On May 26, 1703, an Englishman named Samuel Pepys died in a suburb of London. He was aged 70, and had been in retirement for some years, after having served as a civil servant of the Government for over twenty years, in two periods and under two different sovereigns. In his will he bequeathed his rather extensive collection of books and papers to his Alma Mater, Magdalen College of Cambridge University. Included in this material were six fat bound volumes of manuscript, written in a sort of cipher or secret shorthand which gave no inkling of the nature of the writings. For 116 years the contents of those six volumes remained an enigma; and then a cleric with the unstriking name of John Smith was assigned the task of solving the mystery. After a wearing struggle of three years’ duration, he managed to “break” the cipher and translate the writings; and the contents of what is undoubtedly the most remarkable and celebrated diary in history then became known to the world.
For almost ten years—from the time he was twenty-seven years of age, and the same year that he entered upon his public office— Samuel Pepys had secretly set down a complete daily account of apparently his every thought and action, and the most careful details of everything that took place about him in the contemporary scene. In his official position he had come into close and frequent contact with the most prominent figures of the time, and he had been closely connected with many of the events and developments which have made that era one of the most interesting and important in the history of England. He wrote of all these persons and things, including his own doings, with an astounding lack of reticence; no detail seems to have been too personal or too small for his pen to note; and as a result he left an unparalleled source of material for the historian, writer, and dramatist of future centuries. To the greater part of the reading public, therefore, the name “Pepys” has come to mean the author of the outstanding diary of all time, and the archetype of all the public gossips and keyhole commentators that have existed since. In addition, the extremely frank account he gave of his own ever-constant concern with that famous light that lies in woman’s eyes has earned him the reputation of having been what would be termed, in the vernacular of today, a Seventeenth Century “wolf.”
Such is the picture usually associated with the name of Pepys; and it must be admitted that most of the writers and biographers have done little toward creating any other, or to bring out the remarkable ability and achievements of this round-faced, stocky little man, whose sharp eyes and ears and fluent pen were to make him one of our literary immortals. For this gossiping, philandering diarist was actually a most competent and outstanding naval administrator, and one who left a permanent mark on the naval affairs of his nation. Entering the employ of the Admiralty as a young civilian with virtually no knowledge of ships or of the sea, this man, by sheer perseverance and unremitting industry, and in the face of mighty difficulties, brought the Royal Navy of Britain up from an unbelievable state of corruption and decay to a commendable state of efficiency, and was the one largely responsible for placing that Navy on the path to its future glory and longheld command of the seas. He has been termed “The Saviour of the Navy” by one eminent authority; and in the light of his achievements there can be little question that the accolade is well- deserved.
The story of Pepys’ career as a naval administrator should afford some very interesting and educational study for anyone connected with the navy of the present. His Diary and the large mass of official and private papers in his collection present a most enlightening picture of the navy of almost three centuries ago, and can give us perhaps the distinct feeling that, after all, there is really nothing much new under the sun; and that naval history, like other history, is very prone to repeat itself. In many places we can readily see the genesis of some of our present- day naval regulations and practices; and we can recognize many little features and touches which would indicate that the human side of the navy business has not changed much down through the centuries. On the other hand, there is a shocking picture of things which seem almost incredible to us now, and which can well make us feel that despite much widespread opinion to the contrary, humanity has really made considerable progress during the last few hundred years.
Born in London in 1633, the son of an impecunious tailor, Pepys came into the world and lived out his appointed span in an era of violent political unrest, full-scale rebellions, naval wars, bitter religious conflicts, pestilence, and other things which altogether must have made “Merrie England” then something of rather different character.
The pattern of events of that era is so complicated, and the background so confused, that it is difficult for us now to obtain a clear or fairly comprehensive picture of the scene; and in writing of any one aspect or feature of it, many of the underlying or connected factors have to be passed over lightly or left to be taken for granted. To a great extent this is very true also of the career of Samuel Pepys, for he lived a very full and busy life and had a wide variety of interests and connections. He lived under six different national regimes—five under monarchs and one under the Commonwealth of Oliver Cromwell. He held office under two of these monarchs for a total of almost twenty-four years; he wrote voluminously; he collected books and pictures; he devoted a fair measure of time to that famous triad, Wine, Women, and Song; he served in Parliament; he lived through the Great Plague in London; he nimbly dodged the political axe on several occasions, and the headsman’s axe on one or two others; and he managed to live to a ripe old age, and die in his bed at home.
His early years were spent in the midst of momentous events and changes, and among other things during that period he saw his country’s naval power go from a state of prostration up to a commanding place in the world, and then rapidly degenerate again to a low level of effectiveness. When Pepys first saw the light, the naval power of England was almost at the vanishing-point, and the Dutch naval and merchant fleets were in full command of the seas. The glorious days of Drake and Hawkins were only fifty years or so in the past, but now they were almost forgotten and the populace had little interest in either its Navy or its merchant fleet. The ill-fated Charles I, for all of his shortcomings otherwise, had an intelligent perception of the need of an effective Navy, for the safety and prosperity of the nation; but when he tried to build up the Navy, and levied his “Ship-Money” Tax for that purpose, there was violent opposition from much of the populace; and especially from that of the inland counties (which sounds strangely familiar). In fact this opposition became one of the foremost elements in the revolt that was rapidly maturing. Then the Great Rebellion came in 1643; years of fierce civil war ensued; the Monarchy toppled; the Commonwealth under the leadership of Oliver Cromwell began its comparatively short-lived career; and the unfortunate Charles died on the headsman’s block.
The Puritans had fiercely opposed the King’s efforts toward the creation of an effective Navy; but, as typical in such cases, now that the responsibility was theirs it was a horse of a different color.
They were soon impressed with the fact that an effective Navy was a sine qua non, if the nation was to survive. French, Spanish, and Algerian pirates swept the trade routes; and the Algerian corsairs actually had descended upon and ravaged the coasts of Devon and Cornwall.
Only the largest and most heavily-armed merchant ships dared to venture out of English ports. The country blundered into a series of naval wars with the Dutch, the French, and the Spanish, successively; and it was imperative that action be taken against the Algerians in the Mediterranean. So the Commonwealth was forced to build the Navy up as rapidly as possible; and under command of its famous “Generals-at- Sea,” it then achieved a brilliant record in the next few years and made the flag of England once again something to be respected upon the sea. But the Commonwealth fell upon evil days, and by the year 1657 it was practically bankrupt. A severe business depression aggravated the situation. The Navy, with other things, went rapidly downhill; with Cromwell’s death in 1658 the pace accelerated; and when the Stuart Monarchy was restored in 1660, the once powerful Navy had deteriorated to a rather sorry condition.
It was at this point that Pepys entered upon his career as a naval administrator. An older cousin of his, an Edward Montagu, had been one of Cromwell’s most able lieutenants, and had commanded a Commonwealth fleet as a “General-at-Sea.” But after Cromwell’s death he became one of the leaders in restoring the Monarchy and was now in such high favor with Charles II that he was soon elevated to the Peerage as the first Earl of Sandwich. Through his influence Pepys was appointed to the position of “Clerk of the Acts”, an official of the Navy Board of the Admiralty. Pepys was but twenty-seven years of age, he hardly knew one end of a ship from the other, very little about accounting, and even less about the technicalities of naval administration. He immediately found that his prescribed duties were to be many and burdensome, and that he had a large job on his hands. He had to conduct the general correspondence of the Board and keep its accounts; he had to keep informed of the condition and movements of the Fleet; he had to supervise all matters connected with personnel and discipline, to supervise the operation of the Royal Dockyards, to handle all matters of procurement and finances, and to handle all the details of the civil administration of the Navy. Such a calendar of duties would have been a formidable one even for an experienced naval administrator working under the most favorable conditions, and Pepys certainly had neither of these two advantages.
He was indeed a small frog in a large puddle. With the exception of the Duke of York, the then Lord High Admiral, all of his colleagues on the Navy Board were much older men of considerable experience in naval affairs, and with one exception were all persons of title.
Moreover one or two of them were merely what we would now call “politicians,” and were mainly interested in a minimum of personal effort and a maximum of the perquisites that might attend their official activities. Also Pepys had applied himself to his new duties with such enthusiasm and industry that some of his fellow-members naturally resented the irruption of this brash young nobody. So it is quite understandable that he should have received little sympathy or assistance in certain cases, and that in turn he should have expressed his low opinion of the “base raskalls” in many places throughout his diary.
The conditions which the energetic young Clerk found prevailing in the Navy then, and which were to grow progressively worse during the next few years, were really deplorable even for those days of low standards of humanity and official virtue, and can seem incredible perhaps to those who know only the strict and well-ordered naval organization of today. Some of these conditions were of long-standing character, and had existed and were to exist in varying degree through several different regimes. Some were things that seemed only to go with the standards and ethics of the times. Some were absolutely shocking, however, by any standard and from any standpoint. But whatever the background and underlying reasons, they all added up to a truly sad state of affairs, the proper correction of which would be a task rather comparable to that of cleaning the famous Augean Stables.
Responsible for much of this state of affairs, and overshadowing all other difficulties, was a chronic and drastic lack of adequate funds. The huge accumulation of debt inherited with the dilapidated Commonwealth Navy, and the King’s penchant for lavishing money on certain objects, were responsible for much of this stringency; but also a great part of it was due to the typical and historic reluctance of a citizenry to spend money on national defense unless, and until, the enemy is at the door. Naturally it constituted a huge and most discouraging obstacle toward the attainment and maintenance of a proper state of naval effectiveness. Money for even the basic necessities of supply and upkeep became available only at irregular intervals, and then rarely in anything like the amounts required. At times the state of poverty reached by the Navy was almost fantastic; and we can gather some idea of this destitution, when Pepys could write on one occasion, in answer to a request for some sorely-needed funds: “—It is now two months within two days that this office hath felt one farthing of money for any service great or small.”
Under such circumstances, the procurement of even the most essential materials was very much of a problem at times. Many of the dealers would furnish supplies to the Navy only under the strongest pressure.
They clamored for payment of their long- overdue bills; and when they did make deliveries, they knew payment might be long forthcoming and so they endeavored to trim their prospective losses by furnishing inferior material and cheating on the weights and measures. With a certain amount of official connivance, this was practised especially in regard to the delivery of provisions, and the poor seamen suffered accordingly. Affairs reached such a stage occasionally that the dealers would refuse to furnish anything at all unless payment was made across the counter or unless an officer gave his personal surety for the amount, and there took place such almost unbelievable incidents as that when a paltry bundle of candles could not be obtained for some of the ships at Gravesend until the dealer actually had the money in his hand.
In the Royal Dockyards the workmen often went long unpaid, the simplest materials and equipment for work on the ships were frequently unobtainable, and the authorities often had to resort to desperate shifts to get much work accomplished. On one occasion the Commissioner at Portsmouth complained to the Navy Board that he had six ships to clean, “—and not one broom faggot or any means to do it.” He went on to say that “a boat loaden with broom” having come into the harbor, he had seized it and brought it to the Yard, to use the broom in cleaning the ships. But the owner naturally had protested, and “the poor man lamenting that he had no money to buy more, and was in debt for that,” the Commissioner had taken pity on him and paid him £8 15s out of money he had for his own “victuals”; and “so I have left to supply me £2 9s 6d, which will not find food for my family at the outside for above six months.” (Any family man of today reading that last statement will undoubtedly wonder how such a feat could be accomplished.) At another time a Commissioner wrote of the oar-maker who came to him “—crying and wringing his hands for money, and desires to be a labourer in the Yard to keep him from being arrested, for that he tells me he dareth not go home to his wife any more, for he shall be carried to jail by his timber merchant; which request I granted and is now entered as a labourer, albeit the King oweth him for oars near £300.”
Probably the most tragic and shocking aspect of the whole situation, however, was the suffering visited upon the seamen of the Navy. Hardship and privation were expected and largely unavoidable features of seafaring life in those days, and harsh treatment was merely in keeping with the general standards of the times. But in addition to those customary things, the men were subjected to such abuses and injustices through the gross incompetency and corruption which prevailed in many quarters, that almost all sense of loyalty and discipline had been destroyed. In fact the King’s ships were regarded as little better than “floating Hells,” and the Press Gang, in despair, was often forced to fill its prescribed quota with children and cripples.
The crowning touch was the matter of their hard-earned and scanty wages. The men were given “tickets,” or pay-checks, instead of cash for the wages due them; and because of the Navy’s chronic financial straits, there often was little or no money available to meet these drafts. Hence when a crew would be paid off at the end of a cruise, it frequently meant that the unfortunate men would be merely thrown ashore to starve. It was not uncommon, therefore, for the crews to stage fierce riots in the streets about the Navy Office, demanding their long-overdue pay which might be as much as three or four years then in arrears. Sometimes they went so far as to break windows in the building, and to lay rough hands upon the Office messenger. Some of the wretched men, though, were in no condition for any boisterous action. As to this, we can read Pepys’ sorrowful comment upon the plight of “the poor seamen that lie starving in the streets for lack of money, which do trouble and perplex me to the heart.” And the stark tragedy and pity of the situation probably could not be better conveyed than by the following paragraph in his Diary: “This day a poor seaman, almost starved for want of food, lay in our Yard a-dying. I sent him half-a-crown and ordered his ticket paid.”
Aggravating the conditions arising from the dearth of funds was the arrant incompetency that existed among many of those in authority, afloat and ashore. But even worse was the shocking state of corruption that permeated the whole naval establishment. Graft was a recognized accompaniment of every step and phase of the Navy’s administration.
Gratuities for every favor and assistance were expected, and furthermore were ordinarily demanded. Itching palms, sticky fingers, and liberal ideas on the matter of official integrity seemed to prevail at every administrative level, and even the highest of officials were not insensible to the clink of golden sovereigns. Pepys himself seldom spurned the many perquisites that reached his desk in the form of money, plate, books, pictures, and other things. He admitted that he was not above reproach in this respect, but he also maintained, and apparently with considerable truth, that he had never accepted any gratuity to the detriment of the Navy or of his King. There is really little doubt that, no matter what the tendered bribe might be, he never could be “bought.” On the other hand, just as in the case of some public officials of our own time, his private fortune seemed to wax quite rapidly and rather out of keeping with the size of his official stipend.
In the shore establishment of the Navy there were many avenues to a dishonest shilling, and most of them were assiduously followed. The system of procurement was haphazard and little supervised, and many officials worked hand-in-glove with contractors in the matters of inferior materials, short weights and measures, and exorbitant prices.
Pepys found that even some of his august colleagues were not above dabbling in a little business along these and other devious lines.
And he found, among other things, that one titled tycoon of the cordage industry, by knowing the proper people, had long been enabled to furnish the Navy with hempen cables made of old, salvaged material, with new fiber on the outside to disguise it. Contracts of any value usually went by favor—- with suitable consideration involved, of course.
Pepys saw no real harm in this particular practice, however, as long as the Navy did not suffer thereby; and he was not too loath to accept the perquisites that might arise from such a source. Some dockyard officials engaged in the famous old game of “padding the payroll”-—filling their labor complements with useless, decrepit old men, whose wages they largely pocketed. They even retained condemned, worn-out cordage, and then had it sold back to the King as new. Altogether few opportunities for personal profit were allowed to go unrealized by the majority of those in office, apparently; and when we read of all the manifold little games that were played with the King’s goods and monies, the wonder grows that the Navy was able to function even as well as it did.
Corruption and incompetency were widespread in the Fleet, discipline was at a low ebb, and the responsibilities that should go with the King’s Commission were rather lightly regarded by many of the officers. Some of the Captains were in the habit of leaving their assigned sea-stations and bringing their ships into port whenever they felt the urge. Some would absent themselves from their commands without permission and for long periods of time, leaving their ships in charge of inexperienced and incompetent lieutenants. This, of course, did not help the already low state of discipline and efficiency. Few showed any conception of their responsibilities in regard to the welfare of their subordinates, and especially that of the unhappy seamen. In fact many of them allowed, or actually connived with, their respective Pursers to rook the men on their miserable rations. The Pursers as a rule had paid well for their appointments, and so they worked diligently toward making that investment yield a good return. Their opportunities were wide, there was no uniform method of accounting, and their books were seldom examined. But even then it would have been difficult to gather a true picture therefrom, as the ability to juggle figures adroitly and judiciously was one of the recognized qualifications of a successful Purser.
There were other aspects of the state of corruption in the Navy that were especially vicious and reprehensible and are really difficult for us to imagine now. It was not infrequent practise for the Captains of Navy ships to take unauthorized commercial cargoes for transportation to various ports, with the freight-money going into the Captain’s pocket. Some actually went so far as to post and advertise their freight rates. And to aggravate the crime, these greedy sharpers would take heavy deck-loads of cargo in addition to that below, with the result that their ships could not be promptly cleared for action and would be practically helpless should hostile men-of-war be encountered. Moreover the officer in command of a fleet or squadron would detach units of his command to undertake such private missions, and would take a “cut” of fifty to seventy-five per cent from the proceeds. The Spanish and Mediterranean Station offered the most lucrative field for the cargo-carrying business; indeed it was regarded as a sort of gold mine in this respect, and assignment to that area was eagerly sought by Captains of mercenary bent. Evidently it was possible for an enterprising individual to become wealthy in the Navy then, and our familiar little rhyme to the effect that “you’ll never get rich” in the Navy could hardly be said to apply.
Such a state of affairs could not be corrected in a short time, even under the best of conditions, and it was a long, hard struggle before the downward momentum was arrested and the Navy started on the upward path. As one of the very first steps required, Pepys strove to reestablish the Navy’s credit; but he could not make bricks without straw, and it took considerable time. Through the Navy Board he constantly emphasized the Navy’s desperate financial condition to Parliament and the high authorities and he pleaded for better allotments of funds.
With his fellow-members he went before Parliamentary committees to urge the Navy’s needs and to justify the expenditures already made.
But the whole Government was in a far from affluent condition, and the efforts to obtain adequate funds for the Navy usually met with but indifferent success. Nevertheless Pepys tried to do his best under the circumstances. He went after the cheating contractors; he succeeded in getting a measure of competitive bidding for the first time in the Navy’s history; he insisted upon the delivery of specified qualities and quantities; and he otherwise worked to place the Navy’s procurement system upon a more honest and business-like basis.
He waged a campaign against the corruption and incompetency that existed in the Fleet. By persistence and reiteration he managed to impress the majority of the venal Captains with the fact that they were not merchantmen operating for hire; and for one or two who refused to be so impressed, he initiated trial by court-martial. He convinced most of the Captains, also, that certain responsibilities went with command, and that among other things they were not to absent themselves from their ships or stations without authority. He instituted a more uniform system of bookkeeping for the Pursers; and these gentlemen soon learned that they would be expected to keep their books in proper fashion, and furthermore to present them to the Navy Office at regular intervals for audit. He strove to remove incompetent officers from posts of responsibility, and to insure that only those properly- qualified would be placed therein. He was keenly aware, also, of the unhappy lot of the Navy’s seamen, and he tried to improve their condition and to insure them better and fairer treatment.
He worked to eliminate the wanton waste and extravagance he saw on every hand. He initiated regular and proper inspections of the ships and dockyards by members of the Navy Board, and these inspections he usually carried out himself. No detail was too small for him to inspect and verify, and he even carried with him a specially-made brass rule to check the measurement of timber and other commodities. In this manner he caught more than one grafting official with his finger far off his number. Sir William Coventry, an efficient and energetic administrator who had been appointed to the Board in 1662, often joined with Pepys in making what we would call “Surprise Inspections”; and as we can well imagine, they found many unorthodox things at times and caused much unhappiness among the ship commanders and dockyard officials concerned.
Naturally Pepys encountered much opposition to his efforts, and it was only that the Duke of York recognized the value of his work and supported him generally, that he was able to carry out many of his ideas toward improvement. Early in 1665 war with the Dutch again became imminent; and knowing the existing deficiencies of the Fleet, Pepys applied himself even more vigorously to the task of making it an effective fighting- machine. In June the clash came with the Battle of Lowestoft. It was an English victory; but despite heavy losses, the Dutch naval strength was not severely impaired, and their great Admiral De Ruyter was still to be faced. However, only minor skirmishes took place for some time thereafter, and under this favorable circumstance Pepys was enabled to make such progress that by the middle of 1666 he could pride himself on “two fleetes despatched in better condition than other fleetes were yet, I believe.”
He had some justification for his feeling of pride, for he had accomplished a great deal, almost single-handed and under most adverse conditions. Not the least of these was the historic Great Plague, which raged fiercely in London for several months in the year 1665, and at its peak reached 7,000 deaths in one week. Doctors, clergymen, public officials, and thousands of the citizens fled the city in panic, and London became a city of the dead, deserted and silent. But the little Clerk was of different kidney; he felt that his duty lay at the Navy Office and there he carried on his task all through the terror.
The next year there occurred the Great Fire of London, which destroyed almost 15,000 buildings with a loss of £10,000,000, a huge amount of money for those days. Such an enormous loss affected the country’s whole financial situation, of course, and it was reflected in an even greater stringency of Government funds. Then came what is perhaps the most humiliating and disgraceful episode in the Royal Navy’s history. In June, 1667, the Dutch Fleet sailed boldly into the Thames; it ravaged the Royal Dockyards, burnt and destroyed the King’s ships almost within sight of London, and then sailed out again, practically unmolested. It was an affair that in some of its aspects and repercussions was rather similar to the incident that, almost 275 years later, was to make the name “Pearl Harbor” a landmark in history. The Dutch had accomplished a most devastating raid, but apparently had not realized the further opportunities of the situation; after inflicting great damage, they had withdrawn to their own waters. Had they followed through, there is no question that the devastating raid could have been made a crushing victory, and England would have been brought to her knees. However, a great public uproar ensued in England, and there was loud clamor for punishment of those responsible for the debacle.
The Commissioner at Chatham was promptly thrown into the Tower, in disgrace. A very literal and gleaming axe hung suspended over the heads of Pepys and his colleagues of the Navy Board, and in defending themselves they could only point out their repeated warnings as to the Navy’s desperate need and now say in effect, “We told you so!” The truth of this assertion was inescapable, and the actual guilt was not confined to those directly involved in the matter; it could be said to reach into practically every corner of the nation. But in its anger and fright the populace was not much concerned with the finer distinctions of guilt in the affair, and it loudly demanded the heads of those most obviously and directly responsible.
A Parliamentary Inquiry was promptly inaugurated, and it went into a most searching investigation which was to last for many' months. Pepys was certainly what we would call “an interested party,” and he knew he was in for some intensive interrogation and some rough handling as well. The Parliament was in a very hostile mood toward everybody connected with the Navy, and planned to probe not only into the immediate question of the disaster, but also into every phase and detail of the Navy’s administration. So Pepys prepared for heavy weather, and because of his painstaking and methodical habits of work, he was able to appear with an elaborately-documented body of data which allowed him to meet every question put to him. As one important item he could show that ships which should have been, and would have been, on hand to prevent the Dutch incursion, had been lying in the dockyards instead, laid up for want of money to keep them operating. For months he withstood every attack successfully; and on his final appearance he spoke in summation for three hours steadily, before the whole Parliament and vindicated the conduct of the whole Navy Office in a manner that won the grudging admiration of the bitterly-hostile inquisitors.
Singlehanded he had won the day for the Navy Office, and had successfully weathered the storm in regard to his own career. He was now widely regarded as the most valuable and outstanding public official of his time; nevertheless, political knives were just as long and sharp then as they are today, and there were certain personages and elements that’ were “out to get him.” The Dutch War had ended in 1667; but in 1669 the Navy Office was again brought up for investigation, charged with gross mismanagement during the War. And as one of its outstanding derelictions it was charged with having paid scandalously exorbitant prices for materials. Again Pepys rushed into the breach, and again he withstood hostile interrogation successfully and saved the Navy’s cause. But this time it was by only a slender margin, and he had been forced to perform some agile and fancy footwork at times, to keep himself and his colleagues out in the clear. He was still a young man, but he was beginning to feel the burden of his office, and his eyesight had begun to trouble him so that he actually feared he might be going blind. So on May 31, 1669, feeling that he could not maintain it any longer, he made a last and rather pathetic entry in the Diary that was to become immortal.
Despite his increasing burdens and his physical condition, however, his industry was unflagging. In 1672 the Third Dutch War broke out, of which the only notable engagement perhaps was the Battle of Sole- bay, in which Pepys’ benefactor, the Earl of Sandwich, gallantly perished with his flagship. Peace arrived two years later, but the Royal Navy had acquitted itself with honor in this particular war; and with a good building program which had been started in the meanwhile, England’s naval power was now well on its way to a commanding place. The Navy Board was reorganized, and Pepys’ billet became “Secretary of the Admiralty,” a change which resulted mainly in increasing his already burdensome list of duties. He found himself barely able to cope with the enormous mass of details for which he was responsible, and he feared some inevitable human lapse or error in his administration which would enable his enemies to lay him by the heels.
Within the next few years his forebodings were largely justified by a series of happenings that had grave and almost disastrous consequences for him. In 1679 another hostile Parliamentary Inquiry was launched against the Navy, and this time it was very evident that one of the principal objectives would be the official scalp of one Samuel Pepys, and the delivery of his job to one of the “boys.” But, at the same time, far more serious trouble had been developing which could involve not merely the loss of his figurative scalp, but in fact the loss of his actual head. Through a set of circumstances too lengthy and complicated to be set forth here, Pepys found himself a prominent figure in the midst of the infamous “Titus Oates” affair and he was arrested and thrown into the Tower, charged with being a “Papist” and “conspiring with the King of France.” His enemies now felt that they had him; but despite their earnest efforts the case against him finally collapsed, and he was discharged in June, 1680. Nevertheless they had achieved one of their objectives, in that he had lost his office in the meanwhile, and was now but a private citizen.
For the next four years he lived quietly, and during that time he saw the Royal Navy slide rapidly downhill again. Then in 1684 the Admiralty was again reorganized, and Pepys was restored to office with the title of “Secretary for the Affairs of the Admiralty of England.”
His duties were practically the same as before, but he stepped into a most discouraging situation. He had left a Navy which, mainly due to his efforts, had been raised to a commendable state of effectiveness. A great amount of incompetency and corruption had been eliminated, and the entire naval establishment was being administered in a fairly honest and efficient manner. And as a crowning item of his accomplishment the English colors flew on a fleet of 76 well-found and seaworthy fighting-ships at sea, with 12,000 men in their crews, properly fed and paid.
But now the Navy was in a deplorable state again, and in many respects it was back to the level at which Pepys had found it just twenty-four years before. There was but a sorry remnant left of the powerful fleet. Few indeed, were the well-found, seaworthy ships in active commission, and many of the Navy’s largest fighting-craft lay in the dockyards disintegrating, with the large holes in their rotten planking patched with pieces of canvas. Hardly a sound piece of wood was left in their decaying structures, and great masses of toadstools were growing from their moldering timbers. The shameful corruption that had been eliminated to a great extent was now back again, flaunting itself openly, and brazenly. Much of Pepys’ hard work had been undone, and he faced another difficult job of rehabilitation. But he launched himself into the task with all his old-time vigor and enthusiasm, and it was not long before the Navy began to realize that higher standards of conduct and duty were in order once again.
In 1685 Charles II died, and the Duke of York came to the throne as James II. He had many faults as a King, undoubtedly, but nevertheless he was an interested and capable naval officer, and he appreciated the necessity of an effective Navy for the country’s security. As Lord High Admiral he had been very sympathetic and helpful to Pepys, and so the latter could now expect a good measure of support from the highest level.
Pepys made steady progress in his task of rehabilitation in the meanwhile. He prepared a set of regulations and instructions which established for the first time a uniform procedure for every phase of the Navy’s administration, and in particular for every detail connected with the procurement, care, and issue of Navy stores. Among other things he endeavored to establish a more adequate scale of pay for officers, and thus hoped to remove a certain part of the incentive for graft. Through his instrumentality a Special Commission was set up in 1686 “to restore the Navy,” and an intelligent program of building and replacement was inaugurated. The Royal Navy soon reached a level of overall effectiveness such as it probably never had reached before, and the naval power of England again was on the march.
Pepys was actually at the height of his powers and his career during this period, and in many influential quarters he was regarded so highly that he was usually referred to as “The Brain of the Navy.”
But serious trouble was again in the offing; another one of the great political storms of that era was blowing up, and this time it was to be a violent one, with far-reaching consequences. It was a highly-involved affair of religious and political factors, revolving about the Throne; and the outcome was that James II was deposed, the last of the House of Stuart to wear the English Crown, and Prince William of Orange was invited to take his place. In February, 1689, the reign of William and Mary began, and with it Pepys found himself thrown into the discard and his career as a public servant at an end.
He retired perforce to private life, but his years of faithful service to the House of Stuart made him, at least in certain circles, an object of disfavor and also of a definite amount of suspicion. Added to this, he still had some vindictive political enemies. So it was not exactly astounding when he was arrested in May, 1689, and thrown into the Tower under suspicion of “dangerous and tresonable practice against his Majestyes Government.” This charge was dropped shortly afterward, and he was discharged; but just a year later he was again arrested and thrown into the Tower, this time under suspicion of “being affected to King James.” It must have been getting rather tiresome repetition for Pepys. He managed to get clear of this charge also, but his foes remained ever-watchful, and for the rest of his life it behooved him to be very careful of how he trod. It was shabby treatment for the man who had been probably the most loyal and valuable public servant of his time.
Pepys kept himself intellectually active in his life of retirement, writing papers and carrying on a voluminous correspondence with many people and on many subjects. He had the natural human feeling that his services had received an ill reward, and that he had done, and could do, a far better job than the present incumbent of his office.
So he prepared his “Memoires Relating to the State of the Royal Navy of England, For Ten Years, Determined December 1688,” apparently hoping to vindicate his performance of office and possibly be given opportunity for further service to the Navy.
But the cards were stacked against him, and his public career was irrevocably finished. He accepted the situation and turned again to his private interests. These were many and varied, and as an instance of this variety we find him requesting an opinion from the erudite Isaac Newton on the “probabilities” involved in throwing certain combinations in dice. The great mathematician fell upon this momentous problem with gusto and snowed Pepys under with page upon page of intricate calculations, with the figures reaching astronomical proportions. Thus Pepys kept his mind alert; but inevitably with the years his sphere of activity gradually contracted, and he could ruefully admit that “Time and the times together have made almost a monk of me.”
In May, 1703, this remarkable little man peacefully passed from the scene. He never had been unduly modest in his opinion of his own merits and achievements; but undoubtedly he little dreamed that the diary he so secretly indited was to become a permanent part of our English literature, and that hundreds of years after his death the shelves of great libraries would be filled with scores of different editions of that diary and with books written upon and around the life of Samuel Pepys. Moreover he probably little dreamed that, almost three centuries in the future, his very mode of expression would have become a fixture in the English language and a familiar vehicle for humorous writers and dramatists. But the thing in which he took his greatest pride, and which has entitled him to a high place in his country’s history, is not as well known as it should be. For, above everything else, he was undoubtedly one of the most valuable public servants that his country has ever owned, and, as such, he made an outstanding contribution to its progress and future glory. This man really accomplished great things which are well summarized, perhaps, in the language of the honorary degree awarded to him in 1702, by Oxford University:
“And to Your Praises, Sir, the whole Ocean bears witness; which You covered with such a powerfull Fleet as has been able to defye the rages of its most formidable Enemys as well as that of the Waves.—- You have truly encompassed Brittain with woodden Walls, and by Your care alone, whether wee would go in quest of new Discoverys or to enlarge our Conquests, wee may extend our Sails to either Pole."
A graduate mechanical engineer, Captain Sheehan entered the Navy as an aviator in 1917, and served in Naval Aviation during World War I. Subsequently he served in naval aircraft tenders and the Bureau of Aeronautics, as well as in cruisers and gunboats on the Asiatic Station. During World War II he served in transports in the Pacific and the Indian Ocean, and later commanded the Lido Beach Naval Training Center. He is the author of almost a dozen articles in the Proceedings, including the recent “Layman Takes Issue With Lawyers.”