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Some time ago, the [livejournal.com profile] pepysdiary feed reported the most dire consequences yet of Pepys's dickishness: his wife Elizabeth caught him with his hand up the skirt of Deborah Willett, their maid.


Earlier, when the Pepys family went travelling back in June, Samuel was out of sorts with his wife:

Somewhat out of humour all day, reflecting on my wife’s neglect of things, and impertinent humour got by this liberty of being from me, which she is never to be trusted with; for she is a fool. [...] I find my wife hath something in her gizzard, that only waits an opportunity of being provoked to bring up; but I will not, for my content-sake, give it.


Elizabeth Pepys was not so great a fool as all that, however:

[...] and, 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 [...]


Elizabeth insists Deb be dismissed; after a few tense days, Sam caves and agrees:

28 October: [...]rose with perfect good peace, being heartily afflicted for this folly of mine that did occasion it, but was forced to be silent about the girle, which I have no mind to part with, but much less that the poor girle should be undone by my folly.

31 October: [...] after the greatest falling out with my poor wife, and through my folly with the girl, that ever I had, and I have reason to be sorry and ashamed of it, and more to be troubled for the poor girl’s sake, whom I fear I shall by this means prove the ruin of, though I shall think myself concerned both to love and be a friend to her.

1 November: [...]I cannot be informed how poor Deb. stands with her mistress, but I fear she will put her away, and the truth is, though it be much against my mind and to my trouble, yet I think that it will be fit that she should be gone, for my wife’s peace and mine, for she cannot but be offended at the sight of her, my wife having conceived this jealousy of me with reason, and therefore for that, and other reasons of expense, it will be best for me to let her go, but I shall love and pity her.


Yeah, Sam, love and pity are going to do jobless, homeless Deb a hell of a lot of good. Still, at least he's now awake to the fact that his dickishness has consequences, even if he does use it as an excuse to wax dramatic in an all-about-meeeee sort of way ("She is indeed my sacrifice, poor girle.")

By the end of the week he's feeling sorrier for himself than for Deb or Elizabeth, and the dickery is in full flow:

I did by a little note which I flung to Deb. advise her that I did continue to deny that ever I kissed her, and so she might govern herself.


Rather than following Pepys's advice, Deb confesses all to Elizabeth, "even to the very tocando su thing with my hand — which doth mightily trouble me, as not being able to foresee the consequences of it as to our future peace together." So Deb gets fired:

I to my wife and to sit with her a little, and then called her and Willet to my chamber, and there did, with tears in my eyes, which I could not help, discharge her and advise her to be gone as soon as she could, and never to see me, or let me see her more while she was in the house, which she took with tears too, but I believe understands me to be her friend, and I am apt to believe by what my wife hath of late told me is a cunning girle, if not a slut.


A slut. Really, Sam? Really. If she is, then what are you?

Of course, as soon as she's gone, Pepys realises he can have his cake and, er, eat it too:

...and so home to my wife, and pretty pleasant, and at mighty ease in my mind, being in hopes to find Deb., and without trouble or the knowledge of my wife.


He immediately spends a couple of days looking for her, and finally finds her:

So I could not be commanded by my reason, but I must go this very night, and so by coach, it being now dark, I to her, close by my tailor’s, and she come into the coach to me, and je did baiser her and tocar her thing, but ella was against it and laboured with much earnestness, such as I believed to be real; and yet at last yo did make her tener mi cosa in her mano, while mi mano was sobra her pectus, and so did hazar with grand delight. I did nevertheless give her the best counsel I could, to have a care of her honour, and to fear God, and suffer no man para avoir to do con her as je have done, which she promised.


Oh, and he gives her 20 shillings and tells her she can arrange more poorly-worded-Eurospeak dates with him via his bookseller. Who will soon be publishing a sexy phrasebook of PEPYSPERANTO. The author's photo will be a crude woodcut of a tumescent, pox-ridden wang.

So, to recap, Pepys has

--started fondling his much-younger maidservant

--made her give him handjobs

--gotten caught

--decided he's the victim and she's a slut

--fired her, making her homeless

--promised his wife not to see her again, a deliberate lie

--decided to carry on the affair, even if Deb no longer consents, since consent from a slut doesn't matter

--given her an insultingly small amount of money and some rather fucking unbelievable advice.

Elizabeth Pepys (once again, no fool) tells Sam the next day that she knew about the meeting with Deb, calls him "all the false, rotten-hearted rogues in the world," threatens to "slit the nose of this girle," and announces her intent to leave him, demanding £400 to buy her silence.

How is Sam going to weasel out of this one??

Thus was signed the great NO-DICK TREATY OF 1668, in which he vows in writing "never to see or speak with Deb., while I live." After a hot supper and some make-up sex, Sam decides he means it:

[...] being most absolutely resolved, if ever I can master this bout, never to give her occasion while I live of more trouble of this or any other kind, there being no curse in the world so great as this of the differences between myself and her, and therefore I do, by the grace of God, promise never to offend her more, and did this night begin to pray to God upon my knees alone in my chamber, which God knows I cannot yet do heartily; but I hope God will give me the grace more and more every day to fear Him, and to be true to my poor wife.


From across the pages of history, Elizabeth Pepys gives us a glance and slips on her sunglasses. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how it is done.

(She has less than a year to live.)
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