No More Learning

For Kypris oftener stirs up villainy
Within the clever; but the guileless wife
Is saved from folly by her slender wit!
No servant should approach the wife's abode,
But speechless animals should dwell with her,
That she may have not one to whom to speak,
Nor ever hear from them an answering voice.
But now the wicked weave their plots within
For mischief, and their servants bear them forth;
Even as thou, O evil one, hast come
To proffer me my father's sacred rights!
This I will purge away with running brooks,
Cleansing my ears. Could I be evil, then,
Who hold myself defiled to hear such words?
And woman, know, my reverence saves thy life.
Were I not, unawares, so bound by oaths,
I would have straightway told my father this:
But now, while Theseus is in other lands,
I leave his halls, and we will hold our peace;
But coming with my father, I'll behold
How thou wilt face him,—and thy mistress too!
Thy insolence I shall know, who tasted it.
Perish your sex! Nor will I ever tire
Of hating women, though men say I speak
Of nothing else: for base they always are.
Either let some one teach them self-restraint,—
Or else let me attack them evermore!
——


## p. 5583 (#153) ###########################################

EURIPIDES
5583
HIPPOLYTUS'S DISASTER
From Three Dramas of Euripides: copyright 1889, by W. C. Lawton, and re-
printed by permission of the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
WE
E, NEAR the sea-shore, where it greets the waves,
Were currying with combs our horses' manes,
Lamenting; for the message came to us
That in this land Hippolytus should set foot
No more, to wretched exile sent by thee.
He also, with the selfsame tale of tears,
Came to us on the beach, and following him,
A myriad throng of comrades marched along.
After a time he ceased to weep, and said:-
"Why am I frenzied thus? I must obey
My father: harness to the car my steeds,
O slaves; for now this city is mine no more:
And thereupon did every man make haste.
Quicker than one could speak, we set the steeds,
All fully harnessed, at their master's side.
Then from the chariot rail he seized the reins,
Upon the footboard set his booted feet;
And first, with hands upraised to heaven, he said:
"Zeus, may I live no more, if I am base!
But may my sire know how he does me wrong,
Whether I lie in death, or see the light. "
With that he took the goad in hand, and urged
The colts; and we attendants by his car
Followed, beside our lord, along the road
Toward Argos and to Epidauria.
When we had entered the deserted land,
There was a coast that lies beside this realm,
Bordering already the Saronic gulf.
There, like Zeus's thunder, from the earth a roar
Resounded deep,—a fearful thing to hear!
The horses pricked their ears, and raised their heads
Aloft; and on us boyish terror fell,
Wondering whence came the sound; but then we glanced
Toward the sea-beaten shore, and saw a wave
Divine, that rose to heaven, so that mine eye
Beheld no longer the Skironian crags;
The isthmus and Asclepios's rock were hid.
Swelling aloft, and white with bubbling foam,
With roaring sound the billow neared the spot
Where on the beach the four-horse chariot stood.
And from the mighty breaker as it fell,
-
>>>>


## p. 5584 (#154) ###########################################

5584
EURIPIDES
A bull, a furious monster, issued forth.
The land, that with his bellowings was filled,
Re-echoed fearfully, and we who gazed
Found it too grim a sight to look upon.
A dreadful panic seized at once the steeds.
Their master, fully trained in all the arts
Of horsemanship, laid hold upon the reins,
And pulled as does a sailor at the oar,
Back-leaning, all his weight upon the thongs.
But champing with their jaws the fire-wrought bit,
They burst away; nor could the pilot hand,
Nor curb, nor massive chariot hold them in.
And now, if toward a softer spot of earth
The helmsman strove to turn and guide their course,
The bull appeared in front, and drove them back,
Maddening with affright the four-horse team.
Or if with frenzied mind they neared the rocks,
He followed silent at the chariot's rim,
Until he overthrew and cast it down,
Dashing the wheel against a stone. Then all
Lay wildly mingled. High aloft were tossed
The naves, and linchpins from the axletrees.
While he, poor wretch, entangled in the reins,
Was dragged along, inextricably bound.
His gentle head was dashed upon the rock,
His flesh was bruised; and piteous were his words:
"Stand! ye who at my mangers took your food,
And crush me not! Alas! my father's curse!
Who is there here will save an upright man? »
And many would; but we were come too late,
With tardy feet. So he, released from thongs
And well-cut reins,- but how I do not know,-
Is fallen, breathing yet a little life.
The steeds and cursed bull were hid from sight,
But where I know not, in the rocky land.
[And then the messenger lifts his head defiantly to face the unrelenting
King, and adds: -]
I am a slave within thy house, O King,
But this at least I never will believe,
That he, thy son, was guilty: not although
The whole of womankind go hang themselves,
And with their letters fill the pines that grow
On Ida. For that he was noble I know!


## p. 5585 (#155) ###########################################

EURIPIDES
5585
HECUBA HEARS THE STORY OF HER DAUGHTER'S DEATH
Translation of J. A. Symonds: published by Harper & Brothers
THE
HE whole vast concourse of the Achaian host
Stood round the tomb to see your daughter die.
Achilleus's son, taking her by the hand,
Placed her upon the mound, and I stayed near;
And youths, the flower of Greece, a chosen few,
With hands to check thy heifer, should she bound,
Attended. From a cup of carven gold,
Raised full of wine, Achilleus's son poured forth
Libation to his sire, and bade me sound
Silence throughout the whole Achaian host.
I, standing there, cried in the midst these words:
"Silence, Achaians! let the host be still!
Hush, hold your voices! " Breathless stayed the crowd;
But he:-"O son of Peleus, father mine,
Take these libations pleasant to thy soul,
Draughts that allure the dead: come, drink the black
Pure maiden's blood wherewith the host and I
Sue thee: be kindly to us; loose our prows,
And let our barks go free; give safe return
Homeward from Troy to all, and happy voyage. "
Such words he spake, and the crowd prayed assent.
Then from the scabbard, by its golden hilt,
He drew the sword, and to the chosen youths
Signaled that they should bring the maid; but she,
Knowing her hour was come, spake thus, and said:--
"O men of Argos, who have sacked my town,
Lo, of free will I die! Let no man touch
My body: boldly will I stretch my throat.
Nay, but I pray you set me free, then slay;
That free I thus may perish: 'mong the dead,
Being a queen, I blush to be called slave. "
The people shouted, and King Agamemnon
Bade the youths loose the maid, and set her free:
She, when she heard the order of the chiefs,
Seizing her mantle, from the shoulder down
To the soft centre of her snowy waist
Tore it, and showed her breasts and bosom fair
As in a statue. Bending then with knee
On earth, she spake a speech most piteous:
"See you this breast, O youth? If breast you will,
X-350


## p. 5586 (#156) ###########################################

5586
EURIPIDES
Strike it; take heart: or if beneath my neck,
Lo! here my throat is ready for your sword! "
He, willing not, yet willing,- pity-stirred
In sorrow for the maiden,- with his blade
Severed the channels of her breath: blood flowed;
And she, though dying, still had thought to fall
In seemly wise, hiding what eyes should see not.
But when she breathed her life out from the blow,
Then was the Argive host in divers way
Of service parted; for some, bringing leaves,
Strewed them upon the corpse; some piled a pyre,
Dragging pine trunks and boughs; and he who bore none,
Heard from the bearers many a bitter word:-
:-
"Standest thou, villain? hast thou then no robe,
No funeral honors for the maid to bring?
Wilt thou not go and get for her who died
Most nobly, bravest-souled, some gift? " Thus they
Spake of thy child in death:-"O thou most blessed
Of women in thy daughter, most undone! "
MEDEA RESOLVING TO SLAY HER CHILDREN
SONS, my sons, for you there is a home
And city where, forsaking wretched me,
Ye shall still dwell and have no mother more:
But I, an exile, seek another land,
Ere I have joyed in you and seen you glad,
Ere I have decked for you the nuptial pomp,
The bride, the bed, and held the torch aloft.
Oh me! forlorn by my untempered moods!
In vain then have I nurtured ye, my sons,
In vain have toiled and been worn down by cares,
And felt the hard child-bearing agonies.
There was a time when I, unhappy one,
Had many hopes in you, that both of you
Would cherish me in age; and that your hands,
When I am dead, would fitly lay me out-
That wish of all men: but now lost indeed
Is that sweet thought, for I must, reft of you,
Live on a piteous life and full of pain:
And ye, your dear eyes will no more behold
Your mother, gone into your new strange life.
Alas! Why do ye fix your eyes on me,
O
-


## p. 5587 (#157) ###########################################

EURIPIDES
5587
My sons? Why smile ye on me that last smile?
Alas! What must I do? for my heart faints,
Thus looking on my children's happy eyes.
Women, I cannot. Farewell my past resolves:
My boys go forth with me. What boots it me
To wring their father with their cruel fates,
And earn myself a doubled misery?
It shall not be, shall not. Farewell resolves! -
And yet what mood is this? Am I content
To spare my foes and be a laughing-stock?
It must be dared. Why, out upon my weakness,
To let such coward thoughts steal from my heart!
Go, children, to the house: and he who lacks
Right now to stand by sacrifice of mine,
Let him look to it. I'll not stay my hand.
Alas! Alas!
No, surely. O my heart, thou canst not do it!
Racked heart, let them go safely; spare the boys:
Living far hence with me they'll make thee joy.
No; by the avenging demon gods in hell,
Never shall be that I should yield my boys
To the despitings of mine enemies!
For all ways they must die, and since 'tis so,
Better I slay them, I who gave them birth.
All ways 'tis fated; there is no escape.
For now, in the robes, the wealth upon her head,
The royal bride is perishing; I know it.
But, since I go on so forlorn a journey
And them too send on one yet more forlorn,
I'd fain speak with my sons. Give me, my children,
Give your mother your right hands to clasp to her.
O darling hands! O dearest lips to me!
O forms and noble faces of my boys!
Be happy but there. For of all part here
Your father has bereft you. O sweet kiss!
O grateful breath and soft skin of my boys!
Go, go; I can no longer look on you,
But by my sufferings am overborne.
Oh, I do know what sorrows I shall make;
But anger keeps the mastery of my thoughts,
Which is the chiefest cause of human woes.
Translation of Mrs. Augusta Webster.


## p. 5588 (#158) ###########################################

5588
EURIPIDES
ACCOUNT OF ALCESTIS'S FAREWELL TO HER HOME
From Robert Browning's 'Balaustion'
HAT kind of creature should the woman prove
That has surpassed Alcestis? surelier shown
WHA
Preference for her husband to herself
Than by determining to die for him?
But so much all our city knows indeed:
Hear what she did indoors, and wonder then!
For when she felt the crowning day was come,
She washed with river waters her white skin,
And taking from the cedar closets forth
Vesture and ornament, bedecked herself
Nobly, and stood before the hearth, and prayed:-
"Mistress, because I now depart the world,
Falling before thee the last time, I ask
Be mother to my orphans! wed the one
To a kind wife, and make the other's mate
Some princely person: nor, as I who bore
My children perish, suffer that they too
Die all untimely, but live, happy pair,
Their full glad life out in the fatherland! "
And every altar through Admetos's house
She visited, and crowned, and prayed before,
Stripping the myrtle foliage from the boughs,
Without a tear, without a groan,- no change
At all to that skin's nature, fair to see,
Caused by the imminent evil. But this done,-
Reaching her chamber, falling on her bed,
There, truly, burst she into tears and spoke:
"O bride-bed! where I loosened from my life
Virginity for that same husband's sake
Because of whom I die now-fare thee well!
Since nowise do I hate thee: me alone
―――
Hast thou destroyed; for, shrinking to betray
Thee and my spouse, I die: but thee, O bed!
Some other woman shall possess as wife
Truer, no! but of better fortune, say! ".
So falls on, kisses it, till all the couch
Is moistened with the eye's sad overflow.
But when of many tears she had her fill,
She flings from off the couch, goes headlong forth,
Yet forth the chamber-still keeps turning back
―――
-


## p. 5589 (#159) ###########################################

EURIPIDES
5589
And casts her on the couch again once more.
Her children, clinging to their mother's robe,
Wept meanwhile: but she took them in her arms,
And as a dying woman might, embraced
Now one and now the other: 'neath the roof,
All of the household servants wept as well,
Moved to compassion for their mistress; she
Extended her right hand to all and each,
And there was no one of such low degree
She spoke not to nor had no answer from.
Such are the evils in Admetos's house.
FRAGMENTS FROM LOST PLAYS
PROFESSIONAL ATHLETICS
Ο
F ALL the thousand ills that prey on Hellas,
Not one is greater than the tribe of athletes;
For, first, they never learn how to live well,-
Nor indeed could they; seeing that a man
Slave to his jaws and belly, cannot hope
To heap up wealth superior to his sire's.
How to be poor and row in fortune's boat
They know no better; for they have not learned
Manners that make men proof against ill luck.
Lustrous in youth, they lounge like living statues
Decking the streets; but when sad old age comes,
They fall and perish like a threadbare coat.
I've often blamed the customs of us Hellenes,
Who for the sake of such men meet together
To honor idle sport and feed our fill;
For who, I pray you, by his skill in wrestling,
Swiftness of foot, good boxing, strength at quoits,
Has served his city by the crown he gains?
Will they meet men in fight with quoits in hand,
Or in the press of shields drive forth the foeman
By force of fisticuffs from hearth and home?
Such follies are forgotten face to face
With steel. We therefore ought to crown with wreaths
Men wise and good, and him who guides the State,
A man well-tempered, just, and sound in counsel,
Or one who by his words averts ill deeds,
Warding off strife and warfare; for such things
Bring honor on the city and all Hellenes.


## p. 5590 (#160) ###########################################

EURIPIDES
5590
CHILDREN A BLESSING
LADY, the sun's light to our eyes is dear,
And fair the tranquil reaches of the sea,
And flowery earth in May, and bounding waters;
And so right many fair things I might praise;
Yet nothing is so radiant and so fair
As for souls childless, with desire sore smitten,
To see the light of babes about the house.
RESIGNATION
THINK'ST thou that Death will heed thy tears at all,
Or send thy son back if thou wilt but groan ?
Nay, cease; and gazing at thy neighbor's grief,
Grow calm if thou wilt take the pains to reckon
How many have toiled out their lives in bonds,
How many wear to old age, robbed of children,
And all who from the tyrant's height of glory
Have sunk to nothing. These things shouldst thou heed.
-
No man was ever born who did not suffer:
He buries children, then begets new sons,
Then dies himself; and men forsooth are grieved,
Consigning dust to dust. Yet needs must be
Lives should be garnered like ripe harvest sheaves,
And one man live, another perish. Why
Mourn over that which nature puts upon us?
Naught that must be is terrible to mortals.
"CAPTIVE GOOD ATTENDING CAPTAIN ILL"
DOTH Some one say that there be gods above?
There are not; no, there are not. Let no fool,
Led by the old false fable, thus deceive you.
Look at the facts themselves, yielding my words
No undue credence; for I say that kings
Kill, rob, break oaths, lay cities waste by fraud,
And doing thus are happier than those
Who live calm pious lives day after day.
How many little States that serve the gods
Are subject to the godless but more strong,
Made slaves by might of a superior army!
Translation of J. A. Symonds.


## p. 5591 (#161) ###########################################

5591
JOHN EVELYN
(1620-1706)
VELYN is known to us first as a diarist, and then as the author
of 'Sylva'; but his cultivated tastes, his publications upon
art subjects, and his devotion to Tory ideals brought him
before his contemporaries mainly as a virtuoso and a royalist. A
descendant of George Evelyn, who was the first to introduce the
manufacture of gunpowder into England, he was born in 1620 at
Wotton in Surrey, a home "large and ancient, suitable to those
hospitable times," he wrote, "and so sweetely environed with those
delicious streams and venerable woods as in
the judgement of Strangers as well as Eng-
lishmen it may be compared to one of the
most tempting and pleasant Seates in the
Nation. "

"I was not initiated into any rudiments
till neere four yeares of age," he says in
the early part of his Diary, "and then one
Frier taught us at the church porch of
Wotton. " The rudiments were continued
at "the Free schole at Southover neere the
town, of which one Agnes Morley had been
the foundresse, and now Edward Snatt was
the master, under whom I remained till I
was sent to the University.
1637,
3 April, I left schole, where, till about the last yeare, I had been
extreamly remisse in my studies, so as I went to the Universitie
rather out of shame of abiding longer at schole than for any fitnesse;
as by sad experience I found, which put me to re-learne all that I
had neglected, or but perfunctorily gain'd. 10 May, I was admitted
a fellow com'uner of Baliol College, Oxford. "
JOHN EVELYN
After three years' diligent study Evelyn removed to the Middle
Temple in London to study law; and in 1641, having repeated his
oath of allegiance, he absented himself, he says, from the ill face of
things at home. Civil war was beginning. He traveled in Holland
and France, and remained long in Italy, studying the fine arts.
The better part of ten years he was absent from England, marry-
ing in the mean time the daughter of Sir Richard Browne, the
King's minister at the French Court. His bride was barely twelve,
.


## p. 5592 (#162) ###########################################

5592
JOHN EVELYN
and Evelyn returned to England in 1647, leaving Mrs. Evelyn in the
care of her "excellent and prudent" mother. While waiting for the
maturing of his domestic plans he "commenced another," one of his
biographers quaintly says, translating from the French the 'Liberty
and Servitude of Le Vayer, and inserting a royalist preface, for
which he was "threatened"; and writing 'A Character of England. '
In 1652 he established himself with his wife at Sayes Court, Dept-
ford, of which she was the heiress. Here he busied himself with
beautifying the place, where he entertained men like-minded to him-
self, and composed a long list of works. Some of these pertained to
landscape gardening and to architecture, subjects upon which he was
an authority, some to politics or archæology. He was on friendly
terms with the virtuosi of his time, and he sought the acquaintance
of men who formed and ruled affairs. Much of his claim on our
attention comes from his having rubbed up against greatness.
was a follower of men, never a leader, and his life was filled with
usefulness. As his Diary shows, he welcomed the Restoration, and
took some part in it.
He
The marks of esteem shown by the new King caused him to leave
his retirement, and sharpen his pen for such brochures as 'Panegyric
at his Majesty King Charles the Second's Coronation,' 1661, while he
was preparing his History and Art of Chalcography and Engraving
in Copper. ' He was one of the commission to take care of the sick
and wounded in the war with the Dutch in 1664, the year in which
'Sylva: or a Discourse of Forest Trees, and the Propagation of Tim-
ber in his Majesty's Dominions,' his magnum opus in the eyes of his
contemporaries, was published.
Evelyn undertook the work at the wish of the Royal Society.
Among the devastations of the civil war and of the Parliamentary
party was the cutting down of the ancient trees. The oaks especially
were said to have incurred the wrath of the revolutionists, perhaps
because of the service of the Royal Oak at Boscobel; perhaps because
the landed gentry took pride in comparing the durance of their order
with the great age of the trees. Be that as it may, the oaks were
gone, and Charles Stuart lacked timber to build a royal navy. Men
of Evelyn's stamp were set to thinking and planting, and Evelyn him-
self, with his great knowledge and taste, was set to writing. Thus
came about the 'Sylva,' to which he annexed 'Pomona: or an Ap-
pendix Concerning Fruit Trees in Relation to Cyder; the Making and
Several Ways of Ordering it. ' His 'Parallel of the Ancient Archi-
tecture with the Modern' appeared also in 1664.
Evelyn's royalist ardor cooled under the domestic and foreign pol-
icy of the Stuarts; and while a commissioner of the Privy Seal he
refused, at the risk of offending James II. , to sign an illegal license


## p. 5593 (#163) ###########################################

JOHN EVELYN
5593
for the sale of certain books treating of the King's religion. It was
about this time that, having helped to collect them, Evelyn persuaded
Lord Henry Howard to give to the University of Oxford the famous
Arundelian marbles, brought together from Italy, Greece, and Asia
Minor. On inheritance of the ancestral Wotton by the death of his
brother, he left Sayes Court in 1694. This court was afterwards sub-
let to Peter the Great, the Czar desiring to be near the King's dock-
yard at Deptford, where he proposed to learn the art of shipbuilding.
"There is a house full of people, and right nasty," wrote a servant
to Evelyn, while the imperial Cæsar was dwelling therein. "The
Czar lies next your library and dines in the parlor next your study.
He dines at 10 o'clock and 6 at night, is very seldom at home a
whole day, very often in the King's Yard, or by water, dressed in
several dresses.
The King is expected here this day; the best parlor
is pretty clean for him to be entertained in. The King pays for
all he has. " During Peter's stay - from some time in January till
towards the end of April, 1698 his favorite recreation was to break
down the holly hedges which were the pride of Sayes Court, by rid-
ing through them in a wheelbarrow. This, with other amiable eccen-
tricities of the "great civilizer," proved so costly that in the final
settlement the owner received £150 in recognition of damages.
Weighted with age and honorable action, Evelyn died in 1706 at
his ancestral home, and was buried in Wotton church in a tomb
which recorded, at his desire, that "Living in an age of extraor-
dinary events and revolutions, he had learned from thence this truth,
which he desired might be thus communicated to posterity: That all
is vanity which is not honest; and that there is no solid wisdom but
in real piety. "
Evelyn's friend Bishop Burnet referred to him as "a most ingen-
ious and virtuous gentleman. " He was devoted to his Church, and
when he had an endurable King, to that King. In his Diary the
sweetness and purity of his life and his love of home are not less
visible than his deep religious feeling.
By nature Evelyn was conservative. He had no sympathy with
the reformers who were trying to bring about a new order, or with
those uncomfortable disturbers of the peace who wished to correct
the abuses that had crept into the Church, or to oppose the assump-
tions of Charles I. He preferred to sup and dine and compare
intaglios with easy-going and well-mannered gentlemen.
A complete list of Evelyn's works would be long. A quarto vol-
ume edited by William Upcott, first published in 1825, contains his
'Literary Remains. ' 'Sylva' has been edited at various times in the
interests of tree-planting and forestry commissions, the most com-
mendable edition being that of Dr. Alexander Hunter, first published


## p. 5594 (#164) ###########################################

5594
JOHN EVELYN
in 1776. The Memoirs of John Evelyn, Esq. , F. R. S. ,' comprising his
diary from 1641 to 1705-6, and a selection of his familiar letters, was
edited from the original manuscript by William Bray in 1818, and
since then has been several times republished.
FROM EVELYN'S DIARY
1654. 3 Dec. Advent Sunday. There being no office at the
church but extempore prayers after ye Presbyterian way,- for
now all forms are prohibited and most of the preachers were
usurpers,—I seldome went to church upon solemn feasts, but
either went to London, where some of the orthodox sequestred
Divines did privately use ye Common Prayer, administer sacra-
ment, etc. , or else I procur'd one to officiate in my house.
Christmas Day. No public offices in churches, but pen-
alties on observers, so as I was constrain'd to celebrate it at
home.
25.
-
1655, 9 April. —I went to see ye greate ship newly built by
the Usurper Oliver, carrying ninety-six brasse guns and one
thousand tons burthen. In ye prow was Oliver on horseback,
trampling six nations under foote, a Scott, Irishman, Dutchman,
Frenchman, Spaniard, and English, as was easily made out by
their several habits. A Faun held a laurel over his insulting
head; ye word, God with us.
-―
15. I went to London with my family to celebrate ye feast
of Easter. Dr. Wild preach'd at St. Gregorie's, the ruling
powers conniving at ye use of the Liturgy, etc. , in this church.
alone.
27 Nov. To London
to visit honest and learned
Mr. Hartlib [Milton's acquaintance, to whom he addressed his
( Tractate on Education'], a public-spirited and ingenious person,
who had propagated many usefull things and arts. He told me
of the castles which they set for ornament on their stoves in
Germany (he himselfe being a Lithuanian as I remember), which
are furnish'd with small ordinance of silver on the battlements,
out of which they discharge excellent perfumes about the roomes,
charging them with a little powder to set them on fire and dis-
perse the smoke; and in truth no
more than neede, for their
stoves are sufficiently nasty.
1
I


## p. 5595 (#165) ###########################################

JOHN EVELYN
5595
This day came forth the Protector's edict or proclamation,
prohibiting all ministers of the Church of England from preach-
ing or teaching any scholes, in which he imitated the apostate
Julian; with ye decimation of all ye royal parties' revenues
throughout England.
14 Dec. I visited Mr. Hobbes, ye famous philosopher of
Malmesbury, with whom I had been long acquainted in France.
There was no more notice taken of Christmas Day in
25.
churches.
-
-
I went to London, where Dr. Wild preach'd the funeral
sermon of Preaching, this being the last day; after which Crom-
well's proclamation was to take place: that none of the Church
of England should dare either to preach or administer Sacra-
ments, teach schoole, etc. , on paine of imprisonment or exile.
So this was ye mournfullest day that in my life I had seene, or
ye Church of England herselfe, since ye Reformation.
1657. 25th Dec. I went with my Wife to celebrate Christ-
mas Day.
The chapel was surrounded with souldiers,
and all the communicants and assembly surpriz'd and kept pris-
oners by them, some in the house, others carried away. It fell
to my share to be confin'd to a roome in the house, where yet I
was permitted to dine with the master of it, ye Countesse of
Dorset, Lady Hatton, and some others of quality who invited
me. In the afternoon came Col. Whaley, Goffe, and others, from
White-hall, to examine us one by one; some they committed to
ye Marshall, some to prison. When I came before them they
tooke my name and abode, examin'd me why-contrary to an
ordinance made that none should any longer observe ye supersti-
tious time of the Nativity (so esteem'd by them) - I durst
offend, and particularly be at Common Prayers, which they told me
was but ye masse in English, and particularly pray for Charles
Stuart, for which we had no Scripture. I told them we did not
pray for Cha. Stuart, but for all Christian Kings, Princes, and
Governors. They replied in so doing we praied for the K. of
Spaine too, who was their enemie and a papist, with other friv-
olous and insnaring questions and much threatning; and finding
no colour to detaine me, they dismiss'd me with much pitty of
my ignorance. These were men of high flight and above ordi-
nances, and spake spiteful things of our Lord's Nativity. As we
went up to receive the Sacrament the miscreants held their
muskets against us as if they would have shot us at the altar.


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5596
JOHN EVELYN
1660. 3 May. Came the most happy tidings of his Majesty's
gracious declaration and applications to the Parliament, Generall,
and People, and their dutiful acceptance and acknowledgement,
after a most bloudy and unreasonable rebellion of neere 20 yeares.
Praised be forever the Lord of Heaven, who onely doeth won-
drous things, because His mercy endureth for ever!
8. This day was his Majestie proclaim'd in London, etc.
29. —This day his Majestie Charles the Second came to Lon-
don, after a sad and long exile and calamitous suffering both
of the King and Church, being 17 yeares. This was also his
birth-day, and with a triumph of above 20,000 horse and foote,
brandishing their swords and shouting with inexpressible joy; the
wayes strew'd with flowers, the bells ringing, the streetes hung
with tapissry, fountains running with wine; the Maior, Aldermen,
and all the Companies in their liveries, chaines of gold and ban-
ners; Lords and Nobles clad in cloth of silver, gold, and velvet;
the windowes and balconies all set with ladies; trumpets, music,
and myriads of people flocking, even so far as from Rochester,
so as they were seven houres in passing the citty, even from 2
in ye afternoone till 9 at night.
I stood in the Strand and beheld it, and bless'd God. And all
this was done without one drop of bloud shed, and by that very
army which rebell'd against him; but it was ye Lord's doing, for
such a restauration was never mention'd in any history antient
or modern, since the return of the Jews from the Babylonish
captivity; nor so joyfull a day and so bright ever seene in this
nation, this hapning when to expect or effect it was past all
human policy.
4 June. I receiv'd letter of Sir Richard Browne's [his father-
in-law] landing at Dover, and also letters from the Queene, which
I was to deliver at White-hall, not as yet presenting myselfe to
his Majesty by reason of the infinite concourse of people. The
eagerness of men, women, and children to see his Majesty, and
kisse his hands, was so greate that he had scarce leisure to eate
for some dayes, coming as they did from all parts of the nation;
and the King being so willing to give them that satisfaction,
would have none kept out, but gave free accesse to all sorts of
people.
6 July. —His Majestie began first to touch for ye evil, accord-
ing to custome, thus: his Majestie sitting under his state in the
Banquetting House, the chirurgeons cause the sick to be brought


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JOHN EVELYN
5597
or led up to the throne, where, they kneeling, ye King strokes
their faces or cheekes with both his hands at once, at which
instant a chaplaine in his formalities says, "He put his hands
upon them and he healed them. " This is sayd to every one in
particular. When they have ben all touch'd they come up again
in the same order, and the other chaplaine kneeling, and having
angel gold strung on white ribbon on his arme, delivers them.
one by one to his Majestie, who puts them about the necks of
the touched, as they passe, whilst the first chaplaine repeats,
"That is ye true light who came into ye world. " Then follows
an Epistle (as at first a Gospell) with the Liturgy, prayers for
the sick, with some alteration, lastly ye blessing; and then the
Lo. Chamberlaine and the Comptroller of the Household bring a
basin, ewer, and towell, for his Majestie to wash.
THE GREAT FIRE IN LONDON
1666, 2 Sept. -This fatal night, about ten, began that deplor-
able fire near Fish Streete in London.
3-The fire continuing, after dinner I took coach with my
wife and sonn; went to the Bank side in Southwark, where we
beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole citty in dreadful flames
near ye water side; all the houses from the Bridge, all Thames
Street, and upwards towards Cheapeside, downe to the Three
Cranes, were now consum'd.
The fire having continu'd all this night,-if I may call that
night which was light as day for ten miles round about, after a
dreadful manner,- when conspiring with a fierce eastern wind in
a very drie season, I went on foote to the same place, and saw
the whole south part of ye citty burning from Cheapeside to ye
Thames, and all along Cornehill-for it kindl'd back against ye
wind as well as forward-Tower Streete, Fenchurch Streete,
Gracious Streete, and so along to Bainard's Castle, and was now
taking hold of St. Paule's Church, to which the scaffolds con-
tributed exceedingly. The conflagration was so universal and the
people so astonished, that from the beginning, I know not by
what despondency or fate, they hardly stirr'd to quench it; so
that there was nothing heard or seene but crying out and lamen-
tation, running about like distracted creatures, without at all
attempting to save even their goods, such a strange consternation


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5598
JOHN EVELYN
there was upon them; so as it burned both in breadth and
length, the churches, publiq halls, exchange, hospitals, monu-
ments, and ornaments, leaping after a prodigious manner from
house to house and streete to streete, at greate distances one
from ye other; for ye heate with a long set of faire and warme
weather had even ignited the air, and prepar'd the materials to
conceive the fire, which devour'd, after an incredible manner,
houses, furniture, and everything. Here we saw the Thames
cover'd with goods floating, all the barges and boates laden with
what some had time and courage to save; as, on ye other, ye
carts, &c. , carrying out to the fields, which for many miles were
strew'd with moveables of all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter
both people and what goods they could get away. Oh the mis-
erable and calamitous spectacle! such as haply the world had not
seene the like since the foundation of it, nor be outdone till the
universal conflagration thereof. All the skie was of a fiery
aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the light seene above
40 miles round about for many nights. God grant my eyes may
never behold the like, who now saw above 10,000 houses all in
one flame: the noise, and cracking, and thunder of the impetuous
flames, ye shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people,
the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was like an hideous.
storme, and the aire all about so hot and inflam'd, that at last
one was not able to approach it, so that they were forc'd to
stand still and let ye flames burn on, wch they did for neere two
miles in length and one in bredth. The clouds of smoke were
dismall, and reach'd upon computation neer 50 miles in length.
Thus I left it this afternoone burning, a resemblance of Sodom
or the last day. It forcibly called to my mind that passage—
"non enim hic habemus stabilem civitatem": the ruins resem-
bling the picture of Troy. London was, but is no more! Thus,
I returned.
4-The burning still rages, and it is now gotten as far as the
Inner Temple: all Fleete Streete, the Old Bailey, Ludgate Hill,
Warwick Lane, Newgate, Paul's Chain, Watling Streete, now
flaming, and most of it reduc'd to ashes; the stones of Paules
flew like granados, ye mealting lead running downe the streetes
in a streame, and the very pavements glowing with fiery red-
nesse, so as no horse nor man was able to tread on them; and
the demolition had stopp'd all the passages, so that no help could
be applied. The eastern wind still more impetuously drove the


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JOHN EVELYN
5599
flames forward. Nothing but ye Almighty power of God was
able to stop them, for vaine was ye help of man.
5-It crossed towards Whitehall: but oh! the confusion there
was then at that court! It pleased his May to command me
among ye rest to looke after the quenching of Fetter Lane end,
to preserve, if possible, that part of Holburn, whilst the rest of
ye gentlemen tooke their several posts for now they began to
bestir themselves, and not till now, who hitherto stood as men
intoxicated, with their hands acrosse and began to consider that
nothing was likely to put a stop but the blowing up of so many
houses, as might make a wider gap than any had yet ben made
by the ordinary method of pulling them down with engines; this
some stout seamen propos'd early enough to have sav'd near ye
whole citty, but this some tenacious and avaritious men, alder-
men, &c. , would not permit, because their houses must have ben
of the first. It was therefore now commanded to be practis'd;
and my concern being particularly for the hospital of St. Bar-
tholomew, neere Smithfield, where I had many wounded and sick
men, made me the more diligent to promote it; nor was my care
for the Savoy lesse. It now pleas'd God, by abating the wind,
and by the industrie of ye people, infusing a new spirit into
them, that the fury of it began sensibly to abate about noone;
so as it came no farther than ye Temple westward, nor than ye
entrance of Smithfield north. But continu'd all this day and
night so impetuous towards Cripplegate and the Tower, as made
us all despaire; it also broke out againe in the Temple, but the
courage of the multitude persisting, and many houses being
blown up, such gaps and desolations were soone made, as with
the former three days' consumption, the back fire did not so
vehemently urge upon the rest as formerly. There was yet no
standing neere the burning and glowing ruines by neere a fur-
long's space.
-
The coale and wood wharfes and magazines of oyle, rosin,
&c. , did infinite mischiefe; so as the invective which a little.
before I had dedicated to his May, and publish'd, giving warn-
ing what might probably be the issue of suffering those shops
about to be in the citty, was look'd on as a prophecy.
The poore inhabitants were dispers'd about St. George's
Fields, and Moorefield's, as far as Highgate, and several miles
in circle, some under tents, some under miserable hutts and
hovells, many without a rag or any necessary utensills, bed or


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5600
JOHN EVELYN
board, who from delicatenesse, riches, and easy accommodations
in stately and well-furnish'd houses, were now reduc'd to extrem-
est misery and poverty.
In this calamitous condition, I return'd with a sad heart to
my house, blessing and adoring the mercy of God to me and
mine, who in the midst of all this ruine was like Lot, in my
little Zoar, safe and sound.
7- I went this morning on foot f" Whitehall as far as
London Bridge, thro' the late Fleete Streete, Ludgate Hill, by
St. Paules, Cheapside, Exchange, Bishopgate, Aldersgate, and
out to Moorefields, thence thro' Cornehill, &c. , with extraordinary
difficulty; clambering over heaps of yet smoking rubbish, and
frequently mistaking where I was. The ground under my feete
was so hot that it even burnt the soles of my shoes. In the mean
time his Ma' got to the Tower by water, to demolish ye houses
about the graff, which being built intirely about it, had they
taken fire and attack'd the White Tower where the magazine of
powder lay, would undoubtedly not only have beaten down and
destroy'd all ye bridge, but sunke and torne the vessells in ye
river, and render'd ye demolition beyond all expression for sev-
eral miles about the countrey.
At my return, I was infinitely concern'd to find that goodly
church St. Paules now a sad ruine, and that beautiful portico —
for structure comparable to any in Europe, as not long before
repair'd by the late King-now rent in pieces, flakes of vast
stones split asunder, and nothing remaining intire but the in-
scription in the architrave, showing by whom it was built, which
had not one letter of it defac'd! It was astonishing to see what
immense stones the heat had in a manner calcin'd, so that all ye
ornaments, columns, freezes, and projectures of massic Portland.
stone flew off, even to ye very roofe, where a sheet of lead cov-
ering a great space was totally mealted; the ruins of the vaulted
roofe falling broken into St. Faith's, which being filled with the
magazines of bookes belonging to ye stationers, and carried thither
for safety, they were all consum'd, burning for a weeke follow-
ing. It is also observable that the lead over ye altar at ye east
end was untouch'd, and among the divers monuments the body
of one bishop remain'd intire. Thus lay in ashes that most ven-
erable church, one of the most ancient pieces of early piety in
ye Christian world, besides neere one hundred more. The lead,
yron worke, bells, plate, &c. , mealted; the exquisitely wrought


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JOHN EVELYN
5601
Mercers Chapell, the sumptuous Exchange, ye august fabriq of
Christ Church, all ye rest of ye Companies Halls, sumptuous
buildings, arches, all in dust; the fountaines dried up and ruin'd,
whilst the very waters remain'd boiling; the vorago's of subter-
ranean cellars, wells, and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still
burning in stench and dark clouds of smoke, so that in 5 or 6
miles, in traversing about, I did not see one load of timber un-
consum'd, nor many stones but what were calcin'd white as snow.
The people who now walk'd about ye ruines appear'd like men
in a dismal desart, or rather in some greate citty laid waste by
a cruel enemy; to which was added the stench that came from
some poore creatures' bodies, beds, &c. Sir Tho. Gresham's
statue, tho' fallen from its nich in the Royal Exchange, remain'd
intire, when all those of ye kings since ye Conquest were broken
to pieces, also the standard in Cornehill; and Queen Elizabeth's
effigies, with some armes on Ludgate, continued with but little
detriment, whilst the vast yron chaines of the citty streetes,
hinges, barrs, and gates of prisons, were many of them mealted
and reduc'd to cinders by ye vehement heate. I was not able to
passe through any of the narrow streetes, but kept the widest;
the ground and air, smoake and fiery vapour continu'd so intense,
that my haire was almost sing'd and my feete unsufferably sur-
heated. The bie lanes and narrower streetes were quite fill'd up
with rubbish; nor could one have knowne where he was, but by
ye ruines of some church or hall that had some remarkable tower
or pinnacle remaining. I then went towards Islington and High-
gate, where one might have seene 200,000 people of all ranks
and degrees dispers'd and lying along by their heapes of what
they could save from the fire, deploring their losse; and tho'
ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not asking one
penny for relief, which to me appear'd a stranger sight than any
I had yet beheld. His Majesty and Council indeede tooke all im-
aginable care for their reliefe, by proclamation for the country to
come in and refresh them with provisions. In ye midst of all
this calamity and confusion, there was, I know not how, an
alarme begun that the French and Dutch, with whom we were
now in hostility, were not only landed but even entering the
citty. There was, in truth, some days before, greate suspicion of
those two nations joining; and now, that they had ben the occa-
sion of firing the towne. This report did so terrifie, that on a
suddaine there was such an uproare and tumult that they ran
X-351


## p. 5602 (#172) ###########################################

5602
JOHN EVELYN
from their goods, and taking what weapons they could come at,
they could not be stopp'd from falling on some of those nations
whom they casually met, without sense or reason. The clamour
and peril grew so excessive that it made the whole court amaz'd,
and they did with infinite paines and greate difficulty reduce and
appease the people, sending troops of soldiers and guards to
cause them to retire into ye fields againe, where they were
watched all this night. I left them pretty quiet, and came home
sufficiently weary and broken. Their spirits thus a little calmed,
and the affright abated, they now began to repaire into ye sub-
urbs about the citty, where such as had friends or opportunity
got shelter for the present, to which his Matys proclamation also
invited them.
1685, 13 Feb. -I can never forget the inexpressible luxury and
profanenesses, gaming, and all dissoluteness, and as it were total
forgetfulness of God,-it being Sunday eve'g,-wh this day se'n-
night I was witness of the King sitting and toying with his
concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, and Mazarin, etc. ; a French
boy singing love-songs in that glorious gallerie, whilst about
twenty of ye great courtiers and other dissolute persons were at
basset round a large table, a bank of at least £2,000 in gold
before them, upon wh two gentlemen who attended with me,
made reflections with astonishment. Six days after, all was in
the dust.
-
31 Oct. I din'd at our greate Lord Chancellor Jeffries, who
us'd me with much respect. This was the late Chief Justice who
had newly ben the Western Circuit to try the Monmouth conspir-
ators, and had formerly done such severe justice among the ob-
noxious in Westminster Hall, for which his Majesty dignified him
by creating him first a Baron, and now Lord Chancellor. He had
for some years past ben conversant at Deptford; is of an assur'd
and undaunted spirit, and has serv'd the Court interest on all the
hardiest occasions; is of nature cruel and a slave of the Court.
1688, 18 Sept. -I went to London, where I found the Court
in the utmost consternation on report of the Prince of Orange's
landing, wch put White-hall into so panic a feare, that I could
hardly believe it possible to find such a change.
Writs were issu'd in order to a Parliament, and a declaration
to back the good order of elections, with great professions of


## p. 5603 (#173) ###########################################

JOHN EVELYN
5603
maintaining the Church of England, but without giving any sort.
of satisfaction to the people, who shew'd their high discontent at
several things in the Government.
1689, 21 Feb. -I saw the new Queene and King proclaim'd
the very next day after her coming to White-hall, Wednesday 13
Feb. , with great acclamation and generall good reception: bon-
fires, bells, guns, etc. It was believ'd that both, especially the
Princesse, would have shew'd some (seeming) reluctance at least
of assuming her father's Crown, and made some apology, testify-
ing by her regret that he should by his mismanagement necessi-
tate the Nation to so extraordinary a proceeding, wch would
have shew'd very handsomely to the world, and according to the
character given of her piety; consonant also to her husband's first
declaration, that there was no intention of deposing the King,
but of succouring the Nation: but nothing of all this appear'd;
she came into White-hall laughing and jolly, as to a wedding, so
as to seem quite transported. She rose early the next morning,
and in her undresse, as it was reported, before her women were
up, went about from roome to roome to see the convenience of
White-hall; lay in the same bed and apartment where the late
Queene lay, and within a night or two sate downe to play at
basset, as the Queene her predecessor used to do.
She
seems to be of a good nature, and that she takes nothing to
heart; whilst the Prince her husband has a thoughtful counte-
nance, is wonderful serious and silent, and seems to treate all
persons alike gravely, and to be very intent on affaires: Holland,
Ireland, and France calling for his care.
1698, 6 Aug. -I dined with Mr. Pepys, where was Capt.
Dampier, who had been a famous Buccaneer, had brought hither
the painted Prince Job, and printed a relation of his very strange
adventure, and his observations. He was now going abroad
again by the King's encouragement, who furnished a ship of 290
tons. He seemed a more modest man than one would imagine
by the relation of the crew he had assorted with.
1699, 25 Nov. -There happen'd this weeke so thick a mist
and fog that people lost their way in the streetes, it being
so intense that no light of candles or torches yielded any (or
but very little) direction. I was in it, and in danger. Rob-
beries were committed between the very lights which were
fix'd between London and Kensington on both sides, and whilst
coaches and travellers were passing. It began about four in the
.


## p. 5604 (#174) ###########################################

5604
JOHN EVELYN
afternoone, and was quite gon by eight, without any wind to dis-
perse it.
At the Thames they beat drums to direct the water-
men to make the shore.
1700, 13 July-I went to Marden, which was originally a
barren warren bought by Sir Robert Clayton, who built there
a pretty house, and made such alteration by planting not only an
infinite store of the best fruite, but so chang'd the natural situa-
tion of the hill, valleys, and solitary mountains about it, that it
rather represented some foreign country which would produce
spontaneously pines, firs, cypress, yew, holly, and juniper; they
were come to their perfect growth, with walks, mazes, &c. ,
amongst them, and were preserv'd with the utmost care, so that
I who had seen it some yeares before in its naked and barren
condition, was in admiration of it. The land was bought of Sir
John Evelyn of Godstone, and was thus improv'd for pleasure
and retirement by the vast charge and industry of this opulent
citizen. He and his lady receiv'd us with greate civility.
1703, 31 Oct. This day, being 83 years of age, upon examin-
ing what concern'd me more particularly the past year, with the
greate mercies of God preserving me, and in some measure
making my infirmities tolerable, I gave God most hearty and
humble thanks, beseeching Him to confirm to me the pardon of
my sins past, and to prepare me for a better life by the virtue
of His grace and mercy, for the sake of my blessed Saviour.
1705, 31 Oct. —I am this day arrived to the 85th year of my
age.