Richard Le Gallienne (1866–1947)

If you look for lists of great non-fiction books, Samuel Pepys' diary nearly always can be found someplace on the list, so I thought I would check it out.

Pepys lived at an interesting time and kept a dairy faithfully for about 10 years, detailing is money troubles, his awful relationship with his wife, his numerous affairs as well as some big historical events of the 1660's including the arrival of the plague and the Great Fire of London.

He was generally an awful, lecherous human being -- even though he was much younger, I kept picturing him as the creepy Benjamin Franklin actor on an episode of the "The Office."

I generally found his dairy entries interesting but I'm glad I read an abridged version -- his job with the Navy bored me but his descriptions of historical events were particularly interesting. Overall, I'm glad I decided to read this.… (mehr)

The full version of this diary deserves five stars, a wonderful first-hand account of events worthy of historical note. It combines Pepys' penetrating objective observation of his own quirks and contradictions - the two facets of the public and private man, honestly divulged as a whole for posterity to chew over and wonder at. Naturally the diary has been subjected to numerous versions since first transcribed from Pepys' original shorthand in 1822, as it contains all sorts of indecencies that weren't believed fit to print. You will need a 1976 version or later (William Matthew's transcription) of the diary to read the original in full, or else visit pepysdiary.com

This volume, Modern Library's "Passages" (editor Richard Le Gallienne), is one eighth of the Bright transcription of the 1890s that was already holding back some objectionable content. Consequently it is not only censored but it is also abridged to an almost unbelievable degree, to the extent that I have to laugh when its introduction supposes I should be satisfied that I will know Pepys just as well as if I'd read the diary in full. Pepys wrote every day, almost always at length. "Passages" gives no indication of this, skipping days at a time and shortening the majority of entries it does provide. Also aggravating (in my edition at least), it doesn't note the month/year on every page and I was often having to flip back/forth to remind myself what year I was in.

If you desire nothing more than highlights of historical significance with a sprinkling of some personal bits, perhaps you could say it does a serviceable job. Those highlights include ubiquitous music, the first introduction of women actors onto the stage, weather observations that may (unknown to Pepys) hint at the global effects of volcanic activity, a treasure hunt in the Tower of London, first-hand accounts of living through the last gasp of the Black Plague, and witnessing the Great Fire of London. Sam's wife Elizabeth also deserves the reader's attention, for always standing up for herself. Sam loved her and feared her in equal measure, and well he ought to have.

Not everything was wonderful in jolly old England. Public executions included being drawn and quartered, and Cromwell was dug out of his grave so he could be hung too. Folks were accustomed to spitting in the theatre or being accidentally spat on, bloodletting was part of a casual doctor's check-up, and press-gangs forced able-bodied men onto the ships to fight the war with the Dutch. Sam was liable to commit acts of domestic violence, and his callous objectification of women is beyond the pale with some pedophilia thrown in for good measure. Women and girl victims had no recourse but to find other benefactors if they could - only to encounter the same thing everywhere, I'd hardly doubt.

The single most interesting aspect of Sam's diary is the clear-eyed capturing of his own hypocrisy. He simultaneously pledges himself to be above bribery while taking bribes, devoted to his wife while cheating on her, etc. It is remarkable how equally well he records his pledges and personal code as well as all of the ways he contravenes them. While occasionally he chastises himself for poor behaviour, and sometimes corrects it, he just as openly slips back into bad paths again. He does not pause his diary to explore this hypocritical dichotomy (at least not in these stripped-down excerpts), though there's no question that he's aware of it. His diary paints him as a kind of disinterested observer of himself, as if his own contradictions were a source of fascination to him rather than something needing to be resolved.

While Pepys may not have written with an audience in mind, he had enough inkling of his diary's value after its completion to make it a secured part of the library he left to posterity. It is not the only surviving diary from this period, but his is special for sheer readability and for its uniquely objective, naked reporting of a man both public and private as told from the inside.… (mehr)