#samuel pepys

[unanchored-ship]

they goofys...

this is literally just a display of my artstyles 🤡

#saw this on me dash and had to do it #took a long time tho :v #love how all of these people have already appeared on my blog and then BAM #princess amelia!!!.. #...sophia eleanor of great britain cuz theres a more well known one or smth #but anyways yeah I read about her and she is so mecore #webster carrying the 19c #he is so main character to me but in the grand scheme of things he rlly is a side character #i love side characters tho i make too many in my stories #and then they become so very important #and then everyones a main character!! #anne gets along with pretty much everyone so :P #duke of shrewsbury #princess amelia sophia eleanor #princess amelia of great britain #tags argh #samuel pepys #frederick i of prussia #queen anne #daniel webster

[lucybellwood]

One of several bookplates from Samuel Pepys's collection. (Mens cuiusque is est quisque is a line from Cicero meaning “As is the mind, so is the man.”)

#samuel pepys #bookplate #illustration #boat stuff #nautical #anchors

[fuckyeahcostumedramas]

Claire Danes as Maria Hughes & Hugh Bonneville as Samuel Pepys in Stage Beauty (Film, 2004).

#claire danes #hugh bonneville #stage beauty #perioddramaedit #maria hughes #samuel pepys #17th century #tim hatley

[liskantope]

After reading a lot of Samuel Pepys (a very famous English diarist of the 1660's), one thing I notice that is extremely consistent about his grammar is that third-person singular present-tense verb forms are as in today's modern English (with the -(e)s ending rather than the now-obsolete -eth ending) except for the verb have, where he always uses hath for "has".

Here is an example with 3p sing. verb forms highlighted (except for the super irregular auxiliary verbs):

Why is it that this one verb have lagged behind the others in switching to the -(e)s ending at a certain time around the second half of the 17th century? Or is this a unique quirk of Samuel Pepys?

#samuel pepys #english language history #grammar

[quietparanoiac]

— So perhaps I could advance you the £50 you need to publish your Principia. — But Halley, thanks to fish brain here, the Royal Society is now penniless, how will it ever pay you back? — With unsold copies of The History of Fishes.

Horrible Histories (2009-2014), 5x05

#Horrible Histories #Edmond Halley #Edmund Halley #Samuel Pepys #Isaac Newton #Slimy Stuarts #Simon Farnaby #Jim Howick #Mathew Baynton #horriblehistoriesedit #period drama #perioddramaedit #periodedits #Horrible Histories 5x05 #my gifs #now that's the kind of characters I'd like to see more #and of course - baroque my love #Bill was all good and well #but a full-length film set in the 1600s when

[bracketsoffear]

The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas) "Everything’s going great for Edmond Dantès! He’s getting a big promotion, he’s marrying the woman of his dreams, his whole life is ahead of him.

And then all of that gets ripped away from him in an instant. He is thrown into prison for years, and when he returns, he finds that his enemies who conspired to put him there are thriving.

So, he dedicates himself to getting even. Carefully and methodically, the Count of Monte Cristo goes about destroying the lives of those who took everything from him."

The Diary of Samuel Pepys (Samuel Pepys) "A record of several personal and historical events which occurred throughout Pepys' lifetime, including a detailed description of the Great Fire of London and its effects."

#desolation poll #the desolation #poll #the magnus archives #leitner tournament #the count of monte cristo #alexandre dumas #the diary of samuel pepys #samuel pepys

[londiniumlundene]

All Hallows by the Tower

The church of All Hallows by the Tower was founded in Saxon times – 675 C.E. to be precise. In over 1300 years of history, it’s had associations with a fair few famous names as they passed through - dead or alive. Situated next to the Tower of London, the church became the temporary resting place for those executed by beheading, including Thomas More and Archbishop William Laud.

The church narrowly escape destruction in the Great Fire of 1666 when Admiral William Penn (father to founder of Pennsylvania William Penn) arranged for the use of the Navy’s gunpowder to demolish a row of nearby houses, creating a fire break. Diarist Samuel Pepys watch the flames consuming the rest of the City from the church’s tower. 

It was the incendiary bombs of WWII that later dealt significant damage to All Hallows, melting the lead roof so it ran in great streams, leaving only the tower and outer walls. The Vicar at the time, Phillip “Tubby” Clayton (famous for founding Talbot House in WWI), vowed immediately to rebuild the church, with the rededication occurring in 1957.

Many parts of the church survived the bombing, including an arch from the 7th Century, and a number of wooden carvings. Yet more history can be seen in the crypt museum, where a roman pavement sits alongside Anglo-Saxon crosses, the church plate (silvery valuables), and the church’s registers, one of which notes the marriage of John Quincy Adams (later the 6th President of the USA). Perhaps the most intriguing artefact is the crow’s nest of the Quest, the ship used by Sir Ernest Shackleton in his last Antarctic expedition. It was apparently acquired by “Tubby” Clayton, who toured it around as an attraction to raise money for the Talbot House hospices.

#london #uk #england #church #tower of london #all hallows #saxon #roman #thomas more #great fire #great fire of london #samuel pepys #wwii #lead #molten #tubby clayton #talbot house #church plate #john quincy adams #ernest shackleton #museum #history #travel #tourism #lundene #londinium

[froggi-mushroom]

Fate is a cruel mistress, I am forced to read Pepys’ diaries yet again

#not a reblog for once #froggi rambles #samuel pepys #I hate him I hate him I hate him

[lindahall]

Thomas Salusbury – Scientist of the Day

Very early in the morning of Sep. 2, 1666, a fire broke out in a small bakery in London.

read more...

#Thomas Salusbury #Great Fire of London #Samuel Pepys #histsci #histSTM #17th century #history of science #Ashworth #Scientist of the Day

[unanchored-ship]

Its becoming a mini series or whatever of me drawing dead people ridiculously headcannoned and then drawing them realistically and seeing the difference

#you could read pepy's diary as 'another poly big ship' #or the intended 'another big poly ship' #i actually haven't drawn pepys before this #john wilmot #earl of rochester #duke of monmouth #henry savile #charles sackville #samuel pepys

[thatwritererinoriordan]

#February 23 #Samuel Pepys #w. e. b. du bois #Dakota Fanning #wynonna judd

[verbal-betrayal]

God forgive me, I was sorry to hear that Sir W Pens maid Betty was gone away yesterday, for I was in hopes to have had a bout with her before she had gone, she being very pretty. I have also a mind to my own wench, but I dare not, for fear she should prove honest and refuse and then tell my wife.

Samuel Pepys, The Diary of Samuel Pepys

#Samuel Pepys #the diary of samuel pepys

[thoughtportal]

A writer opens her inbox to a 350-year-old quote by Samuel Pepys

Samuel Pepys just tweeted me.* His commentary on Charles II’s return to English soil landed in my idea-box from a distance of 350 years: “Infinite shooting off of the guns, and that in a disorder on purpose, which was better than if it had been otherwise.”

It’s not really Pepys, of course, just an amusing act of cyber-puppetry by an admirer in London named Phil Gyford. Yet, the blog and Twitter feed Gyford has created in Pepys’ name are elegant evidence of how lustily the 17th century’s most famous diarist might have embraced the Internet, tapping up its opulent charms deep into the night, Googling the secrets of ships’ riggings, women’s undergarments, music, disfiguration and disgrace in death, political blunders and politicians’ indiscretions, the search for a cure for the plague, the morning routine, the evening repast, the strange children’s games of France and the English custom of gathering maydew. Even more, the gregarious, curious Pepys—a man who described himself as “with child to see any strange thing”— would have harnessed the Web’s vast networks to show what he saw to the world. Imagine his music files on the social sharing site Box.net, his views of London by water or bootleg footage of Eleanor “Nell” Gwyn on YouTube, his quips and pics and tags and links on Twitter, Flickr, StumbleUpon, Delicious. Oh, how Sam Pepys would have loved to StumbleUpon and Delicious.

His sharp eye and acid wit would be perfect for the restless Internet, with its thin, glowing scrim between life and audience, its illusion of anonymity and controllable intimacy. His brief, methodic diary entries, with their frank, daily truths, fit well with Twitter’s 140-character capsule, especially the funhouse reflexiveness of the self documenting the self documenting the self:

I staid up till the bell-man came by with his bell just under my window as I was writing this very line, and cried, ‘Past one of the clock, and a cold, and frosty, windy morning.

Would Pepys’ journals—famous for their remarkable frankness, even crudeness at times—have survived the transition from the diarist’s furtive cribbing to instantaneous tap and send? Pretty likely, yes. After all, Pepys frequently burned his papers to protect his privacy, yet he never burned his diaries. In fact, sometimes he couldn’t resist reporting in his diary on what he’d just destroyed, as when he burned a scolding letter his wife had written him along with the love letters he’d once written her. “… the truth is I am sorry for the tearing of so many poor loving letters of mine from sea and elsewhere to her.” The very act of destruction prompted his urge to record.

***

“A Christian that would be more exact hath more need and may reap much more good by … a journal,” wrote the Protestant minister John Beadle in 1656. That was four years before Pepys penned his first entry at the age of 26, joining a generation of young men responding to the dawning Enlightenment, which emphasized self-reflection and accounting to God even in ordinary life. In Beadle’s words: “We are all but stewards, factors here, and must give a strict account in that great day to the high Lord of all our wayes, and of all his wayes towards us.” Pepys’ unique position as a witness to the Restoration of Charles II, as well as his private inclination to observe life in great detail, inspired him to maintain an unprecedented 10-year documentation, which remains one of the finest sources of information on everyday life and key events during the last half of the 17th century.

It began, as it begins for many of us now when we start a blog or a Facebook account, as a simple record of days. “Blessed be God, at the end of the last year I was in very good health, without any sense of my old pain, but upon taking of cold,” Pepys wrote in his first entry on Jan. 1, 1660. He wrote all his entries using the Shelton system, a common shorthand of the day—not, as it is usually portrayed, a secret code—and he clearly acknowledged an audience, albeit only of two at first: himself and his personal Savior. A sense of posterity came later, as Pepys realized how many key events he had witnessed: the return of the King to English soil, the coronation, the Great Plague and the Great Fire. As he discovered his talent as a chronicler, the tenor of his entries—his status updates—shifted.

“What to remember, what to say and what to let go? This is the daily material of the diarist. In our age, it is the work of virtually everyone. Just as plentiful paper and Protestant imperatives opened the floodgate for diarists in Pepys’ day, so now the ubiquitous flutter of the Internet engages us all in posting and publishing, tagging and collecting, building records of our lives from one seemingly small moment to the next.”

The content shifted and deepened, too, until his diary became a repository for his nearly inarticulate dreams, his fascination with the occult, his marital troubles and professional squabbles, and, seemingly, his every last sexual experience (including the ones that didn’t go well), catalogued as lovingly as his bank accounts, clothing purchases, meals or books. What began as a simple accounting ended by engaging the body and its passions—a full-throated reflection of a young man’s life.

If you have a blog or a Facebook page or a Twitter account, chances are you have experienced this shift yourself. You start out with your proprieties in hand, and over time, they soften or slip. Innocuous dinner updates or baby announcements give way to acid commentary about a colleague, a frank expression of sorrow at the loss of your hair or a video of the moment the baby first reached for a toy (recreated for an audience, perhaps, as the first moment surprised you without a camera). You post a favorite song, and in the comment thread, you tell strangers where you were, and with whom, when you first heard it. You put a little spin on your words, nip a fact here and tuck a name there, not exactly lying, but portraying yourself in a new light while using the old truths. You create yourself.

Psychologist John Suler has articulated no fewer than six factors that contribute to the well-documented phenomenon of “online disinhibition,” from the feeling of anonymity to the disconnection of interactions from real time. Most of these factors are at work in a conventional diary, too, but the social thrum of Web 2.0 raises the ante considerably.

Pepys seemed aware of his own tendency to over-share with his invisible, yet-unborn readers. As unblushing as his diaries are, their immediacy masks careful craft. The ordering of pages and qualities of handwriting indicate that he took frequent notes all day and then transferred them to the journals. Some of his entries, like those chronicling the Great Fire of London, were recopied into the books in great clumps some months after the events, yet he seemed at pains not to alter them much, not to reconstruct the present moment. Like us as we tweet and update from our cars, offices and homes, Pepys obsessively pursued the double experience of living and documenting—specifically for an audience.

How do we know? For starters, he passed up many chances to edit out or destroy what felt too private. He had the volumes rebound over the years, and when he died, he did not consign them (as he did other papers) to be burned but, instead, placed them with his extensive library, willed to his college at Cambridge.

Some of the entries are so detailed they couldn’t have been captured except in medias res. His obsessively detailed dinner menus, for example: One can imagine him furtively copying these just moments before or after sitting down to eat, and one wonders what his wife and guests thought of the practice.

What to remember, what to say and what to let go? This is the daily material of the diarist. In our age, it is the work of virtually everyone. Just as plentiful paper and Protestant imperatives opened the floodgate for diarists in Pepys’ day, so now the ubiquitous flutter of the Internet engages us all in posting and publishing, tagging and collecting, building records of our lives from one seemingly small moment to the next. In Pepys’ diaries as in our blogs and on our Facebook pages, there is always choice: what to commit, how to portray and ultimately capture a day, a year, a life. In a purposeful disorder.

***

In January 2003, an energetic Londoner named Phil Gyford began a day-by-day retelling of Pepys’ diaries as a blog. The blog will end on May 31, 2012, corresponding with Pepys’ last entry on the same day in 1669.

Gyford, along with a tight-knit band of annotators and a few dedicated fellow bloggers, is creating an online social circle for Samuel Pepys. The daily unfolding of the diaries is fun, but the interaction and “2.0ing” of Pepys is no mere gimmick: By offering their own insights, personal stories, articles and graphics, Pepys’ 21st-century followers are permitting him a new kind of audience for a more nuanced, dimensional chronicle.

This is what I think Sam Pepys would have loved most: the simultaneous assembling and dissembling of self with the participation of others, and the addition of cascading associations, symmetries and juxtapositions based on passing interests, fleeting thoughts, teasing statuses, avatars, profile photos, GPS markers, likes, shares, re-tweets and comments. All contributing to an orderly disorder, a whole: the record of a life.

If Pepys had recast his diary for an interactive audience and reckoned with the complexity of individual identity that we understand as our lot in this century, he might have shifted his energy from creating a coded diary for the future to coding his identity for the present. After all, that is the new self-reflection in the age of social media: not an orderly accounting for self-soul and the Lord’s judgment, but an avatar advanced before the eyes of the marketplace of opinion, a thumbs-up-thumbs-down, rate-me reflection. An assembly of one’s own impressions, projected outward for feedback and for the accretion of time to tell the tale. In the moment, there is only the pleasure of immediacy and recollection commingled with a swift, fleeting clarity—a touch of impulsiveness, an update, a sharing of self:

But Lord! to see how much of my old folly and childishness hangs on me still that I cannot forebear carrying my [new] watch in my hand in the coach all the afternoon and seeing what o’clock it is one hundred times.

***

When you read Pepys in a tweet or on the blog, he is alive again, as if sending dispatches from his phone as he strides around London, traveling “by water to Whitehall,” and “by water to Westminster.”Eldest son of a tailor, lucky find of the Cromwellian elite and still luckier defector to the monarchists in the nick of time, he is not yet 30 years old, just beginning his career, making his name—busy in the name-dropping, pub-hopping City of London, pursuing the King’s business and a bit of his own, waistcoats flapping neatly about him like the broad, loosely tucked wings of a black wasp. He is immortal because he rendered his mortal self so plainly, so immediately, update by update: “… the world do not grow old at all, but is in as good condition in all respects as ever it was.”

*Author’s Note: Although I have indeed followed Sam on Twitter since 2010, I took anachronistic liberty with the specific “tweet” I mention. Since Twitter has only existed since 2006, Phil Gyford did not “tweet” from entries from before 1663. The “disorder” reference is, of course, on the blog.

   About the AuthorLisa Schamess

Contributor

Lisa Schamess lives in Washington, D.C. Her essays and fiction have appeared in Defunct, Antietam Review and Glimmer Train, among other reviews and magazines. She published her first novel, “Borrowed Light,” in 2002 (SMU Press); her work has also been anthologized in “Grace and Gravity: Fiction by Washington Area Women.”

#article #social media #Samuel Pepys #diary #history #records #archive

[liskantope]

My initial introduction to Samuel Pepys was about 20 years before I ever found out who he actually was or about his diary, and it was (an excerpt from) this passage from August 15th, 1665, which was in one of the main lucid dreaming books I was reading at the time as a seventeenth-century account of a lucid dream:

Up by 4 o’clock and walked to Greenwich, where called at Captain Cocke’s and to his chamber, he being in bed, where something put my last night’s dream into my head, which I think is the best that ever was dreamt, which was that I had my Lady Castlemayne in my armes and was admitted to use all the dalliance I desired with her, and then dreamt that this could not be awake, but that it was only a dream; but that since it was a dream, and that I took so much real pleasure in it, what a happy thing it would be if when we are in our graves (as Shakespeere resembles it) we could dream, and dream but such dreams as this, that then we should not need to be so fearful of death, as we are this plague time.

(links left in from the website I'm accessing Pepys' diary from because why not)

But it isn't nearly as memorable to me as the below passage from June 29th, 1667. Content warning for general dream creepiness (this is something I need to be content-warned for from time to time), death, and body horror.

For context, Pepys' mother had died just in the last few months, and yard appears here and in other contexts to be the term he uses for his penis.

Up, having had many ugly dreams to-night of my father and my sister and mother’s coming to us, and meeting my wife and me at the gate of the office going out, they all in laced suits, and come, they told me, to be with me this May day. My mother told me she lacked a pair of gloves, and I remembered a pair of my wife’s in my chamber, and resolved she should have them, but then recollected how my mother come to be here when I was in mourning for her, and so thinking it to be a mistake in our thinking her all this while dead, I did contrive that it should be said to any that enquired that it was my mother-in-law, my wife’s mother, that was dead, and we in mourning for. This dream troubled me and I waked. Then I dreamed that I had great pain of the stone in making water, and that once I looked upon my yard in making water at the steps before my door, and there I took hold of the end of a thing and pulled it out, and it was a turd; and it came into my mind that I was in the same condition with my aunt Pepys, my uncle Roberts wife. And by and by, on the like occasion, I pulled out something and flung on the ground — it looked like slime or snot, and presently it swelled and turned into a gray kind of Bird, and I would have taken it in my hand and it run from me to the corner of the door going into the garden in the entry by Sir J. Mennes’s; and so I waked. These dreams did trouble me mightily all night.

#samuel pepys #lucid dreaming #dreams #nightmares #death #body horror

[shakespearenews]

Up, and to Deptford by water, reading “Othello, Moore of Venice,” which I ever heretofore esteemed a mighty good play, but having so lately read “The Adventures of Five Houres,” it seems a mean thing.

#shakespeare #william shakespeare #samuel pepys #pepys #othello #by water #i'm on a boat #reading othello #pepys diary

[nebula1734]

“I was mightily troubled with a looseness, and feeling for a chamber-pott, there was none, I having called the maid up out of her bed, she had forgot I suppose to put one there; so I was forced in this strange house to rise and shit in the chimney twice.”

-Samuel Pepys

#shitpost #quite literally #samuel pepys #text post #i dont know #I remembered this quote and felt like sharing it with y’all