18th (Saturday). Up, and my bookseller brought home books, bound—the binding comes to 17s. Advanced to my maid Bridget L1. Sir W. Pen at the Office, seemingly merry. Do hear this morning that Harman is committed by the Parliament last night, the day he come up, which is hard; but he took all upon himself first, and then when a witness come in to say otherwise, he would have retracted; and the House took it so ill, they would commit him. Thence home to dinner with my clerks, and so to White Hall by water, 1s., and there a short Committee for Tangier, and so I to the King’s playhouse, 1s., and to the play of the “Duke of Lerma,” 2s. 6d., and oranges, 1s. Thence by coach to Westminster, 1s., and the House just up, having been about money business, 1s. So home by coach, 3s., calling in Duck Lane, and did get Des Cartes’ Musique in English,’ and so home and wrote my letters, and then to my chamber to save my eyes, and to bed.
19th (Sunday). Lay long. Roger Pepys and his son come, and to Church with me, where W. Pen was, and did endeavour to shew himself to the Church. Then home to dinner, and Roger Pepys did tell me the whole story of Harman, how he prevaricated, and hath undoubtedly been imposed on, and wheedled; and he is called the miller’s man that, in Richard the Third’s time, was hanged for his master.
[The story alluded to by Pepys, which belongs not to the reign of
Richard III., but to that of Edward VI., occurred during a seditious
outbreak at Bodmin, in Cornwall, and is thus related by Holinshed:
“At the same time, and neare the same place [Bodmin], dwelled a
miller, that had beene a greate dooer in that rebellion, for whom
also Sir Anthonie Kingston sought: but the miller being thereof
warned, called a good tall fellow that he had to his servant, and
said unto him, ‘I have business to go from home; if anie therefore
come to ask for me, saie thou art the owner of the mill, and the man
for whom they shall so aske, and that thou hast kept this mill for
the space of three yeares; but in no wise name me.’ The servant
promised his maister so to doo. And shortlie after, came Sir
Anthonie Kingston to the miller’s house, and calling for the miller,
the servant came forth, and answered that he was the miller. ‘How
long,’ quoth Sir Anthonie, ‘hast thou kept this mill?’ He answered,
‘Three years.’—‘Well, then,’ said he, ‘come on: thou must go with
me;’ and caused his men to laie hands on him, and to bring him to
the next tree, saieing to him, ‘Thou hast been a busie knave, and
therefore here shalt thou hang.’ Then cried the fellow out, and
saide that he was not the miller, but the miller’s man. ‘Well,
then,’ said Sir Anthonie, ‘thou art a false knave to be in two
tales: therefore,’ said he, ‘hang him up;’ and so incontinentlie
hanged he was indeed. After he was dead, one that was present told
Sir Anthonie, ‘Surelie, sir, this was but the miller’s man.’—‘What
then!’ said he, ‘could he ever have done his maister better service
than to hang for him?’”—B.]
So after dinner I took them by water to White Hall, taking in a very pretty woman at Paul’s Wharf, and there landed we, and I left Roger Pepys and to St. Margaret’s Church, and there saw Betty, and so to walk in the Abbey with Sir John Talbot, who would fain have pumped me about the prizes, but I would not let him, and so to walk towards Michell’s to see her, but could not, and so to Martin’s, and her husband was at home, and so took coach and to the Park, and thence home and to bed betimes. Water 1s., coach 5s. Balty borrowed L2.
20th. Up betimes and to the getting ready my answer to the Committee of Accounts to several questions, which makes me trouble, though I know of no blame due to me from any, let them enquire what they can out.
[The first part of the entry for April 20th is among the rough
notes, and stands as follows: “Monday 20. Up and busy about answer
to Committee of Accounts this morning about several questions which
vexed me though in none I have reason to be troubled. But the
business of The Flying Greyhound begins to find me some care, though
in that I am wholly void of blame.” This may be compared with the
text.]
I to White Hall, and there hear how Henry Brouncker is fled, which, I think, will undo him: but what good it will do Harman I know not, he hath so befooled himself; but it will be good sport to my Lord Chancellor to hear how his great enemy is fain to take the same course that he is. There met Robinson, who tells me that he fears his master, W. Coventry, will this week have his business brought upon the stage again, about selling of places, which I shall be sorry for, though the less, since I hear his standing for Pen the other day, to the prejudice, though not to the wrong, of my Lord Sandwich; and yet I do think what he did, he did out of a principle of honesty. Thence to Committee of Accounts, and delivered my paper, and had little discourse, and was unwilling to stay long with them to enter into much, but away and glad to be from them, though very civil to me, but cunning and close I see they are. So to Westminster Hall, and there find the Parliament upon the Irish business, where going into the Speaker’s chamber I did hear how plainly one lawyer of counsel for the complainants did inveigh by name against all the late Commissioners there. Thence with Creed, thinking, but failed, of dining with Lord Crew, and so he and I to Hercules Pillars, and there dined, and thence home by coach, and so with Jack Fenn to the Chamberlain of London to look after the state of some Navy assignments that are in his hands, and thence away, and meeting Sir William Hooker, the Alderman, he did cry out mighty high against Sir W. Pen for his getting such an estate, and giving L15,000 with his daughter, which is more, by half, than ever he did give; but this the world believes, and so let them. Thence took coach and I all alone to Hyde Park (passing through Duck Lane among the booksellers, only to get a sight of the pretty little woman I did salute the other night, and did in passing), and so all the evening in the Park, being a little unwilling to be seen there, and at night home, and thereto W. Pen’s and sat and talked there with his wife and children a good while, he being busy in his closet, I believe preparing his defence in Parliament, and so home to bed.
21st. Up, and at the office all the morning, at noon dined at home, and thence took Mrs. Turner out and carried her to the King’s house, and saw “The Indian Emperour;” and after that done, took Knepp out, and to Kensington; and there walked in the garden, and then supped, and mighty merry, there being also in the house Sir Philip Howard, and some company, and had a dear reckoning, but merry, and away, it being quite night, home, and dark, about 9 o’clock or more, and in my coming had the opportunity the first time in my life to be bold with Knepp..., and so left her at home, and so Mrs. Turner and I home to my letters and to bed. Here hear how Sir W. Pen’s impeachment was read, and agreed to, in the House this day, and ordered to be engrossed; and he suspended the House—[From sitting as a member pending the impeachment.-B.]—Harman set at liberty; and Brouncker put out of the House, and a writ for a new election, and an impeachment ordered to be brought in against him, he being fled!
[Sir Charles Berkeley, jun. was chosen in his room. In the sea-
fight off Southwold Bay on June 3rd, 1665, the English triumphed
over the Dutch, but the very considerable victory was not followed
up. During the night, while the Duke of York slept, Henry
Brouncker, his groom of the bedchamber, ordered the lieutenant to
shorten sail, by which means the progress of the whole fleet was
retarded, the Duke of York’s being the leading ship. The duke
affirmed that he first heard of Brouncker’s unjustifiable action in
July, and yet he kept the culprit in his service for nearly two
years after the offence had come to his knowledge. After Brouncker
had been dismissed from the duke’s service, the House of Commons
ejected him. The whole matter is one of the unsolved difficulties
of history. See Lister’s “Life of Clarendon,” ii., 334 335]
22nd. Up, and all the morning at my office busy. At noon, it being washing day, I toward White Hall, and stopped and dined all alone at Hercules Pillars, where I was mighty pleased to overhear a woman talk to her counsel how she had troubled her neighbours with law, and did it very roguishly and wittily. Thence to White Hall, and there we attended the Duke of York as usual; and I did present Mrs. Pett, the widow, and her petition to the Duke of York, for some relief from the King. Here was to-day a proposition made to the Duke of York by Captain Von Hemskirke for L20,000, to discover an art how to make a ship go two foot for one what any ship do now, which the King inclines to try, it costing him nothing to try; and it is referred to us to contract with the man. Thence to attend the Council about the business of certificates to the Exchequer, where the Commissioners of the Treasury of different minds, some would, and my Lord Ashly would not have any more made out, and carried it there should not. After done here, and the Council up, I by water from the Privy-stairs to Westminster Hall; and, taking water, the King and the Duke of York were in the new buildings; and the Duke of York called to me whither I was going? and I answered aloud, “To wait on our maisters at Westminster;” at which he and all the company laughed; but I was sorry and troubled for it afterwards, for fear any Parliament-man should have been there; and will be a caution to me for the time to come. Met with Roger Pepys, who tells me they have been on the business of money, but not ended yet, but will take up more time. So to the fishmonger’s, and bought a couple of lobsters, and over to the ‘sparagus garden, thinking to have met Mr. Pierce, and his wife and Knepp; but met their servant coming to bring me to Chatelin’s, the French house, in Covent Garden, and there with musick and good company, Manuel and his wife, and one Swaddle, a clerk of Lord Arlington’s, who dances, and speaks French well, but got drunk, and was then troublesome, and here mighty merry till ten at night, and then I away, and got a coach, and so home, where I find Balty and his wife come to town, and did sup with them, and so they to bed. This night the Duke of Monmouth and a great many blades were at Chatelin’s, and I left them there, with a hackney-coach attending him.