Charles II's love of dogs See No. 90. 44 ester's satire, His very dog at Connal board Sits grave and wise as any lord." History of Insipids. The first of these advertisements was probably written by the John Ellis mentioned in it, but the second shows the hand of the witty king himself. 91. Charles II and His Dogs (1660) A Smooth Black DOG, less than a Greyhound, with white under his breast, belonging to the King's Majesty, was taken from Whitehal, the eighteenth day of this instant June, or thereabout. If any one can give notice to John Ellis, one of his Majesties Servants, or to his Majesties Back-Stayrs, shal be well rewarded for their labour. We must call upon you again for a Black Dog between a Greyhound and a Spaniel, no white about him onely a streak on his Brest and his Tayl a little bobbed. It is His Majesties own Dog, and doubtles was stoln, for the Dog was not born nor bred in England, and would never forsake his Master. Whosoever findes him may acquaint any at Whitehal, for the Dog was better known at Court than those who stole him. Will they never leave robbing His Majesty? Must he not keep a Dog? This Dog's place (though better than some imagine) is the only place which nobody offers to beg. Mercurius Publicus, June 28 ,1660. By GILBERT and broad- clergyman. He took an important part in the 92. The Five Mile Act (1665) England was at this time in a dismal state. The plague continued for the most part of the summer in and about London, and began to spread over the country. of Clarendon moved the king to go to Salisbury. plague broke out there. So the court went to Oxford, The earl But the Revolution of where another session of parliament was held. And tho' was re warded with the bishopric of Salisbury. In spite of his political activity he was conscithe work of entious in his office. on the side of toleration. His most important work was the History of his Own Times, a candid and fairly accu rate record of the period. The Bishop of London the conduct at sea was severely reflected on, yet all that 1688, and was necessary for carrying on the war another year was given. The house of commons kept up the ill-humour they were in against the non-conformists very high. A great many of the ministers of London were driven away by the plague; tho' some few staid. Many churches being shut up, when the inhabitants were in a more than ordinary disposition to profit by good sermons, some of the non-conformists upon that went into the empty pulpits, and was always preached; and, it was given out, with very good success: and in many other places they began to preach openly, not reflecting on the sins of the court, and on the ill usage that they themselves had met with. This was represented very odiously at Oxford. So a severe bill was brought in, requiring all the silenced ministers to take an oath, declaring it was not lawful on any pretence whatsoever to take arms against the king, or any commissioned by him, and that they would not at any time endeavour an alteration in the government of the church or state. Such as refused this were not to come within five miles of any city, or parliament borough, or of the church where they had served. This was much opposed in both houses, but more faintly in the house of commons. The earl of Southampton spoke vehemently against it in the house of lords. He said, he could take no such oath himself: for how firm soever he had always been to the church, yet, as things were managed, he did not know but he himself might see cause to endeavour an alteration. Doctor Earl, bishop of Salisbury, died at that time. But, before his death, he declared himself much against this act. He was the man, of all the clergy, for whom the king had the greatest esteem. He had been his subtutor, and had followed him in all his exile with so clear a character, that the king could never see or hear of any one thing amiss in him. So he, who had a secret pleasure in finding out any thing that lessened a man ordered the ministers to return on pain of forfeiting their offices. Silenced ministers," had been driven from i.e. those who the church in 1662 for refusing to take the oaths required by the formity. Act of Uni Bv SAMUEL PEPYS. See No. 90. "The ruins of the city were 436 acres (viz. 373 within the walls, esteemed eminent for piety, yet had a value for him beyond Gilbert Burnet, History of his Own Times (London, 1809), 93. The Great Fire (1666) [September] 2d (Lord's day.). Some of our mayds sitting up late last night to get things ready against our feast to-day, Jane called us up about three in the morning, to tell us of a great fire they saw in the City. So I rose and and 63 with- slipped on my night-gowne, and went to her window; and out them, but within the liberties); of the six and twenty wards it utterly de stroyed fifteen, and left eight others shattered and half burnt; it consumed eighty-nine churches, four of the city gates, Guildhall, many public structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, a great number of stately edifices, 13,200 dwelling-houses, and 460 streets." thought it to be on the back-side of Marke-lane at the farthest; but, being unused to such fires as followed, I thought it far enough off; and so went to bed again, and to sleep. About seven rose again to dress myself, and there looked out at the window, and saw the fire not so much as it was and further off. So to my closett to set things to rights after yesterday's cleaning. By and by Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have been burned down to-night by the fire we saw, and that it is now burning down all Fish-street, by London Bridge. So I made myself ready presently, and walked to the Tower, and there got up upon one of the high places, Sir J. Robinson's little son going up with me; and there I did see the houses at that end of the bridge all on fire, and an infinite great fire on this and the other side the end of the bridge; which, among other people, did trouble me for poor little Michell and our Sarah on the bridge. So down, with my heart full of trouble, to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who tells me that it begun this morning in the King's baker's house in Pudding-lane, and that it hath burned St. Magnus' Church and most part of Fish-street already. I down to the water-side, and there got a boat and through bridge, and there saw a lamentable fire. Poor Michell's house, as far as the Old Swan, already burned that way, and the fire running further, that in a very little time it got as far as the Steele-yard, while I was there. Everybody see J. Evelyn, endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into the river or bringing them into lighters that lay off; poor people staying in their houses as long as till the very fire touched them, and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of stairs by the waterside to another. And, among other things, the poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows and balconys, till they were, some of them burned, their wings, and fell down. Having staid, and in an hour's time seen the So " From the inscription on a monu ment erected in 1671 near Pudding Lane, to commemo rate the fire. On the fire, Diary. "It is not, indeed, imaginable how extraordi nary the vigi lance and activity of the King and Duke was, even labouring in person." Evelyn. Sir Thomas fire rage every way; and nobody, to my sight, endeavouring to quench it, but to remove their goods, and leave all to the fire; and having seen it get as far as the Steele-yard, and the wind mighty high and driving it into the City; and everything after so long a drought, proving combustible, even the very stones of churches; . . . I to White Hall with a gentleman with me (who desired to go off from the Tower, to see the fire, in my boat); to White Hall, and there up to the King's closett in the Chappell, where people come about me, and I did give them an account dismayed them all, and word was carried in to the King. So I was called for, and did tell the King and Duke of Yorke what I saw, and that unless his Majesty did command houses to be pulled down, nothing could stop the fire. They seemed much troubled, and the King commanded me to go to my Lord Mayor from him, and command him to spare no houses, but to pull down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him, that if he would have any more soldiers he shall; and so did my Lord Arlington afterwards, as a great secret. Here meeting with Captain Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, and Creed with me to Paul's, and there walked along Watling-street, as well as I could, every creature coming away loaden with goods to save, and here and there, sicke people carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods carried in carts and on backs. At last met my Lord Mayor in Canning-street, like a man spent, with a handkercher about his neck. To the King's message, he cried, like a fainting woman, "Lord! what can I do? I am spent: people will not obey me. I have been pulling down houses, but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it." That he needed no more soldiers; and that, for himself, he must go and refresh himself, having been up all night. So he left me, and I him, and walked home, seeing people all almost distracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire. The houses, too, so very thick thereabouts, and |