Pepying back into history

It’s quite common to read in the lavatory. Isn’t it?

People often put magazines and humorous books in the smallest room in the house for family members and visitors to peruse. 

At least I assume they do. We do, anyway. Though instead of flicking through a joke-book or magazine, I’m currently ploughing my way through the complete dairies of Samuel Pepys. 

They’re not exactly page-turners if I’m honest. Pepys writes long-winded, turgid accounts of his job in naval admin and intersperses them with updates on his flatulence and occasional testicular discomfort. He also records rather unsavoury details about dalliances with maidservants in pubs. These are often written in French or Spanish, presumably so that no-one reading his diaries in the future would understand or judge. How’s that working out for you, Sam?

Anyway, Pepys began writing his diaries in 1663 and after several years of non-events, I’m now up to1665. Which as you history buffs will know was when the Great Plague kicked off.

The irony of reading a first-hand account of the plague during our COVID-19 lockdown has not been lost on me. And there are definite parallels to be drawn.

When the first few cases were recorded, Pepys treated them as a vague background anxiety – something that happened to other people. But as he personally came across more and more closed doors with red crosses painted on them along with the words “May the Lord have mercy on us” he became increasingly nervous.

He was particularly rattled when Dr Burnett from around the corner in Fenchurch Street fell ill. The good doctor apparently won kudos from his neighbours for shutting himself away voluntarily on discovering that he had the plague. Not sure what he was saving up those kudos for, but still.

Pepys then began recording weekly victim numbers and noting sadly how empty the London streets had become. Sounds familiar? However, during this whole time the diarist went about his business as usual, carrying out his work, popping into pubs, interfering with maids and complaining about his minor ailments.

Isn’t it strange how life goes on despite a virulent illness that threatens that very life. No doubt the Great COVID-19 Outbreak of 2020 will one day be charted in vivid images of refrigerated lorries taking victims to mass graves, and of overstretched hospitals being manned by traumatised medics in masks.

But for most of us the daily landscape of coronavirus is one of deserted streets, empty car parks, shuttered pubs and supermarket shelves completely devoid of flour or eggs.