wrong his Embassador received;
[On the 20th of August, the Duc de Crequi, then French ambassador at
Rome, was insulted by the Corsican armed police, a force whose
ignoble duty it was to assist the Sbirri; and the pope, Alexander
VII., at first refused reparation for the affront offered to the
French. Louis, as in the case of D'Estrades, took prompt measures.
He ordered the papal nuncio forthwith to quit France; he seized upon
Avignon, and his army prepared to enter Italy. Alexander found it
necessary to submit. In fulfilment of a treaty signed at Pisa in
1664, Cardinal Chigi, the pope's nephew, came to Paris, to tender
the pope's apology to Louis. The guilty individuals were punished;
the Corsicans banished for ever from the Roman States; and in front
of the guard-house which they had occupied a pyramid was erected,
bearing an inscription which embodied the pope's apology. This
pyramid Louis permitted Clement IX. to destroy on his accession.-B.]
and banish the Cardinall Imperiall,
[Lorenzo Imperiali, of Genoa. He had been appointed Governor of
Rome by Innocent X., and he had acted in that capacity at
the time of the tumult.—B.]
which I understand this day is not meant the Cardinall belonging or chosen by the Emperor, but the name of his family is Imperiali. Thence to walk in the Park, which we did two hours, it being a pleasant sunshine day though cold. Our discourse upon the rise of most men that we know, and observing them to be the results of chance, not policy, in any of them, particularly Sir J. Lawson's, from his declaring against Charles Stuart in the river of Thames, and for the Rump. Thence to my Lord, who had his ague fit last night, but is now pretty well, and I staid talking with him an hour alone in his chamber, about sundry publique and private matters. Among others, he wonders what the project should be of the Duke's going down to Portsmouth just now with his Lady, at this time of the year: it being no way, we think, to increase his popularity, which is not great; nor yet safe to do it, for that reason, if it would have any such effect. By and by comes in my Lady Wright, and so I went away, end after talking with Captn. Ferrers, who tells me of my Lady Castlemaine's and Sir Charles Barkeley being the great favourites at Court, and growing every day more and more; and that upon a late dispute between my Lord Chesterfield, that is the Queen's Lord Chamberlain, and Mr. Edward Montagu, her Master of the Horse, who should have the precedence in taking the Queen's upperhand abroad out of the house, which Mr. Montagu challenges, it was given to my Lord Chesterfield. So that I perceive he goes down the wind in honour as well as every thing else, every day. So walk to my brother's and talked with him, who tells me that this day a messenger is come, that tells us how Collonel Honiwood, who was well yesterday at Canterbury, was flung by his horse in getting up, and broke his scull, and so is dead. So home and to the office, despatching some business, and so home to supper, and then to prayers and to bed.
26th. Up and by water with Sir W. Batten to White Hall, drinking a glass of wormewood wine at the Stillyard, and so up to the Duke, and with the rest of the officers did our common service; thence to my Lord Sandwich's, but he was in bed, and had a bad fit last night, and so I went to, Westminster Hall, it being Term time, it troubling me to think that I should have any business there to trouble myself and thoughts with. Here I met with Monsieur Raby, who is lately come from France. [He] tells me that my Lord Hinchingbroke and his brother do little improve there, and are much neglected in their habits and other things; but I do believe he hath a mind to go over as their tutour, and so I am not apt to believe what he says therein. But I had a great deal of very good discourse with him, concerning the difference between the French and the Pope, and the occasion, which he told me very particularly, and to my great content; and of most of the chief affairs of France, which I did enquire: and that the King is a most excellent Prince, doing all business himself; and that it is true he hath a mistress, Mademoiselle La Valiere, one of the Princess Henriette's women, that he courts for his pleasure every other day, but not so as to make him neglect his publique affairs. He tells me how the King do carry himself nobly to the relations of the dead Cardinall—[Cardinal Mazarin died March 9th, 1661.]—and will not suffer one pasquill to come forth against him; and that he acts by what directions he received from him before his death. Having discoursed long with him, I took him by coach and set him down at my Lord Crew's, and myself went and dined at Mr. Povy's, where Orlando Massam, Mr. Wilks, a Wardrobe man, myself and Mr. Gawden, and had just such another dinner as I had the other day there. But above all things I do the most admire his piece of perspective especially, he opening me the closett door, and there I saw that there is nothing but only a plain picture hung upon the wall. After dinner Mr. Gauden and I to settle the business of the Tangier victualling, which I perceive none of them yet have hitherto understood but myself. Thence by coach to White Hall, and met upon the Tangier Commission, our greatest business the discoursing of getting things ready for my Lord Rutherford to go about the middle of March next, and a proposal of Sir J. Lawson's and Mr. Cholmely's concerning undertaking the Mole, which is referred to another time. So by coach home, being melancholy, overcharged with business, and methinks I fear that I have some ill offices done to Mr. Coventry, or else he observes that of late I have not despatched business so as I did use to do, which I confess I do acknowledge. But it may be it is but my fear only, he is not so fond as he used to be of me. But I do believe that Sir W. Batten has made him believe that I do too much crow upon having his kindness, and so he may on purpose to countenance him seem a little more strange to me, but I will study hard to bring him back again to the same degree of kindness. So home, and after a little talk with my wife, to the office, and did a great deal of business there till very late, and then home to supper and to bed.
27th. Up and to the office, where sat till two o'clock, and then home to dinner, whither by and by comes Mr. Creed, and he and I talked of our Tangier business, and do find that there is nothing in the world done with true integrity, but there is design along with it, as in my Lord Rutherford, who designs to have the profit of victualling of the garrison himself, and others to have the benefit of making the Mole, so that I am almost discouraged from coming any more to the Committee, were it not that it will possibly hereafter bring me to some acquaintance of great men. Then to the office again, where very busy till past ten at night, and so home to supper and to bed. I have news this day from Cambridge that my brother hath had his bachelor's cap put on; but that which troubles me is, that he hath the pain of the stone, and makes bloody water with great pain, it beginning just as mine did. I pray God help him.
28th. Up and all the morning at my office doing business, and at home seeing my painters' work measured. So to dinner and abroad with my wife, carrying her to Unthank's, where she alights, and I to my Lord Sandwich's, whom I find missing his ague fit to-day, and is pretty well, playing at dice (and by this I see how time and example may alter a man; he being now acquainted with all sorts of pleasures and vanities, which heretofore he never thought of nor loved, nor, it may be, hath allowed) with Ned Pickering and his page Laud. Thence to the Temple to my cozen Roger Pepys, and thence to Serjt. Bernard to advise with him and retain him against my uncle, my heart and head being very heavy with the business. Thence to Wotton's, the shoemaker, and there bought another pair of new boots, for the other I bought my last would not fit me, and here I drank with him and his wife, a pretty woman, they broaching a vessel of syder a-purpose for me. So home, and there found my wife come home, and seeming to cry; for bringing home in a coach her new ferrandin
[Ferrandin, which was sometimes spelt farendon, was a stuff made of
silk mixed with some other material, like what is now called poplin.
Both mohair and farendon are generally cheap materials; for in the
case of Manby v. Scott, decided in the Exchequer Chamber in 1663,
and reported in the first volume of "Modern Reports," the question
being as to the liability of a husband to pay for goods supplied
against his