The L.P. Hartley saw about the past as a foreign country might roll a few eyes at the neighborhood history department, but one cannot dispute that the march of time has fundamentally altered many particulars of our everyday life.
Public executions are among the phenomena that ancestor generations once reckoned a routine fixture of the world, but for most of us are little but the stuff of fantastic nightmares. It requires an act of conscious imagination to project oneself into a world where expiring convicts propped up on breaking-wheels are just a part of the scenery — as in this absurd episode from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
This date’s entry arrives courtesy of the pen of intrepid 17th century English diarist Samuel Pepys, whose faithful daily journals frequently record the public deaths occurring here and there like so many matinees.** Pepys at one level is a very accessible figure as he hustles through bourgeois banalities; that people are strung up and butchered around him and the fact rates nothing but a stray subordinate clause rudely injects that foreign past into his narrative.
On October 23, 1668, Pepys worked the day’s hanging right into an industrious calendar of business and social calls. (He attended Tyburn in the company of a surgeon, which made it a possible business trip for his companion.) Like the rest of us, Pepys wound up so pinched for time that he ran late and ended up missing the execution full stop, but he didn’t let the snafu perturb his day one bit.
Up, and plasterers at work and painters about my house. Commissioner Middleton and I to St. James’s, where with the rest of our company we attended on our usual business the Duke of York. Thence I to White Hall, to my Lord Sandwich’s, where I find my Lord within, but busy, private; and so I staid a little talking with the young gentlemen: and so away with Mr. Pierce, the surgeon, towards Tyburne, to see the people executed; but come too late, it being done; two men and a woman hanged, and so back again and to my coachmaker’s, and there did come a little nearer agreement for the coach, and so to Duck Lane, and there my bookseller’s, and saw his moher, but elle is so big-bellied that elle is not worth seeing. So home, and there all alone to dinner, my wife and W. Hewer being gone to Deptford to see her mother, and so I to the office all the afternoon.
After which Pepys turns as if to the our guilty-pleasure TMZ bookmark, and begins gossiping about the bawdy shenanigans of the royal court.
* Of course, the question depends on place as well as time; public executions are still routine in a few locales today — such as Saudi Arabia and Iran.
** Viz., the regicides as a successful sequel to the Charles I show:
I went out to Charing Cross, to see Major-General Harrison hanged, drawn, and quartered; which was done there, he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that condition … Thus it was my chance to see the King beheaded at White Hall, and to see the first blood shed in revenge for the blood of the King at Charing Cross.
On this day..
- 1721: John Trantum, 1/2
- 1908: Joe James, in the crucible of the Springfield Race Riot
- 1685: Elizabeth Gaunt, for refuge
- 1665: Gabriel de Beaufort-Canillac vicomte la Mothe, during the Grands Jours of Auvergne
- 1828: Charles French, York printer
- 1947: Gyorgy Donath, Hungarian anti-communist
- 1698: 350 Streltsy by the boyars' own hands
- 1865: George William Gordon, Jamaican politician
- 2003: Two Palestinian collaborators
- 1895: Not Almighty Voice
- 1971: Ion Rimaru, the Vampire of Bucharest
- Feast Day of Boethius
Hello,
I have read that Samuel Pepys frequently indulged in his diary into criticizing anything France -related.
And the author of the text said Pepys did so DESPITE the fact that his own wife was of French descent, or perhaps it was BECAUSE she was so that he criticized the French.
However, there is a famous passage in Pepys’ diary – one can see it in the website http://www.pepysdiary.com you quote as a link as well as elsewhere – where he praises France. When he talks about Paris and compares it with other European capitals of the era in terms of public safety. He says that :
( 1667, June 28th )
” At table, my Lady and Sir Philip Carteret have great and good discourse of the greatness of the present King of France–what great things he hath done, that a man may pass, at any hour in the night, all over that wild city [Paris], with a purse in his hand and no danger: that there is not a beggar to be seen in it, nor dirt lying in it … ”
More precisely as we know, if Paris enjoyed a greater public safety, with a lesser risk to be robbed on the steets, it was thanks to Gabriel Nicolas de La Reynie, the Lieutenant Général de Police.
Best Regards