“Mr. Pepys read to me his Remonstrance, skewing with what malice and
injustice he was suspected with Sir Anth. Deane about the timber of
which the thirty ships were built by a late Act of Parliament, with
the exceeding danger which the fleete would shortly be in, by reason
of the tyranny and incompetency of those who now managed the
Admiralty and affairs of the Navy, of which he gave an accurate
state, and shew’d his greate ability.”
On the 25th of this same month Pepys was committed to the Gatehouse at
Westminster on a charge of having sent information to the French Court of
the state of the English navy. There was no evidence of any kind against
him, and at the end of July he was allowed to return to his own house on
account of ill-health. Nothing further was done in respect to the charge,
but he was not free till some time after, and he was long kept in anxiety,
for even in 1692 he still apprehended some fresh persecution.
Sir Peter Palavicini, Mr. James Houblon, Mr. Blackburne, and Mr. Martin
bailed him, and he sent them the following circular letter:—
“October 15, 1690.
“Being this day become once again a free man in every respect, I
mean but that of my obligation to you and the rest of my friends, to
whom I stand indebted for my being so, I think it but a reasonable
part of my duty to pay you and them my thanks for it in a body; but
know not how otherwise to compass it than by begging you, which I
hereby do, to take your share with them and me here, to-morrow, of a
piece of mutton, which is all I dare promise you, besides that of
being ever,
“Your most bounden and faithful humble servant,
“S. P.”
He employed the enforced idleness caused by being thrust out of his
employment in the collection of the materials for the valuable work which
he published in 1690, under the title of “Memoirs of the Navy.” Little
more was left for him to do in life, but as the government became more
firmly established, and the absolute absurdity of the idea of his
disloyalty was proved, Pepys held up his head again as a man to be
respected and consulted, and for the remainder of his life he was looked
upon as the Nestor of the Navy.
There is little more to be told of Pepys’s life. He continued to keep up
an extended correspondence with his many friends, and as Treasurer of
Christ’s Hospital he took very great interest in the welfare of that
institution. He succeeded in preserving from impending ruin the
mathematical foundation which had been originally designed by him, and
through his anxious solicitations endowed and cherished by Charles II. and
James II. One of the last public acts of his life was the presentation of
the portrait of the eminent Dr. John Wallis, Savilian Professor of
Geometry, to the University of Oxford.
In 1701 he sent Sir Godfrey Kneller to Oxford to paint the portrait, and
the University rewarded him with a Latin diploma containing in gorgeous
language the expression of thanks for his munificence.’
On the 26th May, 1703, Samuel Pepys, after long continued suffering,
breathed his last in the presence of the learned Dr. George Hickes, the
nonjuring Dean of Worcester, and the following letter from John Jackson to
his uncle’s lifelong friend Evelyn contains particulars as to the cause of
death:
Mr. Jackson to Mr. Evelyn.
“Clapham, May 28th, 1703.
“Friday night.
“Honoured Sir,
“‘Tis no small addition to my grief, to be obliged to interrupt the
quiet of your happy recess with the afflicting tidings of my Uncle
Pepys’s death: knowing how sensibly you will partake with me herein.
But I should not be faithful to his desires, if I did not beg your
doing the honour to his memory of accepting mourning from him, as a
small instance of his most affectionate respect and honour for you.
I have thought myself extremely unfortunate to be out of the way at
that only time when you were pleased lately to touch here, and
express so great a desire of taking your leave of my Uncle; which
could not but have been admitted by him as a most welcome exception
to his general orders against being interrupted; and I could most
heartily wish that the circumstances of your health and distance did
not forbid me to ask the favour of your assisting in the holding up
of the pawll at his interment, which is intended to be on Thursday
next; for if the manes are affected with what passes below, I am
sure this would have been very grateful to his.
“I must not omit acquainting you, sir, that upon opening his body,
(which the uncommonness of his case required of us, for our own
satisfaction as well as public good) there was found in his left
kidney a nest of no less than seven stones, of the most irregular,
figures your imagination can frame, and weighing together four
ounces and a half, but all fast linked together, and adhering to his
back; whereby they solve his having felt no greater pains upon
motion, nor other of the ordinary symptoms of the stone. Some other
lesser defects there also were in his body, proceeding from the same
cause. But his stamina, in general, were marvellously strong, and
not only supported him, under the most exquisite pains, weeks beyond
all expectations; but, in the conclusion, contended for nearly forty
hours (unassisted by any nourishment) with the very agonies of
death, some few minutes excepted, before his expiring, which were
very calm.
“There remains only for me, under this affliction, to beg the
consolation and honour of succeeding to your patronage, for my
Uncle’s sake; and leave to number myself, with the same sincerity he
ever did, among your greatest honourers, which I shall esteem as one
of the most valuable parts of my inheritances from him; being also,
with the faithfullest wishes of health and a happy long life to you,
“Honoured Sir,
“Your most obedient and
“Most humble Servant,
“J. JACKSON.
“Mr. Hewer, as my Uncle’s Executor, and equally your faithful
Servant, joins with me in every part hereof.
“The time of my Uncle’s departure was about three-quarters past
three on Wednesday morning last.”
Evelyn alludes in his Diary to Pepys’s death and the present to him of a
suit of mourning. He speaks in very high terms of his friend:—
“1703, May 26th. This day died Mr. Sam Pepys, a very worthy,
industrious, and curious person, none in England exceeding him in
knowledge of the navy, in which he had passed thro’ all the most
considerable offices, Clerk of the Acts and Secretary of the
Admiralty, all which he performed with great integrity. When K.
James II. went out of England, he laid down his office, and would
serve no more, but withdrawing himselfe from all public affaires, he
liv’d at Clapham with his partner Mr. Hewer, formerly his clerk, in
a very noble and sweete place, where he enjoy’d the fruits of his
labours in greate prosperity. He was universally belov’d,
hospitable, generous, learned in many things, skilfd in music, a
very greate cherisher of learned men of whom he had the conversation
.... Mr. Pepys had been for neere 40 yeeres so much my
particular friend that Mr. Jackson sent me compleat mourning,
desiring me to be one to hold up the pall at his magnificent
obsequies, but my indisposition hinder’d me from doing him this last
office.”
The body was brought from Clapham and buried in St. Olave’s Church, Hart
Street, on the 5th June, at nine o’clock at night, in a vault just beneath
the monument to the memory of Mrs. Pepys. Dr. Hickes performed the last
sad offices for his friend.
Pepys’s faithful friend, Hewer, was his executor, and his nephew, John
Jackson, his heir. Mourning was presented to forty persons, and a large
number of rings to relations, godchildren, servants, and friends, also to
representatives of the Royal Society, of the Universities of Cambridge and
Oxford, of the Admiralty, and of the Navy Office. The bulk of the property
was bequeathed to Jackson, but the money which was left was much less than
might have been expected, for at the time of Pepys’s death there was a
balance of L28,007 2s. 1d. due to him from the Crown, and none of this was
ever paid. The books and other collections were left to Magdalene College,
Cambridge, but Jackson was to have possession of them during his lifetime.
These were the most important portion of Pepys’s effects, for with them
was the manuscript of the immortal Diary. The following are the directions
for the disposition of the library, taken from Harl. MS., No. 7301:
“For the further settlement and preservation of my said library,
after the death of my nephew. John Jackson, I do hereby declare,
That could I be sure of a constant succession of heirs from my said
nephew, qualified like himself for the use of such a library, I
should not entertain a thought of its ever being alienated from
them. But this uncertainty considered, with the infinite pains, and
time, and cost employed in my collecting, methodising and reducing
the same to the state it now is, I cannot but be greatly solicitous
that all possible provision should be made for its unalterable
preservation and perpetual security against the ordinary fate of
such collections falling into the hands of an incompetent heir, and
thereby being sold, dissipated, or embezzled. And since it has
pleased God to visit me in a manner that leaves little appearance of
being myself restored to a condition of concerting the necessary
measures for attaining these ends, I must and do with great
confidence rely upon the sincerity and direction of my executor and
said nephew for putting in execution the powers given them, by my
forementioned will relating hereto, requiring that the same be
brought to a determination in twelve months after my decease, and
that special regard be had therein to the following particulars
which I declare to be my present thoughts and prevailing
inclinations in this matter, viz.:
“1. That after the death of my said nephew, my said library be
placed and for ever settled in one of our universities, and rather
in that of Cambridge than Oxford.
“2. And rather in a private college there, than in the public
library.
“3. And in the colleges of Trinity or Magdalen preferably to all
others.
“4. And of these too, ‘caeteris paribus’, rather in the latter, for
the sake of my own and my nephew’s education therein.
“5. That in which soever of the two it is, a fair roome be provided
therein.
“6. And if in Trinity, that the said roome be contiguous to, and
have communication with, the new library there.
“7. And if in Magdalen, that it be in the new building there, and
any part thereof at my nephew’s election.
“8. That my said library be continued in its present form and no
other books mixed therein, save what my nephew may add to theirs of
his own collecting, in distinct presses.
“9. That the said room and books so placed and adjusted be called
by the name of ‘Bibliotheca Pepysiana.’
“10. That this ‘Bibliotheca Pepysiana’ be under the sole power and
custody of the master of the college for the time being, who shall
neither himself convey, nor suffer to be conveyed by others, any of
the said books from thence to any other place, except to his own
lodge in the said college, nor there have more than ten of them at a
time; and that of those also a strict entry be made and account
kept, at the time of their having been taken out and returned, in a
book to be provided, and remain in the said library for that purpose
only.
“11. That before my said library be put into the possession of
either of the said colleges, that college for which it shall be
designed, first enter into covenants for performance of the
foregoing articles.
“12. And that for a yet further security herein, the said two
colleges of Trinity and Magdalen have a reciprocal check upon one
another; and that college which shall be in present possession of
the said library, be subject to an annual visitation from the other,
and to the forfeiture thereof to the life, possession, and use of
the other, upon conviction of any breach of their said covenants.
“S. PEPYS.”
The library and the original book-cases were not transferred to Magdalene
College until 1724, and there they have been preserved in safety ever
since.
A large number of Pepys’s manuscripts appear to have remained unnoticed in
York Buildings for some years. They never came into Jackson’s hands, and
were thus lost to Magdalene College. Dr. Rawlinson afterwards obtained
them, and they were included in the bequest of his books to the Bodleian
Library.
Pepys was partial to having his portrait taken, and he sat to Savill,
Hales, Lely, and Kneller. Hales’s portrait, painted in 1666, is now in the
National Portrait Gallery, and an etching from the original forms the
frontispiece to this volume. The portrait by Lely is in the Pepysian
Library. Of the three portraits by Kneller, one is in the hall of
Magdalene College, another at the Royal Society, and the third was lent to
the First Special Exhibition of National Portraits, 1866, by the late Mr.
Andrew Pepys Cockerell. Several of the portraits have been engraved, but
the most interesting of these are those used by Pepys himself as
book-plates. These were both engraved by Robert White, and taken from
paintings by Kneller.
The church of St. Olave, Hart Street, is intimately associated with Pepys
both in his life and in his death, and for many years the question had
been constantly asked by visitors, “Where is Pepys’s monument?” On
Wednesday, July 5th, 1882, a meeting was held in the vestry of the church,
when an influential committee was appointed, upon which all the great
institutions with which Pepys was connected were represented by their
masters, presidents, or other officers, with the object of taking steps to
obtain an adequate memorial of the Diarist. Mr. (now Sir) Alfred
Blomfield, architect of the church, presented an appropriate design for a
monument, and sufficient subscriptions having been obtained for the
purpose, he superintended its erection. On Tuesday afternoon, March 18th,
1884, the monument, which was affixed to the wall of the church where the
gallery containing Pepys’s pew formerly stood, was unveiled in the
presence of a large concourse of visitors. The Earl of Northbrook, First
Lord of the Admiralty, consented to unveil the monument, but he was at the
last moment prevented by public business from attending. The late Mr.
Russell Lowell, then the American Minister, took Lord Northbrook’s place,
and made a very charming and appreciative speech on the occasion, from
which the following passages are extracted:—
“It was proper,” his Excellency said, “that he should read a note he
had received from Lord Northbrook. This was dated that day from the
Admiralty, and was as follows:
“‘My dear Mr. Lowell,
“‘I am very much annoyed that I am prevented from assisting at the
ceremony to-day. It would be very good if you would say that
nothing but very urgent business would have kept me away. I was
anxious to give my testimony to the merits of Pepys as an Admiralty
official, leaving his literary merits to you. He was concerned with
the administration of the Navy from the Restoration to the
Revolution, and from 1673 as secretary. I believe his merits to be
fairly stated in a contemporary account, which I send.
“‘Yours very truly,
“‘NORTHBROOK.
“The contemporary account, which Lord Northbrook was good enough to
send him, said:
“‘Pepys was, without exception, the greatest and most useful
Minister that ever filled the same situations in England, the acts
and registers of the Admiralty proving this beyond contradiction.
The principal rules and establishments in present use in these
offices are well known to have been of his introducing, and most of
the officers serving therein since the Restoration, of his bringing-
up. He was a most studious promoter and strenuous asserter of order
and discipline. Sobriety, diligence, capacity, loyalty, and
subjection to command were essentials required in all whom he
advanced. Where any of these were found wanting, no interest or
authority was capable of moving him in favour of the highest
pretender. Discharging his duty to his Prince and country with a
religious application and perfect integrity, he feared no one,
courted no one, and neglected his own fortune.’
“That was a character drawn, it was true, by a friendly hand, but to
those who were familiar with the life of Pepys, the praise hardly
seemed exaggerated. As regarded his official life, it was
unnecessary to dilate upon his peculiar merits, for they all knew
how faithful he was in his duties, and they all knew, too, how many
faithful officials there were working on in obscurity, who were not
only never honoured with a monument but who never expected one. The
few words, Mr. Lowell went on to remark, which he was expected to
say upon that occasion, therefore, referred rather to what he
believed was the true motive which had brought that assembly
together, and that was by no means the character of Pepys either as
Clerk of the Acts or as Secretary to the Admiralty. This was not
the place in which one could go into a very close examination of the
character of Pepys as a private man. He would begin by admitting
that Pepys was a type, perhaps, of what was now called a
‘Philistine’. We had no word in England which was equivalent to the
French adjective Bourgeois; but, at all events, Samuel Pepys was the
most perfect type that ever existed of the class of people whom this
word described. He had all its merits as well as many of its
defects. With all those defects, however perhaps in consequence of
them—Pepys had written one of the most delightful books that it was
man’s privilege to read in the English language or in any other.
Whether Pepys intended this Diary to be afterwards read by the
general public or not—and this was a doubtful question when it was
considered that he had left, possibly by inadvertence, a key to his
cypher behind him—it was certain that he had left with us a most
delightful picture, or rather he had left the power in our hands of
drawing for ourselves some, of the most delightful pictures, of the
time in which he lived. There was hardly any book which was
analogous to it..... If one were asked what were the reasons
for liking Pepys, it would be found that they were as numerous as
the days upon which he made an entry in his Diary, and surely that
was sufficient argument in his favour. There was no book, Mr.
Lowell said, that he knew of, or that occurred to his memory, with
which Pepys’s Diary could fairly be compared, except the journal of
L’Estoile, who had the same anxious curiosity and the same
commonness, not to say vulgarity of interest, and the book was
certainly unique in one respect, and that was the absolute sincerity
of the author with himself. Montaigne is conscious that we are
looking over his shoulder, and Rousseau secretive in comparison with
him. The very fact of that sincerity of the author with himself
argued a certain greatness of character. Dr. Hickes, who attended
Pepys at his deathbed, spoke of him as ‘this great man,’ and said he
knew no one who died so greatly. And yet there was something almost
of the ridiculous in the statement when the ‘greatness’ was compared
with the garrulous frankness which Pepys showed towards himself.
There was no parallel to the character of Pepys, he believed, in
respect of ‘naivete’, unless it were found in that of Falstaff, and
Pepys showed himself, too, like Falstaff, on terms of unbuttoned
familiarity with himself. Falstaff had just the same ‘naivete’, but
in Falstaff it was the ‘naivete’ of conscious humour. In Pepys it
was quite different, for Pepys’s ‘naivete’ was the inoffensive
vanity of a man who loved to see himself in the glass. Falstaff had
a sense, too, of inadvertent humour, but it was questionable whether
Pepys could have had any sense of humour at all, and yet permitted
himself to be so delightful. There was probably, however, more
involuntary humour in Pepys’s Diary than there was in any other book
extant. When he told his readers of the landing of Charles II. at
Dover, for instance, it would be remembered how Pepys chronicled the
fact that the Mayor of Dover presented the Prince with a Bible, for
which he returned his thanks and said it was the ‘most precious Book
to him in the world.’ Then, again, it would be remembered how, when
he received a letter addressed ‘Samuel Pepys, Esq.,’ he confesses in
the Diary that this pleased him mightily. When, too, he kicked his
cookmaid, he admits that he was not sorry for it, but was sorry that
the footboy of a worthy knight with whom he was acquainted saw him
do it. And the last instance he would mention of poor Pepys’s
‘naivete’ was when he said in the Diary that he could not help
having a certain pleasant and satisfied feeling when Barlow died.
Barlow, it must be remembered, received during his life the yearly
sum from Pepys of L100. The value of Pepys’s book was simply
priceless, and while there was nothing in it approaching that single
page in St. Simon where he described that thunder of courtierly red
heels passing from one wing of the Palace to another as the Prince
was lying on his death-bed, and favour was to flow from another
source, still Pepys’s Diary was unequalled in its peculiar quality
of amusement. The lightest part of the Diary was of value,
historically, for it enabled one to see London of 200 years ago,
and, what was more, to see it with the eager eyes of Pepys. It was
not Pepys the official who had brought that large gathering together
that day in honour of his memory: it was Pepys the Diarist.”
In concluding this account of the chief particulars of Pepys’s life it may
be well to add a few words upon the pronunciation of his name. Various
attempts appear to have been made to represent this phonetically. Lord
Braybrooke, in quoting the entry of death from St. Olave’s Registers,
where the spelling is “Peyps,” wrote, “This is decisive as to the proper
pronunciation of the name.” This spelling may show that the name was
pronounced as a monosyllable, but it is scarcely conclusive as to anything
else, and Lord Braybrooke does not say what he supposes the sound of the
vowels to have been. At present there are three pronunciations in use—Peps,
which is the most usual; Peeps, which is the received one at Magdalene
College, and Peppis, which I learn from Mr. Walter C. Pepys is the one
used by other branches of the family. Mr. Pepys has paid particular
attention to this point, and in his valuable “Genealogy of the Pepys
Family” (1887) he has collected seventeen varieties of spelling of the
name, which are as follows, the dates of the documents in which the form
appears being attached:
1. Pepis (1273); 2. Pepy (1439); 3. Pypys (1511); 4. Pipes (1511); 5.
Peppis (1518); 6. Peppes (1519); 7. Pepes (1520); 8. Peppys (1552); 9.
Peaps (1636); 10. Pippis (1639); 11. Peapys (1653); 12. Peps (1655); 13.
Pypes (1656); 14. Peypes (1656); 15. Peeps (1679); 16. Peepes (1683); 17.
Peyps (1703). Mr. Walter Pepys adds:—
“The accepted spelling of the name ‘Pepys’ was adopted generally
about the end of the seventeenth century, though it occurs many
years before that time. There have been numerous ways of
pronouncing the name, as ‘Peps,’ ‘Peeps,’ and ‘Peppis.’ The
Diarist undoubtedly pronounced it ‘Peeps,’ and the lineal
descendants of his sister Paulina, the family of ‘Pepys Cockerell’
pronounce it so to this day. The other branches of the family all
pronounce it as ‘Peppis,’ and I am led to be satisfied that the
latter pronunciation is correct by the two facts that in the
earliest known writing it is spelt ‘Pepis,’ and that the French form
of the name is ‘Pepy.’”
The most probable explanation is that the name in the seventeenth century
was either pronounced ‘Pips’ or ‘Papes’; for both the forms ‘ea’ and ‘ey’
would represent the latter pronunciation. The general change in the
pronunciation of the spelling ‘ea’ from ‘ai’ to ‘ee’ took place in a large
number of words at the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the
eighteenth-century, and three words at least (yea, break, and great) keep
this old pronunciation still. The present Irish pronunciation of English
is really the same as the English pronunciation of the seventeenth
century, when the most extensive settlement of Englishmen in Ireland took
place, and the Irish always pronounce ea like ai (as, He gave him a nate
bating—neat beating). Again, the ‘ey’ of Peyps would rhyme with they
and obey. English literature is full of illustrations of the old
pronunciation of ea, as in “Hudibras;”
“Doubtless the pleasure is as great
In being cheated as to cheat,”
which was then a perfect rhyme. In the “Rape of the Lock” tea (tay) rhymes
with obey, and in Cowper’s verses on Alexander Selkirk sea rhymes with
survey.’ It is not likely that the pronunciation of the name was fixed,
but there is every reason to suppose that the spellings of Peyps and Peaps
were intended to represent the sound Pepes rather than Peeps.
In spite of all the research which has brought to light so many incidents
of interest in the life of Samuel Pepys, we cannot but feel how dry these
facts are when placed by the side of the living details of the Diary. It
is in its pages that the true man is displayed, and it has therefore not
been thought necessary here to do more than set down in chronological
order such facts as are known of the life outside the Diary. A fuller
“appreciation” of the man must be left for some future occasion.
H. B. W.
JANUARY 1659-1660
[The year did not legally begin in England before the 25th March
until the act for altering the style fixed the 1st of January as the
first day of the year, and previous to 1752 the year extended from
March 25th to the following March 24th. Thus since 1752 we have
been in the habit of putting the two dates for the months of January
and February and March 1 to 24—in all years previous to 1752.
Practically, however, many persons considered the year to commence
with January 1st, as it will be seen Pepys did. The 1st of January
was considered as New Year’s day long before Pepys’s time. The
fiscal year has not been altered; and the national accounts are
still reckoned from old Lady Day, which falls on the 6th of April.]
Blessed be God, at the end of the last year I was in very good health,
without any sense of my old pain, but upon taking of cold.
[Pepys was successfully cut for the stone on March 26th, 1658. See
March 26th below. Although not suffering from this cause again
until the end of his life, there are frequent references in the
Diary to pain whenever he caught cold. In a letter from Pepys to
his nephew Jackson, April 8th, 1700, there is a reference to the
breaking out three years before his death of the wound caused by the
cutting for the stone: “It has been my calamity for much the
greatest part of this time to have been kept bedrid, under an evil
so rarely known as to have had it matter of universal surprise and
with little less general opinion of its dangerousness; namely, that
the cicatrice of a wound occasioned upon my cutting for the stone,
without hearing anything of it in all this time, should after more
than 40 years’ perfect cure, break out again.” At the post-mortem
examination a nest of seven stones, weighing four and a half ounces,
was found in the left kidney, which was entirely ulcerated.]
I lived in Axe Yard,
[Pepys’s house was on the south side of King Street, Westminster;
it is singular that when he removed to a residence in the city, he
should have settled close to another Axe Yard. Fludyer Street
stands on the site of Axe Yard, which derived its name from a great
messuage or brewhouse on the west side of King Street, called “The
Axe,” and referred to in a document of the 23rd of Henry VIII—B.]
having my wife, and servant Jane, and no more in family than us three. My
wife.... gave me hopes of her being with child, but on the last day of the
year....[the hope was belied.]
[Ed. note:.... are used to denote censored passages]
The condition of the State was thus; viz. the Rump, after being disturbed
by my Lord Lambert,
[John Lambert, major-general in the Parliamentary army. The title
Lord was not his by right, but it was frequently given to the
republican officers. He was born in 1619, at Calton Hall, in the
parish of Kirkby-in-Malham-Dale, in the West Riding of Yorkshire.
In 1642 he was appointed captain of horse under Fairfax, and acted
as major-general to Cromwell in 1650 during the war in Scotland.
After this Parliament conferred on him a grant of lands in Scotland
worth L1000 per annum. He refused to take the oath of allegiance to
Cromwell, for which the Protector deprived him of his commission.
After Cromwell’s death he tried to set up a military government.
The Commons cashiered Lambert, Desborough, and other officers,
October 12th, 1659, but Lambert retaliated by thrusting out the
Commons, and set out to meet Monk. His men fell away from him, and
he was sent to the Tower, March 3rd, 1660, but escaped. In 1662 he
was tried on a charge of high treason and condemned, but his life
was spared. It is generally stated that he passed the remainder of
his life in the island of Guernsey, but this is proved to be
incorrect by a MS. in the Plymouth Athenaeum, entitled “Plimmouth
Memoirs collected by James Yonge, 1684” This will be seen from the
following extracts quoted by Mr. R. J. King, in “Notes and Queries,”
“1667 Lambert the arch-rebel brought to this island [St. Nicholas,
at the entrance of Plymouth harbour].” “1683 Easter day Lambert
that olde rebell dyed this winter on Plimmouth Island where he had
been prisoner 15 years and more.”]
was lately returned to sit again. The officers of the Army all forced to
yield. Lawson
[Sir John Lawson, the son of a poor man at Hull, entered the navy as
a common sailor, rose to the rank of admiral, and distinguished
himself during the Protectorate. Though a republican, he readily
closed with the design of restoring the King. He was vice-admiral
under the Earl of Sandwich, and commanded the “London” in the
squadron which conveyed Charles II. to England. He was mortally
wounded in the action with the Dutch off Harwich, June, 1665. He
must not be confounded with another John Lawson, the Royalist, of
Brough Hall, in Yorkshire, who was created a Baronet by Charles II,
July 6th, 1665.]
lies still in the river, and Monk—[George Monk, born 1608, created
Duke of Albemarle, 1660, married Ann Clarges, March, 1654, died January
3rd, 1676.]—is with his army in Scotland. Only my Lord Lambert is
not yet come into the Parliament, nor is it expected that he will without
being forced to it. The new Common Council of the City do speak very high;
and had sent to Monk their sword-bearer, to acquaint him with their
desires for a free and full Parliament, which is at present the desires,
and the hopes, and expectation of all. Twenty-two of the old secluded
members
[“The City sent and invited him [Monk] to dine the next day at
Guildhall, and there he declared for the members whom the army had
forced away in year forty-seven and forty-eight, who were known by
the names of secluded members.”—Burnet’s Hist. of his Own Time,
book i.]
having been at the House-door the last week to demand entrance, but it was
denied them; and it is believed that [neither] they nor the people will be
satisfied till the House be filled. My own private condition very
handsome, and esteemed rich, but indeed very poor; besides my goods of my
house, and my office, which at present is somewhat uncertain. Mr. Downing
master of my office.
[George Downing was one of the Four Tellers of the Receipt of the
Exchequer, and in his office Pepys was a clerk. He was the son of
Emmanuel Downing of the Inner Temple, afterwards of Salem,
Massachusetts, and of Lucy, sister of Governor John Winthrop. He is
supposed to have been born in August, 1623. He and his parents went
to New England in 1638, and he was the second graduate of Harvard
College. He returned to England about 1645, and acted as Colonel
Okey’s chaplain before he entered into political life. Anthony a
Wood (who incorrectly describes him as the son of Dr. Calybute
Downing, vicar of Hackney) calls Downing a sider with all times and
changes: skilled in the common cant, and a preacher occasionally.
He was sent by Cromwell to Holland in 1657, as resident there. At
the Restoration, he espoused the King’s cause, and was knighted and
elected M.P. for Morpeth, in 1661. Afterwards, becoming
Secretary to the Treasury and Commissioner of the Customs, he was in
1663 created a Baronet of East Hatley, in Cambridgeshire, and was
again sent Ambassador to Holland. His grandson of the same name,
who died in 1749, was the founder of Downing College, Cambridge.
The title became extinct in 1764, upon the decease of Sir John
Gerrard Downing, the last heir-male of the family. Sir George
Downing’s character will be found in Lord Clarendon’s “Life,” vol.
iii. p. 4. Pepys’s opinion seems to be somewhat of a mixed kind.
He died in July, 1684.]
Jan. 1st (Lord’s day). This morning (we living lately in the garret,) I
rose, put on my suit with great skirts, having not lately worn any other,
clothes but them. Went to Mr. Gunning’s
[Peter Gunning, afterwards Master of St. John’s College, Cambridge,
and successively Bishop of Chichester and Ely. He had continued to
read the Liturgy at the chapel at Exeter House when the Parliament
was most predominant, for which Cromwell often rebuked him. Evelyn
relates that on Christmas Day, 1657, the chapel was surrounded with
soldiers, and the congregation taken prisoners, he and his wife
being among them. There are several notices of Dr. Gunning in
Evelyn’s Diary. When he obtained the mastership of St. John’s
College upon the ejection of Dr. Tuckney, he allowed that
Nonconformist divine a handsome annuity during his life. He was a
great controversialist, and a man of great reading. Burnet says he
“was a very honest sincere man, but of no sound judgment, and of no
prudence in affairs” (“Hist. of his Own. Time”). He died July 6th,
1684, aged seventy-one.]
chapel at Exeter House, where he made a very good sermon upon these words:—“That
in the fulness of time God sent his Son, made of a woman,” &c.;
showing, that, by “made under the law,” is meant his circumcision, which
is solemnized this day. Dined at home in the garret, where my wife dressed
the remains of a turkey, and in the doing of it she burned her hand. I
staid at home all the afternoon, looking over my accounts; then went with
my wife to my father’s, and in going observed the great posts which the
City have set up at the Conduit in Fleet-street. Supt at my father’s,
where in came Mrs. The. Turner—[Theophila Turner, daughter of
Sergeant John and Jane Turner, who married Sir Arthur Harris, Bart. She
died 1686.]—and Madam Morrice, and supt with us. After that my wife
and I went home with them, and so to our own home.
2nd. In the morning before I went forth old East brought me a dozen of
bottles of sack, and I gave him a shilling for his pains. Then I went to
Mr. Sheply,—[Shepley was a servant of Admiral Sir Edward Montagu]—who
was drawing of sack in the wine cellar to send to other places as a gift
from my Lord, and told me that my Lord had given him order to give me the
dozen of bottles. Thence I went to the Temple to speak with Mr. Calthropp
about the L60 due to my Lord,
[Sir Edward Montagu, born 1625, son of Sir Sidney Montagu, by
Paulina, daughter of John Pepys of Cottenham, married Jemima,
daughter of John Crew of Stene. He died in action against the Dutch
in Southwold Bay, May 28th, 1672. The title of “My Lord” here
applied to Montagu before he was created Earl of Sandwich is of the
same character as that given to General Lambert.]
but missed of him, he being abroad. Then I went to Mr. Crew’s
[John Crew, born 1598, eldest son of Sir Thomas Crew, Sergeant-at-
Law and Speaker of the House of Commons. He sat for Brackley in the
Long Parliament. Created Baron Crew of Stene, in the county of
Northampton, at the coronation of Charles II. He married Jemima,
daughter and co-heir of Edward Walgrave (or Waldegrave) of Lawford,
Essex. His house was in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He died December
12th, 1679.]
and borrowed L10 of Mr. Andrewes for my own use, and so went to my office,
where there was nothing to do. Then I walked a great while in Westminster
Hall, where I heard that Lambert was coming up to London; that my Lord
Fairfax
[Thomas, Lord Fairfax, Generalissimo of the Parliament forces.
After the Restoration, he retired to his country seat, where he
lived in private till his death, 1671. In a volume (autograph) of
Lord Fairfax’s Poems, preserved in the British Museum, 11744, f. 42,
the following lines occur upon the 30th of January, on which day the
King was beheaded. It is believed that they have never been
printed.
“O let that day from time be bloted quitt,
And beleef of ‘t in next age be waved,
In depest silence that act concealed might,
That so the creadet of our nation might be saved;
But if the powre devine hath ordered this,
His will’s the law, and our must aquiess.”
These wretched verses have obviously no merit; but they are curious
as showing that Fairfax, who had refused to act as one of Charles
I’s judges; continued long afterwards to entertain a proper horror
for that unfortunate monarch’s fate. It has recently been pointed
out to me, that the lines were not originally composed by Fairfax,
being only a poor translation of the spirited lines of Statius
(Sylvarum lib. v. cap. ii. l. 88)
“Excidat illa dies aevo, ne postera credant
Secula, nos certe taceamus; et obruta multa
Nocte tegi propria patiamur crimina gentis.”
These verses were first applied by the President de Thou to the
massacre of St. Bartholomew, 1572; and in our day, by Mr. Pitt, in
his memorable speech in the House of Commons, January, 1793, after
the murder of Louis XVI.—B.]
was in the head of the Irish brigade, but it was not certain what he would
declare for. The House was to-day upon finishing the act for the Council
of State, which they did; and for the indemnity to the soldiers; and were
to sit again thereupon in the afternoon. Great talk that many places have
declared for a free Parliament; and it is believed that they will be
forced to fill up the House with the old members. From the Hall I called
at home, and so went to Mr. Crew’s (my wife she was to go to her
father’s), thinking to have dined, but I came too late, so Mr. Moore and I
and another gentleman went out and drank a cup of ale together in the new
market, and there I eat some bread and cheese for my dinner. After that
Mr. Moore and I went as far as Fleet-street together and parted, he going
into the City, I to find Mr. Calthrop, but failed again of finding him, so
returned to Mr. Crew’s again, and from thence went along with Mrs. Jemimah