Tuesday 15 December 1663

Before I was up, my brother’s man came to tell me that my cozen, Edward Pepys, was dead, died at Mrs. Turner’s, for which my wife and I are very sorry, and the more for that his wife was the only handsome woman of our name.

So up and to the office, where the greatest business was Sir J. Minnes and Sir W. Batten against me for Sir W. Warren’s contract for masts, to which I may go to my memorandum book to see what past, but came off with conquest, and my Lord Barkely and Mr. Coventry well convinced that we are well used.

So home to dinner, and thither came to me Mr. Mount and Mr. Luellin, I think almost foxed, and there dined with me and very merry as I could be, my mind being troubled to see things so ordered at the Board, though with no disparagement to me at all.

At dinner comes a messenger from the Counter with an execution against me for the 30l. 10s., given the last verdict to Field. The man’s name is Thomas, of the Poultry Counter. I sent Griffin with him to the Dolphin, where Sir W. Batten was at dinner, and he being satisfied that I should pay the money, I did cause the money to be paid him, and Griffin to tell it out to him in the office. He offered to go along with me to Sir R. Ford, but I thought it not necessary, but let him go with it, he also telling me that there is never any receipt for it given, but I have good witness of the payment of it.

They being gone, Luellin having again told me by myself that Deering is content to give me 50l. if I can sell his deals for him to the King, not that I did ever offer to take it, or bid Luellin bargain for me with him, but did tacitly seem to be willing to do him what service I could in it, and expect his thanks, what he thought good.

Thence to White Hall by coach, by the way overtaking Mr. Moore, and took him into the coach to me, and there he could tell me nothing of my Lord, how he stands as to his thoughts or respect to me, but concludes that though at present he may be angry yet he will come to be pleased again with me no doubt, and says that he do mind his business well, and keeps at Court.

So to White Hall, and there by order found some of the Commissioners of Tangier met, and my Lord Sandwich among the rest, to whom I bowed, but he shewed me very little if any countenance at all, which troubles me mightily.

Having soon done there, I took up Mr. Moore again and set him down at Pauls, by the way he proposed to me of a way of profit which perhaps may shortly be made by money by fines upon houses at the Wardrobe, but how I did not understand but left it to another discourse.

So homeward, calling upon Mr. Fen, by Sir G. Carteret’s desire, and did there shew him the bill of Captain Taylor’s whereby I hope to get something justly.

Home and to my office, and there very late with Sir W. Warren upon very serious discourse, telling him how matters passed to-day, and in the close he and I did fall to talk very openly of the business of this office, and (if I was not a little too open to tell him my interest, which is my fault) he did give me most admirable advice, and such as do speak him a most able and worthy man, and understanding seven times more than ever I thought to be in him. He did particularly run over every one of the officers and commanders, and shewed me how I had reason to mistrust every one of them, either for their falsenesse or their over-great power, being too high to fasten a real friendship in, and did give me a common but a most excellent saying to observe in all my life. He did give it in rhyme, but the sense was this, that a man should treat every friend in his discourse and opening his mind to him as of one that may hereafter be his foe. He did also advise me how I should take occasion to make known to the world my case, and the pains that I take in my business, and above all to be sure to get a thorough knowledge in my employment, and to that add all the interest at Court that I can, which I hope I shall do.

He staid talking with me till almost 12 at night, and so good night, being sorry to part with him, and more sorry that he should have as far as Wapping to walk to-night. So I to my Journall and so home, to supper and to bed.

19 Annotations

Eric Walla  •  Link

"... my cozen, Edward Pepys, was dead, died at Mrs. Turner's, for which my wife and I are very sorry, and the more for that his wife was the only handsome woman of our name."

Can someone clarify this? I understand sorrow at the death of a cozen, but does this by necessity mean they will no longer have any close relations with his widow? At this time, would she be expected to stick to her own relations, as if the marriage contract was broken and business with the Pepys side was done?

Paul Dyson  •  Link

"... my cozen, Edward Pepys, was dead, died at Mrs. Turner's, for which my wife and I are very sorry...

Despite Sam and Bess's sorrow, there is no hint that they go to visit and comfort the widow, unless she was too far away, or it was thought to be too soon.

Terry F  •  Link

The deal about the sentence about the deal about deals

"Luellin having again told me by myself that Deering is content to give me 50l. if I can sell his deals for him to the King, not that I did ever offer to take it, or bid Luellin bargain for me with him, but did tacitly seem to be willing to do him what service I could in it, and expect his thanks, what he thought good."

Dering should be Edward - Eastland merchant for naval materials from the Baltic -rather than Richard (whom I annotated because his name was there).

deals http://www.pepysdiary.com/encyclopedia/4992/ has Phil's copy of Nix's terrific clarification of timber products by that name that were used in shipbuilding.

Discussion of this business prospect was initiated last Saturday 12 December - another day marked by news of a death - Pepys apparently responding to knowledge that Luellin had an excess of deals at the end of the year - "To the Exchange, where I had sent Luellin word I would come to him, and thence brought him home to dinner with me. He tells me that W. Symon's wife is dead, for which I am sorry, she being a good woman, and tells me an odde story of her saying before her death, being in good sense, that there stood her uncle Scobell. Then he began to tell me that Mr. Deering had been with him to desire him to speak to me that if I would get him off with these goods upon his hands, he would give me 50 pieces, and further that if I would stand his friend to helpe him to the benefit of his patent as the King's merchant, he could spare me 200l. per annum out of his profits. I was glad to hear both of these, but answered him no further than that as I would not by any thing be bribed to be unjust in my dealings,1 so I was not so squeamish as not to take people's acknowledgment where I had the good fortune by my pains to do them good and just offices, and so I would not come to be at any agreement with him, but I would labour to do him this service and to expect his consideration thereof afterwards as he thought fit. So I expect to hear more of it. I did make very much of Luellin in hopes to have some good by this business" [Sorry, but it was a very detailed, long entry] http://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/1663/12/12/

Bradford  •  Link

That since "his wife was the only handsome woman of our name" there would be no more offspring to inherit her handsomeness gene---such was my first thought, knowing nothing of her age or other children, however.

Sir W. Warren "did give me a common but a most excellent saying to observe in all my life. He did give it in rhyme, but the sense was this, that a man should treat every friend in his discourse and opening his mind to him as of one that may hereafter be his foe."
The whole point of casting sententious thoughts into verse is to make them memorable; but either Pepys was just too distracted to remember the end-words---a logical first step when memorizing formal poetry---or "this sequence of elegant sentiments" turned the Muse's feathered wings to lead.

Terry F  •  Link

The memorable verses Pepys forgot, L&M say, was one of the "Proverbs of Alfred" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Proverbs_of_Al...

If it was so, it was in Old English, ergo forgettable for one without a cultivated ear for Anglo-Sacon proverbs.

Perhaps unavailable online, cf. *An Old English Miscellany Containing A Bestiary, Kentish Sermons, Proverbs Of Alfred And Religious Poems Of The Thirteenth Century* ed. Richard Morris

cumgranosalis  •  Link

I be in left field with this: Rhyme or be it rhythm see OED:

":...He did give it in rhyme, but the sense was this, that a man should treat every friend in his discourse and opening his mind to him as of one that may hereafter be his foe..."

II d. The measured flow of words or phrases [rather than the poetic modern]

[(1) In branch I, a graphic variant of RIME n.1 (cf. RHYME n.) assimilated to L. rhythmus or F. rhythme, in 16-17th

c. rithme. The rime-words time, crime (see quots. 1646, 1651, 1677) attest the pronunciation (Cf. the spelling ri'me in B. Jonson Volpone Prol., the apostrophe representing the omitted th.
(2) In branch II, directly ad. L. rhythmus (see RHYTHMUS).]

[or as a part of rhyme or reason rather than poetic.]

3b. Coupled with reason. Chiefly in negative phrases used to express lack of good sense or reasonableness. (Cf. F. ni rime ni raison, etc.)
1664 H. MORE Myst. Iniq. 415 Against all the Laws of Prophetick Interpretation, nay indeed against all rhyme and reason.

[Graphic variant of RIME n.1 (q.v. for earlier instances of the various senses), which arose through etymological as. Rhime was a frequent spelling till late in the 18th c. and was affected by some writers in the 19th c., but rhyme is the prevailing literary form. sociation with the ultimate source, L. rhythmus, and became common early in the 17th c. Cf. the forms r(h)ithme, r(h)ythme (see RHYTHM n., branch I), which were in similar vogue 50 years earlier

Terry F  •  Link

cumgranosalis, you are correct - SP would know if "He did give it in rhyme" - perhaps early Middle English, not the Anglo-Saxon of Beowulf - there is perhaps this shady area that language hat could clarify.

tel  •  Link

did give me a common but a most excellent saying to observe

Would this do as a modern version?

Treat business partners all as friends
in times of joy or sorrow.
Just bear in mind that they may be
your enemy tomorrow.

Robert Gertz  •  Link

"...where Sir W. Batten was at dinner, and he being satisfied that I should pay the money..."

Considering you just aced him out of a major contract (and no doubt, very large kickback from Mr. Winter), Sam, I wonder you should've expected any other answer. But I suppose it would be office money rather than your own?

Bradford  •  Link

This try is close though no cigar; but, as my grandma used to say, "Won't be noticed on a gallopin' horse":

Each bosom friend to whom thou think
Thy heart and mind to show,
Beware!---for someday, in a blink,
He may prove bosom foe.

(Indent the second and fourth lines
to make the effect look best:
the formatting here
is nice and clear,
but refuses the Muses' request.)

Robert Gertz  •  Link

Pepysian Xmas Carol cont

"The Ghost frowned. 'Expect the others to follow as they like. And you might remember they're going out of their way to help you.'

So Heaven wants Samuel Pepys, Sam couldn't resist thinking a tad proudly. Nice to know my diligence has won me a little...

'Though if it were up to me or them, we probably wouldn't waste the time.' the Ghost glared, clearly reading Sam's mind. 'Look to see me no more, you little no one, and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!'

When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the table, and setting its head at last back on its neck, bound the kerchief round the neck, as before. Sam, not particularly caring to watch, ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over and about its arm.

The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was wide open. It beckoned Sam to come towards it, which he did. When they were within two paces of each other, Cromwell's Ghost held up its hand, warning him to come no nearer. Pepys stopped. From the cold and dark night outside now came the most mournful cries of woe, lamentation, and regret. The Ghost, floating out, listened a moment and then joined in.

Sam followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked out.

The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains like Oliver's Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments or corporate bodies?) were linked together. None were free and all seemed attracted, even fixed on scenes of human misery and wretchness which spread before him on the ground below. One old fellow, sobbing piteously at the plight of a seaman's widow and her dying infant on a doorstep, dragging a large chest from which the phantom tossed incorporeal and therefore useless coin at the poor woman, he suddenly recognized with shock as none other than the late Sir George Carteret himself

The misery with all the spirits was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power for ever.

Hmmn...Must be an awful punishment backing it up if Sir George is so reduced...Sam thought.

Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the night became as it had been when he walked home.

Sam closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had entered. The locked bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say 'Humbug!' but stopped at the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant.

When Pepys awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his chamber. He was endeavoring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes, when the chimes of a neighboring church struck the four quarters. So he listened for the hour.

To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve. It was past two by the watch when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works. Twelve?

"Why, it isn't possible," said Sam, "that I can have slept through a whole day and far into another night. It isn't possible that anything has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at noon."

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see very little then. All he could make out was, that it was still very foggy and extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running to and fro, and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have been if night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the world. This was a great relief, because "three days after sight of this First of Exchange pay to Samuel Pepys, esq. or his order," and so forth, would have become meaningless if there were no days to count by.

There being no immediate remedy, Sam went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought it over and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored not to think, the more he thought. Cromwell's Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolved within himself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first position, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, 'Was it a dream or not?'

Pepys lay in this state until the chimes had gone three quarters more, when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warned him of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the hour was past; and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than go to Heaven, this was perhaps the wisest resolution in his power.

The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear.

'Ding, dong!'

'A quarter past,' said Pepys, counting.

'Ding dong!'

'Half past!' said Sam.

'Ding dong!'

'A quarter to it,' said Pepys.

'Ding dong!'

'The hour itself,' cried Sam, triumphantly, '...and nothing else!'

He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy One. Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.

The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Pepys, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.

It was a strange figure -- like a child: yet not so like a child as like a young woman, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave it the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper members, bare. Its figure, Pepys noted, was quite lovely, though shrouded a bit by its draping dress of the purest white, and round its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that in its arms it held a large, well-bound book from which emanated the light with illuminated the room; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cover, which it now held under its arm.

'Ho there you...Spirit, whatever. That's my ...' Sam paused, seeing the face clearly...Oh...

He examined the diminished figure as carefully as he could without staring too long...Oh, yes. I know those...Ahem...The Spirit frowned at him and he hastily raised eyes.

'Bess...? Are you the Spirit, whose coming was foretold to me? And what the devil are you playing with my Diary for..?' asked Pepys.

Was wondering where the damned thing had got to. Intended to have Hewer burn it. Dangerous thing to have round...

'I am the Spirit you were told of.'

The voice was soft and gentle, with a trace of French accent. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

'Come now. Who are you really, and what are you?" Pepys demanded.

"I am the Ghost of the Past.'

'Long Past?' inquired Pepys: observant of its dwarfish stature.

'Your Past.'

'Right. '

Perhaps, Pepys could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have asked him; but he had a special desire to see the Spirit blanket the Diary in its cover .

'What!' exclaimed the Ghost, 'Would you so soon put out, with your own hands, the light it gives? Is it not enough that you, who created this source of Light, are one of those whose passions made this cover, and have forced me through whole trains of years to hide it and keep its spirit so smothered!'

'My Diary a source of Light?' Sam beamed.

'Not every passage, Sam'l.' a frown. 'But some...'

He caught the familiarity in the Spirit's naming. 'Bess? Is it really you?'

'As much as I am a large part of your past, Sam'l. Yes. But I compromise more than Elisabeth's spirit.'

He then made bold to inquire what business brought it..her? there.

'Your welfare,' said the Ghost.

Pepys expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately:

'Your reclamation, then. Take heed.'

It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.

'Rise. And walk with me.'

It would have been in vain for Pepys to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted.

Definitely Bess somewhere in there, he thought, eyeing the Ghost. She always had the grip of a blacksmith.

He rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped his robe in supplication.

'Bess, remember I am mortal,' Pepys remonstrated, 'and liable to fall.'

'And having read your Diary, a part of me ought to let you.' the Spirit frowned. 'Well, bear but a touch of my hand there,' said the Spirit, laying it upon his heart, 'and you shall be upheld in more than this.'

Another faint smile as it...she touched him. 'You ought to know I'd never let harm come to you.', offering a hand which at last, a bit reluctantly, he took.


'You even trusted me with your gold a few times, Sam'l.' the Spirit grinned.

As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground."

Xjy  •  Link

Great game! :-)

Those friends today you treat so free,
Tomorrow's costly foes will be.

language hat  •  Link

"If it was so, it was in Old English"

There's no chance it was in Old English, which was completely incomprehensible and probably unknown to everyone except a few antiquarians. I don't know how L&M decided it was from The Proverbs of Alfred, but if so it would have been a modernized version.

Terry F  •  Link

"I did cause the money to be paid [Thomas, of the Poultry Counter], and Griffin to tell [count] it out to him in the office"

If this is the end of the Field business, it's with a whimper.

Bradford  •  Link

Xjy bears away the palm. Except that Sam should have been able to remember That much.

Xjy  •  Link

Whimpering end of Field business

Sam is outgrowing the pettiest concerns of the past couple of years pretty quickly, I think. So it's not so much a whimper as a startling change of perspective - from anxious close-up to more middle-distance wide-angle. It's as if he's matured ten or fifteen years in two or three. (Say, from 23 to 38...) This kind of thing still worries him, but has far less scope to expand and occupy his mind completely, cos he's so damn busy with so many different things, and has far biggest sharks (the duke and the king, and the fate of Sandwich) to watch out for.

Terry Foreman  •  Link

"I don't know how L&M decided it was from The Proverbs of Alfred, but if so it would have been a modernized version."

L&M credit J, Wilson pointing the way to Proverbs, Sentences, and Proverbial Phrases from English Writings Mainly before 1500. Bartlett Jere Whiting, Helen Wescott Whiting. Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1968, F 635.

Ivan  •  Link

On the subject of Warren's rhyming verse my L&M's footnote reads: "No version of this proverb in English verse has been traced." There is no mention of The Proverbs of Alfred. [I have the first edition dated 1971.]

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