History too is re-cycled, like glass, water, paper and other essenials. A history book is nothing more than a re-thinking, in some cases revising as well, of what an earlier historian wrote in another book. What happened in the world ten thousand years ago on a certain day is History, but then what happened in our world yesterday is History too. Historians have always relied on contempories who were there, in a great battle for instance, survived injured or whole, and wrote about that battle as soon as they could. This particular piece of history might be heard in the form of a ballad, or published as writing, or become a yarn told in taverns. In a recent very serious case, England discovered that their teachers, and their teachers’ teachers, and their teachers’ teachers, relying on published history texts, have been stating untruths for nearly five hundred years. This is the case of King Richard III, last of the Plantagenets, who died on a battlefield. He was everybody’s wicked uncle, a serial murderer, poisoner of his own wife, assassin of his own brother etc. etc since 1485 because the contemporary historians said so. Though it was mostly mythical, it was taught as fact in schools and colleges. Luckily, the very finest texts that can be used by historians, if they have been preserved well, are diaries. Obviously they were written by first-hand witnesses, though many have been embellished, as a diarist’s wont. It was a diarist, a foreigner whose English was questionable, called Polydore Vergil, who wrote most of the lies about Richard. Another contemporary diarist was Thomas More, an official and well paid Tudor historian, who wrote distatefully about Richard because it suited his book to do so. It was pure propaganda, but it kept More’s head on his shoulders – even if only for a while.
Samuel Pepys (1633 – 1703) is probably the most famous and quoted (and misquoted) diarist in world history. He was nothing more than an Admiralty clerk, who rose after the Restoration of Charles II in the ever-growing British Navy. He became Admiralty Secretary in 1672 when he was thirty-nine. Then he lost his job because some imp accused him of involvement in The Popish Plot (1679). It was nonsense, and he was re-instated in 1684. Meanwhile however, he was keeping a diary which became internationally celebrated, running from January, 1660 to May, 1669. It is fascinating because it provides an intimate picture of everyday personal life (Pepys was exceptionately fond of buxom, pretty, large women), court intrigue (the merriest of melancholic monarchs, Charles II, was on the throne), and naval administration. His account of three national disasters, The Great Plague of 1665/66, the Great Fire of London (1666) that followed, and the impertinent but courageous sailing up the Thames Estuary and river itself of the Dutch war fleet and the damage it did – have been quoted and used by historians ever since. It should be noted that these diaries were written in code which was not de-coded until 1825, one hundred and twenty-two years after Pepys’ death at the age of seventy.
Here are some apt quotations from the Diary:
13 October, 1660:
‘I went out to Charing Cross, to see Major-general Harrison (sic) hanged, drawn and quartered; which was done there, he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that condition.’
19 July, 1662:
‘But methought it lessened my esteem of a king, that he should not be able to command the rain’.
21 July, 1662:
‘I see it is impossible for a king to have things done as cheap as other men’.
27 November, 1662:
‘But Lord! to see (sic) the absurd nature of Englishmen, that cannot forbear laughing and jeering at everything that looks strange’.
19 December, 1662:
‘My wife, who, poor wretch, is troubled with her lonely life’. (Of course she was lonely, poor wretch, as her husband was for ever at dalliance with large, buxom women, such as saucy maidservants)
13 April, 1665:
‘Pretty, witty Nell’. (This was written about Nell Gwynne, the best humoured of all the King’s numerous mistresses, and is the basis of all historians’ opinion that the lady was both attractive and funny, which would of course have been a great attraction to the King)
25 December, 1665 (Christmas Day):
‘Strange to say what delight we married people have to see these poor fools decoyed into our condition’.
9 March, 1666:
‘Music and women I cannot but give way to, whatever my business is’.