Evelyn alludes in his Diary to Pepys’s death and the present to him of a suit of mourning. He speaks in very high terms of his friend:—
“1703, May 26th. This day died Mr. Sam Pepys, a very worthy,
industrious, and curious person, none in England exceeding him in
knowledge of the navy, in which he had passed thro’ all the most
considerable offices, Clerk of the Acts and Secretary of the
Admiralty, all which he performed with great integrity. When K.
James II. went out of England, he laid down his office, and would
serve no more, but withdrawing himselfe from all public affaires, he
liv’d at Clapham with his partner Mr. Hewer, formerly his clerk, in
a very noble and sweete place, where he enjoy’d the fruits of his
labours in greate prosperity. He was universally belov’d,
hospitable, generous, learned in many things, skilfd in music, a
very greate cherisher of learned men of whom he had the conversation
.... Mr. Pepys had been for neere 40 yeeres so much my
particular friend that Mr. Jackson sent me compleat mourning,
desiring me to be one to hold up the pall at his magnificent
obsequies, but my indisposition hinder’d me from doing him this last
office.”
The body was brought from Clapham and buried in St. Olave’s Church, Hart Street, on the 5th June, at nine o’clock at night, in a vault just beneath the monument to the memory of Mrs. Pepys. Dr. Hickes performed the last sad offices for his friend.
Pepys’s faithful friend, Hewer, was his executor, and his nephew, John Jackson, his heir. Mourning was presented to forty persons, and a large number of rings to relations, godchildren, servants, and friends, also to representatives of the Royal Society, of the Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, of the Admiralty, and of the Navy Office. The bulk of the property was bequeathed to Jackson, but the money which was left was much less than might have been expected, for at the time of Pepys’s death there was a balance of L28,007 2s. 1d. due to him from the Crown, and none of this was ever paid. The books and other collections were left to Magdalene College, Cambridge, but Jackson was to have possession of them during his lifetime. These were the most important portion of Pepys’s effects, for with them was the manuscript of the immortal Diary. The following are the directions for the disposition of the library, taken from Harl. MS., No. 7301:
“For the further settlement and preservation of my said library,
after the death of my nephew. John Jackson, I do hereby declare,
That could I be sure of a constant succession of heirs from my said
nephew, qualified like himself for the use of such a library, I
should not entertain a thought of its ever being alienated from
them. But this uncertainty considered, with the infinite pains, and
time, and cost employed in my collecting, methodising and reducing
the same to the state it now is, I cannot but be greatly solicitous
that all possible provision should be made for its unalterable
preservation and perpetual security against the ordinary fate of
such collections falling into the hands of an incompetent heir, and
thereby being sold, dissipated, or embezzled. And since it has
pleased God to visit me in a manner that leaves little appearance of
being myself restored to a condition of concerting the necessary
measures for attaining these ends, I must and do with great
confidence rely upon the sincerity and direction of my executor and
said nephew for putting in execution the powers given them, by my
forementioned will relating hereto, requiring that the same be
brought to a determination in twelve months after my decease, and
that special regard be had therein to the following particulars
which I declare to be my present thoughts and prevailing
inclinations in this matter, viz.:
“1. That after the death of my said nephew, my said library be
placed and for ever settled in one of our universities, and rather
in that of Cambridge than Oxford.
“2. And rather in a private college there, than in the public
library.
“3. And in the colleges of Trinity or Magdalen preferably to all
others.
“4. And of these too, ‘caeteris paribus’, rather in the latter, for
the sake of my own and my nephew’s education therein.
“5. That in which soever of the two it is, a fair roome be provided
therein.
“6. And if in Trinity, that the said roome be contiguous to, and
have communication with, the new library there.
“7. And if in Magdalen, that it be in the new building there, and
any part thereof at my nephew’s election.
“8. That my said library be continued in its present form and no
other books mixed therein, save what my nephew may add to theirs of
his own collecting, in distinct presses.
“9. That the said room and books so placed and adjusted be called
by the name of ‘Bibliotheca Pepysiana.’
“10. That this ‘Bibliotheca Pepysiana’ be under the sole power and
custody of the master of the college for the time being, who shall
neither himself convey, nor suffer to be conveyed by others, any of
the said books from thence to any other place, except to his own
lodge in the said college, nor there have more than ten of them at a
time; and that of those also a strict entry be made and account
kept, at the time of their having been taken out and returned, in a
book to be provided, and remain in the said library for that purpose
only.
“11. That before my said library be put into the possession of
either of the said colleges, that college for which it shall be
designed, first enter into covenants for performance of the
foregoing articles.
“12. And that for a yet further security herein, the said two
colleges of Trinity and Magdalen have a reciprocal check upon one
another; and that college which shall be in present possession of
the said library, be subject to an annual visitation from the other,
and to the forfeiture thereof to the life, possession, and use of
the other, upon conviction of any breach of their said covenants.
“S. PEPYS.”
The library and the original book-cases were not transferred to Magdalene College until 1724, and there they have been preserved in safety ever since.
A large number of Pepys’s manuscripts appear to have remained unnoticed in York Buildings for some years. They never came into Jackson’s hands, and were thus lost to Magdalene College. Dr. Rawlinson afterwards obtained them, and they were included in the bequest of his books to the Bodleian Library.
Pepys was partial to having his portrait taken, and he sat to Savill, Hales, Lely, and Kneller. Hales’s portrait, painted in 1666, is now in the National Portrait Gallery, and an etching from the original forms the frontispiece to this volume. The portrait by Lely is in the Pepysian Library. Of the three portraits by Kneller, one is in the hall of Magdalene College, another at the Royal Society, and the third was lent to the First Special Exhibition of National Portraits, 1866, by the late Mr. Andrew Pepys Cockerell. Several of the portraits have been engraved, but the most interesting of these are those used by Pepys himself as book-plates. These were both engraved by Robert White, and taken from paintings by Kneller.
The church of St. Olave, Hart Street, is intimately associated with Pepys both in his life and in his death, and for many years the question had been constantly asked by visitors, “Where is Pepys’s monument?” On Wednesday, July 5th, 1882, a meeting was held in the vestry of the church, when an influential committee was appointed, upon which all the great institutions with which Pepys was connected were represented by their masters, presidents, or other officers, with the object of taking steps to obtain an adequate memorial of the Diarist. Mr. (now Sir) Alfred Blomfield, architect of the church, presented an appropriate design for a monument, and sufficient subscriptions having been obtained for the purpose, he superintended its erection. On Tuesday afternoon, March 18th, 1884, the monument, which was affixed to the wall of the church where the gallery containing Pepys’s pew formerly stood, was unveiled in the presence of a large concourse of visitors. The Earl of Northbrook, First Lord of the Admiralty, consented to unveil the monument, but he was at the last moment prevented by public business from attending. The late Mr. Russell Lowell, then the American Minister, took Lord Northbrook’s place, and made a very charming and appreciative speech on the occasion, from which the following passages are extracted:—
“It was proper,” his Excellency said, “that he should read a note he
had received from Lord Northbrook. This was dated that day from the
Admiralty, and was as follows:
“‘My dear Mr. Lowell,
“‘I am very much annoyed that I am prevented from assisting at the
ceremony to-day. It would be very good if you would say that
nothing but very urgent business would have kept me away. I was
anxious to give my testimony to the merits of Pepys as an Admiralty
official, leaving his literary merits to you. He was concerned with
the administration of the Navy from the Restoration to the
Revolution, and from 1673 as secretary. I believe his merits to be
fairly stated in a contemporary account, which I send.
“‘Yours very truly,
“‘NORTHBROOK.
“The contemporary account, which Lord Northbrook was good enough to
send him, said:
“‘Pepys was, without exception, the greatest and most useful
Minister that ever filled the same situations in England, the acts
and registers of the Admiralty proving this beyond contradiction.
The principal rules and establishments in present use in these
offices are well known to have been of his introducing, and most of
the officers serving therein since the Restoration, of his bringing-
up. He was a most studious promoter and strenuous asserter of order
and discipline. Sobriety, diligence, capacity, loyalty, and
subjection to command were essentials required in all whom he
advanced. Where any of these were found wanting, no interest or
authority was capable of moving him in favour of the highest
pretender. Discharging his duty to his Prince and country with a
religious application and perfect integrity, he feared no one,
courted no one, and neglected his own fortune.’
“That was a character drawn, it was true, by a friendly hand, but to
those who were familiar with the life of Pepys, the praise hardly
seemed exaggerated. As regarded his official life, it was
unnecessary to dilate upon his peculiar merits, for they all knew
how faithful he was in his duties, and they all knew, too, how many
faithful officials there were working on in obscurity, who were not
only never honoured with a monument but who never expected one. The
few words, Mr. Lowell went on to remark, which he was expected to
say upon that occasion, therefore, referred rather to what he
believed was the true motive which had brought that assembly
together, and that was by no means the character of Pepys either as
Clerk of the Acts or as Secretary to the Admiralty. This was not
the place in which one could go into a very close examination of the
character of Pepys as a private man. He would begin by admitting
that Pepys was a type, perhaps, of what was now called a
‘Philistine’. We had no word in England which was equivalent to the
French adjective Bourgeois; but, at all events, Samuel Pepys was the
most perfect type that ever existed of the class of people whom this
word described. He had all its merits as well as many of its
defects. With all those defects, however perhaps in consequence of
them—Pepys had written one of the most delightful books that it was
man’s privilege to read in the English language or in any other.
Whether Pepys intended this Diary to be afterwards read by the
general public or not—and this was a doubtful question when it was
considered that he had left, possibly by inadvertence, a key to his
cypher behind him—it was certain that he had left with us a most
delightful picture, or rather he had left the power in our hands of
drawing for ourselves some, of the most delightful pictures, of the
time in which he lived. There was hardly any book which was
analogous to it..... If one were asked what were the reasons
for liking Pepys, it would be found that they were as numerous as
the days upon which he made an entry in his Diary, and surely that
was sufficient argument in his favour. There was no book, Mr.
Lowell said, that he knew of, or that occurred to his memory, with
which Pepys’s Diary could fairly be compared, except the journal of
L’Estoile, who had the same anxious curiosity and the same
commonness, not to say vulgarity of interest, and the book was
certainly unique in one respect, and that was the absolute sincerity
of the author with himself. Montaigne is conscious that we are
looking over his shoulder, and Rousseau secretive in comparison with
him. The very fact of that sincerity of the author with himself
argued a certain greatness of character. Dr. Hickes, who attended
Pepys at his deathbed, spoke of him as ‘this great man,’ and said he
knew no one who died so greatly. And yet there was something almost
of the ridiculous in the statement when the ‘greatness’ was compared
with the garrulous frankness which Pepys showed towards himself.
There was no parallel to the character of Pepys, he believed, in
respect of ‘naivete’, unless it were found in that of Falstaff, and
Pepys showed himself, too, like Falstaff, on terms of unbuttoned
familiarity with himself. Falstaff had just the same ‘naivete’, but
in Falstaff it was the ‘naivete’ of conscious humour. In Pepys it
was quite different, for Pepys’s ‘naivete’ was the inoffensive
vanity of a man who loved to see himself in the glass. Falstaff had
a sense, too, of inadvertent humour, but it was questionable whether
Pepys could have had any sense of humour at all, and yet permitted
himself to be so delightful. There was probably, however, more
involuntary humour in Pepys’s Diary than there was in any other book
extant. When he told his readers of the landing of Charles II. at
Dover, for instance, it would be remembered how Pepys chronicled the
fact that the Mayor of Dover presented the Prince with a Bible, for
which he returned his thanks and said it was the ‘most precious Book
to him in the world.’ Then, again, it would be remembered how, when
he received a letter addressed ‘Samuel Pepys, Esq.,’ he confesses in
the Diary that this pleased him mightily. When, too, he kicked his
cookmaid, he admits that he was not sorry for it, but was sorry that
the footboy of a worthy knight with whom he was acquainted saw him
do it. And the last instance he would mention of poor Pepys’s
‘naivete’ was when he said in the Diary that he could not help
having a certain pleasant and satisfied feeling when Barlow died.
Barlow, it must be remembered, received during his life the yearly
sum from Pepys of L100. The value of Pepys’s book was simply
priceless, and while there was nothing in it approaching that single
page in St. Simon where he described that thunder of courtierly red
heels passing from one wing of the Palace to another as the Prince
was lying on his death-bed, and favour was to flow from another
source, still Pepys’s Diary was unequalled in its peculiar quality
of amusement. The lightest part of the Diary was of value,
historically, for it enabled one to see London of 200 years ago,
and, what was more, to see it with the eager eyes of Pepys. It was
not Pepys the official who had brought that large gathering together
that day in honour of his memory: it was Pepys the Diarist.”