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| Elizabeth's (sic) entry in the burial register of St Olaves, Hart Street |
The
entry in St Olaves’ burial register for November 13 1669 reads: “Elizabeth wife of Samuel Pepys, Esqe,
one of his Matis Comission
rs of ye navy, obit X
Novem r , & buryed in ye Chauncell viij
instant.” Elizabeth was only 29 when
she died unexpectedly of typhoid fever; her death left her husband shocked and
bereft. He commissioned an elaborate and costly memorial with a bust of his
young wife leaning out as if to watch over him as he sat in his pew (perhaps
even Samuel was aware that he was one of
those errant husbands who needs to have a close eye kept on him). Her unusually
long epitaph reads:
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| Elisabeth Pepys |
She was educated first in a convent, and then in a seminary of France.
She was distinguished by the excellence of both at once,
Gifted with beauty, accomplishments, tongues,
She bore no offspring, for she could not have borne her life.
At length when she had bidden this world a gentle farewell,
After a journey completed through, we may say, the lovelier sights of Europe --
A returning pilgrim, she took her departure to wander through a grander world.
The
15 year Elizabeth de St Michel married Samuel Pepys at St Margaret’s in
Westminster in December 1655. Despite taking place in a church this was a civil
ceremony; the religious ceremony had probably taken place in October shortly
before the bride’s birthday. Samuel always fondly remembered his wedding day
and Elizabeth’s petticoat trimmed with gold lace. She was from a poor Huguenot
family (her penniless relatives later became a source of friction between
husband and wife) but at the time of the marriage the 22 year old Samuel was almost
as impoverished as his wife. The couple separated temporarily in the early days
of their marriage, possibly became of Samuel’s jealousy, an episode he didn’t
like to be reminded of. At the time the up and coming Naval administrator
started his diary the couple were living together again. During the ten year
period of the diaries Elisabeth is mentioned no less than 2022 times. ‘My wife’
must be the single most common phrase in his million word epic; despite his
obsessive philandering Pepys clearly loved Elisabeth.
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| The man himself, Sam Pepys |
In
1669, shortly after failing eyesight forced him to bring his diary to a close,
Samuel took Elisabeth on a tour to France and probably the Low Countries.
Elisabeth came back from the trip ill; the sickness worsened rapidly leaving
her husband frantic with worry. On 2 November he wrote to a close friend to
apologise for failing to get in touch since his return from the continent: “I beg you to believe that I would not have
been tens days returned into England without waiting on you, had it not pleased
God to afflict mee by the sickness of my wife., who, from the first day of her
coming back to London, hath layn under a fever so severe as at this hour to
render her recoverie desperate; which affliction hath very much unfitted me for
those acts of civilities and respect which, amongst the first of my friends, I
should have paid to yourselfe.” On 10
November Elisabeth died, leaving her workaholic husband so stricken with grief
that he failed to attend his office or deal with any Navy Board business for
four weeks. Five months later, in May 1670 he wrote to a Captain Elliot
apologising for failing to thank him for his help in an election: “I beg you
earnestly to believe that nothing but the sorrow and distraction I have been in
by the death of my wife, increased by the suddenness with which it pleased God
to surprise me with therewith, after a voyage so full of health and content,
could have forced me to so long a neglect of my private concernments; this
being, I do assure you, the very first day that my affliction, together with my
daily attendance on other public occasions of his Majesty’s, has suffered me to
apply myself to the considering any part of my private concernments.” A man of
Pepys passion and amiability was never going to spend the rest of his life
alone (and he was only 36 when Elisabeth died) and he later met and lived with
Mary Skinner. Despite living as his wife until his death Pepys never
regularised Mary’s position and Elisabeth remained his one and only legal
spouse. He also made sure that when he died at Clapham in 1703 his body was
taken back to the city and buried with Elisabeth at St Olaves, “in a vault by ye
communion table,” according to the burial register.
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| Samuel's 1703 entry in the burial register |
306 years after his death the authorities at St Olave’s commissioned Benjamin Till (composer of the impressive ‘London Requiem’) to write a piece of choral music to celebrate the 350th anniversary of Pepys first putting pen to paper. Never a man to do anything by halves, Benjamin came up with a six movement, 40 voice motet (according to Merriam-Webster a motet is ‘a polyphonic choral composition on a sacred text usually without instrumental accompaniment’) producing a piece of music so complex it took him almost six years to get it all recorded. He says;
I can’t even begin
to explain how proud I am of this recording. It took four years to record and
studio sessions happened as and when we could afford them. We ran quizzes to
pay for extra studio time. The music is daring and incredibly complicated and
we spent over 200 hours mixing the piece. It’s recorded unlike any other
classical piece of music with each of the 20 singers individually close-mic’d
in separate recording booths. The singers on the album come from every
conceivable vocal tradition from gospel and folk through to musical theatre and
opera. The work itself is a fusion of different forms of music. Sound engineer,
Paul Kendall has an astounding ear for detail, and the work is best heard
whilst wearing headphones for the full unique, engulfing sonic experience.
The
words to the motet are all Pepys’ own, drawn from the diary so that the motet
is, for my money, the most concise and entertaining abridgement you can buy. I
don’t know if the composer read the entire opus cover to cover or, Jack Horner
like he just stuck in a thumb to pull out the plums, but it is a brilliant
selection with set pieces covering the plague and the great fire (and Deb
Willets) and an extraordinary collage of words depicting the rest of Pepys’
life. The first movement starts with
words from the very first entry of the diary; “My wife after the absence of her
terms for seven weeks gave me hopes of her being with child, but on the last
day of the year she hath them again.” As in the diaries Elisabeth’s unnamed
presence (she is always ‘my wife’) looms large over the Motet (and as for the
thwarted hopes of pregnancy, Pepys felt strongly enough about his childlessness
to mention it on Elisabeth’s epitaph). My own, personal favourite quote
concerns an argument over a dog presented to Elisabeth by her wastrel (but well
loved) brother Balty; “my wife and I had some high words upon my telling her
that I would fling the dog which her brother gave her out of the window if he
pissed the house any more.”
Words
and music gel perfectly in the motet. One man’s words sung by so many different
voices could become confusing but the words are skilfully chosen and the music so artfully done that it never threatens to become a cacophony; the man shines through the
words and the words glow in their musical setting. As in the diaries all human
life is here and the music complements the changes of mood and tempo from low
comedy to high tragedy. My favourite movement is number 5, ‘Deb Willets’ which cleverly
sets the scene with a vignette of Pepys the sex pest “St. Dunstan’s Church,
where I heard an able sermon of the minister of the place; and stood by a
pretty, modest maid, whom I did labour to take by the hand and the body; but
she would not, but got further and further from me; and, at last, I could
perceive her to take pins out of her pocket to prick me if I should touch her
again — which seeing I did forbear, and was glad I did spy her design.” After
this timely reminder that Samuel was a man willing to take the liberties he
felt his sex and position in society entitled him to we get the story of his
romance with his wife’s servant girl Deb from the day she calls him back from
the office to see her pretty new maid to his increasingly bold attacks upon her
virtue that culminate in the famous, and still shocking, episode when Elisabeth
stumbles upon her husband and maid in a compromising position; “after supper,
to have my head combed by Deb., which occasioned the greatest sorrow to me that
ever I knew in this world, for my wife, coming
up suddenly, did find me imbracing the girl con my hand sub su coats; and
endeed, I was with my main in her cunny. I was at a wonderful loss upon it, and
the girle also.” The music for this episode is as sexy, sleazy and painful as
the events it accompanies, at times with an irresistible swing, swelling in
full throated, joyful climax or descending into stammered, staccato justifications and excuses. Pepys was a great music lover and it is hard
not to wonder what he would make of his most private words and thoughts being
set to music – personally I think he would be immensely gratified. And I think
he would adore the Motet, even if it is rather modern for his tastes.
According
to the fount of all knowledge (Wikipedia) “the late 13th-century theorist
Johannes de Grocheo believed that the motet was "not to be celebrated in
the presence of common people, because they do not notice its subtlety, nor are
they delighted in hearing it, but in the presence of the educated and of those
who are seeking out subtleties in the arts." So are you common? Or are you
cultured? Pepys Motet can be purchased as a digital download from Amazon and
itunes or, if you would like a tangible rather than a virtual copy, on CD from the composer. There are no discounts for buying two CD’s but I would have no
hesitation in recommending that you get yourself a copy of the ‘London Requiem’
while you are at it.
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