Exclusion

(Lord’s day). Got up betimes and walked to St. James’s, and there to Mr. Coventry, and sat an hour with him, talking of business of the office with great pleasure, and I do perceive he do speak his whole mind to me. Thence to the Park, where by appointment I met my brother Tom and Mr. Cooke, and there spoke about Tom’s business, and to good satisfaction. The Queen coming by in her coach, going to her chappell at St. James’s (the first time it hath been ready for her), I crowded after her, and I got up to the room where her closet is; and there stood and saw the fine altar, ornaments, and the fryers in their habits, and the priests come in with their fine copes and many other very fine things. I heard their musique too; which may be good, but it did not appear so to me, neither as to their manner of singing, nor was it good concord to my ears, whatever the matter was. The Queene very devout: but what pleased me best was to see my dear Lady Castlemaine, who, tho’ a Protestant, did wait upon the Queen to chappell. By and by, after mass was done, a fryer with his cowl did rise up and preach a sermon in Portuguese; which I not understanding, did go away, and to the King’s chappell, but that was done; and so up to the Queen’s presence-chamber, where she and the King was expected to dine: but she staying at St. James’s, they were forced to remove the things to the King’s presence; and there he dined alone, and I with Mr. Fox very finely; but I see I must not make too much of that liberty for my honour sake only, not but that I am very well received.
After dinner to Tom’s, and so home, and after walking a good while in the garden I went to my uncle Wight’s, where I found my aunt in mourning and making sad stories for the loss of her dear sister Nicholls, of which I should have been very weary but that pretty Mrs. Margaret Wight came in and I was much pleased with her company, and so all supper did vex my aunt talking in commendation of the mass which I had been at to-day, but excused it afterwards that it was only to make mirth. And so after supper broke up and home, and after putting my notes in order against to-morrow I went to bed.

The mind is a crowded altar.
I hear the music
of an owl in the garden
mourning the loss of all the notes.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 21 September 1662.

3 Comments


  1. Thanks! Though it was only two days ago, I’d already forgotten about this one. (Yikes.) It’s actually not bad.

    Reply

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