Thursday, January 5, 2012

Clare Tomalin's Pepys

Reading around in Clare Tomalin's biography of Pepys. I started to read about his early life, before and up to attending St. Paul's school; then the next time I picked up the book I found him at 1684: planning to propose reforms of the Navy and Charles dying, suddenly, of a stroke, and then working with James until his unpopular Catholicism led to William of Orange being invited to take the English throne and Pepys settling into an active retirement. The effect of this is that I've read several references to Elizabeth, and more to her brother, Balty, but haven't actually read about her marriage to Pepys.

Tomalin's book is very readable and engaging; obviously, I don't have the thread or a thread. The Pepys who knows everyone and is everywhere, including court, is here but the Pepys who cared passionately about reforming Naval practices is at the forefront in what I'm reading now. After James departs the scene, Tomalin answers the very question I'd been wondering: why was Pepys so loyal to James? Tomalin says it was because James gave him preferment. It seems a barely adequate explanation, yet I'm sure that it's right.

Two things I admire greatly about this book:  the pictures and the captions, and Tomalin's prose style (OK, that's three things).  Tomalin's prose is so easy; also, it's apparent that she's done so much research but does not feel a need to share it all with us (Thank You - "Clare Tomalin reads the boring bits so you don't have to!").  Finally, she clearly thinks that Pepys' diary is a work on the same level with the most important works in English literature and I guess she's saying that he really invented the genre.  I definitely have seen Pepys as a kind of rubbernecker/groupie extraordinaire, and then, more recently, as a dutiful and pioneering civil servant in a golden age for the contributions of astoundingly gifted albeit middle class men (Milton, Wren, Newton, etc.).  (Although it must be said that he seems to have been part of a group of civil servants who, dismayed by the Stuarts' lassitude, looked upon the Cromwell Interregnum as an era of good and efficient government.)

In fact, the question of social mobility:  what it is and how to get it, is almost a subplot in the story of his life.  Pepys is a great striver.  The ardor of his striving both makes me feel that all of our aspirations are, at the same time, ridiculous and woefully inadequate.  It must be noted that Tomalin is unafraid to point out that Pepys was inconsistent, jealous, vain, very controlling, lecherous, occasionally cold and dishonest.  (It is his coldness I mind most.)

What I love about this book is that I believe that if you picked it up, with no knowledge or interest in either Tomalin herself or Pepys, you would quickly find out that it doesn't matter.  You don't have to share Tomalin's respect for her subject to find her dizzying summary of an insanely busy and well-connected life interesting.

An issue, of course, is that the diary itself is so interesting and that Pepy's life is somewhat lopsided:  his early career offers rising action but the approximately ten years covered by his diary is electrically compelling and, while his career as a civil servant continues until James II's exile in 1688, after that point his career ends and his life is far less interesting.

So Pepys' interest for us is primarily his role as an observer rather than as a doer.  But his naval career did give him an opportunity to play an important role and be a doer and it occurs to me that would be well worth loyalty to a highly flawed manager.

You perhaps know that Tomalin has also written well-received biographies of Jane Austen and Charles Dickens.  I can't help feeling that I would enjoy these, too.  This year is the 200th anniversary of Dickens' birth, and yes, I find myself feeling more respect for him, too.

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