Life of Sir William Petty 1623 - 1687/Chapter VI

by Lord Edmond Fitzmaurice

 

CHAPTER VI

DOMESTIC AFFAIRS

1667-1678

 

Marriage—Offer of a peerage—Housekeeping in 1672—Character of Sir William Petty—Correspondence with Lady Petty—Family troubles—Business affairs—John Aubrey—The farmers of the revenue—Commitment for contempt—Portrait by Sir Peter Lely—Southwell as an adviser—Colonel Vernon.

In 1667 Sir William, who was now forty-four years of age, married Lady Fenton, the widow of Sir Maurice Fenton, and daughter of Sir Hardress Waller, one of the most distinguished of the Parliamentary officers. Sir Hardress, as already seen, had materially assisted Dr. Petty at the time of the survey, by becoming one of the securities in a bond for the punctual execution of the contract. His signature appears to the warrant for the execution of Charles I. At the Restoration he suffered for his opinions. Narrowly escaping the death penalty, he was imprisoned for life in the Tower, and appears to have died there.^[1]Aubrey describes Lady Fenton as 'a very beautiful and ingenious lady, browne, with glorious eyes.' Her tastes, combined with a certain love of splendour, are contrasted by Evelyn with the simple habits of Sir William. 'When I,' he says, 'who have knowne him in meane circumstances, have been in his splendid palace, he would himself be in admiration how he arrived at it; nor was it his admiration for splendid furniture or the curiosities of the age; but his elegant lady could endure nothing mean, or that was not magnificent. He was very negligent himself, and rather so of his own person, and of a philosophic temper. "What a to-do is here," would he say; "I can lie in straw with as much satisfaction."... She was an extraordinary wit as well as beauty.'^[2]

Some bantering lines, signed 'Dorothy Anwacker,' thus allude to his marriage: —

'Petty complains that nature was unkind,
In that she made him heavy-eyed and blind,
Never considering that the mighty three,
Fortune, Love, Justice, were more blind than he.

'The Blind were all his friends, for understand,
It was blind fortune gave him all his land.
Blind love, in her he had gave him a wife,
Rich, fair, and civil, without brand or strife.'^[3]

'This is the fourth day,' Sir William writes from Dublin, in the autumn of 1667, to Captain Graunt, 'since my wife's arrival in the town, and I thank God that her presence and conversation have been a continual holy day unto me; so as I have declined all other business till this time, the better to entertain her.' 'I am almost weary of living,' he says a few weeks later, 'did not my wife, as she is at this moment doing, refresh me with the lute strings, to which purpose I am contented that our dreadful account should be inflamed with two packets of lute strings, which will cost about 17 or 18 shillings.'^[4]

The following letter gives an insight into the troubles of furnishing in 1668: —

Sir William to Lady Petty.

'I have sent an inventory of such goods as we have. Consider what you have of your own, and then consider also what more is next necessary to be bought, to the value of about 300l.; whereof a good part must be in linen; as also a pair of horses, about 50l.; with another pair, about 60l.; and a pair for loading, to make them up to six. I suppose we may have them here, either bays or blacks. The great art will be in buying these horses, next to the finding means to pay for them.'^[5]

By his marriage Sir William became connected with the family of his friend, Sir Robert Southwell, and they now addressed each other in their correspondence as cousins.^[6]

About the time of his marriage, Sir William appears to have been offered a peerage; but there was a condition annexed—a round contribution to the Exchequer of the impecunious King. The offer came at a peculiarly inopportune moment, when his house in London had just been destroyed, and in the midst of his struggle with the farmers of the revenue. It appears to have been made through the Bishop of Killaloe, a friend of Lady Petty; the title offered, according to Aubrey, being that of Baron Kilmore.^[7]

To the Bishop Sir William replied as follows: —

'My Lord,—I thank you on my wife's behalf for your good intentions; but is it better for me at this time to buy titles, or to get me a house and furniture, whereby I may do for your Lordship as your Lordship hath done for me; and to rebuild my ruins at London; to pay my year's rent; to restore the iron works and fisheries of Kerry; to buy off my incumbrances, and to carry on the just and necessary war against Lord Kingston?

'I will not tell your Lordship what I think of people who make use of titles and of tools; nor would I fall into the temptation of doing the like. The end of those things will be like that of the Dublin tokens. I had rather be a copper farthing of intrinsic value, than a brass half-crown, how gaudily soever it be stamped and guilded. I might have had those things a long time ago, for the third part of what your Lordship propounds. Beside, if ever a thirst of that kind should take me, I hope to quench it at the very fountain, where those matters are most clear and wholesome. Herewith then, I thank your Lordship for the honour you intended me, and if I can serve your Lordship's friend by being his broker in the market of ambition, let him give me his selling price, and employ your Lordship's most thankful, etc., etc.,^[8]

'William Petty.'

The death at this moment of John Petty, who had managed his affairs in Ireland and understood the labyrinth of suits in which they were involved, not only deprived him of a near relative, but of a trusted adviser. Sir William's marriage in some respects also increased his troubles. The 'war with Lord Kingston,' which is frequently referred to in his papers, was originally undertaken on behalf of Lady Petty's son by her first husband, whose cause, once espoused by Sir William, was pushed by him with characteristic determination. A Mr. Napper also, who had married Sir William's only sister, died, and left his wife and family dependent upon his brother-in-law. Sir William was not wanting to his duty. Writing to Southwell, he says: 'I am, and ever shall be, a friend, and as an only brother to my sister and hers; and will do for them as for my own self; but God knows how long I shall be able to act for either. Let her doubt nothing of those steady principles whereby I have ever acted.'^[9] The desponding tone of his letter was no doubt owing to the losses he had himself sustained. 'Sir William,' Lady Petty says, writing to Lady Ingoldsby, 'lost about 4,000l. by the fire of London; has lately paid about 2,000l. for the "yearly value" (which is more than the land is worth); has expended more than 5,000l. in Kerry, without a penny return; hath laid out for William Fenton about 1,500l. more than he hath received; is now paying 700l. of Sir Michael Fenton's debts; and lives all the time on money taken up at interest. Consider that I have neither jewels, plate, nor house to put my head in.'^[10]

Sir William himself writes in the same strain to Mr. Waller: 'Exchange being at the intolerable rate of ten per cent., and we having contracted many debts for furnishing our house, it behoves us to be frugal;'^[11] and Mr. Waller's reply appearing not altogether satisfactory, Sir William in his answer goes a little into details. 'As to your housekeeping,' he says, 'upon perusal of the accompte, I find there has been about eleven in family: viz. yourself, Crookshank, Cary, Antrobus, Sency, Harry, Bryan, and the groom, Jane, Margaret and Mary; besides my cousin, before Crookshank came. Now I see no necessity of above four, yourself, Crookshank, a groom, and maid. I also find there has been spent in housekeeping since my departure above 250l.; at which rate the whole year's expense must come to 340l.; nothing being reckoned for Marshall, Rutter, or several other agents in the country; which being put together and spending proportionately, will amount to between 400l. and 500l.; whereas I think 200l. is very fair for doing all my business out of Kerry. I also find that in the same three quarters of a year there hath been spent in law, letters, and travelling expenses, and agents' salaries, about 350l., which in the whole year will amount to above 450l.; whereas I conceive that about half the same would very well suffice. To be short, I conceive that comparing the business which hath been done with your accounts, that about 400l. may defray the charges of the lands, letters, travelling charges, dyet, horsement, and two servants' wages in Dublin; more than which I neither can nor will expend, both for the premises and all your salaries, considering that you have a house, furniture, and horses, over and above the sum; which cannot be worth less than 50l. or 60l. per annum. I now perceive what hath rained me, forasmuch as till now I never could come to the sight of any of my accounts; and being kept in perpetual darkness.'^[12]

At this period Sir William was almost continuously in Ireland. 'As for my health,' he writes to Lord Anglesea from Dublin, 'it is ordinarily well. What I do here are matters of recreation or business, or mixt. The first sort are such things as I exercised myself with before the age of twenty, to delude myself that I am now as then. The second sort of my business is to rectify double charges in the Exchequer, and prevent double payments, to contest with proud Beggars, and, lastly, I thank God, to provide employment for 300 useful artisans and labourers without profit to myself. The last sort are "Political Arithmetick;" and the "Political Anatomy of Ireland;" whereupon I think depends the Political Medicine of that country; and these things too without passion or interest, faction or party; but as I think according to the Eternal Laws and Measures of Truth. As for complaints, the Poor ever complained against the Rich; one endeavoured to cheat or oppress the other; and those out of power did ever find fault with those that are arm'd with it. Trading was ever dead among the Lazy and Ignorant; nor is it any more than good luck for the Ingenious and Industrious to thrive, or for the Innocent to be punished as malefactors. But if you would have me pitch upon the partialitys which may diminish our grievances in Ireland, I shall shortly do it as well as I can; and, I hope, without reflection on any person in power or envy of his preferment; altho' I do not think that shifty and transient expedients, or any gratifying of humours or opinions, can produce any permanent advantage; for I ever fear'd the Act of Settlement (how much I own it ought to be preserved) not to have been built upon so firm ground, as ought to have been had at the price.'^[13]

As already seen, the house which he had erected in Lothbury had been totally destroyed in the Great Fire. The disaster was serious, but never perhaps did the elasticity of his mind come out more strongly. No sooner was he aware of the extent of his losses than he set to work to repair them. He at once addressed a paper of inquiries from Dublin to Captain Graunt, in order to ascertain the plan proposed for the restoration of the City. 'What,' he inquires, 'do the several parties give as the provocation of God unto this vengeance on London; and to what action or motion does this providence incline them? ' He soon had made up his own mind on what he intended to do himself. 'I intend,' he said, replying to his own inquiry, 'God willing, to introduce the use of brick into the city; for I find that a sixth part more housing may be built upon my ground, than with stone, and at less charge.'^[14]

The versatility and pertinacity which this letter exhibits, and the fund of humour which enriched an otherwise serious nature and enabled him to see the comic side of events and to laugh over his own failures, were the gifts which enabled him to surmount his various troubles. He builds houses in London and Dublin; reads papers before the Royal Society; keeps up his interest in medicine; commences a metaphysical treatise; plunges deeply into political economy; not only translates the Psalms into Latin verse, but also what he irreverently termed 'the catterwouling songs' of Sir Peter Pett of the Board of Admiralty, one of his colleagues on the Council of the Royal Society; writes a quantity of good Latin and bad English original verse; builds a new kind of chariot, not to mention the 'double bottom;' and does all these things in the intervals of his endless suits with the farmers of the revenue, and the battle with Lord Kingston, besides keeping up a large private correspondence. He gets a 'custodium' of his lands in Kerry, and 'is gone,' Lady Petty despairingly writes to Sir Robert Southwell, 'upon the unlucky place himself; which she is very sorry for, considering how unfit he is to ride in such dangerous places.'^[15] He draws up schemes for the education of his own children and for Southwell's son Edward; he dabbles in theology, and consoles himself in dreamy and rather mystical speculations on the character and nature of the Deity, for the terrestrial troubles which he suffers owing to 'there being always some devilish enemy, who sows tares amongst the corn at night.'^[16] His old habit of mimicry was also an unfailing source of consolation; and he could not resist falling back upon it notwithstanding his constant resolves to abandon a practice too dangerous for unsettled times. He could speak 'now like a grave orthodox divine; then falling into the Presbyterian way; then to Fanatical, to Quaker, to Monk, and to Friar, and to Popish Priest,' all of which Evelyn declares 'he did with such admirable action and alteration of voice and tone, as it was not possible to abstain from wonder, and one would sweare to heare severall persons, or forbear to think he was not in good earnest, an enthusiast, and almost beside himself. Then he would fall out of it into a serious discourse; but it was very rarely he would be prevailed upon to oblige the company with the faculty, and that only amongst most intimate friends. My Lord D. of Ormond once obtained it of him, and was almost ravished with admiration; but by and by he fell upon a serious reprimand of the faults and miscarriages of some Princes and Governors, which, though he named none, did so sensibly touch the Duke, who was then Lieutenant of Ireland, that he began to be very uneasy, and wished the spirit layed, which he had raised; for he was neither able to endure such truths, nor could he but be delighted. At last he turned his discourse to a ridiculous subject, and came down from the joint-stool on which he had stood, but my lord would not have him preach any more.'^[17]

Sir William was now the father of two children: John, born in February 1669; and a daughter. But in 1670 both son and daughter died, apparently of small-pox, in Dublin. From this time forward Lady Petty evinced a great and natural dislike to the idea of returning to the Irish capital. The fate of her two children is alluded to in a letter from Sir William to Lady Petty in 1671. 'I did not forget upon the 17th and 18th,' he says, 'to commemorate the translation of our dear children; but without any regret or chagrin, and with much pleasant contemplation upon their blessed estate and condition, practicing as well as I could how to resign our best things to the disposure of God and to acquiesce perfectly in his will. I hope you have done the same and no more.'^[18]

In 1672 Lady Petty had another daughter, Anne.

Sir William to Lady Petty.

'Dublin: 13° July 1672.

'I hope, my Dearest, That this will find you safely delivered, the news whereof will be of all others most welcome. I am very weary of this separation, but hope to make this one the Prevention of any more. Otherwise this it selfe had been intollerable. I and my affaires do still mend, tho' I shall trouble you with none of them. Onely I wish that you have or may get such monyes as are necessary without troubling your mind in the least. I presume Ewing has ere this payd the 30^li and that the Lothbury rents, due about the 7^th instant, have done somewhat, whatever Beechers prove. But as to this point I say, as in my last, do any thing rather then entertayne an anxious thought. Draw what you will, I can pay it at sight. I thinke powerfully of you and pray as often for you. You may repay this care and kindness, onely by sending mee the Newes of your being well; and that I have now 2 strings to my bow, and that you are patient under the providences of God, and will forgive the Injuryes of my absence, Who neverthelesse am

'Yours entirely,
'W. P.

'Let me know particularly how you did this last night for I have dreamt very much about you.'

'Dublin: 16° July 1672.

'Notwithstanding the necessity I had to stay here, I am full of perplexity that I did not breake away from all my businesse to be with you. I did allwayes presume upon our deare friend, Dr. Cox, his kindnesse and care of you, and his goodnesse is almost halfe the cause why I am not with you. I should now write a great many lynes of thankes to him, but pray shew him this letter, that he may see I write nothing to that purpose, as conceiving it too big a worke to be performed by words. I desire that hee would appoint a name to our Child which I trust to God is by this time borne and well. If it be a Girle, I except against your name onely because it rymes to Petty.^[19] Why may it not be Anna Maria, the name of both your sisters, or Katherine, the Queenes name; And if a boy, why not Charles or James? To conclude, desire Dr. Cox to helpe you alsoe in this weighty matter.

'For my owne part my businesse is and shall be, night and day, though without ostentation, to think of you and pray for you, and to make our being more quiet and comfortable hereafter than hitherto. In these endeavors I remaine,

'Yours intirely,
'W. P.'

'I vehemently fear,' Sir William told Lady Petty, 'that an Irish estate cannot exist without the owner daily, for sense and inspection. But I would have you satisfy yourself of this matter by your own actual experience upon the place.'^[20] Lady Petty, however, continued to be very reluctant to leave England, for a few days after we find Sir William writing to her as follows:—

'Aug. 20, 1672.

'To yours of the 13th my deerest, I say God is angry with us, that we cannot meet without so much inconvenience. In short I cannot stir from Ireland, unless all I have done should relapse again. I am a slave and a prisoner, nor did I ever believe that you could come without inconvenience; wherefore stay where you are, and let us pray and withal endeavour that the time may be shortened.' He very soon, however, repented of his consent, as only a week afterwards he writes to Lady Petty: ' In my last perceiving your indisposition to come hither, I said that then you might stay there. But opinions and even lawes against nature are not stable and permanent. Wherefore I say again now, why may you not take a time before All Hallows tide to come to me, leaving your family as it is and bringing only a man and a maid. If your train and attendance in your journey be not great and splendid, consider that here you are sufficiently known, and therefore shall not want these outward signs to shew who you are. Well, I say again, methinks you might come with one man and a maid, and make any shift rather than let me be here alone and as it were a prisoner: aye a slave for your sake and concernments.... I am in the fairest way to beget a thoro' settlement in my affairs that there ever yet was. Let the work not fall to ruin or decay by my absence hence, neither let me work here without the best wages, your company.'

Such entreaties were irresistible, and in consequence Lady Petty went over to Ireland early in the autumn. She had not been long there before anxieties, of far greater consequence than pecuniary embarrassments, or the tortuous processes of the law, made her regret that she had yielded to her husband's entreaties. The infant daughter left in London was taken dangerously ill, and it was long doubtful whether she would not succumb. Writing to Dr. Cox, the physician under whose care she was placed, Sir William says: 'We have received your several letters. In giving you all the thanks we at present can for your patient and affectionate care, we can acquiesce in the will of God by whom all these things came to pass. How smart the blow is and how sore the place whereon it lights, and what a concurrence there hath been of several other perplexities, many know, and my poor wife thinks it an aggravation that she is again with child. But be things how they will, there is one short remedy for all, viz. That they are the will of God, which we pray may be done. Hopes of better news do a little flatter nature, but fail much of satisfying my understanding that we shall be happy even in that: wherefore I again conclude, God's will be done. As for my wife she hath a reciprocation of sharp resentments and stupidity, and is now lately fallen into her tickling cough, &c, and these things too must be borne. What more to say I know not, but to beg you to have the same courage for us as I here pretend to, and to impress the same upon all the servants that attend the uncomfortable employment, assuring them that they all shall be considered, whatever the event of their labors be. I know of no better use for all men can spare above necessary food and raiment, than to do such justice, and it is the honestest way of giving it to the children for whom we are solicitous.'^[21]

The child recovered. We get some glimpses of her, and of her brother Charles, born in 1673, in the following letter, written two years after:—

Sir William to Lady Petty.

'London, 31 July 1675.

'Yours of the 20^th instant mentioning your return to Dublin, put us all into a flame of joy. Charles rejoyceth, but little dreames how hee must bee whipt for all his Rogueryes when you come, which work unless you come suddenly I must undertake myselfe. But as for My-Anne I protest I think her, taken altogether, the most desirable child I know. I assure you shee is neither forward nor abates a jot of her lusty feeding and sound sleeping, nor of her merry humor and pretty tricks, for shee also growes a mighty mimick and mocker of her brother Charles, and when hee bawles, will counterfet a wondring at him, as well as Lacy.^[22] If you doubt what I say, make hast to disprove mee upon the place, and let mee know where I shall meete you, but I will not come far, for I will not leave my children. I was 2 nights at Windsore, without pleasure, upon your accompt, and would goe to Tunbridge and the Bath, and to Rumsey, but for that reason. The great point you have to do before you come away is to fix with my brother Tom and James, taking security of them; for I need neither of them, and do with my owne hands what Jemmy did, with far lesse trouble then that of calling upon him, &c. Beware of caprices about our writings and deeds. There is one Capt. Shieres, that lives neere Dublin, who would be a fit instrument in our busines, If Gwyn be not. God blesse my brother Tom. I wish it sincerely, but feare to have much dealing with him. Jemmy is much more likely, if hee can bee fixt right. God direct you in these matters: they are your brothers and your father's children, wherefore I would endure much. These my deare are the cheife direccions. I have to give you thanks for sending us mony or rather for getting it in. You need none. Crukshank may pay it immediately to merchants without troubling my Brother Tom, who sends no accompt, notwithstanding his promises; nor answers any letter, but writes a deale of the most frivolous stuffe imaginable.

"When your busines is done, wayte a little for a faire passage to Chester water, which I think is the best way for your condicion, it being summer time and the nights short and light....

'I wrote in my last the excellent newes of our quitrents being reduced to a very good pitch. There hath since fallen some water into our wine; but upon that accident, I take heart againe, and hope to make it better than before. On Tuesday next we shall have another Tug, especially about the arrears.

'I hope you have been at Balliboy and among other matters settled with Fletcher, who I believe intends to remove his goods to Cloncurry, which should be prevented by seizing y^m for our arrears.

'Adieu my dearest,
'W. P.'

Sir William's hands appear at this time to have been full of business of all kinds. He was again urging upon the English Government the adoption of a plan for the improvement of the Irish revenue, a subject rarely out of his thoughts. To do justice to his plan it was absolutely necessary for him to be upon the spot, and he was therefore reluctant to leave England. Under these circumstances Lady Petty, who had become the mother of a second son, Henry, born October 22, 1675, undertook to remain in Ireland, and to supply her husband's place. If anything could mitigate her separation from the children to whom she was so tenderly attached, it must have been the habit to which Sir William constantly adhered of keeping up a correspondence at once most regular and minute. Every circumstance, however trivial, relating to the children which could interest a mother was almost daily dispatched to her, while her conduct was assisted and directed in all the points where advice could be of use.

Interspersed with these directions are instructions for her guidance in business. 'I suppose,' Sir William writes in May from London, 'this letter will come to your hand before your arrival in Kerry. I thought to have said Oceans about that Gulf of trouble; but know not what to say more, than what was in the letters whereof you have a Catalogue, nor was I willing to perplex you with new and perhaps contradictory directions. Wherefore be courageous, let not every cross affect you; let none break your rest; talk with every body; hear all their tales, true or false; see with your own eyes where you can; compare receipts with the Books and Rent Rolls; make no confounding haste; seem to know and understand more than you do; cover your ignorance with silence, nods, shrugs, &c. Make no lasting nor great bargains rashly; let Jamesey keep a diary of all your actings, copy your letters of business, bundle up and endorse your papers; and let God be a light to your feet and a Lanthorn to your paths.'^[23]

'Sir,' he writes to Mr. Cosby of Balliboy, 'I must once more take the liberty of writing about the Quakers you keep in prison. The occasion of their being troubled was from their tythes. They say that although they cannot pay them in a formal way, yet they have always permitted you to take even what you please, so as for want of formality only, and no way prejudicial to you, they were put into the Bishop's Court, as they say, to accumulate a new crime upon them, viz. a contempt: which they say also was not want of appearance, but of form only. Now if upon the whole matter, these men do not deny the King's nor the Bishop's power nor jurisdiction, nor withold the Tythe, why should they be persecuted; whereby the commonwealth is deprived of their labour, and His Majesty's intentions, lately declared, frustrated; and the Church and yourself evil spoken of? You know that the way is not apostolical, nor is there one Quaker less in Ireland, since you took this course, but rather the more; as His Majesty also observed in his declaration; and,' he sarcastically concludes, 'let me once more desire and advise you to quit this method of reducing them, and instead thereof try public preaching and particular admonitions of them from the Scripture; and the Lord bless you evermore.'^[24]

The following letter from William Penn alludes to this affair: —

'My old friend,—I have broacht y^t affaire to the great man. He took it marvellous kindly and desired me to give it him in writeing, promissing to name noe person, but upon assurance to thrive. Now I entreat thee most earnestly to have in writeing what was read to me of Eng(land) and Ir(eland) as to revenue. The bearer waites wholly for it, for this night I am to goe to him again. I was with him yesterday about my own business, and then fell into discourse about this. Ireland took as well as England. Now is the crisis; therefore pray fail not, and if anything be to be done for the retriveing my business about the Lord Ranalagh, lett me have two words; and what progress is made in our Irish affaires there. I will run, goe, or doe ten times more for thee at any time. Noe more, but once more beseech you not to fail for both our sakes. In great hast.

'Thy sinceer friend
'Wm. Penn.

'Windsor: July 30, 1675.

'For my old and worthy friend Sir William Petty at his house in Pecedille. Speed and Care.'

Amongst others whose good opinion Sir William at this time gained was John Aubrey, the celebrated Wiltshire antiquarian.

John Aubrey to Sir William Petty.

'Draycot, July 17, 1675.

'Sir,—My quondam neighbour and ever honoured friend, Sir James Long, hath importuned me to leave my all till October to wayte on Him. I pass my time away here merrily in ingeniose conversation, and with very great Beautys. But notwithstanding all these very great divertisements, I cannot, nor shall not while I live, ever forget the kindness, the great favour, friendship, and honour, in my case, of my ever honoured friend Sir William Petty, to so unlucky and unfortunate a person as your humble servant. Truly, Sir William, I have been so battered with the afflictions of this world, that I am almost weary of it, and could I with a wish advance my fortune, it should be more to endeavour by way of retaliation and gratitude (which if I can plead to any virtue 'tis that) to express my thankfulness to two or three friends, whereof Sir W^m Petty is the chiefe: "Nescio quod me tibi temperat astrum."^[25] Could such a Monk, such an object as I am, think that Sir W^m Petty, who has so great concerns of his own, so great thoughts for the advancement of learning, so great thoughts for the propping up of a Government, would think upon John Aubrey? And since it is so, how can I express my thankfulness enough? I cannot do it to my mind, it is impossible, but I'll tell you what I'll do. Tis true I am no Oratour, but I will bring Compurgators to attest for me: the Bishop of Sarum, Mr. Wyld, Mr. Hooke, and this noble Baronet, all whom I mention for honours sake and upon the account of Friendship.'

'Sir William,' says Aubrey, 'hath told me that he hath read but little, that is to say not since 25 Aetat, and is of Mr. Hobbes, his mind, that had he read much, as some men have, he had not known so much as he does, nor should have made such discoveries and improvements.' Energy in action, according to his opinion, was the great requisite in life. There was 'much boggy ground in this world;'^[26] but he was ready to fight all his enemies to the bitter end, whether on firm ground or the opposite, whether they were his ancient foes of the Sankey type, who under the ægis of Shaftesbury and Buckingham were showing a renewal of activity, or the representatives of the dispossessed Roman Catholic owners, who would gladly have involved him and Sankey in a common ruin. He spends the whole of 1676, 1677, and 1678 in Ireland, engaged in one continuous struggle, sometimes up, sometimes down, sometimes fighting his own battles, sometimes those of others. His buoyancy and pugnacity appear even in the hour of defeat. 'Let me tell you,' he writes to Southwell in 1676, 'that even in this last storme, which has blown upon my concerns both in England and Ireland, I have (to shewe mine enemies that they cannot give me business enough) actually made and finished the chariot, which I was modelling in England.'^[27] Lady Petty is badly hurt in a carriage accident—it is to be hoped not in the chariot of Sir William's designing. At one moment he is himself prevented crossing the sea by the fear of the Barbary corsairs, who, under the guidance of some renegade pilots from Liverpool, were making the navigation of the Channel dangerous;^[28] at another he is wrecked on his way to England, and narrowly escapes losing his portmanteau and all his business papers. In 1677 he is very ill, but mind triumphs over body; and he grimly announces his wish that 'his friends and enemies should both alike know that he is in a much better condition to chastise the one and cherish the other than at any former period.' 'Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito' is his favourite quotation. He tells Aubrey that some men may accidentally have come into the way of preferment by lying at an inn and there contracting an acquaintance on the road; but he proposes to be the architect of his own fortunes, and does not expect to get legacies in the future, having observed that he had got very few in the past, and that they had not been paid; but he intends to claim his own.^[29]

The struggle with the farmers of the revenue was continuing with unabated fury, exasperated by the attempt made by the Lord-Lieutenant in 1674, and probably suggested by Sir William, to carry out a proper survey for revenue purposes of the assessments for the hearth money. Sir William, through the combined influence of his own obstinate determination not to give way, and that of his enemies to ruin him, at last succeeded in getting into Chancery, both in England and Ireland, and was arrested and imprisoned for contempt of court. 'The two Chanceries,' he says, writing to Southwell, 'the one of England and the other of Ireland, are two sore blisters upon my affairs. My throat is also sore with crying for relief; nor hath paying nor bleeding done me any good. I cannot continue the parallel between your fortune and mine in the Point of recovering Losses; those who wrong you are in Irons and Chains, and those who abuse me have Rods of Iron in their hands. However I am glad I have any fortunate friend, how much soever otherwise I am myself.'^[30]

The 'two Chanceries,' having once got Sir William into their clutches, showed no inclination to let go of him easily. He appears to have been partly indebted to his own want of caution for the trouble in which he found himself involved.^[31] 'This day,' he says, writing on February 10, 'about 11 o'clock, I and my Councile, one M^r Whitchett, were comitted Prissoners to a Serj^t-at-Armes by the Lord Chancellor,^[32] upon a very great mistake, as I think. The matter was this, viz.:—I drew up materials for a Bill to be preferred in Chancery against the farmers; and, as I used always to do, I gathered up all matters and motions which might have any affinity or relations to my intentions, expecting that my Councile would have made such alterations in matters and form, as might answer the practise of the Court. Whereupon he made a few notes up and downe my paper, as if he had thoroughly passed over it. But when I myself came to review it, I found he had not corrected some nonsense and other defects, which I myself had left in it—insomuch as I went to him, myself showed him his oversight, and desired him that he would take a special care of it, for that, although my matter was short, I would have it soe tempered by him as to give noe offence, nor spoile my business; telling him that I had several times suffered (as you know I have done), by oblique advantages which my adversaries have taken, upon some faults in the forme and cirkumstances, when they could not do it directly upon the matter. But hee having much business, let pass those two following points, viz.: I complained among other abuses the farmers had done me, that they (as I believed) had instigated my L^d Chancellor of England to speak sharply to mee; and that they stood laughing, whilst the dreadful grinding of your orator to the nether Millstone was denounced. And the point was this, that the farmers had given out That they would force your Orators plainest pretences at Common Law into Chancery; and that they had turned the Chancellors of both Kingdoms against him. Upon the reading of these paragraphs, and having heard both Sir Whitehall and myself speake somewhat in explanation and excuse of the matter, he gave sentence as aforesaid: saying that he could easily pass over those reflections, which was in those words upon himselfe; but not what concerned a principal Minister in England—meaning (as we all think) the L^d Chancellor.—Now see my misfortune: that I who had lately received an account out of England, how my L^d Chancellor there publickly expressed himself to this purpose, viz.: That though he had granted an Injunction against mee with some fávour to the farmers, yet that he did not intend that by delays or other devises, the Justice of the Court should be discredited; and therefore bidd them to dispatch their cause by Easter—upon which I was greatly pleased, and my thought of my Lord Chancellors former severity was quite banish't away. I say that my misfortune was that when I was well reconciled to my Lord Chancellor's proceeding, I should be thought to throw dirt in his face, whilst I was endeavouring to wipe off what I conceived to have been thrown against him by others. Now the mistake I think my Lord Chancellor was in, was that he punishes me for telling him that some others abused him, without even questioning those whom I accused for so doing. There be two or three points more, which I lett pass, for I do not like to believe that persons in great place doe mistake so much as it seems to me they doe. In brief, I am now a prisoner for having scandalized the L^d Chancellor of England; whereas I verily believed I was doing the quite contrary, and at the time when his Lordship was as kind to me as I desired. All that I can accuse myself of, is that I took such a method as was not absolutely necessary; but which way I scarce had proceeded. It is an easy matter to say "An asses ears are horses," as mine are now esteemed. I presume you will hear this story with much flourish among mine enemies; but in these two above mentioned points does lie the Ratio formalis of my suffering.... Deare Cousin, I am sure you will have some sympathy with me in these troubles, and I am sorry for it. I am in the right, and my adversaries are in the wrong: at least I am soe happy as to think soe—and my mind is soe quiet, that when I have done my letters, I intend to make an end of translating the 104^th Psalm into Latin verse, for which, amongst all others, Buchanan himselfe was most famous. I do not hope to reach the admirable purity of his Latin, but in some other points to come neare him.'^[33]

Sir William's imprisonment was of short duration. While it lasted this translation of the 104th Psalm was his great solace. The occupation was one for which he could at least plead the example of Clarendon, who during his first exile had consoled himself by writing 'Contemplations and Reflections on the Psalms of David applied to the Troubles of this Time.'^[34] 'The Chancellors of both Kingdoms,' Sir William tells Southwell, speaking of this translation, 'are the cause why it was done at all; and ye farmers why it was done noe better. I have sent it you, because I said "I have done it;" but desire you not to show it, at least not as mine, for I do not value myself by my Poetry, no more than by my discretion; but the pride I take is in the Love of Truth and of a very few Friends. But you will ask why I meddled with the Poem at all—to which I answer you that my mind was sick, and that I tost and travelled from place to place, to find rest; which when I had in vain sought from truth and reason, I fell to this poetry; and when I was vexed in considering ye wicked works of man, I refreshed myself in considering the wonderful works of God; and wrote about fifty of these same verses the same night I was committed, after I had written my post letters.'^[35] 'Lord,' he exclaims soon afterwards, unable to help smiling at the absurdity of the situation, 'that a man 54 years old, should, after 36 years discontinuance, return to the making of verses, which boys of fifteen years old can correct, and then trouble Clerks of the Council and Secretaries of the Admiralty to read them.'^[36]

'I am not well,' he writes to Southwell in the autumn of 1677, 'yet better in my mind than in my body. My legs swelling; my belly is not only big but hard; and my breath short; and methinks I see the same horse bridled and saddled for me that carried off your father.... My belly seems to myself a wooden belly.'^[37] But he pulls through, and after a time is able to sit up at a table, and at once writes to Lady Petty to keep up her spirits. 'To let you see,' he continues, 'how waggish I am, I acquaint you that I had my picture drawn this week by Mr. P. Lely in a beard of 31 days growth, and in my owne hair without perewig, and in the simplest dress imaginable, without so much as a Band, and so as the picture is like myself, if I had never stirr'd from Romsey....^[38] I would not have you troubled at the apprehensions I take of my owne growing infirmities. I feele nothing serious, but severall things which require my care. I'll assure you my whole study is to make things cleare, and to naile loose things fast, for you and my children; and hope there are some about me (who should be your friends), that will prevent impostures from Rooks and strangers. As for others I am not solicitous. The first piece of my new care for my owne health is the fitting our garden for my exercise and diversion. The walks will be 1,000 ft. about, planted with the best walled fruit that Ireland affords. The stone and Brick wall will be ¹⁄₅ part of a mile, the House you sufficiently know is very meane, but 300l. will make an apartment which will serve you for a shift, for I am not furiously bent to the building of a great house, till I see a change in my affairs; altho' I do elude my melancholy sometimes by contriving many noble places upon paper....'^[39]

In 1677, the vicissitudes of English politics having led to the restoration of Ormonde to the Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland, Sir William saw the prospect brighten before him. There were still, however, difficulties and delays. 'My Lord Lieutenant upon your, and my lady as I think upon my own interest,' he wrote to Southwell, 'I believe would be glad I had some reasonable reliefe; but my Lord dreads either the trouble or the danger of doing it, (though I think nothing of either in the case) for when he has gone about it, there come the Chief Judges of each Bench and the King's whole learned counsel, all armed with prongs and pitchforks. They all agree in a deep sense of my sufferings; but breake up in irresolution and in some oblique expediente, without any direct remedy, soe as nothing is yett done.'^[40] The exorbitant quit-rent on his estate was, however, reduced; a judgment entered against the farmers, and his principal antagonist among them, one Sheridan, replaced by a friend, Dr. Robert Wood. In the same year he was appointed Judge of the Court of Admiralty, a post which, amongst other reasons, he was glad to occupy, because it relieved him of the onerous duty of serving the office of Sheriff, a post which, from his ownership of land in more counties than one, he was constantly liable to being called upon to accept.^[41]

The peace with the farmers, however, proved but a truce. Fresh quarrels soon arose, for the farmers appear to have resisted the execution of judgment in his favour by an appeal to the intervention of the King. Even in England it had not been unusual before the Civil War to stay legal proceedings by the issue of a writ rege inconsulto, which practically asserted the right of the King to interfere in private causes.^[42] One of the most discreditable chapters in the career of Bacon is that of his efforts to maintain this practice, which like other abuses lingered on in Ireland when it had ceased to exist in England. 'I say nothing now,' Sir William writes to Southwell in May 1677, 'of Poems and Scales of Creatures; you see now what these Farmers are; how they abuse the Chancellors of both kingdoms; how they fly to prerogative for protection. They have done all that knaves and fools, and that sharks and beggars could devise to do; all is nought. The delay of indulgence which I have suffered, will endanger my whole.'^[43]

He goes on to tell Southwell that he sees no chance of any redress: nought indeed save 'promises and vapours;' but he is determined to continue the fight 'in the hope of the resurrection of slain truth, like the seven sons in the Macchabees.'^[44] Southwell, in a letter full of sympathy and good sense, advised a little prudence and moderation under the circumstances. 'You may imagine,' he writes, 'whether it be not a grief to me, to see you involved in the anguish and depredation of the law, beginning the year with one complaint and ending it with twenty; running in consequence the hazard of your life or the ruin of your wife and children by the life of others. Nor can I foresee a period of such calamities, till you resolve absolutely on other measures than what you have taken. But if "Right be Immortall," yet you have not a Corporation of lives to assert it, in all that variety of channels and courses wherein it runs. And there are some wrongs whose scourge must be remitted to God Almighty alone; and therefore if even soe dear a thing as the Right Eye be offended, pluck it out; and enter maimed into the smooth things and Peace of this Life, which is next door to the Joys of another. And suffer from me this expostulation, who wish you prosperity as much as any man living; and having opportunities to see and hear what the temper of the world is towards you, I cannot but wish you well in Port, or rather upon the firm land, and to have very little or nothing at all left to the mercy and goodwill of others. For there is generally imbibed such an opinion and dread of your superiority and reach over other men in the wayes of dealing, that they hate what they feare, and find wayes to make him feare that is fear'd. I do the more freely open my soul to you in the matter, because I see 'tis not for the vitalls that you contend, but for outward limbs and accessories, without which you can subsist with plenty and honor; and therefore to throw what you have quite away, or at least to put it in daily hazard, only to make it a little more than it is, is what you would condemn a thousand times over in another; and you would not think the reply sufficient, that there was plain right in the cause and justice of their side; for iniquities will abound and the world will never be reformed. After all this, I mean not that you should relinquish the pursuite of your £2,500, which is money out of your Pockett, and for which you are a debtor unto your family. But for other pretensions, lett them goe, for Heaven's sake; as you would a hot coale out of your hand; and strive to retire to your home in this place, where you had the respect of all, and as much quiet as could be in this life, before your medling with that pernicious businesse of the Farme; but you may reckon it as a Storme wherein you were seized, and if it has obliged you to throw overboard some rich Bales, 'tis but the common case, and what others doe for the safety of the rest.' He concludes by telling his friend to believe in his unaltered affection, even if he writes unpalatable truths; and that he 'will store him in an ebony cabinet, wherein,' he says, 'I keep, as in an archive, all the effects of your pen, for I look on them as materials fit for those that I would take most care of; and hope they will hand them over with like estimation.'^[45]

Sir William seems for the moment to have accepted Sir Robert's kindly advice. He replies to his friend with a growl, that he is reserving a place for the farmers in the 'Scale of Creatures,' which part, whenever it appears, will be entitled 'the Scale of Devils;' and he acknowledges that patience is at the moment comparatively easy, as, a final decision releasing the old quit-rents having at length been given in his favour, 'praise be to God, he had more ready money than his friend had ever known him to have, and yet not more than half of what he had nominally received, so much water had the Devil and his instruments put beside the mill.'^[46]

He was now contemplating a visit to England, having been three years continuously in Ireland; but he was not able to start till quite the end of 1679. Shortly after arriving in London he became the object of the attacks of Colonel Vernon,^[47] a discontended officer, and one of the professional bravoes of the day, who had just before been directing their violence against the persons of those who were obnoxious to their employers. The attacks of Colonel Blood on the Duke of Ormonde and of Sir John Sandys on Sir William Coventry were still fresh in the public mind. Vernon appears to have been a shabby imitation of Blood, if not actually one of the satellites of that notorious adventurer, who, for occult reasons, was shielded at Court and enjoyed a dangerous impunity.

Vernon now commenced a series of insulting attacks against Sir William, who, exasperated at length by repeated provocation, and by the advice of those 'who pretended to understand the punctilio of such affairs,' determined to resent the affronts which this Alsatian knight continued to put upon him in London. He struck the Colonel in the street with a cudgel, and, drawing his own sword, desired him to draw also. The Colonel, however, who seems to have been as cowardly as he was insolent, took refuge 'in the Blue Posts Ordinary;' and, having bolted the doors, appeared at the upper windows and at that safe distance addressed the by-standers, accusing Sir William of cowardice. Then Vernon sent one East with a challenge, which Sir William accepted, and a day was fixed for a duel; but when the time arrived, the Colonel was nowhere to be found. In the events which followed, the Duke of Monmouth appears upon the scene on behalf of the Court, and sends for both Sir William and Colonel Vernon, with a view to reconciling the parties. Colonel Vernon, however, declines his advice, and files an information in the King' s Bench against Sir William; and Sir William is fined 200l. and costs. But before the time is over, Vernon, East, and their servants, violently assault Lady Petty's relative, Mr. James Waller, and a friend, Mr. Hughes, and East gets badly wounded in the encounter. Waller thereupon files an information against East; and the Colonel and his accomplice are on the point of being convicted, when the Crown enters a nolle prosequi. Then Sir William brings an action against Vernon for slander, but before the trial comes on, Vernon, accompanied by his brother, runs the pike of his cane into Sir William's left eye, ' who saw him not.' Then Sir William draws his sword and Vernon decamps, but hearing Sir William is still breathing vengeance, applies to the King's Bench for personal protection, and Sir William appears ultimately to have been forced to give securities that he would keep the peace, 'and neither prosecute the bastinado nor the suit.'

And thus did this affair, which so strangely illustrates the manners of the period, at length terminate.^[48]

 

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1. Noble, Lives of the Regicides, ii. 285.
2. Evelyn's Memoirs, v. 95-97.
3. Petty MSS. Sir William Fenton, son of Lady Petty by her first marriage, died on March 18, 1671.
4. Petty to Graunt, Oct. 13, Nov. 28, 1667.
5. Dublin, Oct. 15, 1668.
6. Lady Petty was descended from Sir Thomas Southwell, whose brother Anthony was godfather to Sir Robert Southwell.
7. Bodleian Letters, ii. 485. The estuary now known as the Kenmare River is marked on Sir William Petty's map 'Killmare.'
8. Earl of Kerry's MS. The original is stated to be among the MSS. of Sir Thomas Phillips.
9. To Southwell, Sept. 19, 1671.
10. July 18, 1671.
11. Nov. 14, 1671.
12. Jan. 9, 1672.
13. Dec. 17, 1672.
14. To Graunt, August 1667.
15. Aug. 11, 1683.
16. To Southwell, April 1684.
17. Evelyn's Memoirs, ii. 95-97, 1, 417.
18. March 19, 1671. John Petty was buried in St. Bride's Church, Dublin, Jan. 28, 1670.
19. Elizabeth, Betty; Petty.
20. July 30, 1672.
21. Jan. 25, 1673.
22. The famous actor.
23. May 4, 1675.
24. Jan. 24, 1675. The King's 'Declaration' is the Declaration of Indulgence of 1672.
25. 'Scit Genius, natale comes qui temperat astrum.'— Horace, Ep. II. 2, 187.
26. To Lady Petty, April 27, 1680.
27. Jan. 13, 1677.
28. To Lady Petty, April 27, 1680. On June 20, 1631, Baltimore had been plundered by Algerine corsairs, who were piloted by one Hacket, a native of Dungarvan. He was afterwards taken and executed. The story is the subject of one of Davis's poems.
29. Bodleian Letters, ii. pp. 486 and 487.
30. To Southwell, Feb. 13, 1677.
31. Feb. 10, 1677.
32. The Lord Chancellor of Ireland.
33. To Southwell, Feb. 10, 1677.
34. Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors, iv. 44, ed. 1868.
35. To Southwell, March 10, 1677.
36. To Southwell, April 3, 1677.
37. Sept. 27, Nov. 10, 1677.
38. This picture is now the property of Mr. Charles Monck, of Coley Park, Reading. In the original picture Sir William was represented holding a skull in his hand, but the skull has been painted out. It may also be mentioned in connection with the above letter, that the word 'beard' was frequently used at the time for any hair on the lips and chin.
39. Oct. 6, 1677.
40. To Southwell, June 10, 1677.
41. To Mr. Herbert, Aug. 1, 1676.
42. See Campbell, Lives of the Chancellors, ed. 1808; Life of Bacon, ch. iii. p. 73.
43. May 10, 1677.
44. Aug. 22, 1677.
45. Sept. 15, 1677.
46. Nov. 10, 1677.
47. The name of a Colonel Vernon appears in the 'History of the Survey,' and he may have had some old quarrel with Sir William Petty in connection with it.
48. 'The State of Matters between Sir William Petty and Colonel Vernon.' Petty MSS.