ABSTRACT
The ‘long results of time’ bring about strange combinations. Meeting and crossing each other here and there on their living way, there yet could be no less likely union in the thoughts of posterity, or in the history of their time, than that of the two names which head this page. The most frank and unreserved of autobiographers, knowing many compunctions, but no shame; and the most courtly and polished of antique gentlemen, perpetually holding himself erect on the poise of natural self-respect and formal dignity, Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn, of all men most unlike each other, come down to us, side by side. The one unfolds his brisk panorama, the other solemnly exhibits his stately picture. Wicked human nature, always least alive to propriety, looks respectfully, but with a yawn, upon the one, and chuckles aloud, shaking its head for decorum’s sake, with infinite amusement and unrestrained laughter, over the other. How the two chroniclers might esteem their different degrees of popularity, or if the disclosure of all his wicked ways would shame Mr Secretary Pepys at last, the curiosity which he satisfies so frankly has no means of ascertaining now; but it requires no great penetration to perceive with what stately disgust his patrician companion, who leaves behind him nothing to be ashamed of, would turn from this wicked little impersonation of bustle, vanity, and spirit, who smuggles along the solemn highway of history by the Lord of Wotton’s side.
