Aubrey's Brief Lives

by John Aubrey

  Anno 1659/60 (as I remember) he came into London with his Army, about one a clock P.M., being then sent for by the Parliament to disband Lambert’s Armie. Shortly after he was sent for to the Parliament House; where, in the howse, a Chaire was sett for him, but he would not in modestie sitt downe in it. The Parliament (the Rumpe of a Howse: ’twas the wooden invention of Generall Browne, a woodmonger) made him odious to the Citie, purposely, by pulling downe and burning their gates (which I myselfe sawe). The Rumpe invited him to a great Dinner, shortly after, from whence it was never intended that he should have returned (of this I am assured by one of that parliament). The members stayed till 1, 2, 3, 4 a clock, but at last his Excellency sent them word he could not come. I beleeve he suspected some treacherie.

  You must know that long before these dayes, Colonel Massey, and Thomas Mariett, of Whitchurch in Warwickshire, Esqre, held correspondence with his Majestie, who wrote them letters with his owne hand, which I have seen. Both these were now in London privately. Tom Mariett laye with me (I was then of the Middle Temple) G. M. lay at Drapers Hall in Throckmorton Street. Col. Massey (Sir Edward afterwards) and T. Mariett every day were tampering with G. M. as also Col. Robinson (afterwards Liewtenant of the Tower) whom I remember they counted not so wise as King Salomon, and they could not find any inclination or propensity in G. M. for their purpose, scil. to be instrumentall to bring in the King. Every night late, I had an account of all these Transactions in bed, which like a Sott as I was, I did not, while fresh in Memorie, committ to writing, as neither has T. M., but I remember in the maine, that they were satisfied he no more intended the King’s restauration, when he came into England, or first came to London, then his Horse did. But shortly after, finding himselfe at a Losse; and that he was purposely made Odious to the Citie, as aforsayd—and that he was a lost man—by the Parliament; and that the generality of the Citie and countrey were for the restoring the King, having long groaned under the Tyranny of other Governments; he had no way to save himselfe but to close with the citie, etc., again.

  Thredneedle Street was all day long, and late at night, crammed with multitudes, crying out, A free Parliament, a free Parliament, that the aire rang with their clamours. One evening, he comeing out on horseback, they were so violent that he was almost afrayd of himselfe, and so, to satisfie them (as they used to doe to importunate children) Pray be quiet, yee shall have a free Parliament. This about 7, or rather 8, as I remember, at night. Immediately, a Loud Holla and shout was given, all the Bells in Citie ringing and the whole Citie looked as if it had been in a flame by the Bonfires, which were prodigiously great and frequent and ran like a Traine over the Samuel Butler Citie, and I saw some Balcones that began to be kindled. They made little Gibbetts and roasted Rumpes of mutton: nay, I sawe some very good Rumpes of Beefe. Healths to the King, Charles II, were drank in the streets by the Bonfires, even on their Knees, and this humor ran by the next night to Salisbury; where there was like Joy: so to Chalke, where they made a great Bonfire on the top of the hill; from hence to Blandford and Shaftesbury, and so to Land’s End, and perhaps it was so all over England. So that the return of his most gracious Majestie was by the hand of God, but as by this person meerly accidental, whatever the pompous history in 8vo. sayes.

  Samuel Butler

  From the portrait by Gerard Soest in the Bodleian Library

  Richard Lovelace

  From the portrait at Dulwich College

  Well! a free-Parliament was chosen, and mett; Sir Harbottle Grimston, Knight and Baronet, was chosen Speaker. The first thing he putt to the Question was, Whether Charles Steward should be sent for, or no? Yea, yea, nemine contradicente. Sir John Greenvill (now Earle of Bathe) was then in Towne, and posted away to Bruxells, found the King at Dinner, little dreaming of so good Newes, rises presently from Dinner, had his Coach immediately made readie, and that night gott out of the King of Spaine’s Dominions, into the Prince of Orange’s country, I thinke, Breda.

  Now, as the Morne growes lighter and lighter, and more glorious, till it is perfect day, so it was with the Joy of the People. Maypoles, which in the Hypocriticall times ’twas sin to sett up, were now sett up in every crosse way; and at the Strand, neer Drury Lane, was sett up the most prodigious one for height that (perhaps) was ever seen; they were faine, I remember, to have the assistance of the Sea-men’s art to elevate it; that which remaines, being broken with a High Wind, I think about 1672, is but two parts of three of the whole height from the grownd, besides what is in the earth. The Juvenile and rustique folkes at that time had so much their fullnesse of desires in this kind that I think there must have been very few sett-up since. The Honours conferred on G. M. every one knowes.

  His sence might be good enough, but he was slow, and heavie. He dyed and had a magnificent Funerall, suitable to his Greatnesse. His figure in his robes was very artificially donne, which laye in a Catafalco under a Canopie, in or neer the East End of Westminster Abby, a moneth or six weekes. Seth Ward, Lord Bishop of Sarum (his great acquaintance) preached his Funerall Sermon.

  His eldest Brother dyed sine prole, about the time of the King’s returne. His other Brother was made Bishop of Hereford. G. M. and his Duchess dyed within a day or two of each other. The Bishop of Sarum told me that he did the last office of a Confessor to his Grace; and closed his Eies (as his Lordship told me himselfe).

  Some moneths before G. M.’s comeing into England, the King sent Sir Richard Grenvill (since Earl of Bath) to him to negotiate with him that he would doe him service, and to correspond with him. Said he, If opportunity be, I will doe him service, but I will not by any meanes have any correspondence with him; and he did like a wise man in it, for he would certainly have been betrayed.

  ’Twas shrewd advice which Wyld, then Recorder of London, gave to the Citizens, i.e. to keep their purse-strings fast, els, the Parliament would have payd the Army, and kept out the King.

  He was first an Ensigne, and after a Captain, in the Lowe-countreys, and for making false musters was like to have been …, which he afterwards did not forget.

  This underneath was writt on the Dore of the House of Commons:

  Till it be understood

  What is under Monke’s hood,

  The Citizens putt in their hornes,

  Until the ten days are out,

  The Speaker haz the Gowt,

  And the Rump, they sitt upon Thornes.

  SIR JONAS MOORE

  * * *

  [Born 1617. Mathematician. Tutor to the Duke of York 1647, from which post he was ousted by what he called the malicious and cunning subtlety of Anthony Ascham. Surveyor of the Fen Drainage System 1649. Sent to report on the fortification of Tangier 1663. Knighted and Surveyor-General of the Ordnance 1663. Published Arithmetick and A New System of Mathematicks. Died 1679.]

  SIR JONAS MOORE was borne at Whitelee in Lancashire, towards the Bishoprick of Durham. He was inclined to Mathematiques when a boy, which some kind friends of his putt him upon, and instructed him in it, and afterwards Mr. Oughtred more fully enformed him; and then he taught Gentlemen in London, which was his livelyhood.

  He was one of the most accomplisht Gentlemen of his time; a good Mathematician, and a good Fellowe.

  When the great Levell of the Fennes was to be surveyed, Mr. Wyld who was his Scholar and a Member of Parliament was very instrumentall in helping him to the employment of Surveying it, which was his Rise, which I have heard him acknowledge with much gratitude before severall persons of quality, since he was a Knight, and which evidenced an excellent good nature in him.

  When he surveyed the Fennes, he observed the Line that the Sea made on the Beach, which is not a straight line, by which meanes he gott great Credit in keeping-out the sea in Norfolke; so he made his Bankes against the sea of the same line that the sea makes on the Beach; and no other could doe it, but that the sea would still breake-in upon it.

  He made a Modell of a Citadell for Oliver Cromwell, to bridle the City of London, which Mr. Wyld has; and this Cita
dell was to have been the Crosse building of St. Paule’s church.

  Sciatica: he cured it by boyling his Buttock.

  The Duke of Yorke said that: Mathematicians and Physicians had no Religion: which being told to Sir Jonas More, he presented his duty to the D. Y. and wished, with all his heart that his Highnesse were a Mathematician too: this was since he was supposed to be a Roman Catholic.

  He dyed at Godalmyng, and was buried at the Tower Chapell, with sixty peices of Ordinance (equall to the number of his yeares.) He alwayes intended to have left his Library of Mathematicall bookes to the Royall Societie, of which he was a Member; but he happened to dye without making a Will, wherby the Royal Societie have a great Losse.

  His only Sonne, Jonas, had the honour of Knighthood conferred upon him, August 9, 1680, at Windsor; his Majestie being pleased to give him this Marke of his Favour as well in consideration of his owne abilities, as of the faithfull service of his father deceased—but young Sir Jonas, when he is old, will never be old Sir Jonas, for all the Gazette’s elogie.

  I remember Sir Jonas told us that a Jesuite (I think ’twas Grenbergerus, of the Roman college) found out a way of Flying, and that he made a youth performe it. Mr. Gascoigne taught an Irish boy that way, and he flew over a River in Lancashire (or therabout) but when he was up in the ayre, the people gave a shoute, wherat the boy being frighted, he fell downe on the other side of the river, and broke his legges, and when he came to himselfe, he sayd that he thought the people had seen some strange apparition, which fancy amazed him. This was anno 1635, and he spake it in the Royall Societie, upon the account of the Flyeing at Paris, two yeares since.

  SIR ROBERT MORAY

  * * *

  [He was the son of Sir Mungo Moray. He served in the French Army, where he was highly favoured by Cardinal Richelieu. He returned to England at the outbreak of the Civil War and was knighted by Charles the First at Oxford in 1643. He then returned to France, where he became on good terms with Cardinal Mazarin. In 1645 he was captured in Bavaria, but was released in order to negotiate a treaty secretly between France and Scotland, by which it was proposed to attempt the restoration of Charles the First. He recommended Charles’ surrender to the Scots and was with him at both Newark and Newcastle. A plan for the King’s escape from Scottish custody was frustrated only by the royal captive’s timidity. Moray resumed his career in France, in command of the Scots Regiment, after the downfall of the monarchy in England, and the Scottish Parliament sent cargoes of prisoners to him to recruit his corps. He joined Charles the Second in Paris, in 1654, after the collapse of the Highland rising. In 1663 Moray was appointed Lord of the Exchequer for Scotland and Deputy Secretary: thenceforward down to 1670, the government of that country was mainly carried on by Lauderdale, the King and himself. He was devoid of ambition and the King used to say, in illustration of Moray’s independence of character, that he was head of his own church. He died in 1673.]

  SIR ROBERT MORAY, Knight, was of the ancient family of the Morays in Scotland. He was borne (as I take it) in the Highlands. The Highlanders (like the Swedes) can make their owne Cloathes; and I have heard Sir Robert say that he could doe it. I have heard some of Ol. Cromwels army say, that the Highlanders ate only oate-meale and water and milk: that their Rivers did abound with Trowtes but they had not the witt to take them till the English taught ’em.

  He spent most of his time in France. After his juvenile education at Schoole and the University he betooke himselfe to military employment in the service of Lewis the 13th. He was at last a Lieuetenant-Colonel. He was a great master of the Latin tongue and was very well read. They say he was an excellent soldier.

  He was far from the rough humour of the Camp-breeding, for he was a person the most obliging about the Court and the only man that would doe a kindnesse gratis upon an account of Friendship. A Lacquey could not have been more obsequious and diligent. What I doe now averre I know to be true upon my owne score as well as others. He was a most humble and good man, and as free from Covetousness as a Carthusian. He was abstemious and abhorred woemen. His Majesty was wont to teaze at him. ’Twas pitty he was a Presbyterian.

  He was the chiefe appuy of his Countreymen and their good Angel. There had been formerly a great friendship between him and the Duke of Lauderdale, till, about a yeare or two before his death, he went to the Duke on his returne from Scotland and told him plainly that he had betrayed his Countrey.

  He was one of the first Contrivers and Institutors of the Royall Societie and was our first President, and performed his charge in the Chaire very well.

  He was my most honoured and obligeing friend, and I was more obliged to him then to all the Courtiers besides. I had a great losse in his death, for, had he lived, he would have got some employment or other for me before this time. He had the King’s eare as much as any one, and was indefatigable in his undertakings. I was often with him. I was with him three houres the morning he dyed; he seemed to be well enough. I remember he dranke at least pint of faire water, according to his usuall custome.

  His lodgeing where he dyed was the leaded pavillion in the garden at Whitehall. He dyed suddenly July 4th about 8 hours P.M. A°.D. 1673. Had but one Shilling in his pocket, i.e. in all. The King buryed him. He lyes by Sir William Davenant in Westminster abbey.

  He was a good Chymist and assisted his Majestie in his Chymicall operations.

  SIR THOMAS MORE

  * * *

  [Born 1478. Statesman and author. While practising the law, he won the favour of Henry VIII. He was knighted in 1514 and employed on various embassies. The King kept inviting him to Court, but More would not come; at last the King came uninvited to dine with him at his house in Chelsea. More had no illusions as to Henry VIII; when complimented on the King’s favourable disposition, he replied: If my head should win him a castle in France it should not fail to go. He published Utopia in 1516. When Wolsey fell, the King appointed More as Lord Chancellor in his stead. Contrary to the usual practice, he refused all gifts from litigants. He soon fell into disfavour, because the King was determined to divorce Catherine of Aragon in order to marry Anne Boleyn and More was unalterably opposed to the divorce. His incorruptibility when in office is shown by the fact that after his resignation he had only £100 a year. In spite of his opinions, the King invited him to his wedding with Anne Boleyn, but More refused the invitation. For refusing to take the Oath of Supremacy to Henry as head of the Church of England, More was beheaded on July 7, 1535. He was canonised in 1935.]

  SIR THOMAS MORE, Lord Chancellour: his Countrey-howse was at Chelsey, in Middlesex, where Sir John Danvers built his howse. Where the gate is now, adorned with two noble Pyramids, there stood anciently a Gate-house, which was flatt on the top, leaded, from whence there is a most pleasant prospect of the Thames and the fields beyond. On this place the Lord Chancellour More was wont to recreate himselfe and contemplate. It happened one time that a Tom of Bedlam came up to him, and had a Mind to have throwne him from the battlements, saying Leap, Tom, leap. The Chancellour was in his gowne, and besides ancient and not able to struggle with such a strong fellowe. My Lord had a little dog. Sayd he, Let us first throwe the dog downe, and see what sporte that will be. So the dog was throwne over. This is very fine sport, sayd my Lord, Let us fetch him up, and try once more. While the mad man was goeing downe, my Lord fastned the dore, and called for help, but ever after kept the dore shutt.

  (Till the breaking-out of the Civil-warre, Tom o Bedlam’s did travell about the Countrey: they had been poore distracted men that had been putt into Bedlam, where recovering to some sobernesse they were truncated to goe a begging, e.g. they had on their left arme an Armilla or Tinne printed in some workes: about 4 inches long: they could not gett it off. They wore about their necks a great Horne of an Oxe, in a string or Bawdrie, which, when they came to an house for Almes, they did sound; and they did putt the drinke given them into this Horne, whereto they did putt a stopple. Since the Warres I doe not remember to have seen anyone of them.)
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  In his Utopia his lawe is that the young people are to see each other stark-naked before marriage. Sir William Roper, of Eltham, in Kent, came one morning, pretty early, to my Lord, with a proposall to marry one of his daughters. My Lord’s daughters were then both together abed in a truckle-bed in their father’s chamber asleep. He carries Sir William into the chamber and takes the Sheete by the corner and suddenly whippes it off. They lay on their Backs, and their smocks up as high as their arme-pitts. This awakened them, and immediately they turned on their bellies. Quoth Roper, I have seen both sides, and so gave a patt on the buttock, he made choice of, sayeing, Thou art mine. Here was all the trouble of the wooeing. This account I had from my honoured friend old Mris. Tyndale, whose grandfather, Sir William Stafford, was an intimate friend of this Sir W. Roper, who told him the story.

  His discourse was extraordinary facetious. Riding one night, upon the suddaine he crossed himselfe majori cruce, crying out Jesu Maria! doe not you see that prodigious Dragon in the skye? They all lookt up, and one did not see it, and nor the tother did not see it. At length one had spyed it, and at last all had spied. Whereas there was no such phantome, only he imposed on their phantasies.

  After he was beheaded, his trunke was interred in Chelsey church, neer the middle of the South wall, where was some slight Monument erected. His head was upon London bridge. There goes this story in the family, viz. that one day as one of his daughters was passing under the Bridge, looking on her father’s head, sayd she, That head haz layn many a time in my Lapp, would to God it would fall into my Lap as I passe under. She had her wish, and it did fall into her Lappe, and is now preserved in a vault in the Cathedral Church at Canterbury.