead) by her labor, and has for many years refused marriage, or to receive any assistance from the parish, besides the little hermitage my lady gives her rent-free; she lives on four pence a day, which she gets by spinning; says she abounds and can give alms to others, living in great humility and content, without any apparent affectation, or singularity; she is continually working, praying, or reading, gives a good account of her knowledge in religion, visits the sick; is not in the least given to talk; very modest, of a simple not unseemingly behavior; of a comely countenance, clad very plain, but clean and tight. In sum, she appears a saint of an extraordinary sort, in so religious a life, as is seldom met with in villages now-a-days.