Part 8

We came to St. Sebastian's about the beginning of September, and there hired a small French vessel to carry us to Nantz: we embarked within two days after our coming to this town. I never saw so wild a place, nor were the inhabitants unsuitable, but like to like, which made us hasten away, and I am sure to our cost we found the proverb true, for our haste brought us woe. We had not been a day at sea before we had a storm begun, that continued two days and two nights in a most violent manner; and being in the Bay of Biscay, we had a hurricane that drew the vessel up from the water, which had neither sail nor mast left, and but six men and a boy. Whilst they had hopes of life they ran swearing about like devils, but when that failed them, they ran into holes, and let the ship drive as it would. In this great hazard of our lives we were the beginning of the third night, when God in mercy ceased the storm of a sudden, and there was a great calm, which made us exceeding joyful; but when those beasts, for they were scarce men, that manned the vessel, began to rummage the bark, they could not find their compass anywhere, for the loss of which they began again such horrible lamentations as were as dismal to us as the storm past.

Thus between hope and fear we passed the night, they protesting to us they knew not where they were, and truly we believed them; for with fear and drink I think they were bereaved of their senses. So soon as it was day, about six o'clock, the master cried out, 'The land! the land!' but we did not receive the news with the joy belonging to it, but sighing said, God's will be done! Thus the tide drove us until about five o'clock in the afternoon, and drawing near the side of a small rock that had a creek by it, we ran aground, but the sea was so calm that we all got out without the loss of any man or goods, but the vessel was so shattered that it was not afterwards serviceable: thus, God be praised! we escaped this great danger, and found ourselves near a little village about two leagues from Nantz. We hired there six asses, upon which we rode as many as could by turns, and the rest carried our goods. This journey took us up all the next day, for I should have told you that we stirred not that night, because we sat up and made good cheer; for beds they had none, and we were so transported that we thought we had no need of any, but we had very good fires, and Nantz white wine, and butter, and milk, and walnuts and eggs, and some very bad cheese; and was not this enough, with the escape of shipwreck, to be thought better than a feast? I am sure until that hour I never knew such pleasure in eating, between which we a thousand times repeated what we had spoken when every word seemed to be our last.

As soon as it was day, we began our journey towards Nantz, and by the way we passed by a little poor chapel, at the door of which a friar begged an alms, saying, that he would show us there the greatest wonder in the world. We resolved to go with him. He went before us to the altar, and out of a cupboard, with great devotion, he took a box, and crossing himself he opened it, in that was another of crystal that contained a little silver box; he lifting this crystal box up, cried, 'Behold in this the hem [Footnote: Thus in the MS.; but query if a mistake of the transcriber.] of St. Joseph, which was taken as he hewed his timber!' To which my husband replied, 'Indeed, Father, it is the lightest, considering the greatness, that I ever handled in my life.' The ridiculousness of this, with the simplicity of the man, entertained us till we came to Nantz. We met by the way good grapes and walnuts growing, of which we culled out the best.

Nantz is a passable good town, but decayed: some monasteries in it, but none good nor rich. There was in a nunnery, when I was there, a daughter of Secretary Windebank. There is English provisions, and of all sorts, cheap and good. We hired a boat to carry us up to Orleans, and we were towed up all the river of Loire so far. Every night we went on shore to bed, and every morning carried into the boat wine and fruit, and bread, with some flesh, which we dressed in the boat, for it had a hearth, on which we burnt charcoal: we likewise caught carps, which were the fattest and the best I ever eat in my life. And of all my travels none were, for travel sake as I may call it, so pleasant as this; for we saw the finest cities, seats, woods, meadows, pastures, and champaign that I ever saw in my life, adorned with the most pleasant river of Loire; of which, at Orleans, we took our leaves. Arriving, about the middle of November 1650, at Paris, we went, so soon as we could get clothes, to wait on the Queen-Mother and the Princess Henrietta. The Queen entertained us very respectfully, and after many favours done us, and discoursing in private with your father about affairs of state, he received her Majesty's letters to send to the King, who was then on his way to Scotland. We kissed her hand and went to Calais, with resolution that I should go to England, to send my husband more money, for this long journey cost us all we could procure: yet this I will tell you, praised be God for his peculiar grace herein, that your father nor I ever borrowed money nor owed for clothes, nor diet, nor lodging beyond sea in our lives, which was very much, considering the straits we were in many times, and the bad custom our countrymen had that way, which did redound much to the King's dishonour and their own discredit.

When we came to Calais, my husband sent me to England, and staying himself there, intending, as soon as he had received money, to go and live in Holland until such time as it should please Almighty God to enable him again to wait on his Majesty, now in Scotland, both to give him an account of his journey into Spain, as of the rest of his employments since he kissed his hand. But God ordered it otherwise; for the case being that the two parties in Scotland being both unsatisfied with each other's ministers, and Sir E. Hyde and Secretary Nicholas being excepted against, and left in Holland, it was proposed, the state wanting a Secretary for the King, that your father should be immediately sent for, which was done accordingly, and he went with letters and presents from the Princess of Orange, and the Princess Royal.

Here I will show you something of Sir Edward Hyde's nature: he being surprised with this news, and suspecting that my husband might come to a greater power than himself, both because of his parts and integrity, and because himself had been sometimes absent in the Spanish Embassy, he with all the humility possible, and earnest passion, begged my husband to remember the King often of him to his advantage as occasion should serve, and to procure leave that he might wait on the King, promising, with all the oaths that he could express to cause belief, that he would make it his business all the days of his life to serve your father's interest in what condition soever he should be in: thus they parted, with your father's promise to serve him in what he was capable of, upon which account many letters passed between them.

When your father arrived in Scotland, he was received by the King with great expressions of great content; and after he had given an account of his past employment, he was by the King recommended to the York party, who received him very kindly, and gave him both the broad seal and signet to keep.

They several times pressed him to take the Covenant, but he never did, but followed his business so close, with such diligence and temper, that he was well beloved on all sides, and they reposed great trust in him. When he went out of Holland, he wrote to me to arm myself with patience in his absence, and likewise that I would not expect many letters as was his custom, for that was now impossible; but he hoped, that when we did meet again, it would be happy and of long continuance, and bade me trust God with him, as he did me, in whose mercy he hoped, being upon that duty he was obliged to, with a thousand kind expressions.

But God knows how great a surprise this me, being great with child, and two children with me not in the best condition to maintain them, and in daily fears of your father upon the private account of animosities amongst themselves in Scotland; but I did what I could to arm myself, and was kindly visited both by my relations and friends.

About this time my cousin Evelyn's wife [Footnote: Evelyn frequently mentions his "cousin Richard Fanshawe," in his Diary. On the 6th of February, 1651-2, he says, "I went to visit my cousin Richard Fanshawe, and divers other friends"; and on the 6th of March, in that year, he observes, "My cousin Richard Fanshawe came to visit me, and inform me of many considerable affairs." On the 23rd of November, 1654, he went to London to visit his "cousin Fanshawe."--Diary, vol. ii. pp. 48, 49, 98. Lady Brown, Mr. Evelyn's mother-in-law, died at Woodcot, in Kent, towards the end of October 1652.--Ibid. p. 61.] came to London, and had newly buried her mother, my Lady Brown, wife to Sir Richard Brown, that then was resident for the King at Paris. A little before she and I and Doctor Steward, a Clerk of the closet to King Charles the First, christened a daughter of Mr. Waters, near a year old. About this time, Lord Chief Justice Heath died at Calais, and several of the King's servants at Paris, amongst others Mr. Henry Murray, of his bedchamber, a very good man.

I now settled myself in a handsome lodging in London. With a heavy heart I stayed in this lodging almost seven months, and in that time I did not go abroad seven times, but spent my time in prayer to God for the deliverance of the King and my husband, whose danger was ever before my eyes. I was seldom without the best company, and sometimes my father would stay a week, for all had compassion on my condition. I removed to Queenstreet, and there in a very good lodging I was upon the 24th of June delivered of a daughter: in all this time I had but four letters from your father, which made the pain I was in more difficult to bear.

I went with my brother Fanshawe to Ware Park, and my sister went to Balls, to my father, both intending to meet in the winter; and so indeed we did with tears; for the 3rd of September following was fought the battle of Worcester, when the King being missed, and nothing heard of your father being dead or alive, for three days it was inexpressible what affliction I was in. I neither eat nor slept, but trembled at every motion I heard, expecting the fatal news, which at last came in their news-book, which mentioned your father a prisoner.

Then with some hopes I went to London, intending to leave my little girl Nan, the companion of my troubles, there, and so find out my husband wheresoever he was carried. But upon my coming to London, I met a messenger from him with a letter, which advised me of his condition, and told me he was very civilly used, and said little more, but that I should be in some room at Charing-cross, where he had promise from his keeper that he should rest there in my company at dinner-time: this was meant to him as a great favour. I expected him with impatience, and on the day appointed provided a dinner and room, as ordered, in which I was with my father and some of our friends, where, about eleven of the clock, we saw hundreds of poor soldiers, both English and Scotch, march all naked on foot, and many with your father, who was very cheerful in appearance, who after he had spoken and saluted me and his friends there, said, 'Pray let us not lose time, for I know not how little I have to spare. This is the chance of war; nothing venture, nothing have; so let us sit down and be merry whilst we may.' Then taking my hand in his and kissing me, 'Cease weeping, no other thing upon earth can move me: remember we are all at God's disposal.'

Then he began to tell how kind his Captain was to him, and the people as he passed offered him money, and brought him good things, and

## particularly Lady Denham, at Borstal-house, who would have given him

all the money she had in her house, but he returned her thanks, and told her he had so ill kept his own, that he would not tempt his governor with more, but if she would give him a shirt or two, and some handkerchiefs, he would keep them as long as he could for her sake. She fetched him two smocks of her own, and some handkerchiefs, saying she was ashamed to give him them, but, having none of her sons at home, she desired him to wear them.

Thus we passed the time until order came to carry him to Whitehall, where, in a little room yet standing in the bowling-green, he was kept prisoner, without the speech of any, so far as they knew, ten weeks, and in expectation of death. They often examined him, and at last he grew so ill in health by the cold and hard marches he had undergone, and being pent up in a room close and small, that the scurvy brought him almost to death's door.

During the time of his imprisonment, I failed not constantly to go, when the clock struck four in the morning, with a dark lantern in my hand, all alone and on foot, from my lodging in Chancery Lane, at my cousin Young's, to Whitehall, in at the entry that went out of King Street into the bowling-green. There I would go under his window and softly call him: he, after the first time excepted, never failed to put out his head at the first call: thus we talked together, and sometimes I was so wet with the rain, that it went in at my neck and out at my heels. He directed me how I should make my addresses, which I did ever to their general, Cromwell, who had a great respect for your father, and would have bought him off to his service upon any terms.

Being one day to solicit for my husband's liberty for a time, he bade me bring the next day a certificate from a physician, that he was really ill. Immediately I went to Dr. Bathurst, that was by chance both physician to Cromwell and to our family, who gave me one very favourable in my husband's behalf. I delivered it at the Council Chamber, at three of the clock that afternoon, as he commanded me, and he himself moved, that seeing they could make no use of his imprisonment, whereby to lighten them in their business, he might have his liberty upon four thousand pounds bail, to take a course of physic, he being dangerously ill. Many spake against it, but most Sir Henry Vane, who said he would be as instrumental, for aught he knew, to hang them all that sat there, if ever he had opportunity, but if he had liberty for a time, that he might take the engagement before he went out: upon which Cromwell said, 'I never knew that the ENGAGEMENT [Footnote: Cromwell probably meant to pun upon this word.--In Ireland, "engagement" means an ISSUE; "an engagement in the neck," arm, &c., i.e., an issue in those places.] was a medicine for the scorbutic.' They, hearing their General say so, thought it obliged him, and so ordered him his liberty upon bail. His eldest brother, and sister Bedell, and self, were bound in four thousand pounds; and the latter end of November he came to my lodgings, at my cousin Young's. He there met many of his good friends and kindred; and my joy was inexpressible, and so was poor Nan's, of whom your poor father was very fond. I forgot to tell you, that when your father was taken prisoner of war, he, before they entered the house where he was, burned all his papers, which saved the lives and estates of many a brave gentleman.

When he came out of Scotland, he left behind him a box of writings, in which his patent of Baronet was, and his patent of additional arms, [Footnote: A coat of augmentation was granted to Richard Fanshawe, Esq., Remembrancer of the Exchequer, and to his family, by patent, dated at Jersey, 8th of February, 2 Car. II. 1650, being "Cheeky Argent and Azure, a Cross Gules." Grants of that kind to persons who distinguished themselves in the service of the King were very common, and consisted, in most cases, either of the lion of England, a fleur- de-lis, or, as in the instance of Mr. Fanshawe, of the Cross of St. George. Sir Richard was created a Baronet on the 2nd of September 1650.] which was safely sent after him, after the happy restoration of the King. You may read your father's demeanour of himself in this affair, wrote by his own hand, in a book by itself amongst your books, and it is a great masterpiece, as you will find.

Within ten days he fell very sick, and the fever settled in his throat and face so violently, that, for many days and nights, he slept no more but as he leaned on my shoulder as I walked: at last, after all the Doctor and Surgeon could do, it broke, and with that he had ease, and so recovered, God be praised! In 1652, he was advised to go to Bath for his scorbutic that still hung on him, but he deferred his journey until August, because I was delivered on the 30th of July of a daughter.

At his return, we went to live that winter following at Benfield, in Hertfordshire, a house of my niece Fanshawe's. In this winter my husband went to wait on his good friend the Earl of Strafford, in Yorkshire; and there my Lord offered him a house of his in Tankersly Park, which he took, and paid 120 l. a year for. When my husband returned, we prepared to go in the spring to this place, but were so confined, that my husband could not stir five miles from home without leave. About February following, my brother Neuce died, at his house at Much Hadham, in Hertfordshire. My sister, Margaret Harrison, desired to go to London, and there we left her: she soon after married Mr. Edmund Turner, afterwards Sir Edmund.

In March we with our three children, Anne, Richard, and Betty, went into Yorkshire, where we lived a harmless country life, minding only the country sports and country affairs. Here my husband translated Luis de Camoens; and on October 8th, 1653, I was delivered of my daughter Margaret. I found all the neighbourhood very civil and kind upon all occasions; the place plentiful and healthful, and very pleasant, but there was no fruit: we planted some, and my Lord Strafford says now, that what we planted is the best fruit in the North.

The house of Tankersly and Park are both very pleasant and good, and we lived there with great content; but God had ordered it should not last, for upon the 20th of July 1654, at three o'clock in the afternoon, died our most dearly beloved daughter Ann, whose beauty and wit exceeded all that ever I saw of her age. She was between nine and ten years old, very tall, and the dear companion of my travels and sorrows. She lay sick but five days of the smallpox, in which time she expressed so many wise and devout sayings, as is a miracle for her years. We both wished to have gone into the same grave with her. She lies buried in Tankersly church, and her death made us both desirous to quit that fatal place to us; and so the week after her death we did, and came to Hamerton, and were half a year with my sister Bedell. Then my husband was sent for to London, there to stay, by command of the High Court of Justice, and not to go five miles from that town, but to appear once a month before them. We then went again to my cousin Young's, in Chancery Lane: and about Christmas my husband got leave to go to Frog-Pool, in Kent, to my brother Warwick's; where, upon the 22nd of February 1655, I was delivered of a daughter, whom we named Ann, to keep in remembrance her dear sister, whom we had newly lost. We returned to our lodgings in Chancery Lane, where my husband was forced to attend till Christmas 1655; and then we went down to Jenkins, to Sir Thomas Fanshawe's; but upon New Year's Day my husband fell very sick, and the scorbutic again prevailed, so much that it drew his upper lip awry, upon which we that day came to London, into Chancery Lane, but not to my cousin Young's, but to a house we took of Sir George Carey, for a year. There by the advice of Doctor Bathurst and Doctor Ridgley, my husband took physic for two months together, and at last, God be praised! he perfectly recovered his sickness, and his lip was as well as ever.

In this house, upon the 12th day of July in 1656, I was delivered of a daughter, named Mary; and in this month died my second daughter, Elizabeth, that I had left with my sister Boteler, at Frog-Pool, to see if that air would recover her; but she died of a hectic fever, and lies buried in the church of Foots Cray. My husband, weary of the town, and being advised to go into the country for his health, procured leave to go in September to Bengy, in Hertford, to a little house lent us by my brother Fanshawe.