A bill of exchange
Reader Scott Mathias recently got in touch having bought a document signed by Samuel Pepys. It appears to be the “bill of exchange” mentioned by Pepys in his entry for 31 July 1667:
Daily entries from the 17th century London diary
Longer articles on broader topics.
Reader Scott Mathias recently got in touch having bought a document signed by Samuel Pepys. It appears to be the “bill of exchange” mentioned by Pepys in his entry for 31 July 1667:
[As promised here’s Sue Nicholson’s review of this new book. Sue read and commented on an earlier draft of the book, and here reviews the published version. Among other articles she has previously written about the Pepys’ house at Seething Lane. Phil.]
A while back I asked for some questions to put to Dr Kate Loveman, who has written a lot about Pepys over the years… see our review of Samuel Pepys and His Books, and read more about her new abridged edition of the diaries.
Written by acclaimed naval historian J. D. Davies, this book won the Samuel Pepys Award in 2009.
Davies has marshalled a formidable range and depth of information in this book, which he has arranged with almost Pepysian clarity and method. There are thirteen parts, each subdivided into several chapters:
Over on the London Historians’ Blog there’s a review of The Curious World of Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn by Margaret Willes. In lieu of our own review of the book I thought it worth linking to this one, by Mike Paterson.
Mens cuiusque is est quisque: the mind is the man. Pepys adopted this quote from Cicero as his motto in later life. He had bookplates made featuring the Latin inscription beneath a portrait of himself in flourishing middle age. Always conscious of his public persona (some would say always a social climber) the clear implication was that a person’s books demonstrate the breadth of their learning and intellectual interests, and perhaps their political and religious views. So when we stand in the Pepys Library at Magdalene College, Cambridge looking at the handsome book presses, the portraits and the maps, scanning the shelves and examining the titles, are we gazing into the mind of Samuel Pepys?
[Disclaimer: The author sent us a free copy of the book; we were under no obligation to say something good about it! Phil.]
Not a book for serious academics, this is a fast-paced bit of Pepysian fantasy in which Sam and Will Hewer set out to retrieve a necklace and the last volume of the diary, which have been stolen in mysterious circumstances.
As a regular Pepys reader, I found that the dialogue could be painfully anachronistic at times; modern (American) idiom is overused (“any time soon”) and some characters sounded more Victorian than Restoration (“tea-leaf” is Cockney rhyming slang). The plot is fast-paced, occasionally lurching into the feverishly surreal; Sam and Will with a leather-clad Aphra Behn in an armed scuffle? A seventeenth century “car chase” scene? Too much!
With its current exhibition, the National Maritime Museum invites us to “Step into the curious and chaotic world of history’s greatest witness”. If you have the slightest curiosity about Pepys, the “curious man”, as John Evelyn described him, this is an opportunity not to be missed.
[Disclaimer: The author sent us a free copy of the book; we were under no obligation to say something good about it! Phil.]
[Disclaimer: The author sent me a free copy of the book, which I passed on to Jeannine to review; we were under no obligation to say something good about it! Phil.]