#pepys — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #pepys, aggregated by home.social.
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@samuelpepys
Sorry old chap, I don't understand your banter.
("turned up his tail"?)#Pepys #English #language #diary #1600s #history #Tachygraphy #ShortHand
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《 .... reading Bacon’s “Faber fortunae,” which the oftener I read the more I admire. 》
What a lovely sentence construction ("the oftener I read it"). And a fine sentiment it is, too.
Naturally, we check out Francis Bacon (Of Fortune): "If a man look sharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune; for though she be blind, yet she is not invisible."
Oh yes, I can see how this speaks to our Samuel.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/56463/56463-h/56463-h.htm#Page_228
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《 .... reading Bacon’s “Faber fortunae,” which the oftener I read the more I admire. 》
What a lovely sentence construction ("the oftener I read it"). And a fine sentiment it is, too.
Naturally, we check out Francis Bacon (Of Fortune): "If a man look sharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune; for though she be blind, yet she is not invisible."
Oh yes, I can see how this speaks to our Samuel.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/56463/56463-h/56463-h.htm#Page_228
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"... there I heard the famous Mr. Stefkins play admirably well, and yet I found it as it is always, I over expected."
Yup. I have the same weakness, Sam. Over-expecting is anti-Tao. We must learn to non-expect.
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"... there I heard the famous Mr. Stefkins play admirably well, and yet I found it as it is always, I over expected."
Yup. I have the same weakness, Sam. Over-expecting is anti-Tao. We must learn to non-expect.
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"To supper, and then to a little viall and to bed, sporting in my fancy with the Queen."
What makes Sam Sam is the fact that he makes sure to find space for his evening music making, in between the much more physical activities of dinner (before playing the viola) and "sporting in his fancy" with the Queen (after playing the viola).
I shall remain silent on today's object of Sam's "sporting in his fancy".
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"To supper, and then to a little viall and to bed, sporting in my fancy with the Queen."
What makes Sam Sam is the fact that he makes sure to find space for his evening music making, in between the much more physical activities of dinner (before playing the viola) and "sporting in his fancy" with the Queen (after playing the viola).
I shall remain silent on today's object of Sam's "sporting in his fancy".
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"Up and all the morning at the office, among other things with Cooper the Purveyor, whose dullness in his proceeding in his work I was vexed at."
Nothing has changed since, Sam. There is an uncounted number of Cooper the Purveyors, in every place of work.
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"Up and all the morning at the office, among other things with Cooper the Purveyor, whose dullness in his proceeding in his work I was vexed at."
Nothing has changed since, Sam. There is an uncounted number of Cooper the Purveyors, in every place of work.
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CW: Samuel Pepys worried about miscarriage
Golly, Sam, what a plot. This guy Tom Wilson comes into your (borrowed) bedroom at night, he does all sorts of bizarre things. You take it with admirable calm. He comes back the next day to apologise again. You reassure him that all is well, and then you tell him that he should be glad that ... you aren't a pregnant woman who would have had a miscarriage when accosted this way. What?
Perhaps Sam and Elisabeth had a miscarriage, unreported in the diary?
Or is this about Queen Catherine, married to Charles since May last year, thus far childless. Charles II currently has lost interest in his mistress Barbara Palmer (Lady Castlemaine), who has borne one son to him and is pregnant again. Now the queen is back in favour. This is big news, Pepys had reflected on it just this Friday. Is Sam worried about the loss of a royal successor? (He could not know that Catherine was to have multiple miscarriages and would remain childless.)
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CW: Samuel Pepys worried about miscarriage
Golly, Sam, what a plot. This guy Tom Wilson comes into your (borrowed) bedroom at night, he does all sorts of bizarre things. You take it with admirable calm. He comes back the next day to apologise again. You reassure him that all is well, and then you tell him that he should be glad that ... you aren't a pregnant woman who would have had a miscarriage when accosted this way. What?
Perhaps Sam and Elisabeth had a miscarriage, unreported in the diary?
Or is this about Queen Catherine, married to Charles since May last year, thus far childless. Charles II currently has lost interest in his mistress Barbara Palmer (Lady Castlemaine), who has borne one son to him and is pregnant again. Now the queen is back in favour. This is big news, Pepys had reflected on it just this Friday. Is Sam worried about the loss of a royal successor? (He could not know that Catherine was to have multiple miscarriages and would remain childless.)
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"Bridall respect" is a lovely word to describe what made your own marriage more than a marriage of convenience. I am so glad you remember it here, Sam. It always cheers me up when you make an effort to draw on that energy and give a positive twist to your relationship with Elisabeth. The two of you are quite good at keeping your "bridall respect" alive. Hat tip to you both.
(And I like the spelling, too.)
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"Bridall respect" is a lovely word to describe what made your own marriage more than a marriage of convenience. I am so glad you remember it here, Sam. It always cheers me up when you make an effort to draw on that energy and give a positive twist to your relationship with Elisabeth. The two of you are quite good at keeping your "bridall respect" alive. Hat tip to you both.
(And I like the spelling, too.)
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" ... it being such as these that lost the old King all he had, and were beat by the most ordinary fellows that could be."
Restoration does not undo the revolution to which it is the response. Things will never be the same again. No more undoubted Monarch. Revolutions are not undone and not forgotten.
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" ... it being such as these that lost the old King all he had, and were beat by the most ordinary fellows that could be."
Restoration does not undo the revolution to which it is the response. Things will never be the same again. No more undoubted Monarch. Revolutions are not undone and not forgotten.
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"With Creed to hire a coach to carry us to Hide Park, ... ; but they demand so high, that I, spying Mr. Cutler the merchant, did take notice of him, I asked and went along with him."
Presumably the same Creed with whom you don't want to be friends since he is an office schemer, but from whom you are eager to learn how to do the scheming?
Well, today you showed him, didn't you. Taking a free cab ride with another colleague and letting him pay his own fare unshared. It seems that Creed can learn a thing or two from you! Knowing the type, he probably admires you for the trick you played on him.
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"With Creed to hire a coach to carry us to Hide Park, ... ; but they demand so high, that I, spying Mr. Cutler the merchant, did take notice of him, I asked and went along with him."
Presumably the same Creed with whom you don't want to be friends since he is an office schemer, but from whom you are eager to learn how to do the scheming?
Well, today you showed him, didn't you. Taking a free cab ride with another colleague and letting him pay his own fare unshared. It seems that Creed can learn a thing or two from you! Knowing the type, he probably admires you for the trick you played on him.
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To the Fedi, and there met with several people, among others CoxTheCaptain @purple.cafe, and bantered along with him and some other shitposters. Good discourse.
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To the Fedi, and there met with several people, among others CoxTheCaptain @purple.cafe, and bantered along with him and some other shitposters. Good discourse.
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"... a fellow of those designs and tricks, that there is no degree of true friendship to be made with him, and therefore I must cast him off, ..."
"... though he be a very understanding man, and one that much may be learned of as to cunning and judging of other men."
Ah, Creed again.
Samuel had resolved to be careful with him earlier, on 10 January and more recently on 22 June. At the time, I had thought that Pepys's wish to keep contact with Creed and learn from him was on matters of business, perhaps related to ship-building, or accounts.
But now it seems that what Samuel wants to learn from Creed is precisely those things that make him suspicious of the man: "cunning and judging of other men". Interesting.
Careful, Sam. Slippery slope.
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"... a fellow of those designs and tricks, that there is no degree of true friendship to be made with him, and therefore I must cast him off, ..."
"... though he be a very understanding man, and one that much may be learned of as to cunning and judging of other men."
Ah, Creed again.
Samuel had resolved to be careful with him earlier, on 10 January and more recently on 22 June. At the time, I had thought that Pepys's wish to keep contact with Creed and learn from him was on matters of business, perhaps related to ship-building, or accounts.
But now it seems that what Samuel wants to learn from Creed is precisely those things that make him suspicious of the man: "cunning and judging of other men". Interesting.
Careful, Sam. Slippery slope.
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"Bier auf Wein, // das lass sein. // Wein auf Bier, // das rat' ich dir."
Ancient German saying. "Beer after wine, // not benign. // Wine after beer, an elixir."
The order of the sequence matters. Sam should have known better!
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"Bier auf Wein, // das lass sein. // Wein auf Bier, // das rat' ich dir."
Ancient German saying. "Beer after wine, // not benign. // Wine after beer, an elixir."
The order of the sequence matters. Sam should have known better!
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"With Creed, talking, who is so knowing, and a man of such reason, ..."
An interesting fellow!
"... that I cannot but love his company, though I do not love the man, ..."
Hold on, why the distance? Pepys flags a complex and uneasy feeling toward an interesting person. Why not love the man?
"... because he is too wise to be made a friend of, ..."
Avoiding his friendship because he outshines you? You are better than that, Sam! You ought to be big enough to hold this tension.
*... and acts all by interest and policy, ..."
Ah, I see. Not envy but precaution against a skilled Machiavellian schemer. Point taken. You should be careful.
" ... but is a man fit to learn of."
Wow, Sam, you completed the circle. You feed your all-encompassing curiosity, yet avoid getting too close. You sure know what you are doing, Sam. We can all learn from you.
And this entire dialectical passage is in one single sentence. Pepys, master of style.
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"With Creed, talking, who is so knowing, and a man of such reason, ..."
An interesting fellow!
"... that I cannot but love his company, though I do not love the man, ..."
Hold on, why the distance? Pepys flags a complex and uneasy feeling toward an interesting person. Why not love the man?
"... because he is too wise to be made a friend of, ..."
Avoiding his friendship because he outshines you? You are better than that, Sam! You ought to be big enough to hold this tension.
*... and acts all by interest and policy, ..."
Ah, I see. Not envy but precaution against a skilled Machiavellian schemer. Point taken. You should be careful.
" ... but is a man fit to learn of."
Wow, Sam, you completed the circle. You feed your all-encompassing curiosity, yet avoid getting too close. You sure know what you are doing, Sam. We can all learn from you.
And this entire dialectical passage is in one single sentence. Pepys, master of style.
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His wife gone, Samuel is left on his own in the house. He goes to her room and plays the violin there. So sweet. Also: no one has arranged for his dinner!
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His wife gone, Samuel is left on his own in the house. He goes to her room and plays the violin there. So sweet. Also: no one has arranged for his dinner!
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" ... and I hope that after a little forgetting our late differences, and being a while absent one from another, we shall come to agree as well as ever."
That's marriage for you, Sam. Not trying to resolve all differences; accepting the cracks. You and Liz are really quite good at it.
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" ... and I hope that after a little forgetting our late differences, and being a while absent one from another, we shall come to agree as well as ever."
That's marriage for you, Sam. Not trying to resolve all differences; accepting the cracks. You and Liz are really quite good at it.
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This is Mary Cromwell, born 1637, third daughter of Oliver Cromwell. The oddities of early Restauration England.
In 1657 Mary had married Thomas Belasyse, Viscount Fauconberg (later 1st Earl of Fauconberg). So here in 1663 she was Mary Fauconberg, or Viscountess Fauconberg. But Pepys refers to her by her father's name. Perhaps a subconscious sign of the overwhelming presence of the dead Oliver Cromwell in people's minds, even after his death? Cromwell had died only 5 years earlier, in 1658; Charles II had only taken power in 1660.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Cromwell,_Countess_Fauconberg
#Pepys #MaryCromwell #Fauconberg #OliverCromwell #Restauration
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This is Mary Cromwell, born 1637, third daughter of Oliver Cromwell. The oddities of early Restauration England.
In 1657 Mary had married Thomas Belasyse, Viscount Fauconberg (later 1st Earl of Fauconberg). So here in 1663 she was Mary Fauconberg, or Viscountess Fauconberg. But Pepys refers to her by her father's name. Perhaps a subconscious sign of the overwhelming presence of the dead Oliver Cromwell in people's minds, even after his death? Cromwell had died only 5 years earlier, in 1658; Charles II had only taken power in 1660.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Cromwell,_Countess_Fauconberg
#Pepys #MaryCromwell #Fauconberg #OliverCromwell #Restauration
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Our Lady Joan Mastodon smiled. Oh Sir Gregory, look at yourself, all New-Agey in your handwoven cloak and with the Gandalf stick. Sorry, my friend, there ain't no summer solstice today. Your excursion to Stonehenge is a little premature.
You've been reading Pepys again, haven't you, Greggsy. I agree, there's no better reading than Sam's diary. No better reading, Greggsy. But Sam counted differently. Everyone has since switched to the newfangled Gregorian calendar, don't you know. You of all people should be pleased about that, Sir Gregory!
Be that as it may, you do look great in that cloak of yours, Greggsy. Release your inner Gandalf, my friend, solstice or not.
And so they bantered through the rainy pre-solstice night. How we miss our Lady Joan.
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Our Lady Joan Mastodon smiled. Oh Sir Gregory, look at yourself, all New-Agey in your handwoven cloak and with the Gandalf stick. Sorry, my friend, there ain't no summer solstice today. Your excursion to Stonehenge is a little premature.
You've been reading Pepys again, haven't you, Greggsy. I agree, there's no better reading than Sam's diary. No better reading, Greggsy. But Sam counted differently. Everyone has since switched to the newfangled Gregorian calendar, don't you know. You of all people should be pleased about that, Sir Gregory!
Be that as it may, you do look great in that cloak of yours, Greggsy. Release your inner Gandalf, my friend, solstice or not.
And so they bantered through the rainy pre-solstice night. How we miss our Lady Joan.
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I agree with Sam: "the longest day" is just a polite way of saying "the days are shrinking again, get ready for winter!" Gloom! :-)
The date (11 June) feels wrong for the summer solstice, but Sam is right.
In England, the Gregorian calendar was only adopted in 1752. France and Spain already used it since 1582, the year when Pope Gregor XIII had made it official.
In Pepys's time, England still used the older Julian calendar, which in 1663 was 10 days behind, so the 11 June 1663 in Pepys's London was the 21 June 1663 in Moliere's Paris or Bernini's Rome. The sun apparently didn't care much either way.
When the switch in England finally happened in 1752, the gap between the two conventions had grown to 11 days. And thus in Samuel Johnson's England in 1752, you went to bed on the evening of 2 September and woke up on the morning of 14 September. The dates in between got swallowed up.
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I agree with Sam: "the longest day" is just a polite way of saying "the days are shrinking again, get ready for winter!" Gloom! :-)
The date (11 June) feels wrong for the summer solstice, but Sam is right.
In England, the Gregorian calendar was only adopted in 1752. France and Spain already used it since 1582, the year when Pope Gregor XIII had made it official.
In Pepys's time, England still used the older Julian calendar, which in 1663 was 10 days behind, so the 11 June 1663 in Pepys's London was the 21 June 1663 in Moliere's Paris or Bernini's Rome. The sun apparently didn't care much either way.
When the switch in England finally happened in 1752, the gap between the two conventions had grown to 11 days. And thus in Samuel Johnson's England in 1752, you went to bed on the evening of 2 September and woke up on the morning of 14 September. The dates in between got swallowed up.
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" ... how I listened and laid my ear to the door, and how I was troubled when I heard them stand still and not dance."
Oh, the anguish. Sam listening to the silence in the other room. Another key scene in my half-whimsical, half-contemplative Samuel Pepys movie.
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" ... how I listened and laid my ear to the door, and how I was troubled when I heard them stand still and not dance."
Oh, the anguish. Sam listening to the silence in the other room. Another key scene in my half-whimsical, half-contemplative Samuel Pepys movie.
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" ... talking with my wife, sometimes angry and ended pleased, and I hope to bring our matters to a better posture in a little time ... "
Not sure whether "and ended pleased" here means "and I was pleased because I got what I wanted" or "and we were pleased because we'd cleared the air." I like to think it's the latter.
Our friend Samuel is far from perfect, and his wife has to put up with a lot of things from him. But ultimately Sam and Liz are really rather good at making things work out.
And I love the poetry of saying "to bring our matters to a better posture"!
From now on, each time I deal with a matter of contention, I shall ask myself, "how can I bring this matter to a better posture?" This is very #Tao.
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" ... talking with my wife, sometimes angry and ended pleased, and I hope to bring our matters to a better posture in a little time ... "
Not sure whether "and ended pleased" here means "and I was pleased because I got what I wanted" or "and we were pleased because we'd cleared the air." I like to think it's the latter.
Our friend Samuel is far from perfect, and his wife has to put up with a lot of things from him. But ultimately Sam and Liz are really rather good at making things work out.
And I love the poetry of saying "to bring our matters to a better posture"!
From now on, each time I deal with a matter of contention, I shall ask myself, "how can I bring this matter to a better posture?" This is very #Tao.
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... although due to the missing comma it does read like a scene from a 1970s Bunuel movie. Visitor is invited in and is asked to dine (we see him at the formal dinner table in a well-appointed Parisien dining room). Inexplicably the lady of the house also sits there, not saying a word, unclothed. The guest eats silently.
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... although due to the missing comma it does read like a scene from a 1970s Bunuel movie. Visitor is invited in and is asked to dine (we see him at the formal dinner table in a well-appointed Parisien dining room). Inexplicably the lady of the house also sits there, not saying a word, unclothed. The guest eats silently.
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"I fear I shall lose my command over her, and her mind finds other sweets besides pleasing of me."
Wow. That sentence could be straight out of Proust, La Prisonnière. What a remarkable example of unembroidered, honest self-reflection, written in the 17th century. Utterly remarkable.
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"I fear I shall lose my command over her, and her mind finds other sweets besides pleasing of me."
Wow. That sentence could be straight out of Proust, La Prisonnière. What a remarkable example of unembroidered, honest self-reflection, written in the 17th century. Utterly remarkable.
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"and most of the way sang, he and I, and eat some cold meat we had, and with great pleasure home."
This is poetry, Samuel. Pure poetry. The bliss of unscheming intimacy in an afternoon walk with a friend. And it happens, beautifully, amidst all the turmoil of your current jealousy about your wife's dance teacher. You are such a rich & complex person, Sam.
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"And most of the way talked films and books, she and I, and ate the cheese sandwiches she had prepared. And elated home." -
"and most of the way sang, he and I, and eat some cold meat we had, and with great pleasure home."
This is poetry, Samuel. Pure poetry. The bliss of unscheming intimacy in an afternoon walk with a friend. And it happens, beautifully, amidst all the turmoil of your current jealousy about your wife's dance teacher. You are such a rich & complex person, Sam.
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"And most of the way talked films and books, she and I, and ate the cheese sandwiches she had prepared. And elated home." -
Ah, the purges commence.
At least now the concern is about losing one's job, not losing one's head.
All along Sam has been alert to the fragility of everyone's position in the newly restored monarchy. He remembers the executions.
Status is temporary. You work for it for many years, you lose it in a day.
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Ah, the purges commence.
At least now the concern is about losing one's job, not losing one's head.
All along Sam has been alert to the fragility of everyone's position in the newly restored monarchy. He remembers the executions.
Status is temporary. You work for it for many years, you lose it in a day.
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"I calling her beggar, and she me pricklouse"
Frank exchanges are at the core of every healthy marriage, and you and your wife are doing well, Sam, very well. And "pricklouse" is excellent: your wife is even better with words than you are, Sam.
And I love how you're putting the entire episode into brackets! Without it, we merely read "So up and to my office () and there all the morning." The most subversive use of brackets imaginable.
Either way, your charming entry has made my Saturday morning blues go away. You are a good man, Sam.
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"I calling her beggar, and she me pricklouse"
Frank exchanges are at the core of every healthy marriage, and you and your wife are doing well, Sam, very well. And "pricklouse" is excellent: your wife is even better with words than you are, Sam.
And I love how you're putting the entire episode into brackets! Without it, we merely read "So up and to my office () and there all the morning." The most subversive use of brackets imaginable.
Either way, your charming entry has made my Saturday morning blues go away. You are a good man, Sam.
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"...; but the fellow do it in kindness, and is one I am beholden to."
And those are the things that matter, Sam, you are so right. The kindness, not the oddness of their action toward you.
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"...; but the fellow do it in kindness, and is one I am beholden to."
And those are the things that matter, Sam, you are so right. The kindness, not the oddness of their action toward you.
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"He would not be wooed to go to a play, nor to White Hall, or to see the lyons, though he was carried in a coach. I never could have thought there had been upon earth a man so little curious in the world as he is."
And the man W. Stankes doesn't even want to see the lions! Not even the lions! We share your disbelief and disappointment.
And more importantly, my friend, we look at you and we love you for your own unstoppable curiosity about everything around you: the lions, plays, la musique, ship building, the fabric of your new overcoat, a good meal, ..., nothing that does not interest you.
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"He would not be wooed to go to a play, nor to White Hall, or to see the lyons, though he was carried in a coach. I never could have thought there had been upon earth a man so little curious in the world as he is."
And the man W. Stankes doesn't even want to see the lions! Not even the lions! We share your disbelief and disappointment.
And more importantly, my friend, we look at you and we love you for your own unstoppable curiosity about everything around you: the lions, plays, la musique, ship building, the fabric of your new overcoat, a good meal, ..., nothing that does not interest you.
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@u0421793 @samuelpepys
Apparently he came twice a day and Sam wasn't best pleased. -
" ... (who is so very melancholy) ... "
Good that you spent some time with your dad when he was down, Sam.
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" ... (who is so very melancholy) ... "
Good that you spent some time with your dad when he was down, Sam.
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"... word is brought that the King and Duke are come, so they all went away to show themselves, while I staid and had a little dish or two by myself."
Classic comedy, this. One of the more light-hearted scenes in my path-breaking Pepys movie (160min). Everyone rushes out to see the King and the Duke, but Sam stays behind to have a double helping of fish. Not sure whether I want him to be slightly furtive and embarrassed about his greed, or smug and cheeky about beating the system. A good actor will know how to get it right without detailed instructions.
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"... word is brought that the King and Duke are come, so they all went away to show themselves, while I staid and had a little dish or two by myself."
Classic comedy, this. One of the more light-hearted scenes in my path-breaking Pepys movie (160min). Everyone rushes out to see the King and the Duke, but Sam stays behind to have a double helping of fish. Not sure whether I want him to be slightly furtive and embarrassed about his greed, or smug and cheeky about beating the system. A good actor will know how to get it right without detailed instructions.
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Our Lady Joan Mastodon spoke to us with feeling. Follow my friend Samuel Pepys, she said to us as we gathered by the fire, he is the first and the finest of all tooters. There is no tooter like him. Even his stylistic faults are carriers of truth. If we could all toot as my Samuel toots, just for one day (she wiped a tear off her eye as she said this), the Great Algo would be gone forever.
We miss our Lady Joan. She loved as she hated, with wisdom and passion, and she loved so much more than she hated.
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"After dinner in comes Captain Lambert of the Norwich, this day come from Tangier, whom I am glad to see."
Perfection. The initial inversion, "in comes Captain Lambert", makes us feel the jolt of his entrance, and we are ready for hearing that the surprise is a welcome one. The relevant framing comes from the "after dinner" and the "come from Algier". A dense piece of information that also grabs us almost physically as an experienced event. The perfect diary entry.