No More Learning

Paolo,
Alas! what do I say? Alas, weep not.
Thy death I do not ask.
Oh, sir-
O lady!
Paternal altars I will come to kneel
With thee. Who more unfortunate than I?
There shall our mingled thoughts ascend.
Thou shalt invoke my death, the death of him
Thou dost abhor. I too will pray that Heaven
Thy vows will hear, forgive thy hatred and
Pour joy into thy soul, and long preserve
The youth and beauty in thy looks, and give thee
All thy desire-all, all! -thy consort's love and
Beautiful children of him!
At my
Only thou dost
And what carest thou for it, if
I must abhor thee? I mar not thy life.
To-morrow I no longer shall be here.
Francesca, if thou dost abhor me, what
Is that to me? and this thou askest, thou?
And does thy hate disturb my life? and these
Funereal words are thine? — Thou, beautiful
As a bright angel whom the Deity,
In the most ardent transport of his love,
Created, dear to every one, and thou
A happy consort, - darest to talk of death.
Me it befalls that for vain honor's sake


## p. 11281 (#501) ##########################################

SILVIO PELLICO
11281
Francesca -
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca -
I have been dragged from fatherland afar,
And lost. Unhappy wretch! I lost a father.
Hope always clung to re-embrace him. He
Would not have made me an unfortunate,
If I had opened up my heart to him;
And would have given me her- her whom I've lost
For aye.
What dost thou mean? Talk of thy lady-
And dost thou live so wretched robbed of her?
Is love so prepotential in thy breast?
Love should not be the only flame that burns
In the bosom of a valorous cavalier.
Dear to him is his brand, and dear the trump
Of fame; noble affections these: pursue them.
Let not love make thee vile.
Is this?
What words are these?
Wouldst thou have pity? Wouldst thou still be able
Somewhat to cease thy hatred, if I should
With my good sword acquire some greater fame?
One word of thy command, 'tis done. Prescribe
The place, the years. To shores the most remote
I'll make my way; the graver I shall find
The enterprises, and the fuller fraught
With danger, so the sweeter they will be
To me, because Francesca laid them on me.
Honor and hardihood before have made
My sinews strong, but thy adorèd name
Will make them stronger. And, with thee intent,
Of tyrants now my glories will not be
Contaminate. Another crown than bay,
But woven still by thee, will I desire.
One single plaudit thine, one word, one smile,
One look-
Eternal God! what sort of man
Francesca, I love thee, I love thee,
And desperate is my love.
What do I hear!
Am I in a delirium? What didst
Thou say?
XIX-706
I love thee.
They might o'erhear.
So sudden? Dost not
Why so bold? hush, hush!
Thou lov'st me! Is thy flame
know I am thy own


## p. 11282 (#502) ##########################################

11282
SILVIO PELLICO
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo -
Francesca
Paolo-
―
Sister-in-law? So quickly canst thou cast
Into oblivion thy lady lost?
Oh, wretched me! let go this hand of mine!
Thy kisses, oh, are crimes!
No, no; my flame
Is not a sudden flash. A lady I
Have lost, and thou art she; of thee I spoke;
For thee I wept; thee did I love, do love thee,
Shall love thee always till my latest hour!
And even if I must in the world below
Th' eternal penance bear of wicked love,
Eternally I'll love thee more and more.
Shall it be true? Was't me that thou didst love?
The day that at Ravenna I arrived,
Yes, from that day I loved thee.
Leave off; thou loved'st me?
-
―――――
Then some time this flame
I did conceal, but still one day it seemed
That thou hadst read my heart. Thy steps thou wast
Directing from thy maiden chambers toward
Thy secret garden. I, beside the lake,
Stretched out at length among the flowers,
Thy chambers watched, and at thy coming rose
Trembling. Upon a book thy wandering eyes
Seemed to me not intent; upon the book
There fell a tear. Flushed with emotion, thou
Didst draw thee near to me, and then we read, —
Together read: "Of Lanciotto, how
Love bound him,”—and alone we were, without
Any suspicion near us. Then our looks
Encountered one another, and my face
Whitened, thou didst tremble, and with haste
Didst vanish.
Thou, alas!
What an escapade! With thee
The book remained.
It used to make me
Sojourn. Here 'tis.
Here 'tis.
Look here and see;
From thy own eyes.
It lies upon my heart.
happy in my far
See, here the page we read.
here fell the tears that day,
Translation of J. F. Bingham.


## p. 11283 (#503) ##########################################

11283
SAMUEL PEPYS.
(1633-1703)
BY ARTHUR GEORGE PESKETT
EN THE front of the Pepysian Library at Magdalene College,
Cambridge, is inscribed the sentence from Cicero that Sam-
uel Pepys chose as his motto: "Mens cuiusque is est quisque »
-"The mind makes the man. " To those who regard him as a mix-
ture of garrulous diarist and painstaking official the motto may seem
inappropriate, for seen in this aspect alone he reaches no high level
of intellectual attainment; but to all who
have followed his career to its close and
learned to know him better, the phrase suf-
ficiently indicates his attitude towards the
world at large. Himself a man of keen
intelligence and great practical sagacity,
he was extraordinarily quick to gauge and
appraise the intelligence of others. Numer-
ous passages of his diary attest this ready
insight into the character and intellectual
merits of his contemporaries, and the de-
light that he took in the society of those
who, possessing information on any subject,
no matter what its nature, could impart it
agreeably. Pleasant discourse with friend
or chance acquaintance upon topics grave or gay, trivial or weighty,
is as sure to be recorded as important details of business or of State
policy. He was a man of unbounded curiosity: to use his own quaint
expression, he was always "with child to see any strange thing. "
With these more intellectual traits was united an inexhaustible
capacity for purely animal enjoyment of life. It is this universality
of human interest that makes him one of the most engaging charac-
ters in history, and his diary a unique production of literature. It
was this same keen zest and interest in human affairs that stimulated
him to become one of the most zealous and capable secretaries that
the Admiralty Board has ever had. And we must add also that it
was this many-sided enjoyment of life that led him frequently to in-
dulge in pleasures that shock the stricter decorum of the present age.
These characteristics, moreover, were combined with a naïve simplicity

SAMUEL PEPYS


## p. 11284 (#504) ##########################################

11284
SAMUEL PEPYS
and a childlike vanity that amaze, as much as they delight, the readers
of his artless self-revelations. As a public functionary, if he did not
quite reach the high standard of integrity required in these days, he
was at any rate far in advance of many — perhaps the majority — of his
contemporaries in the employ of the State, while his patriotism was
always above question. Though constitutionally timid, he neverthe-
less possessed that moral courage which prevents a man from shirk-
ing his duty in moments of danger or difficulty. All through the
Plague, when there was a general flight from London, he remained
in or near town, and went on with his official work much as usual;
nor does the diary contain a single expression of self-satisfaction at
his own conduct in the matter. In disposition he was irascible and
prone to undignified outbursts of temper, of which he was afterwards
heartily ashamed. As to his religious views,- for they must be taken
into account in estimating his character,- he lived and died in the
accepted faith of a Christian; but his religion was strongly tinged
with superstition, and exercised no potent influence over his early
life. He was a regular attendant at church, and an uncompromising
critic of sermons unless his attention was distracted by a fair face in
a neighboring pew. He exclaims "God forgive me if he strings his
lute or reads "little French romances >> or makes up his accounts on
a Sunday; but he omits to seek the Divine forgiveness when, after
attending two services, he flirts with a pretty young woman who he
fears "is not so good as she ought to be. " He loved and admired
his wife, and was jealous of her; but he was a faithless spouse, and
gravely recorded in his diary the minutest particulars of his amours.
Such, in its curious blending of strength and weakness, meanness
and greatness, was the character of Samuel Pepys. A distinguished
critic, James Russell Lowell, has called him a Philistine. If the term
implies a man of somewhat coarse tastes, with no aptitude for pro-
found thought, with no fine literary instinct and no subtle sense of
humor, then and then only is the reproach a just one; for few will
admit that a man of acknowledged capacity in affairs, one who after
his great speech in defense of the Navy Board at the bar of the
House of Commons was greeted as the most eloquent speaker of the
age and as "another Cicero,” — a man who was president of the
Royal Society, and was pronounced by competent judges a fit person
to be provost of the great foundation of Henry VI. at Cambridge,-
could fairly be called a Philistine in the ordinary sense of the word.
But Pepys may justly claim to be judged by his works; and two
abiding memorials bear striking testimony to the varied merits of his
singular personality, -the Library and the Diary. It may be useful
to give a short account of each of them.
-
It seems probable that Pepys began his book collecting in the
year 1660; when his appointment, through the influence of his cousin


## p. 11285 (#505) ##########################################

SAMUEL PEPYS
11285
and patron Sir Edward Montagu, to a secretaryship in the office of
Mr. Downing, and then to the clerkship of the Acts, gave him for the
first time a sufficient income. Frequent references to the purchase of
books will be found in the Diary, the binding sometimes proving a
greater attraction than the contents. For instance, he writes May 15th,
1660: "Bought for the love of the binding three books: the French
Psalms in four parts, Bacon's 'Organon,' and 'Farnab. Rhetor. '» So
by slow degrees was amassed a library which at its owner's death
contained three thousand volumes,- -an unusual size for a private
library of that day. As clerk to the Acts, and afterwards secretary
to the Admiralty,- an office which he held from 1669 till the change
of government in 1689,- he acquired a considerable number of valua-
ble books and MSS. on naval affairs, which he intended to serve as
material for a projected history of the English navy. Among other
treasures are five large volumes of ballads or "broadsides," mostly in
black-letter; three of State Papers, the gift of John Evelyn; three
volumes of portraits in "taille-douce," collected apparently in re-
sponse to a suggestion in a long and valuable letter from Evelyn,
dated August 12th, 1689;* three of calligraphical collections; six of
prints general; two of frontispieces in taille-douce; two of views
and maps of London and Westminster; several early printed books,
including some by Caxton and Wynkyn de Worde; the 'Libro de
Cargos,' —a MS. list of the provisions and munitions of each ship in
the Spanish Armada, compiled by the "Proveedor" of the Fleet,
Bernabe de Pedroso; two MS. volumes of the Maitland poems; an
account of the escape of Charles II. from Worcester, taken down in
shorthand from the King's own dictation; and many other rarities
too numerous to mention.
These books- except a few of the largest, which are in the
cupboards of an old writing-table- were placed in twelve handsome
presses of dark stained oak, in which they may still be seen in Mag-
dalene College. The arranging, indexing, and cataloguing of so large
a collection occupied much of Pepys's time, and that of his able
assistant Paul Lorrain; and the whole library bears evidence to the
minute care bestowed on its preservation. It was left by will to
his nephew and heir John Jackson, second son of his sister Paulina,
who once occupied the curious position of domestic servant in her
brother's house. John Jackson was of great help to Pepys in the
collection of his prints and drawings; traveling on the Continent, ap-
parently at his uncle's expense, and bringing home numerous treas-
ures to be enshrined in the library. On Pepys's death in 1703, the
library passed into Jackson's hands; and on his death in 1724, it was
transferred, in accordance with the diarist's will, to his own and his
* See 'Diary and Correspondence of John Evelyn' (London, Bickers &
Son, 1879), Vol. iii. , pages 435 ff.


## p. 11286 (#506) ##########################################

11286
SAMUEL PEPYS
nephew's college of St. Mary Magdalene, there to be preserved in
perpetuity. An interesting testimony to the care bestowed on the
library by Jackson is afforded by the following entries, with his sig-
nature attached, in one of the catalogues: "Review'd and finally
Placed August 1st, 1705: No one of ye 2474 Books contained in the
foregoing Catalogue being then wanting. Jackson. " "Vid. rest of
ye Library in Additament. Catalogue consisting of 526 Books more,
making the whole Number just 3000. Jackson. " In another cata-
logue are two contemporary drawings of the library in York Build-
ings, taken from different aspects. Only seven presses are there
depicted. They are somewhat incorrectly drawn, and the position of
the books must be due to the artist's fancy, or represent an arrange-
ment afterwards discarded, as it is quite unsuitable to the present
interior construction.
One would like to know how many of these books were read
by their owner. During the period covered by the Diary, his work
at the Navy Office and his numerous social engagements seem to
have left him little time for reading, and in later life his defective
eyesight must have rendered continuous or rapid reading extremely
difficult; but of this later period our knowledge is unfortunately
scanty and derived chiefly from letters. On the whole, we are dis-
posed to regard him rather as a diligent collector than as a serious
student of literature.
It remains to speak of the Diary. The MS. in six volumes, writ-
ten in shorthand, lurked unnoticed in the library till the beginning
of this century, when it was unearthed by the Master of Magdalene.
It was then transcribed by the Rev. John Smith, and a large portion
of it published with valuable notes by Lord Braybrooke. A fresh
transcription was subsequently made by the Rev. Mynors Bright,
President of Magdalene, whose edition in six volumes, incorporating
much more of the original, appeared in 1875-9. Another edition,
now in course of completion in nine volumes (one of supplementary
matter), under the editorship of the well-known antiquarian Mr. H. B.
Wheatley, contains everything that can be printed with due regard
to propriety. The question has often been raised, and will probably
never be satisfactorily answered, whether Pepys intended his Diary to
be published. To us it seems almost certain that he would have
been shocked at the idea of its becoming public property, when we
consider the secrecy with which he kept it, and his pathetic remark
in the last entry of all (May 31st, 1669), that henceforward, owing to
his failure of eyesight, it would have to be kept by his people in
longhand, who would "set down no more than is fit for them and
all the world to know. " We must remember too that in later life,
*One of these is reproduced in Mynors Bright's edition of the Diary, Vol.
iv. , page 59.


## p. 11287 (#507) ##########################################

SAMUEL PEPYS
11287
Pepys's most intimate associates were men of great worth and dig-
nity, who held him in the highest possible esteem; and we cannot
but feel that in the evening of life, amid such surroundings, he would
look back with regret to the follies of his youth and desire them to
be buried in oblivion. But fortunately for the world, whatever his
intentions may have been, the Diary has been published; and who
shall adequately tell of its contents? To describe it in any detail
would be to touch on every phase of the stirring life of London dur-
ing ten years of an eventful period of our history. The return of
Charles and the settlement of the government, the first Dutch war
and the shameful blockade of the Thames, the Plague, and the Fire,
all fell within this period. But apart from events of national import-
ance, the daily social life of the time is reproduced here with such
simple and striking fidelity that we seem to see with our own eyes
all that Pepys saw,-the stately court pageants, the frivolity of the
gallants and fair ladies who thronged the palace, the turmoil of
the narrow dirty streets, the traffic of barges and rowboats on the
Thames, and all the thousand incidents of life in the great metropo-
lis. We can follow him on board ship when he crossed to Holland
with Sir E. Montagu to bring back the King, and learn an infinity of
details about life at sea; we can go with him for a day's outing into
the country, where he enjoys himself with the ardor of a schoolboy;
we can accompany him in graver mood through the dismal devasta-
tion brought by the Plague, and see the smoking ruins and the home-
less fugitive crowds of the "annus mirabilis "; we can enter with him
into church, theatre, and tavern, all of which he frequented with
assiduous and impartial regularity. We are told what he ate and
drank, what clothes he and his wife wore and how much they cost;
he acquaints us with his earnings and spendings, the vows that he
made to abstain from various naughtinesses and the facility with
which he broke them, the little penalties that he inflicted on him-
self, such as 12d. for every kiss after the first,- and all the little
events of his daily life, which however trivial never fail to interest,
such is the charm with which they are told. He admits us to the
inmost recesses of his house, where prying eyes should never have
come: we see him in a fit of ill temper kicking his maid-servant or
his wife's French poodle, or even pulling the fair nose of Mrs. Pepys
herself. He gives us unlovely details of his illnesses, often the
result of his own shortcomings; he makes us the confidants of his
flirtations,— and they were neither choice nor few: yet for all this,
we are never angry.
To us he is and will ever remain the one in-
comparable Diarist.
A. G. Peskett


## p. 11288 (#508) ##########################################

11288
SAMUEL PEPYS
UN
NTIL the appearance, within three or four years, of the edition
of The Diary of Samuel Pepys' due to the labors of Mr.
Henry B. Wheatley, a large part of this famous record had
remained unknown to the general public; in spite of the fact that
at least two editions, in several volumes each, prepared respectively
by the Rev. Mynors Bright and Lord Braybrooke, were supposed
to present everything essential in the narrative. As Mr. Wheatley
observes in the preface to his edition, with the first appearance of
the Diary in 1825 scarcely half of Pepys's manuscript was printed;
the Rev. Mr. Bright's edition omitted about a fifth of it; and Lord
Braybrooke's edition, famous in the Bohn Library, also makes con-
siderable omissions. This recent edition in nine volumes, by Mr.
Wheatley, is now recognized as the standard one, and is likely long
to remain such. It is the only edition printing practically the entire
Diary, and correcting numerous errors in the translation of Pepys's
shorthand manuscript more or less noticeable in preceding editions.
The following selections from the Diary are copyrighted, and are
reprinted in the Library' by permission of the Macmillan Company
of New York, acting also for Messrs. George Bell & Sons, the English
publishers.
EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY
Ο
CTOBER 13th, 1660. ] To my Lord's in the morning, where
I met with Captain Cuttance, but my Lord not being up I
went out to Charing Cross, to see Major-General Harrison
hanged, drawn, and quartered; which was done there, he looking
as cheerful as any man could do in that condition.
He was pres-
ently cut down, and his head and heart shown to the people, at
which there was great shouts of joy. It is said that he said that
he was sure to come shortly at the right hand of Christ to judge
them that now had judged him; and that his wife do expect
his coming again. Thus it was my chance to see the King be-
headed at White Hall, and to see the first blood shed in revenge
for the blood of the King at Charing Cross. From thence to my
Lord's, and took Captain Cuttance and Mr. Sheply to the Sun
Tavern, and did give them some oysters. After that I went
by water home, where I was angry with my wife for her things
lying about, and in my passion kicked the little fine basket,
which I bought her in Holland, and broke it, which troubled me
after I had done it.
Within all the afternoon setting up shelves
in my study. At night to bed.


## p. 11289 (#509) ##########################################

SAMUEL PEPYS
11289
14th (Lord's day). Early to my Lord's, in my way meeting
with Dr. Fairbrother, who walked with me to my father's back
again, and there we drank my morning draft, my father having
gone to church and my mother asleep in bed. Here he caused
me to put my hand among a great many honorable hands to
a paper or certificate in his behalf. To White Hall chappell,
where one Dr. Crofts* made an indifferent sermon, and after it
an anthem, ill sung, which made the King laugh. Here I first
did see the Princess Royal since she came into England.
[November 22d, 1660. ] This morning came the carpenters to
make me a door at the other side of my house, going into the
entry, which I was much pleased with. At noon my wife and
I walked to the Old Exchange, and there she bought her a
white whisk and put it on, and I a pair of gloves, and so we
took coach for Whitehall to Mr. Fox's, where we found Mrs. Fox
within, and an alderman of London paying £1,000 or £1,400 in
gold upon the table for the King, which was the most gold that
ever I saw together in my life. Mr. Fox came in presently
and did receive us with a great deal of respect; and then did
take my wife and I to the Queen's presence chamber, where he
got my wife placed behind the Queen's chair, and I got into the
crowd, and by-and-by the Queen and the two Princesses came
to dinner. The Queen a very little plain old woman, and noth-
ing more in her presence in any respect nor garb than any ordi-
nary woman. The Princess of Orange I had often seen before.
The Princess Henrietta is very pretty, but much below my
expectation; and her dressing of herself with her hair frized
short up to her ears, did make her seem so much the less to me.
But my wife standing near her with two or three black patches
on, and well dressed, did seem to me much handsomer than she.
Dinner being done, we went to Mr. Fox's again, where many
gentlemen dined with us, and most princely dinner, all provided
for me and my friends; but I bringing none but myself and
wife, he did call the company to help to eat up so much good
victuals. At the end of dinner, my Lord Sandwich's health was
drunk in the gilt tankard that I did give to Mrs. Fox the other
day.
[November 3d, 1661, Lord's Day. ] This day I stirred not out,
but took physique, and all the day as I was at leisure I did read
* Dr. Herbert Croft, Dean of Hereford.
A gorget or neckerchief worn by women at this time.


## p. 11290 (#510) ##########################################

11290
SAMUEL PEPYS
in Fuller's 'Holy Warr,' which I have of late bought; and did try
to make a song in the praise of a liberall genius (as I take my
own to be) to all studies and pleasures, but it not proving to my
mind I did reject it, and so proceeded not in it. At night my
wife and I had a good supper by ourselves of a pullet hashed,
which pleased me much to see my condition come to allow our-
selves a dish like that, and so at night to bed.
4th. In the morning, being very rainy, by coach with Sir W.
Pen and my wife to Whitehall, and sent her to Mrs. Hunt's, and
he and I to Mr. Coventry's about business, and so sent for her
again, and all three home again, only I to the Mitre (Mr. Raw-
linson's), where Mr. Pierce the Purser had got us a most brave
chine of beef and a dish of marrowbones. Our company my
uncle Wight, Captain Lambert, one Captain Davies, and purser
Barter, Mr. Rawlinson, and ourselves, and very merry. After
dinner I took coach, and called my wife at my brother's, where
I left her, and to the Opera, where we saw The Bondman,'
which of old we both did so doat on, and do still; though
to both our thinking not so well acted here (having too great
expectations) as formerly at Salisbury-court. But for Betterton,
he is called by us both the best actor in the world. So home
by coach, I 'lighting by the way at my uncle Wight's and staid
there a little, and so home after my wife, and to bed.
[March 30th, 1662, Easter Day. ] Having my old black suit
new furbished, I was pretty neat in clothes to-day, and my boy,
his old suit new trimmed, very handsome. To church in the
morning, and so home, leaving the two Sir Williams to take the
Sacrament, which I blame myself that I have hitherto neglected
all my life, but once or twice at Cambridge. Dined with my
wife, a good shoulder of veal well dressed by Jane, and hand-
somely served to table, which pleased us much, and made us
hope that she will serve our turn well enough. My wife and I
to church in the afternoon, and seated ourselves, she below me,
and by that means the precedence of the pew which my Lady
Batten and her daughter takes, is confounded; and after sermon
she and I did stay behind them in the pew, and went out by
ourselves a good while after them, which we judge a very fine
project hereafter to avoyd contention. So my wife and I to walk
an hour or two on the leads, which begins to be very pleasant,
the garden being in good condition. So to supper, which is also
well served in. We had a lobster to supper, with a crabb Pegg


## p. 11291 (#511) ##########################################

SAMUEL PEPYS
11291
Pen sent my wife this afternoon, the reason of which we cannot
think; but something there is of plot or design in it, for we have
a little while carried ourselves pretty strange to them. After
supper to bed.
[August 23d, 1662. ] I offered eight shillings for a boat to
attend me this afternoon, and they would not, it being the day of
the Queen's coming to town from Hampton Court. So we fairly
walked it to White Hall, and through my Lord's lodgings we got
into White Hall garden, and so to the Bowling-green, and up to
the top of the new Banqueting House there, over the Thames,
which was a most pleasant place as any I could have got; and
all the show consisted chiefly in the number of boats and barges;
and two pageants, one of a King, and another of a Queen, with
her Maydes of Honour sitting at her feet very prettily; and
they tell me the Queen is Sir Richard Ford's daughter. Anon
came the King and Queen in a barge under a canopy with 10,000
barges and boats, I think, for we could see no water for them,
nor discern the King nor Queen. And so they landed at White
Hall Bridge, and the great guns on the other side went off.
But that which pleased me best was, that my Lady Castlemaine
stood over against us upon a piece of White Hall, where I glut-
ted myself with looking on her. But methought it was strange
to see her Lord and her upon the same place walking up and
down without taking notice one of another, only at first entry
he put off his hat, and she made him a very civil salute, but
afterwards took no notice one of another; but both of them now
and then would take their child, which the nurse held in her
armes, and dandle it. One thing more: there happened a scaf-
fold below to fall, and we feared some hurt, but there was none,
but she of all the great ladies only run down among the com-
mon rabble to see what hurt was done, and did take care of
a child that received some little hurt, which methought was so
noble. Anon there came one there booted and spurred that
she talked long with. And by and by, she being in her hair,
she put on his hat, which was but an ordinary one, to keep the
wind off. But methinks it became her mightily, as every thing
else do. The show being over, I went away, not weary with look-
ing on her, and to my Lord's lodgings, where my brother Tom
and Dr. Thomas Pepys were to speak with me.
[January 13th, 1662-63. ] My poor wife rose by five o'clock in
the morning, before day, and went to market and bought fowls


## p. 11292 (#512) ##########################################

SAMUEL PEPYS
11292
and many other things for dinner, with which I was highly
pleased, and the chine of beef was down also before six o'clock,
and my own jack, of which I was doubtfull, do carry it very well.
Things being put in order, and the cook come, I went to the
office, where we sat till noon and then broke up, and I home,
whither by and by comes Dr. Clerke and his lady, his sister,
and a she-cozen, and Mr. Pierce and his wife, which was all my
guests. I had for them, after oysters, at first course, a hash of
rabbits, a lamb, and a rare chine of beef. Next a great dish of
roasted fowl, cost me about 30s. , and a tart, and then fruit and
cheese. My dinner was noble and enough. I had my house
mighty clean and neat; my room below with a good fire in it;
my dining-room above, and my chamber being made a with-
drawing-chamber; and my wife's a good fire also.
I find my
new table very proper, and will hold nine or ten people well,
but eight with great room. After dinner the women to cards
in my wife's chamber, and the Dr. and Mr. Pierce in mine, be-
cause the dining-room smokes unless I keep a good charcoal
fire, which I was not then provided with. At night to supper,
had a good sack posset and cold meat, and sent my guests away
about ten o'clock at night, both them and myself highly pleased
with our management of this day; and indeed their company was
very fine, and Mrs. Clerke a very witty, fine lady, though a little
conceited and proud. So weary, so to bed. I believe this day's
feast will cost me near £5.
[July 13th, 1663. ] Hearing that the King and Queen are rode
abroad with the Ladies of Honour to the Park, and seeing a great
crowd of gallants staying here to see their return, I also staid
walking up and down, and among others spying a man like Mr.
Pembleton (though I have little reason to think it should be he.
speaking and discoursing long with my Lord D'Aubigne), yet how
my blood did rise in my face, and I fell into a sweat from my
old jealousy and hate, which I pray God remove from me. By
and by the King and Queen, who looked in this dress (a white
laced waistcoat and a crimson short pettycoat, and her hair dressed
à la negligence) mighty pretty; and the King rode hand in hand
with her. Here was also my Lady Castlemaine rode among the
rest of the ladies: but the King took, methought, no notice of
her; nor when they 'light did any body press (as she seemed to
expect, and staid for it) to take her down, but was taken down
by her own gentleman. She looked mighty out of humour, and


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had a yellow plume in her hat (which all took notice of), and
yet is very handsome, but very melancholy; nor did any body
speak to her, or she so much as smile or speak to any body. I
followed them up into White Hall, and into the Queen's presence,
where all the ladies walked, talking and fiddling with their hats
and feathers, and changing and trying one another's by one an-
other's heads, and laughing. But it was the finest sight to me,
considering their great beautys and dress, that ever I did see in
all my life. But above all, Mrs. Stewart in this dress, with her
hat cocked and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little Roman
nose, and excellent taille, is now the greatest beauty I ever saw,
I think, in my life; and if ever woman can, do exceed my Lady
Castlemaine, at least in this dress: nor do I wonder if the King
changes, which I verily believe is the reason of his coldness to
my Lady Castlemaine.
[December 31st, 1664. ] At the office all the morning, and
after dinner there again, dispatched first my letters, and then to
my accounts, not of the month but of the whole yeare also, and
was at it till past twelve at night, it being bitter cold; but yet I
was well satisfied with my worke, and above all, to find myself,
by the great blessing of God, worth £1,349, by which, as I have
spent very largely, so I have laid up above £500 this yeare above
what I was worth this day twelvemonth. The Lord make me
forever thankful to his holy name for it! Thence home to eat a
little and so to bed. Soon as ever the clock struck one I kissed
my wife in the kitchen by the fireside, wishing her a merry new
yeare, observing that I believe I was the first proper wisher of it
this year, for I did it as soon as ever the clock struck one.
So ends the old yeare, I bless God, with great joy to me, not
only from my having made so good a yeare of profit, as having
spent £420 and laid up £540 and upwards; but I bless God I
never have been in so good plight as to my health in so very
cold weather as this is, nor indeed in any hot weather, these ten
years, as I am at this day, and have been these four or five
months. But I am at a great losse to know whether it be my
hare's foote,* or taking every morning of a pill of turpentine, or
my having left off the wearing of a gowne. My family is, my
wife, in good health, and happy with her; her woman Mercer, a
pretty, modest, quiett mayde; her chamber-mayde Besse, her cook
* As a charm against the colic.


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mayde Jane, the little girl Susan, and my boy which I have had
about half a yeare, Tom Edwards, which I took from the King's
chappell, and a pretty and loving quiett family I have as any man
in England. My credit in the world and my office grows daily,
and I am in good esteeme with everybody, I think.
[January 23d, 1664. ] . To Jervas's, my mind, God for-
give me, running too much after some folly; but elle not being
within, I away by coach to the 'Change, and thence home to din-
ner. And finding Mrs. Bagwell waiting at the office after dinner,
away she and I to a cabaret where she and I have eat before.
Thence to the Court of the Turkey Company at Sir
Andrew Rickard's to treat about carrying some men of ours to
Tangier, and had there a very civil reception, though a denial of
the thing as not practicable with them, and I think so too. So to
my office a little and to Jervas's again, thinking avoir rencontrais
Jane, mais elle n'était pas dedans. So I back again and to my
office, where I did with great content ferais a vow to mind my
business, and laisser aller les femmes for a month, and am with
all my heart glad to find myself able to come to so good a reso-
lution, that thereby I may follow my business, which and my
honour thereby lies a bleeding. So home to supper and to bed.
24th. Up and by coach to Westminster Hall and the Parlia-
ment House, and there spoke with Mr. Coventry and others about
business and so back to the 'Change, where no news more than
that the Dutch have, by consent of all the Provinces, voted no
trade to be suffered for eighteen months, but that they apply
themselves wholly to the warr. And they say it is very true, but
very strange, for we use to believe they cannot support them-
selves without trade. Thence home to dinner and then to the
office, where all the afternoon, and at night till very late, and
then home to supper and bed, having a great cold, got on Sunday
last, by sitting too long with my head bare, for Mercer to comb
my hair and wash my eares.
[March 22d, 1664-65. ] After dinner Mr. Hill took me with
Mrs. Hubland, who is a fine gentlewoman, into another room, and
there made her sing, which she do very well, to my great con-
tent. Then to Gresham College, and there did see a kitling killed
almost quite, but that we could not quite kill her, with such a
way: the ayre out of a receiver, wherein she was put, and then
the ayre being let in upon her revives her immediately; nay, and
this ayre is to be made by putting together a liquor and some


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body that ferments, the steam of that do do the work. Thence
home, and thence to White Hall, where the house full of the
Duke's going to-morrow, and thence to St. James's, wherein these
things fell out: (1) I saw the Duke, kissed his hand, and had
his most kind expressions of his value and opinion of me, which
comforted me above all things in the world, (2) the like from
Mr. Coventry most heartily and affectionately. (3) Saw, among
other fine ladies, Mrs. Middleton,* a very great beauty I never
knew or heard of before; (4) I saw Wallert the poet, whom I
never saw before. So, very late, by coach home with W. Pen,
who was there. To supper and to bed, with my heart at rest,
and my head very busy thinking of my several matters now on
foot, the new comfort of my old navy business, and the new one
of my employment on Tangier.
[August 30th, 1665. ] Up betimes and to my business of settling
my house and papers, and then abroad and met with Hadley, our
clerke, who, upon my asking how the plague goes, he told me
it encreases much, and much in our parish; for, says he, there
died nine this week, though I have returned but six: which is
a very ill practice, and makes me think it is so in other places;
and therefore the plague much greater than people take it to be.
Thence, as I intended, to Sir R. Viner's, and there found not
Mr. Lewes ready for me, so I went forth and walked towards
Moorefields to see (God forbid my presumption! ) whether I could
see any dead corps going to the grave; but as God would have
it, did not. But, Lord! how every body's looks and discourse in
the street is of death, and nothing else, and few people going up
and down, that the towne is like a place distressed and forsaken.
[September 10th, 1665, Lord's Day. ] Walked home; being
forced thereto by one of my watermen falling sick yesterday, and
it was God's great mercy I did not go by water with them yes-
terday, for he fell sick on Saturday night, and it is to be feared
of the plague. So I sent him away to London with his fellow;
but another boat come to me this morning, whom I sent to
Blackewall for Mr. Andrews. I walked to Woolwich, and there
find Mr. Hill, and he and I all the morning at musique and a
song he hath set of three parts, methinks very good. Anon
*Jane, daughter to Sir Robert Needham, is frequently mentioned in the
'Grammont Memoirs,' and Evelyn calls her "that famous and indeed incom-
parable beauty. "
Edmund Waller, born March 3d, 1605, died October 21st, 1687.


## p. 11296 (#516) ##########################################

11296
SAMUEL PEPYS
comes Mr. Andrews, though it be a very ill day, and so after
dinner we to musique and sang till about 4 or 5 o'clock, it
blowing very hard, and now and then raining; and wind and
tide being against us, Andrews and I took leave and walked to
Greenwich. My wife before I come out telling me the ill news
that she hears that her father is very ill, and then I told her I
feared of the plague, for that the house is shut up. And so she
much troubled she did desire me to send them something; and I
said I would, and will do so. But before I come out there hap-
pened newes to come to me by an expresse from Mr. Coventry,
telling me the most happy news of my Lord Sandwich's meeting
with part of the Dutch; his taking two of their East India ships,
and six or seven others, and very good prizes; and that he is
in search of the rest of the fleet, which he hopes to find upon
the Wellbancke, with the loss only of the Hector, poor Captain
Cuttle. This newes do so overjoy me that I know not what to
say enough to express it, but the better to do it I did walk to
Greenwich, and there sending away Mr. Andrews, I to Captain
Cocke's, where I find my Lord Bruncker and his mistress, and
Sir J. Minnes. Where we supped (there was also Sir W. Doyly
and Mr. Evelyn); but the receipt of this newes did put us all
into such an extacy of joy, that it inspired into Sir J. Minnes
and Mr. Evelyn such a spirit of mirth, that in all my life I never
met with so merry a two hours as our company this night was.
Among other humours, Mr. Evelyn's repeating of some verses
made up of nothing but the various acceptations of may and can,
and doing it so aptly upon occasion of something of that nature,
and so fast, did make us all die almost with laughing, and did
so stop the mouth of Sir J. Minnes in the middle of all his
mirth (and in a thing agreeing with his own manner of genius),
that I never saw any man so outdone in all my life; and Sir
J. Minnes's mirth too to see himself outdone, was the crown
of all our mirth. In this humour we sat till about ten at night,
and so my Lord and his mistress home, and we to bed, it being
one of the times of my life wherein I was the fullest of true
sense of joy.
[September 2d, 1666, 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 slipped on my
night-gowne, and went to her window, and thought it to be on


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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. Mag-
nus's Church and most part of Fish-street already. So 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 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 clamber-
ing from one pair of stairs by the water-side 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 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, and among
other things the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs. —
lives,
and whereof my old schoolfellow Elborough is parson, taken fire
in the very top, and there burned till it fell down: I to White
Hall (with a gentleman with me who desired to go off from the
XIX-707


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SAMUEL PEPYS
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 after-
wards, 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 creat-
ure 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.