Via Negativa

Up. Making water this morning, which I do every morning as soon as I am awake, with greater plenty and freedom than I used to do, which I think I may impute to last night’s drinking of elder spirits. Abroad, it raining, to Blackfriars, and there went into a little alehouse and staid while I sent to the Wardrobe, but Mr. Moore was gone out. Here I kissed three or four times the maid of the house, who is a pretty girl, but very modest, and, God forgive me, had a mind to something more. Thence to my lawyer’s; up and down to the Six Clerks’ Office, where I found my bill against Tom Trice dismissed, which troubles me, it being through my neglect, and will put me to charges. So to Mr. Phillips, and discoursed with him about finding me out somebody that will let me have for money an annuity of about 100l. per annum for two lives. So home, and there put up my riding things against the evening, in case Mr. Moore should continue his mind to go to Oxford, which I have little mind to do, the weather continuing so bad and the waters high. Dined at home, and Mr. Moore in the afternoon comes to me and concluded not to go. Sir W. Batten and I sat a little this afternoon at the office, and thence I by water to Deptford, and there mustered the Yard, purposely, God forgive me, to find out Bagwell, a carpenter, whose wife is a pretty woman, that I might have some occasion of knowing him and forcing her to come to the office again, which I did so luckily that going thence he and his wife did of themselves meet me in the way to thank me for my old kindness, but I spoke little to her, but shall give occasion for her coming to me. Her husband went along with me to show me Sir W. Pen’s lodging, which I knew before, but only to have a time of speaking to him and sounding him. So left and I went in to Sir W. Pen, who continues ill, and worse, I think, than before. He tells me my Lady Castlemaine was at Court, for all this talk this week, which I am glad to hear; but it seems the King is stranger than ordinary to her.
Thence walked home as I used to do, and to bed presently, having taken great cold in my feet by walking in the dirt this day in thin shoes or some other way, so that I begun to be in pain, and with warm clothes made myself better by morning, but yet in pain.

every morning I wake to the war
which will outlive me

and in the evening muster
some kindness to a stranger

ordinary as a bed in the dirt
this day  that war

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 9 July 1663.

Being weary, and going to bed late last night, I slept till 7 o’clock, it raining mighty hard, and so did every minute of the day after sadly. But I know not what will become of the corn this year, we having had but two fair days these many months.
Up and to my office, where all the morning busy, and then at noon home to dinner alone upon a good dish of eeles, given me by Michell, the Bewpers’ man, and then to my viall a little, and then down into the cellar and up and down with Mr. Turner to see where his vault for turds may be made bigger, or another made him, which I think may well be. And so to my office, where very busy all day setting things in order my contract books and preparing things against the next sitting. In the evening I received letters out of the country, among others from my wife, who methinks writes so coldly that I am much troubled at it, and I fear shall have much ado to bring her to her old good temper.
So home to supper and musique, which is all the pleasure I have of late given myself, or is fit I should, others spending too much time and money.
Going in I stepped to Sir W. Batten, and there staid and talked with him (my Lady being in the country), and sent for some lobsters, and Mrs. Turner came in, and did bring us an umble pie hot out of her oven, extraordinary good, and afterwards some spirits of her making, in which she has great judgment, very good, and so home, merry with this night’s refreshment.

night rain I know
will become corn

on a tract I have given
too much time

going into the country
for a numb goodnight

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 8 July 1663.

Up by 4 o’clock and to my office, and there continued all the morning upon my Navy book to my great content. At noon down by barge with Sir J. Minnes (who is going to Chatham) to Woolwich, in our way eating of some venison pasty in the barge, I having neither eat nor drank to-day, which fills me full of wind. Here also in Mr. Pett’s garden I eat some and the first cherries I have eat this year, off the tree where the King himself had been gathering some this morning.
Thence walked alone, only part of the way Deane walked with me, complaining of many abuses in the Yard, to Greenwich, and so by water to Deptford, where I found Mr. Coventry, and with him up and down all the stores, to the great trouble of the officers, and by his help I am resolved to fall hard to work again, as I used to do.
So thence he and I by water talking of many things, and I see he puts his trust most upon me in the Navy, and talks, as there is reason, slightly of the two old knights, and I should be glad by any drudgery to see the King’s stores and service looked to as they ought, but I fear I shall never understand half the miscarriages and tricks that the King suffers by.
He tells me what Mr. Pett did to-day, that my Lord Bristoll told the King that he will impeach the Chancellor of High Treason: but I find that my Lord Bristoll hath undone himself already in every body’s opinion, and now he endeavours to raise dust to put out other men’s eyes, as well as his own; but I hope it will not take, in consideration merely that it is hard for a Prince to spare an experienced old officer, be he never so corrupt; though I hope this man is not so, as some report him to be.
He tells me that Don John is yet alive, and not killed, as was said, in the great victory against the Spaniards in Portugall of late. So home, and late at my office. Thence home and to my musique. This night Mr. Turner’s house being to be emptied out of my cellar, and therefore I think to sit up a little longer than ordinary.
This afternoon, coming from the waterside with Mr. Coventry, I spied my boy upon Tower Hill playing with the rest of the boys; so I sent W. Griffin to take him, and he did bring him to me, and so I said nothing to him, but caused him to be stripped (for he was run away with his best suit), and so putting on his other, I sent him going, without saying one word hard to him, though I am troubled for the rogue, though he do not deserve it.
Being come home I find my stomach not well for want of eating to-day my dinner as I should do, and so am become full of wind. I called late for some victuals, and so to bed, leaving the men below in the cellar emptying the turds up through Mr. Turner’s own house, and so with more content to bed late.

as a tree I gather green water
talk of many things
and trust in the light

as a body I raise dust at an office
serve my stomach and become
full of wind

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 7 July 1663.

Up pretty early and to my office all the morning, writing out a list of the King’s ships in my Navy collections with great pleasure. At noon Creed comes to me, who tells me how well he has sped with Sir G. Carteret after all our trouble, that he had his tallys up and all the kind words possible from him, which I believe is out of an apprehension what a fool he has made of himself hitherto in making so great a stop therein. But I find, and so my Lord Sandwich may, that Sir G. Carteret had a design to do him a disgrace, if he could possibly, otherwise he would never have carried the business so far after that manner, but would first have consulted my Lord and given him advice what to do therein for his own honour, which he thought endangered. Creed dined with me and then walked a while, and so away, and I to my office at my morning’s work till dark night, and so with good content home. To supper, a little musique, and then to bed.

up early writing
out of pleasure

how the words find
a design in my thought

and the way to a morning’s
dark music

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 6 July 1663.

(Lord’s day). Lay, being weary and not very well last night, long asleep. Anon, about 7 a-clock, the maid calls me, telling me that my Lady Batten had sent twice to invite me to go with them to Walthamstow to-day, Mrs. Martha being married already this morning to Mr. Castle, at this parish church. I could not rise soon enough to go with them, but got myself ready, and so to Games’s, where I got a horse and rode thither very pleasantly, only coming to make water I found a stopping, which makes me fearful of my old pain.
Being come thither, I was well received, and had two pair of gloves, as the rest, and walked up and down with my Lady in the garden, she mighty kind to me, and I have the way to please her.
A good dinner and merry, but methinks none of the kindness nor bridall respect between the bridegroom and bride, that was between my wife and I, but as persons that marry purely for convenience.
After dinner to church by coach, and there my Lady, Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Lemon, and I only, we, in spite to one another, kept one another awake; and sometimes I read in my book of Latin plays, which I took in my pocket, thinking to have walked it.
An old doting parson preached. So home again, and by and by up and homewards, calling in our way (Sir J. Minnes and I only) at Mr. Batten’s (who with his lady and child went in another coach by us), which is a very pretty house, and himself in all things within and without very ingenious, and I find a very fine study and good books.
So set out, Sir J. Minnes and I in his coach together, talking all the way of chymistry, wherein he do know something, at least, seems so to me, that cannot correct him, Mr. Batten’s man riding my horse, and so home and to my office a while to read my vows, then home to prayers and to bed.

night calls me to myself
a game coming to a stop

as two gloves marry
purely for convenience

and turn into one another
in my pocket

an old ache and I together
know something of prayer

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 5 July 1663.