satire opened to me: but, since the Revolution,

I have wholly renounced that talent. For who would give physic to the great, when he is uncalled?-to do his patient no good, and en

Extremum hunc, Arethusa . .

Negat quis carmina Gallo?3

Neither am I to forget the noble present

danger himself for his prescription? Neither 5 which was made me by Gilbert Dolben, Esq., am I ignorant, but I may justly be condemned for many of those faults of which I have too liberally arraigned others.

the worthy son of the late Archbishop of York, who, when I began this work, enriched me with all the several editions of Virgil, and all the commentaries of those editions in Latin; 10 amongst which, I could not but prefer the Dauphin's, as the last, the shortest, and the most judicious. Fabrini I had also sent me from Italy; but either he understands Virgil very imperfectly, or I have no knowledge of

Being invited by that worthy gentleman, Sir William Bowyer, to Denham Court, I translated the first Georgic at his house, and the greatest part of the last Eneid. A more friendly entertainment no man ever found. No wonder, therefore, if both those versions surpass the rest, and own the satisfaction I received in his converse, with whom I had the honour to be bred in Cambridge, and in

made English at Burleigh, the magnificent abode of the Earl of Exeter. In a village belonging to his family I was born; and under his roof I endeavoured to make that Eneid ap

though my author has not given the finishing strokes either to it, or to the Eleventh, as I perhaps could prove in both, if I durst presume to criticise my master.

'Tis enough for me, if the Government will let me pass unquestioned. In the meantime, I am obliged, in gratitude, to return my thanks 15 my author. to many of them, who have not only distinguished me from others of the same party, by a particular exception of grace, but, without considering the man, have been bountiful to the poet: have encouraged Virgil to speak such 20 English as I could teach him, and rewarded his interpreter for the pains he has taken in bringing him over into Britain, by defraying the charges of his voyage. Even Cerberus, when he had received the sop, permitted Æneas to 25 the same college. The Seventh Eneid was pass freely to Elysium. Had it been offered me, and I had refused it, yet still some gratitude is due to such who were willing to oblige me; but how much more to those from whom I have received the favours which they have 30 pear in English with as much lustre as I could; offered to one of a different persuasion! Amongst whom I cannot omit naming the Earls of Derby and of Peterborough. To the first of these I have not the honour to be known; and therefore his liberality was as much unexpected as 35 it was undeserved. The present Earl of Peterborough has been pleased long since to accept the tenders of my service: his favours are so frequent to me, that I receive them almost by prescription. No difference of interest or 40 opinion has been able to withdraw his protection from me; and I might justly be condemned for the most unthankful of mankind, if I did not always preserve for him a most profound respect and inviolable gratitude. 45 I must also add, that, if the last Eneid shine amongst its fellows, 'tis owing to the commands of Sir William Trumball, one of the principal Secretaries of State, who recommended it, as his favourite, to my care; and 50 for his sake particularly, I have made it mine. For who would confess weariness, when he enjoined a fresh labour? I could not but invoke the assistance of a Muse, for this last office.

By a letter from William Walsh,* of Abberley, Esq. (who has so long honoured me with his friendship, and who, without flattery, is the best critic of our nation), I have been informed, that his Grace the Duke of Shrewsbury has procured a printed copy of the Pastorals, Georgics, and first six Æneids, from my bookseller, and has read them in the country, together with my friend. This noble person having been pleased to give them a commendation, which I presume not to insert, has made me vain enough to boast of so great a favour, and to think I have succeeded beyond my hopes; the character of his excellent judgment, the acuteness of his wit, and his general knowledge of good letters, being known as well to all the world, as the sweetness of his disposition, his humanity, his easiness of access, and desire of obliging those who stand in need of his protection, are known to all who have ap55 proached him, and to me in particular, who have

Grant me this last labor, Arethusa . . . who could refuse songs to Gallus? (Virg. Ecl., x., 1-54).

William Walsh (1663-1708), a critic and minor poet, is remembered as the friend, early adviser, and corre spondent of Pope.

the Royalle company by themselves in the coach, which was a blessed sight to see. After dinner the King and Duke altered the name of some of the ships,3 viz. the Nazeby 5 into Charles; the Richard, James; the Speaker, Mary; the Dunbar (which was not in company with us), the Henry; Winsly, Happy Return; Wakefield, Richmond; Lambert, the Henrietta; Cheriton, the Speedwell; Bradford,

Royalle,' and Prince of Orange, took leave of the King, and the Duke of York" went on board the London, and the Duke of Gloucester, the Swiftsure. Which done, we weighed anchor, and with a fresh gale and most happy weather we set sail for England. All the afternoon the King walked here and there, up and down (quite contrary to what I thought him to have been) very active and stirring. Upon the

formerly had the honour of his conversation. Whoever has given the world the translation of part of the Third Georgic, which he calls The Power of Love, has put me to sufficient pains to make my own not inferior to his; as my Lord Roscommon's Silenus had formerly given me the same trouble. The most ingenious Mr. Addison of Oxford has also been as troublesome to me as the other two, and on the same account. After his Bees, my latter swarm 10 the Successe. That done, the Queen, Princesse is hardly worth the hiving. Mr. Cowley's Praise of a Country Life is excellent, but is rather an imitation of Virgil than a version. That I have recovered, in some measure, the health which I had lost by too much applica- 15 tion to this work, is owing, next to God's mercy, to the skill and care of Dr. Guibbons and Dr. Hobbs, the two ornaments of their profession, whom I can only pay by this acknowledgement. The whole Faculty has always been 20 quarter-deck he fell into discourse of his esready to oblige me; and the only one of them, who endeavoured to defame me, had it not in his power. I desire pardon from my readers for saying so much in relation to myself, which concerns not them; and, with my acknowledge- 25 ments to all my subscribers, have only to add, that the few Notes which follow are par manière d'acquit, because I had obliged myself by articles to do somewhat of that kind. These scattering observations are rather guesses at 30 miller and other company, that took them for

cape from Worcester,' where it made me ready to weep to hear the stories that he told, of his difficulties that he had passed through, as his travelling four days and three nights on foot, every step up to his knees in dirt, with nothing but a green coat and a pair of country breeches on, and a pair of country shoes that made him so sore all over his feet, that he could scarce stir. Yet he was forced to run away from a

rogues. His sitting at table at one place, where the master of the house, that had not seen him in eight years, did know him, but kept it private; when at the same table there was one that

my author's meaning in some passages, than proofs that so he meant. The unlearned may have recourse to any poetical dictionary in English, for the names of persons, places, or fables, which the learned need not: but that 35 had been of his own regiment at Worcester could little which I say is either new or necessary; and the first of these qualifications never fails to invite a reader, if not to please him.

Samuel Pepys

1633-1703

not know him, but made him drink the King's health, and said that the King was at least four fingers higher than he. At another place he was by some servants of the house made to 40 drink, that they might know that he was not a Roundhead, which they swore he was. In another place at his inn, the master of the house, as the King was standing with his hands upon the back of a chair by the fire-side, kneeled

45

THE RETURN OF CHARLES II. (From Diary of Samuel Pepys, 1660) 23rd.1 In the morning come infinity of people on board from the King to go along with him. ... All day nothing but Lords and persons of honour on board, that we were exceeding full. Dined in a great deal of state, 50

By way of discharging (an obligation), or of a formal character.

1 i. e., May 23, 1660. At this time Pepys was still young, poor, and comparatively unknown. The foundation of his fortune had, however, been laid by the kindness of his patron and kinsman Sir Edward Montague (afterwards Earl of Sandwich), through whose influence 55 he had been made secretary to the generals on the English fleet, in March, 1660. With his patron, and the other members of the delegation, he went to the Hague to bring back Charles II. The passages here given relate to the King's embarkation at the Hague and his landing at Dover.

A room beneath the poop-deck in a man of war, usually occupied by the captain.

The reason for the change of name is obvious: but this purifying from Puritanic and embarrassing association has an element of humour. Naseby and Dunbar were of course reminiscent of Puritan victories, while the

Richard (presumably named after Cromwell's son), the Speaker, the Lambert, and the rest, bore names hardly less full of unpleasant suggestion to the cars of the Royalists.

Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, daughter of James VI, of Scotland, and First of England, whose husband, Frederick became King of Bohemia. Shortly after, he was forced by reverses to fly with his family to Holland. Elizabeth returned to England after the Restoration of her nephew, where she died in 1662.

5 Mary, sister of Charles II, wife of William II, Prince of Orange, and mother of William III, of Orange, who became King of England in 1689.

Afterwards James II, of England.

7 i. e., after the crushing defeat of the Royal forces by Cromwell at the Battle of Worcester, 1651.

which he did, and talked awhile with General Monk and others, and so into a stately coach there set for him, and so away through the town towards Canterbury, without making 5 any stay at Dover. The shouting and joy expressed by all is past imagination.

THE GREAT FIRE OF LONDON

down and kissed his hand, privately, saying, that he would not ask him who he was, but bid God bless him whither he was going. Then the difficulties in getting a boat to get into France, where he was fain to plot with the master thereof to keep his design from the foreman and a boy (which was all the ship's company,) and so get to Fecamp in France. At Rouen he looked .so poorly, that the people went into the rooms before he went away to see whether 10 he had not stole something or other. . . So to my cabin again, where the company still was, and were talking more of the King's difficulties; as how he was fain to eat a piece of bread and cheese out of a poor body's pocket; 15 about three in the morning, to tell us of a how, at a Catholique house, he was fain to lie in the priest's hole a good while in the house for his privacy. After that our company broke up. We have all the Lord Commissioners

(From the same, 1666)

2nd. (Lord's Day). Some of our maids sitting up late last night to get things ready against our feast to-day, Jane called us up

great fire they saw in the city. So I rose, and slipped on my night-gown, and went to her window; and thought it to be on the back-side of Marke-lane at the farthest, but being unused

on board us, and many others. Under sail 20 to such fires as followed, I thought it far enough

all night, and most glorious weather.

off: and so went to bed again, and to sleep. About seven rose again to dress myself, and there looked out at the window, and saw the fire not so much as it was, and further off.

24th. Up, and made myself as fine as I could, with the linning stockings on and wide canons that I bought the other day at Hague. . . . 25th. By the morning we were come close 25 So to my closet to set things to rights, after

to the land, and everybody made ready to get
on shore. The King and the two Dukes did
eat their breakfast before they went, and there
being set some ship's diet, they did eat of noth-
ing else but pease and pork, and boiled beef. 30
Dr. Clerke, who eat with me, told me how the
King had given 50£ to Mr. Shepley for my
Lord's servants, and 500£ among the officers
and common men of the ship. I spoke to the
Duke of York about business, who called me 35
Pepys by name, and upon my desire did prom-
ise me his future favour. Great expectation
of the King's making some Knights, but there
was none. About noon (though the brigantine
that Beale made was there ready to carry him) 40
yet he would go in my Lord's barge with the
two Dukes. Our Captn. steered, and my Lord
went along bare with him. I went, and Mr.
Mansell, and one of the King's footmen, and a

yesterday's cleaning. By and by Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have been burned down to-night by the fire we saw, and that it is now burning down all Fish-street, by London Bridge. So I made myself ready presently, and walked to the Tower, and there got upon one of the high places, Sir J. Robinson's little son going up with me; and there I did see the houses at that end of the bridge all on fire, and an infinite great fire on this and the other side the end of the bridge; which, among other people, did trouble me for poor little Michell and our Sarah on the bridge. So down with my heart full of trouble to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who tells me it begun this morning in the King's baker's house in Puddine-lane, and that it hath burned down St. Magnes Church2 and most part of Fish-street already. So I down to

through bridge, and there saw a lamentable fire. Poor Michell's house, as far as the Old Swan, already burned that way, and the fire running further, that in a very little time

dog that the king loved, in a boat by ourselves, 45 the water-side, and there got a boat, and
and so got on shore when the King did, who
was received by General Monk with all imagi-
nable love and respect at his entrance upon the
land of Dover. Infinite the crowd of people
and the horsemen, citizens, and noblemen of 50 it got as far as the Steele-yard, while I was

all sorts. The Mayor of the town come and
give him his white staff, the badge of his place,
which the King did give him again. The Mayor
also presented him from the town a very rich
Bible, which he took, and said it was the thing 55
that he loved above all things in the world.
A canopy was provided for him to stand under,

"Ornamental rolls which terminated the breeches or hose at the knee." Cent. Dict.

there. Everybody endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into the river, or bringing them into lighters that lay off; poor people staying in their houses as long as till

1 Sept. 2, 1666.

2 St. Magnus the Martyr. This church was on the corner of Fish Street Hill and was very near to the London Bridge.

A well-known tavern not far from Old London Bridge.

tracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire. The houses too so very thick thereabouts, and full of matter for burning, as pitch and tar, in Thames-street: and warehouses 5 of oil, and wines, and brandy, and other things. Having seen as much as I could now, I away to White Hall by appointment, and there walked to St. James' Park, and there met my wife and Creed and Wood and his wife, and

the very fire touched them, and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of stairs by the water-side to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows and balconys, till they burned their wings and fell down. Having staid, and in an hour's time seen the fire rage every way, and nobody, to my sight, endeavouring to quench it, but to remove their goods, 10 walked to my boat; and there upon the water and leave all to the fire, and having seen it get as far as the Steele-yard, and the wind mighty high, and driving it into the city; and everything after so long a drouth proving combustible, even the very stones of churches, and among 15 were almost burned with a shower of fire

other things, the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs.- lives, and whereof my old schoolfellow Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top, and there burned till it fell down:

again, and to the fire up and down, it still encreasing, and the wind great. So near the fire as we could for smoke; and all over the Thames, with one's faces in the wind, you

drops. This is very true; so as houses were burned by these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, nay five or six houses, one from another. When we could endure no more

fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long; it made me weep to see it. The churches, houses, and

I to White Hall (with a gentleman with me, 20 upon the water, we to a little ale-house on who desired to go off from the Tower, to see the the Bankside, over against the Three Cranes, fire, in my boat); and there up to the King's and there staid till it was dark almost, and closet in the Chapel, where people come about saw the fire grow, and as it grew darker, me; and I did give them an account dismayed appeared more and more, and in corners and them all, and word was carried in to the King. 25 upon steeples, and between churches and So I was called for, and did tell the King and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the Duke of York what I saw, and that unless the city, in a most horrid malicious bloody his Majesty did command houses to be pulled flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary down, nothing could stop the fire. They fire. Barbary and her husband away before seemed much troubled, and the King com- 30 us. We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the manded me to go to my Lord Mayor from him, and command him to spare no houses, but to pull down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him, that if he would have any more soldiers, he shall; and so did my 35 all on fire, and flaming at once, and a horrid Lord Arlington afterwards, as a great secret. Here meeting with Captain Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, and Creed with me to Paul's, and there walked along Watling-street, as well as I could, every creature coming away 40 loaden with goods to save, and here and there sick people carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods carried in carts and on backs. At last met by Lord Mayor in Canningstreet, like a man spent, with a handkercher 45 about his neck. To the King's message, he cried like a fainting woman, "Lord! what can I do? I am spent: people will not obey me. I have been pulling down houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it." That 50 troublesome to my mind to do it: but I this

he needed no more soldiers; and that, for himself, he must go and refresh himself, having been up all night. So he left me, and I him, and walked home; seeing people all almost dis

Formerly the headquarters in England of the Hanseatic League, and hence called the 'Guildhall of the Germans." It was situated on the river-front west of London Bridge: the fire (which had begun cast of the bridge, near Billingsgate) was therefore spreading westward.

noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruin. So home with a sad heart, and there find everybody discoursing and lamenting the fire!

THE LAST ENTRY IN PEPYS' DIARY

31st. Up very betimes, and continued all the morning with W. Hewer, upon examining and stating my accounts, in order to the fitting myself to go abroad beyond sea, which the ill condition of my eyes and my neglect for a year or two hath kept me behind-hand in, and so as to render it very difficult now and

day made a satisfactory entrance therein. Had another meeting with the Duke of York at White Hall on yesterday's work, and made a good advance: and so being called by my 55 wife, we to the Park, Mary Batelier, and a Dutch gentleman, a friend of hers, being with us. Thence to "The World's End," a drinking5 On the southern, or Surrey, side of the river.

1 May 31st, 1669.