Diary of Samuel Pepys, 1669 N.S. Complete

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15th. Up, and at the Office all the morning. Dined at home and Creed
with me home, and I did discourse about evening some reckonings with him
in the afternoon; but I could not, for my eyes, do it, which troubled me,
and vexed him that would not; but yet we were friends, I advancing him
more without it, and so to walk all the afternoon together in the garden;
and I perceive still he do expect a change in of matters, especially as to
religion, and fits himself for it by professing himself for it in his
discourse. He gone, I to my business at my Office, and so at night home
to supper, and to bed.

16th (Lord's day). My wife and I at church, our pew filled with Mrs.
Backewell, and six more that she brought with her, which vexed me at her
confidence. Dined at home and W. Batelier with us, and I all the
afternoon drawing up a foul draught of my petition to the Duke of York,
about my eyes, for leave to spend three or four months out of the Office,
drawing it so as to give occasion to a voyage abroad which I did, to my
pretty good liking; and then with my wife to Hyde Park, where a good deal
of company, and good weather, and so home to supper and to bed.

17th. Up, and to several places doing business, and the home to dinner,
and then my wife and I and brother John by coach to the King's playhouse,
and saw "The Spanish Curate" revived, which is a pretty good play, but my
eyes troubled with seeing it, mightily. Thence carried them and Mr.
Gibson, who met me at my Lord Brouncker's with a fair copy of my petition,
which I thought to shew the Duke of York this night, but could not, and
therefore carried them to the Park, where they had never been, and so home
to supper and to bed. Great the news now of the French taking St.
Domingo, in Spaniola, from the Spaniards, which troubles us, that they
should have it, and have the honour of taking it, when we could not.

18th. Up, and to St. James's and other places, and then to the office,
where all the morning. At noon home and dined in my wife's chamber, she
being much troubled with the tooth-ake, and I staid till a surgeon of hers
come, one Leeson, who hath formerly drawn her mouth, and he advised her to
draw it: so I to the Office, and by and by word is come that she hath
drawn it, which pleased me, it being well done. So I home, to comfort
her, and so back to the office till night, busy, and so home to supper and
to bed.

19th. With my coach to St. James's; and there finding the Duke of York
gone to muster his men, in Hyde Park, I alone with my boy thither, and
there saw more, walking out of my coach as other gentlemen did, of a
soldier's trade, than ever I did in my life: the men being mighty fine,
and their Commanders, particularly the Duke of Monmouth; but me-thought
their trade but very easy as to the mustering of their men, and the men
but indifferently ready to perform what was commanded, in the handling of
their arms. Here the news was first talked of Harry Killigrew's being
wounded in nine places last night, by footmen, in the highway, going from
the Park in a hackney-coach towards Hammersmith, to his house at Turnham
Greene: they being supposed to be my Lady Shrewsbury's men, she being by,
in her coach with six horses; upon an old grudge of his saying openly that
he had lain with her. Thence by and by to White Hall, and there I waited
upon the King and Queen all dinner-time, in the Queen's lodgings, she
being in her white pinner and apron, like a woman with child; and she
seemed handsomer plain so, than dressed. And by and by, dinner done, I
out, and to walk in the Gallery, for the Duke of York's coming out; and
there, meeting Mr. May, he took me down about four o'clock to Mr.
Chevins's lodgings, and all alone did get me a dish of cold chickens, and
good wine; and I dined like a prince, being before very hungry and empty.
By and by the Duke of York comes, and readily took me to his closet, and
received my petition, and discoursed about my eyes, and pitied me, and
with much kindness did give me his consent to be absent, and approved of
my proposition to go into Holland to observe things there, of the Navy;
but would first ask the King's leave, which he anon did, and did tell me
that the King would be a good master to me, these were his words, about my
eyes, and do like of my going into Holland, but do advise that nobody
should know of my going thither, but pretend that I did go into the
country somewhere, which I liked well. Glad of this, I home, and thence
took out my wife, and to Mr. Holliard's about a swelling in her cheek, but
he not at home, and so round by Islington and eat and drink, and so home,
and after supper to bed. In discourse this afternoon, the Duke of York
did tell me that he was the most amazed at one thing just now, that ever
he was in his life, which was, that the Duke of Buckingham did just now
come into the Queen's bed-chamber, where the King was, and much mixed
company, and among others, Tom Killigrew, the father of Harry, who was
last night wounded so as to be in danger of death, and his man is quite
dead; and [Buckingham] there in discourse did say that he had spoke with
some one that was by (which all the world must know that it must be his
whore, my Lady Shrewsbury), who says that they did not mean to hurt, but
beat him, and that he did run first at them with his sword; so that he do
hereby clearly discover that he knows who did it, and is of conspiracy
with them, being of known conspiracy with her, which the Duke of York did
seem to be pleased with, and said it might, perhaps, cost him his life in
the House of Lords; and I find was mightily pleased with it, saying it was
the most impudent thing, as well as the most foolish, that ever he knew
man do in all his life.

20th. Up and to the Office, where all the morning. At noon, the whole
Office--Brouncker, J. Minnes, T. Middleton, Samuel Pepys, and Captain Cox
to dine with the Parish, at the Three Tuns, this day being Ascension-day,
where exceeding good discourse among the merchants, and thence back home,
and after a little talk with my wife, to my office did a great deal of
business, and so with my eyes might weary, and my head full of care how to
get my accounts and business settled against my journey, home to supper,
and bed. Yesterday, at my coming home, I found that my wife had, on a
sudden, put away Matt upon some falling out, and I doubt my wife did call
her ill names by my wife's own discourse; but I did not meddle to say
anything upon it, but let her go, being not sorry, because now we may get
one that speaks French, to go abroad with us.

21st. I waited with the Office upon the Duke of York in the morning.
Dined at home, where Lewis Phillips the friend of his, dined with me. In
the afternoon at the Office. In the evening visited by Roger Pepys and
Philip Packer and so home.

22nd. Dined at home, the rest of the whole day at office.

23rd (Lord's day). Called up by Roger Pepys and his son who to church
with me, and then home to dinner. In the afternoon carried them to
Westminster, and myself to James's, where, not finding the Duke of York,
back home, and with my wife spent the evening taking the ayre about
Hackney, with great pleasure, and places we had never seen before.

24th. To White Hall, and there all the morning, and they home, and giving
order for some business and setting my brother to making a catalogue of my
books, I back again to W. Hewer to White Hall, where I attended the Duke
of York and was by him led to [the King], who expressed great sense of my
misfortune in my eyes, and concernment for their recovery; and accordingly
signified, not only his assent to desire therein, but commanded me to give
them rest summer, according to my late petition to the Duke of York. W.
Hewer and I dined alone at the Swan; and thence having thus waited on the
King, spent till four o'clock in St. James's Park, when I met my wife at
Unthanke's, and so home.

25th. Dined at home; and the rest of the day, morning and afternoon, at
the Office.

26th. To White Hall, where all the morning. Dined with Mr. Chevins, with
Alderman Backewell, and Spragg. The Court full of the news from Captain
Hubbert, of "The Milford," touching his being affronted in the Streights,
shot at, and having eight men killed him by a French man-of-war, calling
him "English dog," and commanding him to strike, which he refused, and, as
knowing himself much too weak for him, made away from him. The Queen, as
being supposed with child, fell ill, so as to call for Madam Nun, Mr.
Chevins's sister, and one of her women, from dinner from us; this being
the last day of their doubtfulness touching her being with child; and they
were therein well confirmed by her Majesty's being well again before
night. One Sir Edmund Bury Godfry, a woodmonger and justice of Peace in
Westminster, having two days since arrested Sir Alexander Frazier for
about L30 in firing, the bailiffs were apprehended, committed to the
porter's lodge, and there, by the King's command, the last night severely
whipped; from which the justice himself very hardly escaped, to such an
unusual degree was the King moved therein. But he lies now in the lodge,
justifying his act, as grounded upon the opinion of several of the judges,
and, among others, my Lord Chief-Justice; which makes the King very angry
with the Chief-Justice, as they say; and the justice do lie and justify
his act, and says he will suffer in the cause for the people, and do
refuse to receive almost any nutriment. The effects of it may be bad to
the Court. Expected a meeting of Tangier this afternoon, but failed. So
home, met by my wife at Unthanke's!

27th. At the office all the morning, dined at home, Mr. Hollier with me.
Presented this day by Mr. Browne with a book of drawing by him, lately
printed, which cost me 20s. to him. In the afternoon to the Temple, to
meet with Auditor Aldworth about my interest account, but failed meeting
him. To visit my cozen Creed, and found her ill at home, being with
child, and looks poorly. Thence to her husband, at Gresham College, upon
some occasions of Tangier; and so home, with Sir John Bankes with me, to
Mark Lane.

28th. To St. James's, where the King's being with the Duke of York
prevented a meeting of the Tangier Commission. But, Lord! what a deal of
sorry discourse did I hear between the King and several Lords about him
here! but very mean methought. So with Creed to the Excise Office, and
back to White Hall, where, in the Park, Sir G. Carteret did give me an
account of his discourse lately, with the Commissioners of Accounts, who
except against many things, but none that I find considerable; among
others, that of the Officers of the Navy selling of the King's goods, and
particularly my providing him with calico flags, which having been by
order, and but once, when necessity, and the King's apparent profit,
justified it, as conformable to my particular duty, it will prove to my
advantage that it be enquired into. Nevertheless, having this morning
received from them a demand of an account of all monies within their
cognizance, received and issued by me, I was willing, upon this hint, to
give myself rest, by knowing whether their meaning therein might reach
only to my Treasurership for Tangier, or the monies employed on this
occasion. I went, therefore, to them this afternoon, to understand what
monies they meant, where they answered me, by saying, "The eleven months'
tax, customs, and prizemoney," without mentioning, any more than I
demanding, the service they respected therein; and so, without further
discourse, we parted, upon very good terms of respect, and with few words,
but my mind not fully satisfied about the monies they mean. At noon Mr.
Gibson and I dined at the Swan, and thence doing this at Brook house, and
thence caking at the Excise Office for an account of payment of my tallies
for Tangier, I home, and thence with my wife and brother spent the evening
on the water, carrying our supper with us, as high as Chelsea; so home,
making sport with the Westerne bargees, and my wife and I singing, to my
great content.

29th. The King's birth-day. To White Hall, where all very gay; and
particularly the Prince of Tuscany very fine, and is the first day of his
appearing out of mourning, since he come. I heard the Bishop of
Peterborough' preach but dully; but a good anthem of Pelham's. Home to
dinner, and then with my wife to Hyde Park, where all the evening; great
store of company, and great preparations by the Prince of Tuscany to
celebrate the night with fire-works, for the King's birth-day. And so
home.

30th (Whitsunday). By water to White Hall, and thence to Sir W. Coventry,
where all the morning by his bed-side, he being indisposed. Our discourse
was upon the notes I have lately prepared for Commanders' Instructions;
but concluded that nothing will render them effectual, without an
amendment in the choice of them, that they be seamen, and not gentleman
above the command of the Admiral, by the greatness of their relations at
Court. Thence to White Hall, and dined alone with Mr. Chevins his sister:
whither by and by come in Mr. Progers and Sir Thomas Allen, and by and by
fine Mrs. Wells, who is a great beauty; and there I had my full gaze upon
her, to my great content, she being a woman of pretty conversation.
Thence to the Duke of York, who, with the officers of the Navy, made a
good entrance on my draught of my new Instructions to Commanders, as well
expressing general [views] of a reformation among them, as liking of my
humble offers towards it. Thence being called by my wife, Mr. Gibson and
I, we to the Park, whence the rain suddenly home.

31st. Up very betimes, and so continued all the morning with W. Hewer,
upon examining and stating my accounts, in order to the fitting myself to
go abroad beyond sea, which the ill condition of my eyes, and my neglect
for a year or two, hath kept me behindhand in, and so as to render it very
difficult now, and troublesome to my mind to do it; but I this day made a
satisfactory entrance therein. Dined at home, and in the afternoon by
water to White Hall, calling by the way at Michell's, where I have not
been many a day till just the other day, and now I met her mother there
and knew her husband to be out of town. And here je did baiser elle, but
had not opportunity para hazer some with her as I would have offered if je
had had it. And thence had another meeting with the Duke of York, at
White Hall, on yesterday's work, and made a good advance: and so, being
called by my wife, we to the Park, Mary Batelier, and a Dutch gentleman, a
friend of hers, being with us. Thence to "The World's End," a
drinking-house by the Park; and there merry, and so home late.

And thus ends all that I doubt I shall ever be able to do with my own eyes
in the keeping of my journal, I being not able to do it any longer, having
done now so long as to undo my eyes almost every time that I take a pen in
my hand; and, therefore, whatever comes of it, I must forbear: and,
therefore, resolve, from this time forward, to have it kept by my people
in long-hand, and must therefore be contented to set down no more than is
fit for them and all the world to know; or, if there be any thing, which
cannot be much, now my amours to Deb. are past, and my eyes hindering me
in almost all other pleasures, I must endeavour to keep a margin in my
book open, to add, here and there, a note in short-hand with my own hand.

And so I betake myself to that course, which is almost as much as to see
myself go into my grave: for which, and all the discomforts that will
accompany my being blind, the good God prepare me!

May 31, 1669.

END OF THE DIARY.

PREFACE

[This moved, by the editor, to the end
where it seems to fit more comfortably.]

First issue of this edition June, 1896. Reprinted 1897.

In the present volume the Diary is completed, and we here take leave
of a writer who has done so much to interest and enlighten successive
generations of English readers, and who is now for the first time
presented to the world as he really drew his own portrait day by day.

No one who has followed the daily notes of Samuel Pepys from January,
1660, to May, 1669, but must feel sincere regret at their abrupt
conclusion, more particularly as the writer lays down his pen while in an
unhappy temper.

It is evident from the tone of his later utterances that Pepys thought
that he was going blind, a belief which was happily falsified. The
holiday tour in which Charles II. and James, Duke of York, took so much
interest appears to have had its desired effect in restoring the Diarist
to health.

The rest of his eventful life must be sought in the history of the English
Navy which he helped to form, and in his numerous letters, which on some
future occasion the present editor hopes to annotate. The details to be
obtained from these sources form, however, but a sorry substitute for the
words written in the solitude of his office by Pepys for his own eye
alone, and we cannot but feel how great is the world's loss in that he
never resumed the writing of his journal. All must agree with Coleridge
when he wrote on the margin of a copy of the Diary: "Truly may it be said
that this was a greater and more grievous loss to the mind's eye of
posterity than to the bodily organs of Pepys himself. It makes me restless
and discontented to think what a Diary equal in minuteness and truth of
portraiture to the preceding from 1669 to 1688 or 1690 would have been for
the true causes, process and character of the Revolution."

Most works of this nature are apt to tire when they are extended over a
certain length of time, but Pepys's pages are always fresh, and most
readers wish for more. For himself the editor can say that each time he
has read over the various proofs he has read with renewed interest, so
that it is with no ordinary feelings of regret that he comes to the end of
his task, and he believes that every reader will feel the same regret that
he has no more to read.

In reviewing the Diary it is impossible not to notice the growth of
historical interest as it proceeds. In the earlier period we find Pepys
surrounded by men not otherwise known, but as the years pass, and his
position becomes more assured, we find him in daily communication with the
chief men of his day, and evidently every one who came in contact with him
appreciated his remarkable ability. The survival of the Diary must ever
remain a marvel. It could never have been intended for the reading of
others, but doubtless the more elaborate portraits of persons in the later
pages were intended for use when Pepys came to write his projected history
of the Navy.

The only man who is uniformly spoken well of in the Diary is Sir William
Coventry, and many of the characters introduced come in for severe
castigation. It is therefore the more necessary to remember that many of
the judgments on men were set down hastily, and would probably have been
modified had occasion offered. At all events, we know that, however much
he may have censured them, Pepys always helped on those who were dependent
upon him.

H. R. W.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Drawing up a foul draught of my petition to the Duke of York
Last day of their doubtfulness touching her being with child
Quite according to the fashion--nothing to drink or eat

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS, DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS, 1969 N.S.

Broken sort of people, that have not much to lose
But so fearful I am of discontenting my wife
By her wedding-ring, I suppose he hath married her at last
Dine with them, at my cozen Roger's mistress's
Drawing up a foul draught of my petition to the Duke of York
Dutchmen come out of the mouth and tail of a Hamburgh sow
Fain to keep a woman on purpose at 20s. a week
Find it a base copy of a good originall, that vexed me
Found in my head and body about twenty lice, little and great
Have not much to lose, and therefore will venture all
His satisfaction is nothing worth, it being easily got
I have itched mightily these 6 or 7 days
I know I have made myself an immortal enemy by it
Lady Castlemayne is now in a higher command over the King
Last day of their doubtfulness touching her being with child
Mighty fond in the stories she tells of her son Will
Nor was there any pretty woman that I did see, but my wife
Observing my eyes to be mightily employed in the playhouse
Proud, carping, insolent, and ironically-prophane stile
Quite according to the fashion--nothing to drink or eat
She finds that I am lousy
Unquiet which her ripping up of old faults will give me
Up, and with W. Hewer, my guard, to White Hall
Weeping to myself for grief, which she discerning, come to bed
With egg to keep off the glaring of the light

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