His daughter appeased his agitation with the soft touch of her hand and the liquid appeal of her eye, and his mind was soon diverted from the thought of his over-busy benefactor to his own projects and how he might bring them to the attention of great persons, which was not to be by his son-in-law, for S. Pepys had said that he would have nothing to do with that old man’s whimsies and the sooner his father-in-law went off to fight the Turks and was cut in half by a scimitar, the better he would be pleased.
Yet, my Elizabeth’s father was a man who had that art which Mr Pepys lacked, viz. how to charm. He told us tales of his youth in Anjou and how he had fought in the German wars and of the plague and dysenteries that had killed more men than sword or musket: he had been about to cut down a cuirassier in a fir-wood in Bohemia when the man fell and died on the spot from disease, so that his (Mr St Michel’s) sword whistled through thin air. And as he told the story he swung his arm through the air as though it were his sword and knocked over a small carved cherub that stood upon the mantel which he made himself for the old Queen in the days when you could procure good pearwood that would not split.
And you, sir, what do you do?
I told them of my service with Their Highnesses, somewhat embroidering the nature of my employments.
How I admire your open English manners, Mr St Michel said. In France, we are so jealous that if a handsome young man like you, sir, were to play escort to my wife, even though he said it was but to her parents, I should feel compelled to challenge him.
Challenge him?
To a duel, sir, for the insult to my wife’s honour. You came in a carriage, did you not? In France that would be unthinkable. A man and a woman in a carriage together, ah mon Dieu! And Mr St Michel made the gesture of running through me with his imaginary sword and almost knocked again the cherub that had been put back on the mantel.
But in England, he continued, you men trust one another, you are bound by the chains of friendship that are stronger than iron – and here he made a show of fruitlessly attempting to burst such chains, so I thought he might further endanger the furniture, and I wondered that he could master such delicate arts as carving when his gestures were so violent.
O Papa, Englishmen don’t think such thoughts.
It is good that they do not, else I should be tempted to act like a Frenchman, ha ha – and he gave a desiccated laugh which I could not tell the meaning of, whether it was idle pleasantry or a threat, albeit a veiled one. I hoped that I had not gone red in the face but looked like a honest Englishman that was phlegmatic and had not an impure thought in his head.
When we took a hackney home – for I insisted that I must come back with her, for she was in equal danger coming back as going – I found myself hampered and doubly so: primo, if I made an assault upon her and she told her father of it, he would surely come and run me through as he had promised, for plainly he was a man of small inhibitions, and secundo, he had put the evil thought into her mind that if I did but take her hand or stroke her knee and say what pleasure I had taken in our visit, and how much I had loved her parents – which was nothing but the truth – this might be not out of pure friendship but a prelude to a vicious assault. So I did not attempt any such but burned inwardly and sat with my hands folded upon my lap while she talked of the price of coffee and how she wished her parents were more careful with money. Thus Mr St Michel’s discourse had what might have been its desired effect, for he was not such a fool as he seemed.
At noon to the Change and there long; and from thence by appointment took Llewelyn, Mount and W. Symonds and Mr Pierce the surgeon home to dinner with me and were merry. But Lord, to hear how W. Symons doth commend his wife and look sad, and then talk bawdly and merrily, though she was dead but the other day would make a dog laugh. This dinner I did give in further part of kindness to Llewelyn for his kindness about Dering’s fifty pounds which he procured me the other day of him.
We spent all the afternoon together and then they to cards with my wife (who this day put on her Indian blue gown which is very pretty), where I left them for an hour and to my office and then to them again . . .
We had great pleasure this afternoon, among other things to talk of our old passages together in Cromwell’s time.
Diary of Samuel Pepys, 8 January 1664
You are bidden to the Great Bribe Dinner, aren’t you? Little Peter could scarce keep from laughing as he inquired this strange question of me.
To what?
Old Sam is giving us all dinner to thank me for the fifty pounds I gave him from Dering, for future services to His Majesty’s Navy, viz. masts, spars, timbers, keels, tillers, etc., etc. all supplied from the yards of E. Dering gent. You must know how to tip the quids in this game, Jem. Cast thy bread upon the waters and it shall return to thee an hundredfold. Will Symons is to be of the company, so it will be a reunion of old clerks.
And Sam calls it a Bribe Dinner, I hadn’t thought –
No, no, dunderhead, I call it a bribe dinner, he calls it a vouchsafing of the great love he bears me and the gratitude he owes my master for the present which is merely a token of friendship, and if it were anything other, no torturer on earth could force him to accept it, etc., for in all things he seeketh only to serve His Gracious Majesty King Charles, in saecula saeculorum, amen. Pierce the surgeon will be there also, so it will be a frolic.
I hadn’t thought to see Mrs Pepys again so soon. Amid the press at her husband’s table, it would surely be possible to gain a few minutes’ private conversation, for while I knew it would not do to alarm her, at the same time I must keep up a steady trot, or she would fear that my love was a feeble, inconstant thing.
But I needed bait for my trap and bought a pretty ribbon of green silk done in a knot which would sort with her green eyes. And as I gave the money to the girl in the shop, I remembered how Nan had sold such things in the Gypsies, and a melancholy fit overcame me at the thought of how she was changed and our love ditto.
I feared lest Will Symons should depress our spirits by his mournful mien. I should have known him better. Though his wife was but lately dead, he talked of her so tenderly that we almost fancied she was with us at the table.
I admired your wife, Will, said Mr Pepys. She was very handsome.
So she was, Sam, so she was. And she was extremely vexed by your admiration.
O I hope not, I do hope not.
She was. If I had sixpence for every time she told me I would have to fetch the constable if you went on making eyes at her thus . . .
I swear it is untrue. I admired her only as one will admire a picture.
When Mr Pepys waxed too solemn, Will knew how to tickle him out of the dark part of the stream and into the sparkling shallows.
Come, come, you goggled at her like a cod.
It’s true, my dear, you did look at her so.
What, am I betrayed by my wife? Well, I am not ashamed. She was a fine woman.
O I loved her, Will said, and tears began to drop down his moonface and I filled his glass and he dried his tears, and began to describe how he had courted her in a hayloft and they had then gone to take tea with her uncle Scobell, for it was his farm and she hoped he might leave her some money, and her uncle said: I perceive you have been making hay, for they had not brushed the straws off her back. And then he told another tale of their courting which I will not set down here because, first, it is too obscene and, second, it requires a geometrical figure that cannot be represented on a page but he made plain with a series of gestures. And then he began to weep again, but the sight of all the fishes that Mrs Pepys had prepared cheered him, for she said: It is Friday and I know you’re a great eater of fish, though there’s a venison pasty for those that have no taste for fish, but here is Dutch herring, salted cod and haddock, and a lobster from Plymouth.
And then Will began to talk of our days together under the Usurper. He served me better than ever our rightful Sovereign has, Will said. And we talked of our voyage upriver to make an i
nventory at Hampton Court, and of the commode that had received a Grand Triumvirate of Arses, viz. King Charles, King Oliver and W. Symons.
Where is it now, I wonder? Will mused. Perhaps my Lady Castlemaine sits upon it, after coming from the King.
Will, ladies do not like to hear such discourse.
Are you certain so, Sam? In my experience, ladies are not so refined, for they must deal with the grosser facts of our mortal existence, viz. empty the pots, wash the napkins, and the like.
It’s true, said Elizabeth.
Well perhaps, Pepys said, but he looked ill at ease and though he laughed at Will’s jests and stories, he harrumphed now and then, as though to say: This conversation is unfitting and I laugh but out of courtesy, because I am the host. And he was pleased when Will again turned solemn.
Yes it is so, Will said. Llewelyn told you rightly. Four days before she died she rose up in her bed as though the Heavens were drawing her to them. In four days I shall die, Will, she said, you must make preparation, for so many die at this season, you had better tell the parson it will be Thursday, no I am wrong, Wednesday, for it is Saturday today (for she was not in such a delirium that she had forgot what day it was).
But how did she know?
That is what I asked her. Because I have seen Uncle Scobell, she said, in a dream. He was wearing his old yellow coat and smelled of snuff, so I knew it was he. Hurry up, Niece, he said, you have only four days left.
I shouldn’t wish to join Uncle Scobell, I said attempting to rally her, him being a mean-spirited old fellow.
I asked him, she said, where are you, Uncle, upstairs or downstairs?
There is no distinction, Niece, he said to her, we are all forgiven. Even the King of Spain is here. I took breakfast with him yesterday, he is much improved.
Said she really so? Mr Pepys inquired, greatly surprised.
She did, said Will, and you could not tell from his moonface whether he had added somewhat of decoration or whether his wife had in truth told him so, but herself had embroidered her dream even in her extremity, for she was a merry spirit.
And then Will began to talk of his great feat in O.C.’s time: that he had survived that whirligig year before the King came in when there were eight governments, viz.: Tumbledown Dick’s, then the Council of Officers and the Committee of Safety that came in twice, and the Council of State and others that I have now forgot. And yet he fell at the last fence, when the King came in, and he was turned out along with Peter Llewelyn.
And we laughed at the recollection of his shifts and did not know that this was to be the last time we four were to drink together, for soon Providence was to scatter us to the four winds and our old friendship was vanished as though it had never been.
Well thank God I am still in the saddle, said Mr Pepys, which reminds me that I must jog off to the office to write a letter to Mr Coventry about the Deputy Treasurers, but my wife will entertain you to cards, and Jem, you can pour the wine, for you are practised in that art. I commend the canary. You will find a fair quarter cask below.
That was the Unforgivable, to contemn me as a mere cellarer, and a drunken one, and as he closed the door behind him, my blood boiled.
He was not five minutes gone before I turned to Elizabeth and asked her to show me the cellar.
You don’t need me to show you, she said. It’s down the stairs and on the left side.
I would not wish to lose my footing and break a bottle. You may hold the candle for me.
Very well then, she said, and she led me down the steps to the cellar which was narrow but well stocked with tierces of claret, and several vessels of tent and Malaga.
There, you’ll know which is the canary. My husband is proud of his collection and says none of his friends now alive ever had so much.
Nor did any of his friends ever have such a wife.
You mustn’t talk so.
I’ve brought you something.
And I gave her the favour.
It’s green, it won’t suit with my Indian blue dress, she said.
I’m sorry for that.
But I have a white dress that has green ribbons on it.
I love that dress.
You can’t have seen it, for I haven’t worn it in your company, she said.
I am flattered to think you should remember what you have worn when I am with you.
It’s no flattery, I have a knack of remembering such things, I would remember it if you were the ugliest man alive.
Ah, so I am not the ugliest man alive?
You are a vain man, Jem, I perceive you are fishing for compliments.
I would fish all day if I could hope to hook one from you.
Well, you would have to fish all night too, because you shall not have one.
To the end of my life, I shall remember her standing on the lowest step with the candle held aloft. Her whole person was so pale in its light that you could not tell her dress was blue. But she had a smile on her face like a child that is out when she should be abed, and I knew it must be now or never.
We were of a level when we kissed because she was on the step. She did not resist and let me feel the warm press of her lips and broke away but to say:
Careful, the candle.
And I took the candle from her and placed it on a high step above her head so that it cast a flickering light upon her and would not spill. When I kissed her again, she shivered, I know not whether because of the cold in the cellar, and then tried to pull away, but I held her, loosely not fast and she let me draw her to me again. I was emboldened (and I was still angry for her husband using me as a potboy) and I put my hand up her skirts and felt her soft warm thigh but only a little above the knee before she pulled my hand away and said: No, no, you must not.
But I love you, you must know that I do.
No, you do not, you cannot, and anyway you must not.
I must, you deserve –
To be loved by you? – and I regret she laughed as she said it – You are yet vainer than I thought.
No, not to be neglected, was the best I could utter.
You think my husband neglects me?
I can see that he does.
You can see very little in that case. You don’t know how he rescued me when I was penniless and gave me a good house and servants and gives money to my parents.
Money cannot warm a heart (how can I have gushed such cant, but we were both shivering in the dark and I held her still and felt her heart beating through the silk of her dress).
I have much to thank him for, and I do love him.
He is older than you.
Well, so are you.
But I am not so encumbered. My mind is not clogged with business.
Better that it were, and then you would have no time to pay court where you should not.
I can’t help loving whom I love, my heart is not to be commanded (which is true, although hard to believe, for I might have done better for myself else).
O Jem, you’re a rogue, she said, but said it sweetly.
A devoted rogue, I said and embraced her again – but she broke away.
No, no, I’m ill, you must not.
I didn’t mean to offend, I was transported. Let me come to you again when you are better.
Yes, no, we must not. Quick, bring up the wine, they will be wondering that we are away so long.
O Elizabeth I am so fond of you.
Come on, hurry up, we must not delay.
I took the cask and followed her up the stairs.
Ah reinforcements, the surgeon roared, our powder was running low.
He seized the bottle from me and held it up to the light.
But this is claret if I am not mistaken. Didn’t our host ask you to bring up the canary? Our fair hostess has fuddled your wits down there.
It was dark.
Of course it was dark. Doubtless that’s why you took her as your guide.
You mustn’t say such things, Mr Pierce.
I meant
nothing by it, dear lady. If young Ganymede here would kindly fetch us up the canary instead?
Fretting with humiliation, I went down to the cellar again. It was cold and desolate without that lovely creature, and I resolved that I would pursue her to the end, whatever it might cost me.
This resolve came stronger upon me as I sat with them while Mr Pierce told us the tattle of the Court. But I was silent and glowering, and when Mr Pepys came back (which was not long, for he had not much business) he asked whether I was quite well and advised me not to drink so much canary in the afternoon when it lies heavier upon the stomach.
When I reached my room, I wrote a letter:
Elizabeth my dearest chuck, I hope you may be wearing your white gown with the green ribbons and that you may accordingly wear also my favour, for something of me must stay with you at every waking hour. Elizabeth, I am serious, this is no light fancy, I am hooked and will not be cast off. I am patient too and will wait until you see how true my love is. But I don’t wish to importune you when you are not well, and I will call upon you in nine days’ time to inquire how you do and to demonstrate quod erat demonstrandum that my love is no nine days’ wonder.
J.
After dinner, by coach I carried my wife and Jane to Westminster; left her at Mr Hunt’s and I to Westminster Hall and there visited Mrs Lane and by appointment went out and met at the Trumpet, Mrs Hare’s; but the room being damp, went to the Bell tavern and there I had her company, but could not do as I used to do (yet nothing but what was honest) for that she told me she had those . . .
Thence, leading her to the Hall, I took coach and called my wife and her maid: and so to the New Exchange, where we bought several things of our pretty Mrs Dorothy Stacy, a pretty woman and hath the modestest look that ever I saw in my life and manner of speech . . .
So home to supper and to bed – my wife not being very well since she came home, being troubled with a fainting fit, which she never yet had before since she was my wife.
Diary of Samuel Pepys, 9 January 1664
That night I lay in torment. I must have cried out in my dreams, for Nan came to me and hushed me and asked me what was the matter.
Jem (and Sam) Page 16