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Tuesday, December 15, 2015

On the traces of Pepys

Pepys watching Old St Paul's burn
by Pat Nicolle
(source: Look and Learn)
no copyright infringement intended


Pepys was not an easygoing commuter. In the struggle to get from Seething Lane to Whitehall, he exhibited something close to the mindset of the average London cyclist, deploying the word ‘cunt’ while slowly inflating with murderous feeling. Today is worse. Andrew O'Hagan made for us the experience and spoke about it in an essay published in LRB:




(video by LRB)

(Samuel Pepys)

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Wednesday, February 19, 2014

The Chronicle of the 1665 Plague (Pepys)

crowded 17thC London street
at the outbreak of the Great Plague
gouache on paper
illustration by James Field / publisher: NFER
(http://www.jamesfieldillustrations.co.uk/sugaredplum.html)
no copyright infringement intended

The illustration tells the story of a young girl’s arrival in London at the outbreak of the Great Plague in 1665. A church can be seen in the distance. The shops along the street can be identified by their signs. A confectioner's in the foreground has the image of a sugared plum in front of it.

A bright comet came over London during the winter of 1664/1665, and people took it as a bad sign. What followed was a year long plague that took a terrible death toll: the worst epidemic in the history of the city. Samuel Pepys chronicled the evolution of the disaster in his diary. There are firstly the rumors about the plague in Amsterdam and the danger of coming to London through Dutch ships. It is then much  nearer, just over the Chanel, at Calais. There is the discussion about the comet. And then it's there, in the whole city, operating without mercy.  The end of the year brings the hope that the freezing weather will eliminate the calamity.



Monday 19 October 1663

... I took coach, and to the Coffee-house in Cornhill where much talk about the Turk’s proceedings, and that the plague is got to Amsterdam, brought by a ship from Argier; and it is also carried to Hambrough. The Duke says the King purposes to forbid any of their ships coming into the river ...

Thursday 16 June 1664

... The talk upon the ‘Change is, that De Ruyter is dead, with fifty men of his own ship, of the plague, at Cales ...

Wednesday 22 June 1664

... great talke of the Dutch preparing of sixty sayle of ships. The plague grows mightily among them, both at sea and land ...

Monday 25 July 1664

... I to the Coffee-house, but no newes, only the plague is very hot still, and encreases among the Dutch ...

Wednesday 1 March 1664/65

... I to Gresham College, where Mr. Hooke read a second very curious lecture about the late Comett; among other things proving very probably that this is the very same Comett that appeared before in the year 1618, and that in such a time probably it will appear again ...

Sunday 30 April 1665

... Great fears of the sickenesse here in the City, it being said that two or three houses are already shut up. God preserve as all!

Wednesday 24 May 1665

... Thence to the Coffee-house with Creed, where I have not been a great while, where all the newes is of the Dutch being gone out, and of the plague growing upon us in this towne; and of remedies against it: some saying one thing, some another ...

Wednesday 7 June 1665
This day, much against my will, I did in Drury Lane see two or three houses marked with a red cross upon the doors, and “Lord have mercy upon us” writ there; which was a sad sight to me, being the first of the kind that, to my remembrance, I ever saw. It put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to buy some roll-tobacco to smell to and chaw, which took away the apprehension.

Saturday 10 June 1665

... the plague is come into the City (though it hath these three or four weeks since its beginning been wholly out of the City); but where should it begin but in my good friend and neighbour’s, Dr. Burnett, in Fanchurch Street: which in both points troubles me mightily. To the office to finish my letters and then home to bed, being troubled at the sicknesse, and my head filled also with other business enough, and particularly how to put my things and estate in order, in case it should please God to call me away, which God dispose of to his glory!

Thursday 15 June 1665

... The towne grows very sickly, and people to be afeard of it; there dying this last week of the plague 112, from 43 the week before, whereof but [one] in Fanchurch- streete, and one in Broad-streete, by the Treasurer’s office.

Thursday 22 June 1665

Up pretty betimes, and in great pain whether to send my mother into the country to-day or no, I hearing, by my people, that she, poor wretch, hath a mind to stay a little longer, and I cannot blame her, considering what a life she will through her own folly lead when she comes home again, unlike the pleasure and liberty she hath had here. At last I resolved to put it to her, and she agreed to go, so I would not oppose it, because of the sicknesse in the towne ...

Friday 30 June 1665

... Myself and family in good health, consisting of myself and wife, Mercer, her woman, Mary, Alice, and Susan our maids, and Tom my boy. In a sickly time of the plague growing on ... Consideration of removing my wife to Woolwich ...

Wednesday 5 July 1665

Up, and advised about sending of my wife’s bedding and things to Woolwich, in order to her removal thither ... I by water to Woolwich, where I found my wife come, and her two mayds, and very prettily accommodated they will be; and I left them going to supper, grieved in my heart to part with my wife, being worse by much without her, though some trouble there is in having the care of a family at home in this plague time, and so took leave, and I in one boat and W. Hewer in another home very late, first against tide, we having walked in the dark to Greenwich. Late home and to bed, very lonely.

Monday 17 July 1665

... So anon I took leave, and for London. But, Lord! to see, among other things, how all these great people here are afeard of London, being doubtfull of anything that comes from thence, or that hath lately been there ...

Saturday 22 July 1665

... Only, while I was there, a poor woman come to scold with the master of the house that a kinswoman, I think, of hers, that was newly dead of the plague, might be buried in the church- yard; for, for her part, she should not be buried in the commons, as they said she should ... I met this noon with Dr. Burnett, who told me, and I find in the newsbook this week that he posted upon the ‘Change, that whoever did spread the report that, instead of the plague, his servant was by him killed, it was forgery, and shewed me the acknowledgment of the master of the pest- house, that his servant died of a bubo on his right groine, and two spots on his right thigh, which is the plague ...

Monday 31 July 1665

... Proctor the vintner of the Miter in Wood-street, and his son, are dead this morning there, of the plague ... which grows mightily upon us, the last week being about 1700 or 1800 of the plague ...

This evening with Mr. Brisband, speaking of enchantments and spells; I telling him some of my charms; he told me this of his owne knowledge, at Bourdeaux, in France. The words these: Voyci un Corps mort, Royde come un Baston, Froid comme Marbre, Leger come un esprit, Levons to au nom de Jesus Christ.

Tuesday 15 August 1665

... It was dark before I could get home, and so land at Church-yard stairs, where, to my great trouble, I met a dead corps of the plague, in the narrow ally just bringing down a little pair of stairs ...

Wednesday 16 August 1665

... Thence to the Exchange, where I have not been a great while. But, Lord! how sad a sight it is to see the streets empty of people, and very few upon the ‘Change. Jealous of every door that one sees shut up, lest it should be the plague; and about us two shops in three, if not more, generally shut up ...

Wednesday 30 August 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 ...


Thursday 31 August 1665

... Thus this month ends with great sadness upon the publick, through the greatness of the plague every where through the kingdom almost. Every day sadder and sadder news of its encrease. In the City died this week 7,496 and of them 6,102 of the plague. But it is feared that the true number of the dead, this week is near 10,000; partly from the poor that cannot be taken notice of, through the greatness of the number, and partly from the Quakers and others that will not have any bell ring for them ... As to myself I am very well, only in fear of the plague, and as much of an ague by being forced to go early and late to Woolwich, and my family to lie there continually ...

Sunday 3 September 1665

(Lord’s day). Up; and put on my coloured silk suit very fine, and my new periwigg, bought a good while since, but durst not wear, because the plague was in Westminster when I bought it; and it is a wonder what will be the fashion after the plague is done, as to periwiggs, for nobody will dare to buy any haire, for fear of the infection, that it had been cut off of the heads of people dead of the plague ...

Thursday 14 September 1665

... Then, on the other side, my finding that though the Bill in general is abated, yet the City within the walls is encreased, and likely to continue so, and is close to our house there. My meeting dead corpses of the plague, carried to be buried close to me at noon-day through the City in Fanchurch-street. To see a person sick of the sores, carried close by me by Gracechurch in a hackney-coach. My finding the Angell tavern, at the lower end of Tower- hill, shut up, and more than that, the alehouse at the Tower-stairs, and more than that, the person was then dying of the plague when I was last there, a little while ago, at night, to write a short letter there, and I overheard the mistresse of the house sadly saying to her husband somebody was very ill, but did not think it was of the plague. To hear that poor Payne, my waiter, hath buried a child, and is dying himself. To hear that a labourer I sent but the other day to Dagenhams, to know how they did there, is dead of the plague; and that one of my own watermen, that carried me daily, fell sick as soon as he had landed me on Friday morning last, when I had been all night upon the water (and I believe he did get his infection that day at Brainford), and is now dead of the plague. To hear that Captain Lambert and Cuttle are killed in the taking these ships; and that Mr. Sidney Montague is sick of a desperate fever at my Lady Carteret’s, at Scott’s-hall. To hear that Mr. Lewes hath another daughter sick. And, lastly, that both my servants, W. Hewer and Tom Edwards, have lost their fathers, both in St. Sepulchre’s parish, of the plague this week, do put me into great apprehensions of melancholy, and with good reason. But I put off the thoughts of sadness as much as I can, and the rather to keep my wife in good heart and family also ...

Thursday 26 October 1665

... The ‘Change pretty full, and the town begins to be lively again, though the streets very empty, and most shops shut ...

Wednesday 22 November 1665

... I heard this day that Mr. Harrington is not dead of the plague, as we believed, at which I was very glad, but most of all, to hear that the plague is come very low; that is, the whole under 1,000, and the plague 600 and odd: and great hopes of a further decrease, because of this day’s being a very exceeding hard frost, and continues freezing ...


(Samuel Pepys)

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Tuesday, February 18, 2014

The Great Fire of London

Detail of the Great Fire of London, 1666
unknown author
Museum of London
(http://www.museumoflondonprints.com/image.php?id=64964)
no copyright infringement intended

This painting shows the Great Fire of London as seen from a boat in vicinity of Tower Wharf. The painting depicts Old London Bridge, various houses, a drawbridge and wooden parapet, the churches of St Dunstan-in-the-West and St Bride's, All Hallows the Great, Old St Paul's, St Magnus the Martyr, St Lawrence Pountney, St Mary-le-Bow, St Dunstan-in-the East and Tower of London. The painting is in the style of the Dutch School and is not dated or signed.
(wiki)

To understand the spirit of a place, you need to learn about its moments of fulfillment, also about its moments of trial. The Great Fire of London in September 1666 was such a moment of trial. The way inhabitants behave in such a situation tells a lot about what kind of people live there. Also, the immense damage puts violently an end to an epoch and marks a new beginning. Landmarks disappear, destroyed by the fire, taking with them a whole history. And the life of the city must start anew, with new plans to develop, with new fortunes to be built, with new rules inspired by the lessons of the catastrophe, with new buildings and new landmarks to begin their history, .

Samuel Pepys was a witness to the Great Fire and his entry in the Diary from Sunday 2 September 1666 is one of the greatest pages in English literature. The tempo of the narrative is irresistible, and the way he knows how to give the poignant details is hardly to be paired. He is announced by a maid about the calamity and firstly doesn't consider it of too great damage, till later when he realizes the proportions. He goes to the Tower to have am exact view, and the fire is advancing under his eyes. As a man of great responsibilities, he goes to the King and to the Duke of York to receive orders, then to the Lord Mayor of London, to find him overwhelmed by the situation, crying like a fainting woman - the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it. He goes then to other places to see and decide, meanwhile describing the movements of people, running from the fire, carrying their goods in carts or on their backs, sick people carried on their beds... boats on the Thames overloaded, a boat having a pair of virginals on top of the load, pigeons being fried from their cages, unwilling to leave, hovering about widows and balconies till it's to late and their wings are burned and they fell down. Details of apocalyptic force, Pepys at his best ! (as one commentator rightly puts it).

And his conclusion, the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long: it made me weep to see it.

Here is the text:

Sunday 2 September 1666

... 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 nightgowne, and went to her window, and thought it to be on the backside 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 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....

So down, with my heart full of trouble, to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who tells me that it begun this morning in the King’s baker’s house in Pudding-lane, and that it hath burned St. Magnus’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 ... the Old Swan, already burned that way, and the fire running further, that in a very little time it got as far as the Steeleyard, while I was there. Everybody endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into the river or bringing them into lighters that layoff; poor people staying in their houses as long as till the very fire touched them, and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of stairs by the 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 every thing, 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 school-fellow Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top, an there burned till it fell down:
I to White Hall (with a gentleman with me who desired to go off from the Tower, to see the fire, in my boat); to White Hall, and there up to the Kings closett in the Chappell, where people come about me, and did give them an account dismayed them all, and word was carried in to the King.

So I was called for, and did tell the King and Duke of Yorke what I saw, and that unless his Majesty did command houses to be pulled down nothing could stop the fire. They seemed much troubled, and the King commanded me to go to my Lord Mayor  from him, and command him to spare no houses, but to pull down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him that if he would have any more soldiers he shall; and so did my Lord Arlington afterwards, as a great secret.

Here meeting, with Captain Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, ... to Paul’s, and there walked along Watlingstreet, as well as I could, every creature coming away loaden with goods to save, and here and there sicke people carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods carried in carts and on backs.

At last met my Lord Mayor in Canningstreet, like a man spent, with a handkercher about his neck. To the King’s message he cried, like a fainting woman, Lord! what can I do? I am spent: people will not obey me. I have been pulling down houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it. That he needed no more soldiers; and that, for himself, he must go and refresh himself, having been up all night.

So he left me, and I him, and walked home, seeing people all almost distracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire. The houses, too, so very thick thereabouts, and full of matter for burning, as pitch and tarr, in Thames-street; and warehouses of oyle, and wines, and brandy, and other things.

Here I saw Mr. Isaake Houblon, the handsome man, prettily dressed and dirty, at his door at Dowgate, receiving some of his brothers’ things, whose houses were on fire; and, as he says, have been removed twice already; and he doubts (as it soon proved) that they must be in a little time removed from his house also, which was a sad consideration. And to see the churches all filling with goods by people who themselves should have been quietly there at this time.

... walked, through the City, the streets full of nothing but people and horses and carts loaden with goods, ready to run over one another, and, removing goods from one burned house to another. They now removing out of Canning-streets (which received goods in the morning) into Lumbard-streets, and further; and among others I now saw my little goldsmith, Stokes, receiving some friend’s goods, whose house itself was burned the day after.
... I to Paul’s Wharf, where I had appointed a boat to attend me, and took in Mr. Carcasse and his brother, whom I met in the streets and carried them below and above bridge to and again to see the fire, which was now got further, both below and above and no likelihood of stopping it. Met with the King and Duke of York in their barge, and with them to Queenhith and there called Sir Richard Browne to them.

Their order was only to pull down houses apace, and so below bridge the water-side; but little was or could be done, the fire coming upon them so fast. Good hopes there was of stopping it at the Three Cranes above, and at Buttolph’s Wharf below bridge, if care be used; but the wind carries it into the City so as we know not by the water-side what it do there.

River full of lighters and boats taking in goods, and good goods swimming in the water, and only I observed that hardly one lighter or boat in three that had the goods of a house in, but there was a pair of Virginalls in it.

Having seen as much as I could now, I away to White Hall by appointment, and there walked to St. James’s Parks, and there met my wife ... and walked to my boat; and there upon the water again, and to the fire up and down, it still encreasing, and the wind great. So near the fire as we could for smoke; and all over the Thames, with one’s face in the wind, you were almost burned with a shower of firedrops. This is very true; so as houses were burned by these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, nay, five or six houses, one from another.

When we could endure no more upon the water; we to a little ale-house on the Bankside, over against the ‘Three Cranes, and there staid till it was dark almost, and saw the fire grow; and, as it grew darker, appeared more and more, and in corners and upon steeples, and between churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the City, in a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary fire.

We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long: it made me weep to see it.


(Samuel Pepys)

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Saturday, September 28, 2013

Samuel Pepys

Samuel Pepys (1633-1703)
portrait by John Hayls
oil on canvas, 1666
London National Portrait Gallery
source: Glyn Thomas
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Samuel_Pepys.jpg)
no copyright infringement intended


Samuel Pepys' Diary is addictive. You open it once by chance, then you'll need daily to browse it, your daily drug. It has an irresistible rhythm, sustained by syntactic constructions of elegant minimalism: through the pen of Pepys English becomes a language with no place for unnecessary words. And it has an amazing sense of immediacy, it's like a time machine. Actually not a time machine: we just read a sentence and the epoch of English Restoration, old of three hundred fifty years, becomes our epoch,  there we are, their problems there are ours, their mentalities are ours, all those dukes and lords make more sense for us than any politicians of today, because once we are within Pepys' Diary, our today is the one of 1660-1669, the ten years it covers. And the miracle to be complete, we live in the London of the 1660's. When you'll need his diary daily, I recommend an excellent web link that I am using, go to it and read also the annotations, they are very informative:


Pepys worked in the English Navy Board and was a Member of Parliament (and if we look at his portrait, he seemingly had also an interest in music). His diary became public only in the nineteenth century, more than hundred years after his death. Among other reasons, it had been necessary to decipher it firstly: Pepys had used a shorthand form to write it.




Jurnalul ţinut de Samuel Pepys între 1660 şi 1669 crează dependenţă. Il deschizi din întâmplare vreodată, ei bine, vei simţi nevoia imperioasă să umbli la el zilnic, drogul tău cotidian. Are un ritm irezistibil, susţinut de construcţii sintactice de un minimalism elegant: prin pana lui Pepys engleza devine o limbă în care nu-i loc pentru cuvinte în plus. Şi are un sens uluitor al imediatului, este ca o maşină a timpului. De fapt nu, nu o maşină a timpului, e altceva: de abia citim o propoziţie şi deodată epoca Restauraţiei engleze, veche de trei sute cinzeci de ani, devine epoca noastră, suntem deodată acolo, nu ne mai miră nimic, problemele lor sunt ale noastre, mentalităţile lor ale noastre, ducii şi lorzii lor vin în faţa noastră şi îi înţelegem mai bine decât pe orice politician care vine la televizor, pentru că odată ce suntem în jurnalul lui Pepys, prezentul nostru, cotidianul nostru, este prezentul, cotidianul din 1660-1669, cei zece ani pe care jurnalul îi acoperă. Iar ca minunea sa fie completă, trăim în Londra anilor 1860, umblăm pe străzile ei, intrăm în crâşmele de acolo, şi ne începem ziua cu un pahar sau două, ca sa intrăm în formă. Şi când veţi avea nevoia de a citi jurnalul zilnic, vă recomand un link web excelent, mergeţi la el şi citiţi şi adnotările:



Pepys a lucrat în Navy Board, consiliul de administraţie al flotei britanice, şi a fost membru al Camerei Comunelor. Jurnalul său a devenit public în sec. XIX, la mai mult de o sută de ani dupa ce a murit. Unul din motive a fost că trebuia mai întai descifrat: Pepys îl stenografiase.


(A Life in Books)

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