Sunday 21 June 1663

(Lord’s day). Up betimes, and fell to reading my Latin grammar, which I perceive I have great need of, having lately found it by my calling Will to the reading of a chapter in Latin, and I am resolved to go through it. After being trimmed, I by water to White Hall, and so over the Park, it raining hard, to Mr. Coventry’s chamber, where I spent two hours with him about business of the Navy, and how by his absence things are like to go with us, and with good content from my being with him he carried me by coach and set me down at Whitehall, and thence to right home by water. He shewed me a list, which he hath prepared for the Parliament’s view, if the business of his selling of offices should be brought to further hearing, wherein he reckons up, as I remember, 236 offices of ships which have been disposed of without his taking one farthing. This, of his own accord, he opened his cabinet on purpose to shew me, meaning, I suppose, that I should discourse abroad of it, and vindicate him therein, which I shall with all my power do. At home, being wet, shifted my band and things, and then to dinner, and after dinner went up and tried a little upon my tryangle, which I understand fully, and with a little use I believe could bring myself to do something. So to church, and slept all the sermon, the Scot, to whose voice I am not to be reconciled, preaching. Thence with Sir J. Minnes (who poor man had forgot that he carried me the other day to the painter’s to see some pictures which he has since bought and are brought home) to his Jodgings to see some base things he calls them of great masters of painting. So I said nothing that he had shown me them already, but commended them, and I think they are indeed good enough. Thence to see Sir W. Pen, who continues ill of the gout still. Here we staid a good while, and then I to my office, and read my vows seriously and with content, and so home to supper, to prayers, and to bed.

20 Annotations

dirk  •  Link

"Thence with Sir J. Minnes [...] to his Jodgings"

L&M read "to his lodgings".

dirk  •  Link

"So to church, and slept all the sermon"

The famous 16th c. humanist Erasmus of Rotterdam had this to say on the subject:

"si quid serium narratur, dormitant, oscitant, nauseant omnes. Quod si clamator ille (lapsa sum, declamator dicere volebam) ita ut saepe faciunt, anilem aliquam fabellam exordiatur, expergiscuntur, eriguntur, inhiant omnes"

"...if anything serious is being explained, they all feel sleepy, yawn, feel weary. But if that shouting man (my mistake, I mean the preacher) thus - as they often do - moves on to tell some old wives' tales, they all wake up, alert, their mouths open in astonishment."

"Laus Stultitiae" ("In Praise of Folly"), 1511, Chapter 45.

dirk  •  Link

The Rev. Josselin today:

"A sad wet season, lord hear prayer for mercy to us therein, cause not the fruits of the earth to perish from our mouths. god good to me in the word his favour be extended to me continually for in him do I trust."

TerryF  •  Link

"Sir J. Minnes (who poor man had forgot that he carried me the other day to the painter's to see some pictures which he has since bought and are brought home)"

Last Tuesday 16 June - "After dinner with Sir J. Minnes to see some pictures at Brewer's, said to be of good hands, but I do not like them."

Todd Bernhardt  •  Link

The change in Sam's character since Elizabeth's departure is very interesting. It's as if he feels free to concentrate on himself and his own development, and obviously is enjoying/benefiting from it. Even his attitude toward others is improved, as shown by his magnanimous remarks about Minnes, whom at most other times Sam views as a "mad coxcomb" and "fool."

Todd Bernhardt  •  Link

Has anyone else noticed that part of the freedom he's enjoying now, as part of his "bachelor life," is the ability to play music when he wants? I bet this is also helping his attitude ... with the demands of a family, I rarely get the time to practice anymore. When I do get an opportunity to do it, and get some of my chops back, it makes a huge difference in how I feel about myself.

Todd Bernhardt  •  Link

Speaking of playing ...

"meaning, I suppose, that I should discourse abroad of it, and vindicate him therein, which I shall with all my power do."

Sam realizes he's being played, but plays along anyway, since it's in his own interest and follows his own desire to help his friend.

TerryF  •  Link

The soporific Scot of St Olave'szzzz.

In the Companion L&M conjecture the young man who goes unnamed in the Diary might have been Alexander Mill, M.A., licensed to preach Aug. 1662. They note that an "Alexander Milne took his M.A. in Aberdeen in 1658." Whoever, his name might be spelt mmzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

TerryF  •  Link

The change in Sam’s character since Elizabeth’s departure

might also be due to the departure of Pembleton and the all-consuming Green Monster, The Jealousy of Samuel Pepys.

(Robert Gertz keeps him alive off-stage. -- Robert, that's not an invitation to another dance!)

Robert Gertz  •  Link

Meanwhile, in Brampton...

(Appropriate silent film melodrama music, please...Dum-da-da-da-dum-da-dum, etc)

...where our Bess, trapped in a side room during an estate party by her husband's patron and cousin, fights to defend her honor...

...And rather effectively, to milord Sandwich's startled surprise.

"Back, sir! I should not wish to kill family...Even if only a rather worthless in-law."

(Swoosh and slash of sword)

"Cousin...? Wherever did you learn swordplay?" Sandwich blinks at Bess' rather unorthodox but quite effective moves with a sword snatched from a display mount.

"Part from ma pere...A little from watching my Sam fool with that little sword of his..."

"The rest I just made up from my recent dancing lessons."

Tole Sam they'd come in handy.

"Now, cousin... Think how badly this could reflect on your dear little husband and his family. Not to mention your own..." Sandwich glares.

Rather miffed...Geesh, after all I've done for these people. And damn it, she didn't have to show off, knocking the sword out of my hand in front of Ferrers...

And damn him for running like that...

"And you, cousin... Ought to remember your dear wife is just one floor below...Along with your children and your guests." Bess notes coldly, holding sword carefully up.

What? Oh...She wouldn't...

"Now cousin Elisabeth..."

"Het-hem." Bess clears throat. "HELP!!!"

"Cousin, please!" Nervous wave of hands... "As you say, Lady Jemina is just downstairs!"

"Why, my lord. I only called to summon help when I was briefly locked...Alone...In this room." Bess eyes Sandwich. Sword still pointed at his chest. "And that will remain my story so long as you remain my husband's patron and dear friend...Who would never step beyond the bounds of propriety."

"Never...?" Slight whine in tone.

However, footsteps approaching, the Earl acts like the man of decisive action he is famed to be...

"Of course...Never..."

Bess drops sword as Lady Jem and group approach...

"Oh, thankee my Lord for finding me here...I might've been locked in for hours."

"Elisabeth? Darling?" Lady Jem steps in, followed by various children and guests up from below.

Hardly "hours", Sandwich thinks. I've never needed more than...

Oh, right... "Yes, well. Glad to be of service, dear cousin. Ah,Jemina, dearest. Cousin Pepys here got herself locked in the small chamber. Shall we be returning downstairs?"


"Sir? What is that music you're playing?" Hewer stares at Sam as he fiddles away.

"Hmmn?...Oh, just something that came to me, Hewer. Bit melodramatic but... Pon my soul, don't have the slightest idea why I should have wanted to play it just now."


A. Hamilton  •  Link

my Latin grammar, which I perceive I have great need of

You and me both, Sam.
I still blush at the error I made in trying to wrest meaning from "parem" in the line from EP's epitaph,
"Prolem enixa, quia parem non potuit, nullam." I have since consulted a qualified expert, who agrees with our own best that "parem" means equal. But he also agrees that it is a damn odd conceit.

Don McCahill  •  Link

At home, being wet, shifted my band and things

Does anyone know what the "band" is? A belt? I am assuming shifted means removed, rather than just moved.

Bradford  •  Link

One's thoughts about "band" go to some species of undergarment ("bellyband"?), but no, the Companion Large Glossary merely cites an early entry, and says "neckband." No doubt the topic's been covered before---but would this look like a "dog collar"? (The Hayls portrait shows a casually knotted ascot-like cloth.)

andy  •  Link

set me down at Whitehall, and thence to right home by water

The Thames is a great route to Westminster and environs. In the 1980s I remember taking the waterbus home from Embankment to the Isle of Dogs, just a short walk either end.

Mary  •  Link

shifted my band.

The neckband was probably very similar to the one shown in the Hayls portrait; knotted at the neck with ends trailing part way down the chest.

Present-day English barristers still wear bands, though these are less full than those of the 17th. century and are no longer knotted but are narrow 'streamers' that hang directly from the neckband itself.

A. De Araujo  •  Link

"so to church and slept all the sermon"
You gotta participate! I reccomend Black Southern Baptists.

A. Hamilton  •  Link

shifted my band

surely he means he asked his trumpets and kettledrums to move over

Australian Susan  •  Link

The Lessons Sam listened to today (presumably he did stay awake for this part of the service!) were Job Ch 38 and Galatians Ch 5.

Kevin Peter  •  Link

Poor old Minnes, he's only 64 and already becoming senile. I imagine that this will only reenforce Sam's impression that Minnes is an idiot.

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