Perhaps while his friends were
admiring the "greatness of his behaviour" at the approach of
death, he may have had a twinkling hope of immortality. MENS
CUJUSQUE IS EST QUISQUE, said his chosen motto; and, as he
had stamped his mind with every crook and foible in the pages
of the Diary, he might feel that what he left behind him was
indeed himself. There is perhaps no other instance so
remarkable of the desire of man for publicity and an enduring
name. The greatness of his life was open, yet he longed to
communicate its smallness also; and, while contemporaries
bowed before him, he must buttonhole posterity with the news
that his periwig was once alive with nits. But this thought,
although I cannot doubt he had it, was neither his first nor
his deepest; it did not colour one word that he wrote; and
the Diary, for as long as he kept it, remained what it was
when he began, a private pleasure for himself. It was his
bosom secret; it added a zest to all his pleasures; he lived
in and for it, and might well write these solemn words, when
he closed that confidant for ever: "And so I betake myself to
that course which is almost as much as to see myself go into
the grave; for which, and all the discomforts that will
accompany my being blind, the good God prepare me."
A LIBERAL GENIUS.
Pepys spent part of a certain winter Sunday, when he had
taken physic, composing "a song in praise of a liberal genius
(such as I take my own to be) to all studies and pleasures.
Pages:
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309