Rosemary and Pansies/Lines Written after Reading Pepys's Diary
Delightful, quaint old diarist, Most ruthless self-anatomist! He guessed not how those pages Wherein he bared his inmost soul, So egotistic, naïve, and droll, Would render up so rich a toll Of spoil to after ages.
Unto his artless pen we owe What ne'er another one doth show, (Save as by farthing candle,) A living picture of the ways, (Vivid as 'neath electric rays,) Of life in Charles the Second's days, That time of riant scandal.
Clearly his world before us looms, Though covered with the heavy glooms Two centuries cast o'er it: We see him at his work and play, Dancing and singing, grave and gay, Kissing his maids—a fie-fie trait! We must, of course, deplore it.
Kings, courtiers, "statesmen"—save the name! Bold Duchesses, more void of shame Than playhouse Moll or Nelly; Intriguing placemen—all the crew Of ladies frail, false lords, we view, Gazing Pepys's magic-lantern through From dust and ashes sally!
Our diarist was not a saint, He did not 'scape the age's taint, In him was naught heroic: A bribe he scrupled not to touch, He loved fair women far too much, His gormandising too was such As would have shocked a stoic.
We know him as none else we know— Far better even than Rousseau, Spite of his strange revealings; Not Byron's self we know so well, From what he did and did not tell, (His soul a mingled heaven and hell!) Confessions and concealings.
Few have, like Pepys, the pluck to own E'en to their very selves alone Their little peccadilloes; Though quick our neighbours' faults to find,We're to our own worse failings blind, Nor to confess them are inclined E'en to our friendly pillows.
We know he'd sins both great and small To answer for, but, after all, Pray tell me who's without them? The man was human through and through, His faults belong to me and you, 'Tis well if we've his good points too, And make no fuss about them.
Could we to life but call him back He would not a warm welcome lack If with us he'd foregather: How should we hang upon his chat, His anecdotes and stories pat Of rakish Earls and Ladies that Had slipped from virtue's tether!
Yet were he here in person, he Could scarcely help us more to see His age's form and pressure Than in his diary unique (You'll vainly such another seek!), He shows it with unvarnished cheek, Than Lely's colours fresher!
A sad and shameful time we own Was his: yet could the truth be known Is our age much more moral? A nineteenth-century Pepys may be Is now at work to prove that we Have very little warranty With Charles's time to quarrel!
1893