The greatest diarist of them all might have been Samuel Pepys. He lived in extraordinary times. Pepys’ enduring legacy derives from the diaries he kept between 1660 and 1669.
The Breezer - the joyride for a curious mind: A weekly newsletter from Steve Winduss at the Batting the Breeze podcast. Spend a few minutes with me discovering historical snippets and fascinating facts related to the forthcoming week. Add to that updates relating to the podcast, a touch of humour and a dash of "lots more".1st June 2025.
Happy Sunday! Have you noticed how ‘journaling’ has been getting a lot of attention recently? Whether as a remedy for mental wellbeing or as a positive tool for self-development, it’s all about journaling. With journaling, you don’t just record what happened; you record your thoughts, feelings, understanding of the world and the people in it. The arrival of digital apps means you can carry your journal wherever you go, add audio and video entries to your log and receive automated feedback in an infinite number of ways. When I was in my teens in the seventies and early eighties, we called it ‘keeping a diary’. I once kept a diary during a year-long visit to Australia, travelling to the four corners and playing rugby for a wonderfully hospitable club, Drummoyne, in Sydney. I wrote everything down - and I mean everything. I even put the best bits in red ink. The practice was in danger of becoming an obsession. I had to limit my writing time, otherwise I would have been recording that yesterday I spent all day writing about the day before. It all seemed like a great idea until I returned home. On re-reading, there were an awful lot of red bits. It turned out more like a written confession than a diary. I found myself either cringing at memories of my less-than-glorious moments or panicking at the thought that someone else might read about them. So, I decided that for my future sake, and for anyone else who may have been implicated in my writings, I would leave diarising to others. I ceremoniously burned that diary in a bucket in the garden.
Historically, we are indebted to the many diarists over the years who have recorded events and observations of their respective eras. Without their efforts, we would be much the poorer in our understanding of key periods of our world’s history. The Ancient Greeks began keeping personal records around 400 BCE. Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor between 161 and 180 CE wrote Meditations, a personal memoir and broader reflections of events as they occurred at that time.
Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, second edition, 1635.
US President number two, John Adams, was a noted diarist, leaving 51 manuscripts for the archives. His son, US President number six, John Quincy Adams, caught the same habit and scribed an astonishing 15,000 pages of event narratives, reflections, political insights, family events and even weather records. Charles Darwin famously kept extensive journals during his five-year voyage on the HMS Beagle between 1831 and 1836, which led to his definitive work, “On the Origin of Species”, published in 1859. Robert Falcon Scott’s diaries serve as the primary record of the ill-fated 1910 Terra Nova Expedition. The diaries were meticulous in their detail, written under the most extreme of conditions.
Robert Falcon Scott’s birthday, 6 June 1911, Antarctica.
Scott and his team had been beaten to the South Pole by Norwegian Roald Amundsen. The journey back would prove one stage too far. The last few days of recording before Scott's death were particularly poignant. His last entry read…
For God’s sake look after our people.
Anne Frank, the German Jewish teenager who hid from the Nazis in a secret annex in Amsterdam, wrote a diary between 1942 and 1944 that would become a book of inspiration to millions. Similarly, the 16-year-old Russian schoolgirl Lena Mukhina’s diary provided a first-hand account of the horrific Siege of Leningrad from June 1941 through to May 1942, at which point she managed to escape from the besieged city.
Out of Curiosity
Externalising thoughts by writing them down achieves more than just providing a memory aid. The process of writing employs different parts of the brain, as does the process of reading. This serves to clear bandwidth in your brain and change the way you engage with those thoughts. For further reading, check out psychological terms such as Cognitive Offloading and Metacognition.
There is one other diarist to add to the list. From my perspective as an English schoolboy in the 70s, the greatest of them all might have been Samuel Pepys. Samuel Pepys (pronounced 'peeps'), born in 1633 in Fleet Street, London, was a naval administrator who played a key role in modernising the Royal Navy. In later life, he became a Member of Parliament and President of the Royal Society at a time when its most prominent members comprised such luminaries as Sir Isaac Newton (Laws of Motion), Sir Christopher Wren (architect of St Paul’s Cathedral) and Robert Hooke (Hooke’s Law of elasticity).
Samuel Pepys, 1689. Portrait by Sir Godfrey Kneller.
However, Pepys’ enduring legacy derives from the diaries he kept between 1660 and 1669. He lived in extraordinary times. The 1660s represented Restoration England. The exiled son of the beheaded Charles I, Charles II, was invited back to the English throne once the nation’s experiment with republicanism had failed following the Oliver Cromwell years. In 1666, the Great Fire of London ravaged 30% of the city’s houses and commercial buildings. But most notably, the year preceding the Great Fire was the year of the Great Plague of London. Pepys was one of the few diarists or journalists to actually risk staying in London for the duration of the devastating 1665-1666 bubonic plague. While the rich and famous, including Charles II, fled London in droves, Pepys remained in the heart of the city, documenting the spread and impact of the Plague. The prolific diarist wrote in great detail about his fears and anxieties, as well as his health and wellbeing. The diaries captured harrowing observations of death and suffering, of the daily struggles and resilience of ordinary people and of their ability to adapt under such extraordinary circumstances.
Out of Curiosity
The Great Plague of 1665-1666 would be the last outbreak of bubonic plague in England. The Black Death (1348-1349) had found its way to England through the trading routes from Asia, and proved to be the most deadly of them all. An estimated 45-50% of England’s population of five million died from the plague. The carriers of the Plague were the fleas on black rats from visiting ships, exacerbated by poor sanitation. The Plague then revisited every 10-20 years for the next 300 years. The death rate dropped with each outbreak, a trend only reversed by the 1665-1666 outbreak when 100,000 Londoners (20% of the city’s population) and 200,000 elsewhere died.
Through Pepys, we have a record of the plague from the day it first appeared in 1665 through to its eventual demise. We can clearly imagine the fears of ordinary citizens, the deserted streets, the sights and sounds of death, the continuous tolling of funeral bells and the mass burials. Three hundred and sixty years ago next Saturday, 7 June 1665, Samuel Pepys first wrote in his diary about the houses marked with a red cross in London’s Drury Lane. The red cross would signify that somebody inside was infected with the plague and must be confined for 40 days or until death, whichever came first. When a house was marked with a red cross, it would be immediately sealed. Its occupants, sick or healthy, were forced to remain inside for the duration. Watchmen kept guard to ensure no one tried to leave, with the exception of doctors, nurses and the ‘searchers’ who would ‘bring out yer dead’.
I did in Drury-lane see two or three houses marked with a red cross upon the doors, and ‘Lord have mercy upon us’ writ there – which was a sad sight to me. Samuel Pepys
Pepys’ notes about the red crosses and the procedure that accompanied them weren’t just peripheral observations. The process was a central feature of the London authorities’ efforts to contain the Plague.
A street scene during the Great Plague of London, 1665-1666. Death cart in background, mourners in foreground. ‘Searcher’ on the right, ringing a bell and crying “Bring out your dead”. Note also the red cross on the door with the words, “Lord have mercy on this house.”
Other proactive measures included the construction of pest houses (isolation hospitals), closure of public spaces and deployment of the searchers to record and track down deaths. The Plague was tamed in the early winter of 1666. A combination of the quarantine process, cold weather and the development of herd immunity saw the number of cases drop significantly, so that by summer, it had all but abated. Pepys was forced to stop writing his diary in 1669 due to failing eyesight. However, he remained in public life until just after the Glorious Revolution in 1689, when yet another king from the European mainland was invited to rule, this time William of Orange (King William III) from the Netherlands. Samuel Pepys died in Clapham, London, on 26 May 1703.
Out of Curiosity
It is often believed that the Great Fire of London, which occurred just a few months after the Plague, was responsible for bringing the outbreak to an end. In fact, the Plague had all but dispersed by this time. However, the rebuilding of large parts of London as a result of the fire, closed sewers, cleaner water, wider streets and more sanitary housing, played a part in ensuring the Plague never revisited.
Dates with History
Today…
Paula Hitler, Adolf Hitler’s only sibling to survive into adulthood, was born in Austria in 1896. Paula’s relationship with her brother was ‘complicated’. She wasn’t politically active and never joined the Nazi Party. However, she did hold strong nationalist ideals and struggled to believe her brother was directly responsible for the Holocaust. In the 1930s, Paula found work under the pseudonym, Paula Wolff. Adolf would always ensure that Paula was financially comfortable. For instance, he signed over his half of their orphan’s pension to Paula when he was able. During the war, Hitler’s sister worked in a military field hospital. After the downfall of the Nazis, the SS took her to Hitler’s stronghold at Berchtesgaden, Austria, and, again, Adolf provided her with funds. In May 1945, Paula was arrested by US authorities but released shortly after. She lived out the remainder of her life quietly in an arts and crafts shop in Vienna. Sixty-five years ago today, 1 June 1960, Paula Hitler passed away in Berchtesgaden.
Paula Hitler’s death, 1 June 1960.
Tuesday…
Last week, we reviewed the extraordinary dexterity of composer and violinist Niccolò Paganini. One of Niccolò’s fellow Romantic era composers was the Frenchman Georges Bizet. Bizet was best known for his opera Carmen, a shocking portrayal of the ordinary folk of Seville, Spain; soldiers, rogues, vagabonds and all kinds of morally dubious characters. The 3rd June would be a memorable day for the Bizet family. On 3 June 1869, Georges married Parisienne Geneviève Halévy. After six years of a notably troubled marriage, Georges Bizet died following a series of illnesses on his wedding anniversary, 150 years ago this Tuesday, 3 June 1875. Bizet died completely unaware that Carmen, which originally received poor acclaim, would become one of the most successful operas ever written.
Friday…
In 1942 during World War II, the American Red Cross established the Donut Dollies; an organisation of young, female volunteers who risked their lives serving doughnuts to soldiers on the front lines. Their role extended to providing pastoral care and a home-from-home to distract soldiers from the realities of war. This initiative extended to the Korean War, and finally, the Vietnam War. I was lucky enough to meet my very own Donut Dolly, the delightful Penni Evans, who chatted to me a couple of years ago in the podcast episode, Donut Dollies. Penny had joined the American Red Cross in 1969 only to find herself in the thick of the Vietnam War by March of 1970. She was 22.
Penni Evans (circled) with her Donut Dollies colleagues, 1969.
This Friday, 6 June, is the 87th National Doughnut/Donut Day, first celebrated on 1 June 1938 to honour the Doughnut Lassies from World War I, and subsequently to remember the brave and morale-boosting work carried out by Donut Dollies in later wars. Donut Dollies everywhere - we salute you.
Question of the Week
Bernard Schwartz was born in East Harlem, New York, in 1925. His brother, Julius, was killed in a tragic accident when he was 12 years old. He served in the U.S. Navy during World War II, after which he pursued a career in acting. Two of his early film successes were Sweet Smell of Success and The Defiant Ones. Who was Bernard Schwartz better known as?
And Finally…
I live on the Dorset-Hampshire border, along the mid-South Coast of England. To the east... Hampshire, the home of Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility); To the west... Dorset, undisputed Thomas Hardy country (Far from the Madding Crowd, Jude the Obscure, The Mayor of Casterbridge, Tess of the d’Urbervilles). If you’re a Thomas Hardy fan, you may not recognise the Dorset names; for instance, in The Mayor of Casterbridge, the town of Casterbridge is actually Dorchester, while Havenpool is Poole and Port Bredy, Bridport. In Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Emminster is Beaminster, Sandbourne is Bournemouth and Kingsbere, Bere Regis - you get the idea. Hardy’s novels are renowned for their descriptions of rural life in and around Dorset. He explores in detail the day-to-day realities of ordinary 19th-century country folk. Hardy highlights the traditions, local customs and the village gossip. He dwells on the lives of shepherds, thatchers, cider-makers, sheep-shearers, stonemasons, carpenters, innkeepers, seamstresses and dressmakers. Late 19th-century Dorset is brought vividly to life - a rich and evocative portrait of rural society in that era.
Thomas Hardy, 1894.
Hardy’s leading characters are a collection of ordinary folk in the main, typically struggling to fulfil desires within the context of a rigid and unforgiving Victorian Britain. Of Tess of the d’Urbervilles, he says…
She was a woman who could not be tamed, and that was her tragedy.
In The Mayor of Casterbridge, Elizabeth-Jane Newson reflects on her life towards the end of the book when she notes….
Happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain.
And in Far from the Madding Crowd, the beautiful, intelligent and complex central character, Bathsheba Everdene….
…burst into great sobs… but she determined to repress all evidences of feeling. She was conquered; but she would never own it as long as she lived.
When Hardy died in 1928, he was interred in Westminster Abbey, but his heart was buried separately at St Michael’s churchyard, Stinsford, Dorset, next to his wife and family. Thomas Hardy was born 185 years ago tomorrow, 2 June 1840.
Question of the week… answer
Bernard Schwartz was better known as Tony Curtis. Curtis was originally singled out for his smouldering looks but soon demonstrated his acting ability, switching between comedy and drama with ease. In Spartacus (1960), he played the slave Antonius and delivered the words, “I’m Spartacus”, just beating Kirk Douglas to the immortal line. Perhaps Curtis’ most memorable performance came in Some Like it Hot (1959) alongside Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe, when he and Lemmon disguised themselves as women to escape the mob.
Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe in Some Like It Hot, 1959.
However, my favourite memory of Curtis is from his role as Danny Wilde alongside James Bond actor Roger Moore’s Lord Brett Sinclair in The Persuaders, a series which ran for 24 episodes in 1971. The pair were brought together in unusual circumstances to solve a range of crimes across Europe. Curtis, the American millionaire, and Moore, the archetypal English aristocrat, were a complete mismatch, but the story lines and witty banter - priceless. The series was very popular in the UK and a few other countries, although I don’t think it gained much traction in the USA. Tony Curtis was born 100 years ago this Tuesday, 3 June 1925.
Danny Wilde: OK, come on, give me the map, let me be the navigator. Lord Brett Sinclair: Thank you, Daniel, I remember the last time we went to Berlin. Danny Wilde: So? Lord Brett Sinclair: We were supposed to be going to Madrid. Danny Wilde: Well, nobody’s perfect, kid! Lord Brett Sinclair: Certainly not you.
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Thank you for joining me. Have a great week!
Steve
HOST & CHIEF STORY HUNTER
P:S: By the way, I'm taking a short break next Sunday so I look forward to joining you again on Sunday 15th June.
Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe in Some Like It Hot, 1959: Designed by Macario Gómez Quibus. "Copyright 1959 – United Artists Corp."., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Thomas Hardy, 1894: W & D Downey (1829-1915), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Samuel Pepys, 1689. Portrait by Sir Godfrey Kneller, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, second edition, 1635: Meric Casaubon, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Robert Falcon Scott’s birthday, 6 June 1911, Antarctica: Herbert Ponting, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
A street scene during the Great Plague of London, 1665-1666. Death cart in background, mourners in foreground. ‘Searcher’ on the right, ringing a bell and crying “Bring out your dead”. Note also the red cross on the door with the words, “Lord have mercy on this house.”: See page for author, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
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