APPROACHING BLINDNESS
1804-1807
A great preacher—Arthur Young the younger goes to Russia—Cowper’s
Letters—Mrs. Young’s illness—Dr. Symonds—Novel reading—Skinner’s
‘State of Peru’—Death of Pitt—Burke’s publishing
accounts—Literary projects—Approaching blindness.
_February 24._—The sins of a journal are like those of life, much
offence and a little repentance, minutes applied and months
neglected. Last night, for the first time in my life, I was at a
religious conversazione. Mr. Fry has it once a fortnight.
Mrs. Wilberforce and thirty more, I suppose, began with singing a
hymn, and then a prayer, and ended in the same manner; the subject
discussed was Providence. Scott, Macaulay, and Fry were the only
speakers except myself, who threw in a word or two in a bad manner
and not in unison; but I went without preparing the temper of my
mind, and it proved to me a mere temptation to sin, as everything is
sure to do when we trust in our own strength and do not pray for
divine assistance. I like the thing itself much, and the
recollection since it passed has produced in my mind a degree of
humiliation which might not have been in it had I not gone there. I
wished to touch on the state of the King’s health, where the hand of
God is so evident; but they would attend only to little and private
things, and probably were right. They made every possible event, the
most trivial, providential. Scott is a predestinarian, but impresses
the necessity of attending to the _means_ by which God acts as much
as if the divine decrees were not universal. The next subject is
Temptation.
_May 22._—My dear friend[223] at Bradfield writes me in a most
melancholy strain, on the ill success of her husband’s farming. I
doubt I shall lose largely by a scheme which was executed merely to
keep him out of greater mischief.
The new Bishop of Bristol is in dress and manners much like what we
call in Suffolk a leather breeches parson.
Somebody called on Mrs. Pelham, and found her lying on a sofa
reading a novel, rouged as much as any Madame la Marquise. They
thought she seemed to be too high flown to be asked to a sober party
of whist. What a gradation of evil amongst the worldly even in the
_respectable_ (_soi-disant_) class.
An application from Phillips for another edition of the ‘Farmer’s
Calendar.’ He printed 2,000 of the fifth, and 1,200 sold in a month;
they will all be gone before it can be reprinted. I had 100_l._ for
that edition, 40_l._ more for this six months after publication, and
in future 25_l._ each succeeding one.
How grateful I ought to be, but am not, to God for a success which
has smoothed many difficulties, and enabled me much to lessen, in
assistance to other circumstances, my debts. The sale is an
extraordinary one.
What would be with me the result of moral reflections and trust in
human means, in the power of a vile heart to cure its own
iniquities? I have a conviction amounting to sensation in its truth,
that everything but looking unto Jesus is weaker than water—vain and
frivolous. This is the grand consideration, result, and object of
religion in the soul, all beside is wide of the mark and without
power and efficacy. Oh, my God, my God! write these truths in my
soul, impress them in my heart, that by communion with Thee I may by
Thy grace be purified, washed, and cleansed from every evil thought.
Blessed be Thy Holy Name for keeping me from _acts_ of sin. Oh! have
mercy on my mind and take away every _thought_ of it.
I shall have to experience another temptation, and should be
preparing for it. I have little doubt but Lord Carrington will be
again President of the Board. He likes not me, and I shall be much
more uncomfortable than I have been with Lord Sheffield; but such
changes, if they happen, will be from the Lord, for nothing is so
idle as for a Christian to suppose that anything takes place by
chance.
I do not mean to leave town till the Woburn meeting, but I am
restless, and want to get away. This is a common folly, and ought
carefully to be checked. It is the spirit that wastes half a life,
ever looking to a future moment and never enjoying the present,
which is that alone that is truly our own.[224]
There is not a more valuable lesson than to learn how to apply every
portion of time to use, and not to suffer the expectation of, or
waiting for, any future moment to make the intermediate ones
tiresome or unpleasant. It is wasting life and time that is never to
return.
Yesterday, at 7 P.M., I dined with Mr. Anson—a farming party: Duke
of Bedford, Earl of Galloway, Earl of Albemarle, Lord Somerville,
Sir Robert Lowley, Sir John Wrottesley, Mr. Coke, Mr. Motteaux, Mr.
Child, Sir G. Pigot, Mr. Western, Mr. Wilbraham, all M.P.’s or in
high life.
Nothing but a farming conversation makes the company of these people
proper for me to have anything to do with; and that it is not to be
conceived how little they know on the subject, considering it’s a
favourite pursuit. Such great fortunes and a life of luxury and
bustle and motion are hostile to every kind of knowledge; and the
conversation abounds with information for those who watch for and
have a memory to retain it, yet it demands a good deal of knowledge
previously digested and arranged to make a due use of it. A splendid
house, one of the best in London; magnificent furniture, plate,
servants, wines, and everything, equal to 30,000_l._ or 40,000_l._ a
year, but he has no such income.
I have—I think I have—no envy of these doings. Such situations are
so hostile to the religious principle that ought to animate the
soul, that I should think of them with fear and trembling. I hate
parties, and my heart condemns me whenever I go to them, in which
not a word ever occurs to give God the glory due to His Holy Name,
which is sometimes profaned but never honoured, where Grace before
and after meat is discarded. And this is a sort of denial of Christ
which gives me no slight disquiet and remorse, and ought entirely to
banish me from all such company; it works in me, and I cordially
hope it will soon produce that effect, for the pleasure I receive is
little and the offence to God I fear is much. ‘Come out from among
them and touch not the unclean thing,’ is applicable to more cases
than I have applied it to. I am determined to go only to Woburn this
year and not to Holkham; four days of noise and bustle are too much,
I will get away in three; but a whole fortnight is horrible. I will
get to Cambridge by Saturday, and I hope Jane will meet me there to
spend Sunday, and perhaps Monday, with Simeon, and make him promise
to meet Fry at Bradfield. Yesterday and this day hurry, bustle,
packing up, paying bills, and recollection on the stretch lest
anything should be forgotten. Wrote to Cordell, the bookseller, to
settle with me for the Irish Tour. It has been years out of print,
and the last settlement in 1795. I have half the sale; 154 were then
left, my half, 30_l._ at least, and it never came into my head
before. Very careless indeed, and in money to receive! Such busy
days are unpleasant because both mind and body are fatigued.
_18th_ at Woburn. Came with Lord Sheffield yesterday. I detest this
profanation of the Sabbath, but he urged me so to accompany him that
I yielded like a fool. A great dinner, Lords Albemarle, Ossory,
Ludlow, Duke of Manchester, Sir H. Fetherstone, Sir R. Pigot, the
Wilbrahams, &c., twenty in all. Several apartments newly furnished,
and many very expensive articles, clocks, &c., from Paris to the
amount of 2,000_l._ Much done to the greenhouse, and everywhere a
profusion of expense. The late rains have given a fine verdure, and
the place in full beauty. Such a flow of worldly blessings as are
seen in one of these very great residences makes me melancholy when
I reflect on the immense temptation and dreadful responsibility that
attaches. What have not these people to answer for if they forget
the Giver in the profusion of His gifts? and where am I to go to
find a great house and establishment with a society and conversation
that shows the Gospel of our Lord to be held in reverence and
affection?
This poor Duke of Bedford, whose nominal income is so enormous,
will, I fear, involve himself with the same imprudence. Cartwright
has built him a steam engine (700_l._) for threshing and grinding:
12 per cent. interest in the least to be calculated, or 84_l._, and
yet a one-horse mill, price 50_l._, would thresh all the corn that
will ever be brought to this yard.
An extravagant duchess, Paris toys, a great farm, little economy,
and immense debts, will prove a canker in all the rosebuds of his
garden of life. The providence of the Almighty governs all, and will
not permit an utter forgetfulness of Him to produce even the
temporal happiness which is alone sought for.
I am tired of the whole, and long for the retirement and quiet of
Bradfield after so many weeks of London, and this finishing of hurry
and bustle. I would not have another week of it for a hundred
pounds. What has a Christian to do with such scenes? How a person of
fortune and the world can be one I know not. They are never cool,
and have no time for reading or thought. It is madness to continue
in such a state, but to travel 120 miles in order to enter a fresh
scene of it, and perhaps within earshot of such a profane beast and
fool as that Captain G. I sat near last year—this would be insanity.
What a spectacle at Woburn was that miserably swearing profligate,
Major B., of Sussex, at the age of eighty-one, sticking to the last
moment to worldly dissipation, and utterly regardless of what is to
become of him hereafter. Like Lord Lauderdale, who declared that he
feared nothing in this world nor in the next either! These people
call themselves Deists; I think they must be atheists, or they are
utterly in contradiction to themselves. It is a sin, and ought to be
repented of, to go into such company. I feel myself here, looking on
the tranquil bosom of the Ouse, as having escaped from a
multiplicity of temptations, and that this is the first moment of my
summer holidays, quiet and alone. This morning I had a letter from
Jane, by which I find it is quite uncertain whether I shall meet her
at Cambridge. She asks my directions, but had she thought, must have
known that she could not receive an answer in time. I hope to hear
Simeon[225] twice on Sunday, and much wish that she may be there, as
I wrote before to request it; and she says she should like it of all
things.
_24th: Cambridge._—I dined here yesterday. Inquired for that great
and good man, Simeon, but he was not to be in town till the evening.
I walked behind Trinity and John’s, &c., twice—a delightful day.
Wrote and left a letter for him; at nine he came, and will certainly
meet Fry at Bradfield. Thank God! I shall hear him twice to-day and
Mr. Thomason once, for I shall go thrice to Trinity Church. I
mentioned Fry’s calculation of three millions of Christians; but he
very properly thought it very erroneous. He thinks Cambridge a fair
average, and in 10,000 people knows but of 110 certainly vital
Christians—more than 150 can scarcely be from a seventy-fifth to a
hundredth part therefore! There are, I am rejoiced to hear it, many
very pious young men in the colleges.
_Night._—I have been at Trinity Church thrice to-day. In the morning
a very good sermon by Simeon, a decent one by Thomason, and in the
evening to a crowded congregation a superlative discourse by Simeon
on the twelfth verse of chapter iv. of the Acts: ‘There is no other
name under heaven,’ &c. Vital, evangelical, powerful, and impressive
in his animated manner.
_Sunday, July 8: Bradfield._—This day se’nnight took the Sacrament
with Jane at Bury, suddenly, and therefore without any preparation,
and got there in the Lessons. The week has been vile and miserable.
Fry cannot come, but had a letter from Simeon, he will be here
to-morrow! O Lord, of Thy mercy give a blessing to his presence,
that conversation and prayer with him may give a turn to my mind!
Were it not for what I think a firm faith in the Cross of my
Redeemer, I should think that I was almost in the jaws of hell. But
if I perish it shall be looking at the brazen serpent. Fiery
serpents innumerable bite; let me turn instantly to the Cross, and
there see and trust to the blood of sprinkling. What should I have
thought of this before my conversion? Is it true and saving faith
now to think and feel it—or rather to know it in my understanding
than feel it in my heart? I am full of apprehensions, and the only
sign of spiritual life in me is some sense and feeling of my own
iniquity and the plague of my carnal thoughts; but if they were
truly a load to me, would not the Lord ease me of the burden?
_10th._—Yesterday, Simeon came. His character singular. His
piety—his strong expressions—his fervency in prayer—a powerful mind!
_13th._—Simeon went this morning. I have been horribly negligent in
not writing down many of his conversations. What he thinks of me I
know not, but he spoke to Jane with great freedom and candour, and
as became a good Christian.
His abilities are considerable, his parts strong, his ardour and
animation uncommonly great. His eloquence great, and his manner
impressive. His prayers admirably adapted to the cases of all who
heard him. He came with a servant and two very fine horses, on which
he places a high value. From his life and expenses must have a
considerable income; for his preferment is only expense, and costs
him more than he receives from it. His fellowship is as good as 400
guineas a year to him. He must have a very good private fortune,
from some circumstances, as I judge, which he dropped in
conversation. He went to Cambridge from Eton and became a Christian
on the third day, now about twenty-five or twenty-six years ago.
During all which time he has never doubted of his future salvation.
He is remarkably cheerful and has much wit, or something nearly
allied to it.
I wrote to N. H., requesting his pulpit for Sunday, but he refused
it; and after church apologised, saying it was not from himself, but
he was _talked to_.
Oh! for the dumb dogs of our clergy who will neither preach the
Gospel themselves nor let others do it. I told him that my request
was to him a safe one, for I asked, of course, only for a
regularly bred clergyman, and who possessed preferment in the
national church. Very unlucky! Symonds dined here, and his
conversation never does any good. He explained his chance for
salvation in the merits alone of Jesus Christ, but denies original
sin. This seems a contradiction; I would not think so for a
thousand worlds! How can he be sensible of what he wants in the
blood of the Saviour without knowing the utter depravity of his
heart?
Tuesday morning, C. Coke, of Holkham, Allen, and Moore called on me
to see the farm, and would have me dine with them at Moore’s. Haunch
of venison, &c. Mrs. M. young, and in the worldly sphere very
agreeable; her dress horrid. She contrives to force out her
prominent bust in a manner that must take no small attention in
dressing, is very big with child, and thinly clad; such a figure is
common in these times, but the fashion is contrived purposely.
Mr. Smirenove came last night to dinner, and brought Count
Rostopchin’s snuff-box. It is turned in his own oak, lined with
gold, and has a tablet containing the representation of a building
dedicated to me. The inscription in Russian, _A Pupil to his
Master_, set round with sixty-six diamonds. Query—Should not all
such toys be turned into money and given to the poor? He was Prime
Minister under Paul, and has 50,000_l._ English per annum.
On Monday I breakfasted, dined, and slept at Lord Bristol’s; Lady B.
and her sister, Miss Upton, sung Italian airs till twelve o’clock at
night. They were many years ago a horrible temptation, now [they
are] a frivolous waste of time, but ever a bad tendency on the
heart. Pressed me greatly to stay; but I was engaged next day to
dinner at Gooch’s, and yesterday I dined at Betsy’s. All this
visiting is very bad for my soul.
Friday I dined again at Lord Bristol’s, by desire of the Oakes, as
they expected meeting none they knew, but there were several. Music
in the evening, slept there; in the morning, at Bury, met Benjafield
on justice business. He wanted to commit a woman for being a lewd
woman, on the statute of King James, by which it can only be for a
year; if this was executed, all the prisons in the county would not
hold them, and the time is far too severe; nor do I conceive that
the case comes within it. I declined, and desired they might be
heard on Wednesday, as appeared the week before. I go on in
repentance miserably, my heart is cold, and I am languid in
devotion. Oh, could I sufficiently hate and abhor myself!!
_November 2._—If I go ten yards from home it can be only into the
world, and therefore I never move but for mischief. I have every
post a packet of letters from Lord Sheffield, filling the tables and
for many hours employment every day. There seems to be no great
reason for apprehending any famine, or even such a scarcity as
before, but the price must be too high for the poor, without being
half high enough for the farmer: I mean of wheat, the crop of which
is full as bad as it has been for ten years past, but there is a
stock in hand which will keep it down.
_December 30._—I went to London on account of the Smithfield Club
and there received the first Bedford medal of the Bath Society for
an essay on the Nature and Properties of Manures, there being four
other candidates. At London also I dined with M. de Novosilikoff, a
particular friend of the Emperor Alexander, who is here on a
political mission of great importance.
Davidson, who manages the Emperor’s farm, and Smirenove were
present; their plan at present is to have reports of their
Governments made upon the same system as ours, of counties, and Mr.
de N. talked much of the great advantage of my going. I would not
offer myself, but said that the whole would depend on the sort of
men employed. Since I came down I wrote to Smirenove, offering
Arthur (by his own desire), provided the sum granted for the purpose
was adequate.
De N. was out of town, so no answer yet.
The attention I give to all these worldly matters, though they do
not sit at all close to my heart, yet occupy too much of my time.
I do not give enough to the far greater interests of the eternal
world; and I have been for months past, and am at present, in a
dead, sinful state, remote from the only God of hope and
consolation.
His mercy to me is great, for I have life and health. I am not in
hell; but I find a horrible difficulty in coming to God, and a
deadness of heart which hurts my prayers and plunges me more and
more in sin and offence.
O Lord, of Thy mercy listen unto me. Oh! look with compassion on my
wretchedness.
_1805. Jan. 30._—The 19th I came to London; the 23rd breakfasted
with Mr. Novosilikoff, and made my proposals of terms on which
Arthur would go to Russia, having before received a letter from
Smirenove announcing an entire approbation in Mr. N. of my son for
the expedition. The terms were that he and his wife should go by
land, getting out hence the beginning of March, in order to be at
Moscow the beginning of May; that is, if out a year he should have a
thousand pounds, and proportionably for a longer time, and all his
expenses paid to, at, and from Russia. He came into it readily, and
when the conversation was over, Mr. Davidson, who was present, said,
‘Well, now it seems all settled, and it only remains to know where
Mr. Y. is to be supplied with money for his journey.’ Mr. de N. said
Mr. Smirenove would be directed to advance it.
Reflecting afterwards on this conversation, I thought that some
admission of the terms in writing should be obtained, as in case of
deaths or revolutions they might be questioned; I therefore wrote to
Mr. de N., recapitulating the terms on both sides and begging to
know if I was correct.
No answer was returned; but Lord Somerville, calling on me two days
after, mentioned in conversation that be had recommended a Mr.
Green, who had farmed in Normandy, and been seven years in a French
prison, of which he had published an account, to Mr. de N. to go to
Russia to survey a government, hinting at the same time his
knowledge that my son was in contemplation also. He said that G. had
breakfasted with de N., who was much pleased with him.
All this awakens suspicions in my mind that, combined with the
silence of Mr. de N., make it apparently necessary to know how we
really stand, and I determined to write to Smirenove requesting that
he would speak to Mr. de N., as any uncertainty was unpleasant,
while my son was actually arranging his farm, &c., for his
departure. This I have now done, and shall send it before breakfast,
for no answer is yet come.
I do not like the complexion of the business, but think it likely
that Green speaking French, which will save the necessity of Jane
going as an interpreter, and perhaps his taking one or two hundreds
instead of 1,000_l._, may have induced de N. to think again of the
matter.
I have prayed earnestly to the Lord that He would prevent the
journey taking place if it would turn out in any way injurious to
the state of their souls, putting the matter entirely in His
Almighty hands, and determining to rest assured that if it does not
take place, it will be the Lord’s will, and that I should be
thankful for His interference to prevent it.
The government of Moscow which A. was to have done is thirteen times
as big as Norfolk. It would take two years to do it well without any
doubt. A. is much disappointed, for he liked the thoughts of the
scheme much.
I threw out in conversation with N. that if the business of the
Board would permit, and they approved it, I would go over in June,
and stay till November to assist in the work; that I should ask only
my expenses. He seemed much to approve of this, but it was mentioned
only as a contingency. Here the matter rests. I shall know soon what
the event will be.
Many things have had a very lowering aspect of late, the ‘Annals’
with Phillips are certainly at an end. They do not answer with him,
and he has demurred at settling the account, with 100_l._ or more
due to me. This will be a loss of 180_l._ a year. My plan is to
print four numbers a year on my own account, for the sake of selling
old stock; by this I shall lose 40_l._ more. In Ar.’s (Arthur’s)
farm the rent will be sunk from last Michaelmas 20_l._ a year, and I
am engaged to pay Noxford 20_l._ a year more tithe. This year the
Exchequer annuity of 150_l._ a year ceases.
On the whole here is full 400_l._ a year loss of income, which will
be very distressing if every expenditure be not pared down in a most
economical manner. May the Lord’s mercy give me grace to be steady
and determined in this matter, for it is a most important one. I
have very little to suffer personally in the reduction, for the
expenses do not run that way, but comforts must be cheerfully
lessened.
_Feb. 3._—No answer came from Novosilikoff; I wrote therefore to
Smirenove, who replied last Friday that N. was gone to St.
Petersburg, that he had replied to my letter, and was surprised that
I had not received it; that he approved of all the contents of mine,
and had left orders with him to supply money.
This I despatched to A., who was become very uneasy and impatient.
So now the business seems concluded and the die cast, but may the
Lord prevent it taking place if it is to be productive of evil to
the eternal interests of either! I pray for this, may He hear my
prayers. I have little notion of comfort in anything that is
undertaken without consulting God, opening the business to Him, and
begging His direction how to proceed. I have had a letter from
Orbell’s[226] friend, who agrees to my terms of letting Ar.’s farm,
so, thank God, that is settled.
_17th._—Many difficulties have occurred relative to a post-chaise
for them. Brown has examined my old one and sent an estimate of the
repairs, 56_l._ Smirenove approved of it, but his second advice is
that it would not do. He proposed one of his, and letters backwards
and forwards. But yesterday I found one at Holmes’s in Long Acre,
built for a Mr. Lock to go to Malta, which will do exactly, and in
which they may have bedding and sleep at full length; a journeyman
said the price was 50 guineas. H. not at home, in the evening a
letter, and 70 guineas named.
I got up as always at 4 A.M., and have been reading and praying. Fry
last Sunday alluded to an apostate from the truth, and Wilberforce
asked him who it was, saying that of course he would not answer if
the question was improper.
It was Townsend,[227] of Wiltshire, the traveller in Spain, who
began his career quite in the style of Whitfield’s energy and
openness of declaring his principles in the fields or in barns, &c.
The Lansdown folks told him they could never make him a bishop with
such conduct or such principles; upon which he dropped the whole,
giving out to his friends that he only suspended his conduct and
meant to resume it at a better season. That never came, and he has
continued an apostate from all religion, and from having 200
communicants at his church, has now only two or three besides
himself and his clerk.
This miserably constituted Board of Agriculture is ever in a dilemma
when a new president is to be elected. Lord S. will keep it no
longer, and he is in a difficulty to propose another. He has written
to the Duke of Bedford, and I fear in a way that may make the duke
suppose that Government approves of it. Lord Carrington I suspected
intended to come in again, but he assures me that he would not.
_March 3._—I borrowed of Mr. Wilberforce, Owen[228] on ‘Indwelling
Sin,’ to which are annexed two other essays on Temptation and the
Mortification of Sin in Believers. The last work is incomparable,
chapter ix. of it perhaps the most useful paper ever written. I
have made many extracts from all three. The essay on Mortification
I meditate printing a new edition of, being out of print, to which
I could add notes that might be useful. The reading these
treatises has had an effect on my mind which I hope, with the
blessing of the grace of God, will produce a more serious
attention to the state of my heart with God than reading any book
has done since Wilberforce’s.
_April 20._—At Bradfield. Yesterday returned from Harwich. Arthur
and Jane went on board the ‘Diana’ packet, Capt. Stewart, Thursday,
the 18th, at 3 o’clock, and I have taken a long and melancholy
farewell of them! Oh! may Almighty God give His blessing to the
undertaking, and that we may all meet again in health and happiness.
But when the fearful uncertainty of all earthly events is
considered, such partings ought to be more melancholy than they are.
She felt much, and has a cordial affection for me.
The undertaking, thus employed by a foreign sovereign to make a
report of one of his provinces, is the first thing of the kind that
has occurred, and will either give Arthur a great reputation, or
sink that which he has gained. It is a very difficult work, however,
to produce a good book from a very ill-cultivated province, and in
the large experience of all our own reports we see that very few are
well executed; the object has either been ill understood or poorly
done, the surveyors deal in reflections instead of giving the
experience of individuals, yet the husbandry of a county is made up
of nothing else but private exertions. They do not half travel
[over] the districts, and do not take notes of the practice of one
hundredth part of those persons that might be applied to. Arthur
goes with every possible advantage except languages, I hope he will
exert them.
Bradfield is very melancholy without them. Jane was always cheerful,
always affectionate and kind to me, ever pleased with my presence,
and never parted from me but with regret. The loss of such a friend
with much conversation and an excellent understanding nothing human
can make amends for. It is a loss that ought to turn all my
attention and all my heart to that better world where parting,
sorrow, and death will find no place.
_24th._—Last night I slept at Bury, at the Oakes’, having walked
there in the morning and dined with them. It raised my low spirits a
little—but badly—for such company is mere dissipation.
On Monday morning, hankering after some sort of dissipation to
divert my melancholy, I fortunately recollected that Jane had left
Cowper’s Letters, and that I had not read the third volume. I got
it, and beginning knew not how to lay the book out of my hand, and
before night read the volume through. There is an uncommon charm in
his sentiments and his style; something that interests the heart
wonderfully. The religious passages are peculiarly valuable, and a
few struck me very much.
On the Sabbath he is extremely just. On turning the mind from
creation’s beauties to creation’s Author, the observation is fine;
his remarks on the life of dissipation at Brighton, beautiful; on
religion, page 106, on local attachments, on familiar communion with
God, on natural music, terminated by a most sublime passage—‘There
is somewhere in infinite space a world that does not roll within the
precincts of mercy; and as it is reasonable and even scriptural to
suppose that there is music in heaven, in those dismal regions
perhaps the reverse of it is found. Tones so dismal as to make woe
itself more insupportable, and to acuminate even despair!’ What a
striking thought! But how many are there that will believe in
neither hell nor devil, and what must their belief and feelings be
who, closing their ears here, open them to the sounds of such a
world as that! How many passages do we meet with in great authors
which seem sufficient to strike a reader’s mind to conviction and
conversion; yet read by thousands, perhaps admired, without the
smallest effect on the heart.
_25th._—A Mr. Cole called here to ask about passports for Russia. He
has hired 30,000 acres in the province of Minsk, which he is to have
with 300 boors, paying half the profits as rent. He was advised not
to take a grant of land, as it would cause a difficulty after it to
quit Russia. I must caution Arthur about this, for he may entangle
himself without being aware of it. In the melancholy, solitary
moments I pass here, I have been thinking of the many blessings the
Almighty has been graciously pleased to shower down upon me. First,
He gives me great health, at sixty-four, as good as at any time for
twenty years past, and much better than forty years ago. Secondly,
He has been pleased to leave me two children. Oh, that He would call
them to feel truly His faith, fear, and love! Thirdly, He has
granted me an ample income very far beyond what I had, upon entering
the world, the smallest reason to expect. I have many doubts of
money ever being a blessing, but that is owing to the receiver and
not to the giver, it certainly is that which might be made by grace
a very considerable one. Fourthly, He has given me the power of
being greatly useful to my country; it would be foolish not to
reckon that which I know beyond the possibility of vanity deceiving
me. Fifthly, He has given me a paternal estate and residence which I
greatly love and never wish to change. I could go on and reckon many
other things, but these are sufficient to call for a heartfelt and
deeply abiding gratitude. I ought to be able to add, that I am
miserable for want of feeling this as I should do; in truth I am in
this respect a brute beast devoid of everything that marks the
Christian and the penitent. O Lord, of Thy mercy soften this
obdurate heart by the grace of Jesus Christ! Fill it with contrition
for offences. Purify and renew it, bring it in holy faith to the
foot of the Cross, and make it feel its iniquities, till it be
changed and impressed with Thy holy image.
_26th._—I read the concluding entry of yesterday, and it struck me
that I had not thanked God for the friends He had given me, and this
made me muse for a while. Had I wrote before I became serious, how
warmly should I have thanked Him on this score! How it is with
others I know not, but with me religion has cooled, checked, or
annihilated those feelings; real friendship cannot be felt by a
Christian but to a Christian.
What surprises me much more is that I do not feel any very
striking advantage from the society of Christians. This I
attribute as a fault in myself, and dare say it is for want of
more grace and prayer. I love their company, and, some hankerings
apart, desire no other. I hope with God’s blessing to improve in
this respect—hitherto solitude has been my best friend. Here there
are none to be acquainted with but a very few poor people who are
never at their ease with me; and at London those I know are too
much engaged to see many more than for a moment. Going to bed at
nine o’clock prevents the society I might otherwise have there if
it were followed up.
_28th._—Symonds slept here the night before last and dined twice,
which obliged me to postpone more business than I otherwise should
have done. He told me one anecdote I had not heard before. In Lord
Bute’s administration, as his lordship told him himself, the King
settled with him to give the Royal Society 500_l._ a year for ever,
which was accordingly communicated, and to Lord Bute’s amazement
refused. On enquiry he found that the motive was an apprehension
that he should become too popular if it was accepted! Was ever such
folly heard of?
Another anecdote of Symonds. He dined last year at Sir C. Bunbury’s,
where he met the rich Mr. Mills, the brandy merchant, who bought
Mure’s estate, and who said he found my ‘Annals’ there, which were
good for nothing. ‘What, nothing good in them?’ said S. ‘No, nothing
at all.’ ‘That is unfortunate with so many correspondents. But if
the “Annals” are bad, have you read Mr. Y.’s travels?’ ‘Yes, and
very poor stuff they are.’ ‘That is still more unfortunate, for I
know that the Marshal de Castries and the late King of Prussia spoke
in the highest possible terms of them, and books in French by
respectable writers have been dedicated to Mr. Y. in consequence of
that publication.’ ‘I can see nothing in them.’
The next day he wrote Symonds a letter with many apologies, as he
understood that he had been talking to a gentleman who had
contributed much to the ‘Annals.’
So much for my rich neighbour.
Letters from London, and I am very sorry to find that my poor wife
is much worse. Nothing but bad news. Sir J. Banks writes me that Sir
J. Sinclair is to resume the chair of the Board under promises of
good behaviour. My wife’s miserable state is a much worse business.
_May 22._—I am entirely alone and not without melancholy. Worldly
people have a thousand resources, as I had once, but every atom of
them leads to mischief, and I am a thousand times better without
them. Lord Carrington the other day, speaking to Sir C. Willoughby
about his son going to school, said, ‘Oh, send him to a great one,
which will give him a manly character fit for the world, make him a
man of the world.’ So it is with these people; Jesus Christ tells us
to hate the world, and that what is in high estimation amongst men
is abomination in the eyes of God; but worldly men declare, and
think, and feel, and act, directly hostile to Scripture; they urge
one another and impress as respectable everything that God abhors.
Words cannot express a character more in contradiction to the
Christian than that which is meant by a _man of the world_.
_23rd._—I was awake at 2 A.M. and laid without sleep till 3 A.M. My
thoughts were not edifying, so I jumped out of bed, and having
prayed to the Father of mercies, I began with business. But the
train of thought I had been in came again and interrupted me; it was
upon the event of what would befall me as secretary to the Board. I
have many reasons for thinking that several of the members do not
like me, and should anything happen that gave them any handle, would
be glad to get rid of me. This was not the case when I was one of
themselves, but they know that I associate with religious people, go
to the Lock (a very black mark), and read the Bible, and now and
then words drop which I understand. Should Sir J. Sinclair become
president or Lord Carrington, they might make it very unpleasant to
me. Sir John is as poor as a church mouse, and would like well to
have his lodging here. Should my family lessen, it would be quite
unbearable, and if the idea was started, I must resist it, the
question would probably be lost, and then I should resign; this
would fix me in repose at Bradfield, and I should be to the full as
happy as at present, but my family would not, and then—all this is
very wild. I will have done with it for so much as I am persuaded
that everything is in the hands of God; nothing can be greater folly
than pretending thus to look forward, it is equally useless and
uncomfortable.
_June 3._—Since the last entry I have had letters from Jane and
Arthur at Berlin, where they seemed to have stayed a week. They had
been received with great politeness and attention by the Princess of
Holstein, Prince Baratinsky’s mother; had dined with her, and she
carried them to her villa; they had dined also with the English and
Russian Ambassadors, and been at Charlottenburg with Sir G. Rumbold.
I begin to be a little restless to get into the country.
_15th._—Bradfield. I got here the 6th, earlier than ever before or
since the institution of the Board, which is a great blessing. I
have managed to escape both Woburn and Holkham.
I have missed Jane terribly, but I have endeavoured to turn it to a
religious account. Poorly and weakly, but still better than not at
all. The weather has been bad, which has caused my taking less
exercise than is good for me, but blessed be God, my health is
excellent.
I have stuck close to my great work the ‘Elements,’ and have gone
through my own Norfolk report and the fourth volume of the Board
‘Communications.’ What an immense labour has it been, and for how
many years to collect and arrange materials. I could not have
conceived how much it is necessary to do before I can fairly say,
Now all is before me and in order, ready to compare and draw
conclusions.
I mean it to contain everything good that has ever been printed.
Till all that is collected and before me, how can I know what is
already done, and what wants to be added?
But the labour, when continued year after year, is what I never
dreamt of when I began. I have worked hard at the first
division—_Soils_, and brought it into some form; and it is a
specimen of how much attention every division will demand. I have
also began the second, on Vegetation. I fear making the work too
voluminous, and that by-and-by I must curtail greatly. Success is
pleasant, and I should fear that if it exceeded two large quartos.
Since I have been here I have read a little work of Flavel’s,[229]
‘A Saint indeed,’ which is truly admirable; some [passages] in
Marshall[230] on ‘Sanctification,’ and very many of Cowper’s
letters, all the religious ones.
_18th._—Cowper is invaluable to a country gentleman that would enjoy
his residence without the world’s assistance. Reading his letters
has made me more attentive to every beauty of this place, of which I
was always so fond; there is something very amiable in the manner in
which he converts every flower, tree, and twig to enjoyment, and I
walk out better prepared for this pleasure from the perusal of that
most agreeable writer. There is but one danger from which, poor man,
his poverty secured him, and that is the mind insensibly running
into speculation of improvement. I have made many here, and the
taste is very insatiable; this may without a guard lead to too much
expense. But I endeavour to correct the wanderings of imagination,
and to dwell on the beauties of every single tree, shrub, and spot,
and to be content with them all as they are. The laburnum in the
back lawn is more beautiful than I ever saw it, so entirely covered
with rich clusters of its golden flowers, that I can admire it for
an hour together. This enjoyment, however, is very poor and fading
if we do not, with Cowper, tum our minds habitually to the great and
beneficent Author of all these beauties. This sentiment is
impressive and durable, and leads the mind to the richest
contemplations. If for such a race the earth is thus clothed, what
must heaven be?
A reading habit is a great blessing. I am sure I find it so, for
though I have risen at 3 A.M. since I have been here, and not once
been in bed at four, still I am not tired at night. A walk is a
refreshment to be had in the country in a moment, but at London half
a mile of street thronged and noisy, and then only a crowded park,
with sights to wound or to tempt. I do not like snow, but a deep one
and blustering wind here is preferable to calm sunshine in the
streets of London.
But much as I like Bradfield even alone, I must leave it and get
quickly into Essex. I could write the Report from materials before
me, and from a long knowledge of the county, and produce a valuable
work, but that would not be honest. I shall take their money, and
will therefore travel as much in it, and give as much attention to
it, as if I had no materials at all to work upon.
_August 12._—Letters from Jane and Arthur at St. Petersburg. They
give sad accounts of the treatment the English have received there
if most specific agreements be not made beforehand for everything. I
wish cordially they were well home again, and so do they, I believe.
_October 20._—At Rayleigh. To keep a journal in this manner is
nonsense, and worse than nonsense; besides, I have time to do
better, and therefore ought to do it.
Three nights past I slept at the Earl of St. Vincent’s, who, being a
great character, forces a note. I had much inclination to have
called on him, as I heard of Sir T. Leonard that he farmed, but I
thought it would be a forward step, and so passed on to the Squire
of the parish, Towers. He was in with the gout, but his sons told me
that they had lately dined in company of Lord St. V., who mentioned
my being in the country, and that he expected to see me. Whence this
expectation came I have no conception. He received me politely,
pleasantly, and cordially; kept me all day to dinner and to sleep,
and desired me if ever I came near him again to be sure to make his
house my headquarters. He showed me every acre, cow, ox, and pig,
and talked sensibly enough on farming, as far as he knew of it. When
he returned he told me he did not dine till 6 P.M., and as he should
be out again, I should have a fire in Lady St. V.’s dressing room,
and a pen and ink, and that I was my own master. Montague Burgoyne
coming, he sent him up to me. At and after dinner much political
conversation, for Burgoyne is a desperate politician. It was plain
that Lord St. Vincent thought himself very ill used by opposition as
well as by Mr. Pitt; he seemed to think that they made a great cry
about him while it served their own purpose, but that when this
would not answer, they cared little for him and forgot him, but he
praised Lord Sidmouth greatly. Burgoyne, who wanted Fox in when Lord
Sidmouth accepted, told Lord St. V. the only sin he ever committed
was joining that lord, as he could not have made an administration
without him. He said it was impossible to resist, the state of the
country was such that his conscience would have condemned him; it
was greatly to his personal injury, for he was, as commander of the
Channel fleet, in the receipt of a good 25,000_l._ a year, which he
gave up for a miserably paid Cabinet place then of only 3,000_l._
That the King urged him to keep the command with the Admiralty, and
Lord Sidmouth agreed to it, but he would not do it, it would have
been wrong. The King urged the precedent of Lord Howe, who kept
both, and why should not he? But he was firm. He hates all
religions, called Lord Barham an old canting hypocrite—all of
them—and ‘little Wilber-force too!’ I said something against that,
but not half enough. He remarked that the old hypocrite would soon,
very soon, be removed. I hope in this he will find himself mistaken.
He swears pretty much, not quite as sailors do, but he says grace
before and after dinner; is not this hypocrisy? He has great
spirits, a good understanding, and is very pleasant.
_December 9._—My old friend Symonds being dangerously and in all
probability fatally ill, I went yesterday to see him. I was there
four hours. He dozed much, but when awake had the perfect use of his
faculties, though not quite speech enough or recollection to explain
himself as when well; my dear Jane took him to be a real Christian,
though not without thinking he had bad notions on certain points. I
ever doubted it, and thought I saw much in him of sound, good
doctrine, but great deficiencies.
He utterly disbelieved original sin, which appeared always to me a
fatal sign.
He talked to me of Naples, Bonaparte, &c., said he had something
_particular_ to say to me, upon which B. left the room. It was to
tell me that Cocksedge would not give 40_l._ for a very well done
map and survey of the Eldo estate, and that therefore he should take
care that he should have nothing done to accommodate him, no part of
the furniture should be his, &c. _This will be talked of_, and
therefore mention the motive. What stuff to occupy the attention of
a dying man! I took four or five opportunities, or rather made them,
to turn his mind to Christ, but they passed, and he was silent, not
one religious or serious word came out of his mouth, nothing of the
kind seemed to be in his mind. He was in general quite easy and
composed, and slept perfectly free from any apparent disturbance.
Awful is such insensibility.
_10th._—I was with him again yesterday, and through such a day of
rain that I hope I shall not take cold. He was just the same,
mentioned Casburn’s account of the Blue Coat Hospital, and being
washed four times a day; talked of the water gods, smiled, and
joked. I could not endure the moment passing without another attempt
to turn his mind to more serious impressions. I asked C. if he had
had any prayers said to and for him. No, he had not mentioned it,
but two nights before he had prayed shortly for himself. I told him
that there ought to be prayers in the room, and that C. could read
them. He said, ‘_Yes, he could_,’ and for the family also! It made
no impression, and soon after closing his eyes as if for sleep,
said, ‘Your servant, I only keep you,’ so I left him. I have fears
that it is a sort of judicial blindness and insensibility of his
state to have his senses and make no better use of them, I am much
shocked.
_11th._—Yesterday there again, but he was getting up to have his bed
made, and White, the physician, thought I had better not go up.
_January 10, 1806._—Peggy Metcalfe lent me ‘Marie Menzikoff’ as a
true history, and I, like a fool, read much of it, after finding it
a mere romance. I have not looked at anything of the novel kind for
many years, but this French thing seized my attention and hurried me
on. I wish she had been further before putting it in my hands. It
has unhinged me, and broken my attention to better things, which
shows strongly how pernicious this sort of reading is, and what a
powerful temptation to vice such productions are sure to prove.
Oh! the number of miserables that novels have sent to perdition!
_16th._—I have been looking over Dr. Johnson’s ‘Prayers and
Meditations,’ and, upon the whole, the feeling they have impressed
is that of pity; he seemed by one passage to think his complaints
nearly allied to madness, and often speaks of his morbid melancholy;
his sloth seems to have been dreadful. What a contrast to the life
of John Wesley!
His religion seems to have been against the very grain of his soul,
and all the tendencies of his mind to have arisen from his
understanding only, and never to have been truly in his heart.
Company, and engagements, and indolence keep him from church from
January to March; he scarcely ever got to it in time for the
service, and he aimed in resolutions only at taking the Sacrament
thrice in the year; he does not name a book (the Scriptures
excepted) that was likely to give a right turn to his devotion. To
study religion and to read the Scriptures was a matter for
resolution, like rising early, but he does not seem to have been
carried to the employment by the comfort, hope, joy, and consolation
to be derived from them, they were never his pleasure. ’Tis well his
mind was morbid, for he seems to me (from this work) never to have
been really converted. Fasting, penance, and a gloomy superstition
banished from his soul the felicities of piety founded in faith. But
I must look it over again with more care. Yesterday morning I went
to Flempton and called on Carter; with him I had some very proper
conversation. He is far from the truly evangelical state, and his
mind fully occupied with being satisfied with the opinions and
conduct of the regular clergy in general; he has no affection, no
regard for truly evangelical ones, a readiness to sneer at them, and
with all a laxity in doctrines, a comprehensive _candour_, which
gives me but an ill opinion of his doctrines. He is a very worthy
respectable man in all worldly points.
My neighbour Gooch called yesterday. He has taken the curacy of
Wattisfield of Plampin, who has evaded the curate’s law. Gooch gave
me twenty cases at least of rectors who decidedly cheat and impose
on their curates by most unworthy evasions; but if a farmer cheats
them of a turnip in tithe, they pronounce them all the rogues to be
imagined. Most lamentable is this for those who should be the
ministers of Christ’s gospel.
But in no country that I have heard of is there such a set of clergy
as in this neighbourhood. Dreadful!
I have been sketching out an essay on the defence of the kingdom in
case of invasion, and yesterday added to it. The regularity with
which I have made entries in my journal since I determined to write
one line in it, shows the infinite importance of method and
regularity in every pursuit and business of life. What is regularly
undertaken will be regularly executed, but desultory endeavours at
fits and starts perform nothing.
_22nd._—Yesterday I went up into my dear Bobbin’s room, in which I
had not been for a year or more. I wiped the mould off her books,
&c., with a heavy heart, and prayed to God that I might join her
spirit in heaven. It made me very melancholy! She has been dead nine
years, would therefore have been two-and-twenty had it pleased God
to spare her. But what a world is this for a girl of that age!
_23rd._—To-day I pack up and prepare, and to-morrow, with God’s
permission, to London. May He protect me from all dangers! Mr. Pitt
dead! This has struck a damp into my soul that I cannot shake off.
_26th._—Arrived safely, thanks to the Lord. Yesterday I unpacked and
set all my things in order. Mrs. Y. better than I expected, but I
cannot perceive that warmth of gratitude to God which I hoped to
find. I know not what to make of her state of soul! Pitt’s death
made a considerable sensation, and I wonder not at it. The
providence of the Almighty has taken the two men perhaps the most
necessary to our worldly prosperity in order to show us that it is
on Him only we should depend, and to convince us that vain is the
arm of flesh. May He protect us! Providence is better to depend on
than a hundred Nelsons and Pitts if we consider them in any light
except that of means in the hand of Him who governs the fate of
nations.
Ministry not arranged. It is said that Fox is as much plagued with
the apprehensions of some of his own people as with those of the
Grenvilles. Grey First Lord of Admiralty! Is it possible? What a
scheme!
Could not sleep longer for three nights past than half-past two or
three; evil imaginations were generating. Plunged out of bed, but as
I cannot get to bed before ten (at Lady Egremont’s last night but
one, and De Bees’ last night) it makes me heavy. De Bees says that
all foreigners agree as to the folly of our expeditions; that to the
Mediterranean should have been in greater force to Venice, which
would have preserved that city, and enabled the Archduke Charles to
have stood his ground. It is obvious, if driven from the Continent,
Venice at least would have been saved.
_February 2._—I have seen Smirenove, he thinks his Emperor will have
a great army on the Danube early in the spring, for preparations are
active; they think, or have intelligence, that Bonaparte has ceded
to Austria much more than Servia, probably large provinces, to cut
Russia off from contact with the Turks. He has Trieste, and now his
dominions embrace both shores of the Adriatic and join the Turkish
Empire. This must be productive of great events, and I cannot but
look forward to the destruction of that Empire which seems clearly
advancing, and we all know how very important an epoch that will be
towards the winding up of all things.
_8th._—Mary dined with Lord Coventry, and met Mrs. Lyggon and Mrs.
Nesbit, and heard that D. Moira will take nothing. He wanted to be
Prime Minister, and the King would rather have had him. The Queen of
Wurtemburg has written a letter to our Queen and to Lady Harrington
in praise of the politeness and goodness of Bonaparte. De Bees in
the evening; Fox was in powder, which made everyone stare.
_14th._—Read much in Skinner’s ‘State of Peru,’[231] which has some
curious things in it. I work every morning on my ‘Elements,’ but
though I have been near thirty years reading and making extracts for
this work (but with long intermissions), yet now I am arranging the
chapters and sections I find numberless gaps to supply as I advance.
_15th._—Dined with the Duke of Grafton against my will, for I think
it wrong to go to the house of a Unitarian, or have anything to do
with them; the only defence of its lawfulness even that I know of is
St. Paul’s supposition of his converts being invited to a feast, and
_if you are disposed to go_, &c., then do so. In the evening Walker,
an engraver, who has been twenty years at St. Petersburg, and who
brought letters from Jane some time ago, called. He gives but a bad
account of Russia, and it is from every authority a very bad country
to live in, in every respect that should make a country desirable,
except the people being good tempered and very ingenious. England!
England! thou art the first of countries! Oh! that thou wert
grateful to Heaven for the multitude of thy blessings.
_20th._—Lord Carrington half an hour, then Vancouver,[232] who has
seen Vansittart[233] on his tour scheme, and who did not seem to
approve of it at all, but desired him to have an interview at
Tyrrwhitt’s with Dr. Beke to hear his opinion, whom he esteems much,
the greatest political arithmetician of the time. This is
accordingly to take place. Vansittart told him the whole income of
the public is 200,000,000 sterling. V. replied that it was three
times as much. At night I went to the Lock and heard a most
excellent sermon by Fry on Luke xi. 21, 22.
_22nd._—It was so fine a day that I took a walk to Kensington
Gardens Gate. The Marquis of Hertford chatted with me for some time
as he walked his horse, and wants a drainer for his estate in
Ireland. I saw Marshall[234] also, and I never see and converse with
him, but I think I see the haughty, proud, ill-tempered, snarling,
disgusted character which he manifested in his connection with Sir
John Sinclair. A thousand pities that so extremely able a man, for
of his talents there can be no question, should not have more
amenity and mildness. Government, however, should have promoted him
without any doubt; and it is a blot in their scutcheon that they
have not done it.
The funeral of Mr. Pitt. I think him a very great national loss, and
did not go near any part of the business. Pomp and pageantry of all
sorts do not accord with my feelings. A pamphlet published to
prepare us for peace, ‘The Relative Situation of France and
England,’ said to be by Wraxall.[235] I dread a peace politically,
but as a Christian all is directed by Him who cannot err.
_25th._—I have of late been uneasy lest Dodsley, the bookseller,
should have lost much money by my ‘Experimental Agriculture,’ and
called on Becket to know what became of him, and who he left. There
I found that Nicoll was one of his executors, and now the only one
left. I went to him and desired some information. On examining the
list of his books he found there was but one single copy, and that
consequently to suppose he lost by the work would be idle. ‘I can
tell you what he gave you for the copy, for here is one of the
greatest of curiosities.’ This was Dodsley’s book for authors’
receipts; in that he showed me William Burke’s receipt for 6_l._
6_s._ on account of Edmund Burke, for the copy of the ‘Vindication
of Natural Society.’ That book, said Nicoll, was so much admired in
France by d’Alembert, Diderot, &c. &c., that it made them mad, and
really produced the Revolution.
‘And now’ (he added) ‘I have shown you what Burke had for kindling
the Revolution, let me also show you what he had for putting it
out,’ and then he pointed out his (Burke’s) own receipt for
1,000_l._ for the profits of his famous volume. The [other]
writings, &c., one other of his later pamphlets, were sold together
for 300_l._ He seems, however, to have left it to Dodsley, and when
the things were sold, to have taken what D. said was fair. Melmoth
had a great deal of money of him, for his translations, &c.
At night letters to us all. Three came from Jane and Arthur. A sad
account of the interpreter provided for him, who is an ignorant
puppy of a nobleman who is too lazy to do anything. Of all the
Governments I have heard of, it seems to be the most stupid, the
most ignorant, and the most profligate: the fact, I dare say, is
that the army alone is attended [to]. They had the news of the
battle of Austerlitz, with a loss as they supposed of 40,000
Russians. Not a family at Moscow but must have lost a relation, yet
a grand ball that night, and nothing but gaiety and festivity. They
have no feeling. The governor took Jane into a window and told her
that he was informed she disapproved of all her husband’s farming
ideas as much as anyone could do, and ridiculed all his schemes.
Upon explanation it came from Marshall Romanzoff, who had it from a
German baron that had been at Bradfield, who, admiring the number of
experiments, Mrs. Y. told him that she detested them all, and that I
had ruined myself by them. A true report I will answer for, for this
was her conduct through life. Lamentable it was that no enemy ever
did me the mischief that I received from the wife of my bosom by the
grossest falsehoods and the blackest malignity; of just such
anecdotes of her conversation I have had instances from every part
of the world. But do such things rise from the dust? Oh! no, they
come from God, and were far less than what I merited at His hands. I
had such as I deserved, or much better.
_27th._—I was up at four o’clock and kept the fast till 8.30 at
night; and as I have a strong stomach that will bear it pretty well,
I determined to take no snuff, of which I every day take much, and
am almost uncomfortable if at any time I forget my box. This was
more a fast with me than abstaining from food; but whether it was
not done in a right spirit, or that I had thought about it too much,
I know not, but I was dead, and sleepy, and sluggish in body and
soul all day except at the evening sermon. Unluckily the night
before the fast long letters from Russia, and an account that Arthur
had been warned much as if he would be murdered, so determinately
hostile to the object are all the Russian nobility.
_March 1._—Yesterday was a most worrying moment, full of labour and
anxiety. In the morning to Smirenove, to read him my letter to
Novosilikoff. He advised me to call on Count Strogonoff, who is here
on a political mission, and who treated with Arthur at St.
Petersburg. Accordingly, as soon as I returned, I wrote to request
he would name a time for my waiting on him, which he did, and fixed
Sunday, 10.30. Oh, how the world values that day!
Then to copy fair my letter to Novosilikoff and inclose it to Arthur
in his; this, with two hundred other things, kept me till dinner on
the table to the chin in anxiety, for if I did not trust in the
goodness and mercy of God’s providence, I should be fearfully
apprehensive of my son’s personal safety, the hints he has had are
alarming.
Their general conviction at Moscow, that he is come with full powers
or intentions to emancipate the boors, have made them all hostile to
the plan.
_March 17._—Yesterday morning, at 4 A.M., I came down to pray
according to custom, and it pleased God that I should pray with more
than usual fervency. I then meditated a little and fell asleep. I
awaked with a certain sweetness of frame that I noticed at the time,
and a transitory idea crossed my mind that God had heard my prayers,
and that what I felt might possibly be His grace, or an effusion in
some small degree of the Holy Spirit in my soul. It struck me also
that I should know if it was by the current of my thoughts and
imaginations; for any proof of the Spirit unattended by good effects
would be a mere fanatical idea. I took the blessed Sacrament, and in
the evening Fry preached on the means of ascertaining whether a man
has the Spirit or not—a very excellent sermon, and one well adapted
to urge and assist self-examination. The day closed, and I was not
sensible of giving way to any loose and wild imaginations.
_23rd._—Thanks to the ever blessed God, I think that I spent last
week in a more satisfactory frame of heart and mind than any for an
age past—more upon the watch against sin—more in contemplation of
the greatness and goodness of God; vile thoughts have intruded, but
I dismissed them by struggling, and my prayers have been more
fervent.
_April 19._—I have only to-day and to-morrow in the country.
Solitude agrees best with my soul. I read all day, and only
divinity, temptations are distant. Wesley could not bear the
country, from the hurry and bustle of his perpetual labours having
given him habits quite contrary to it.
_June 3._—I was up again this morning at 3 A.M., and by it escaped
falling into evil imaginations. This is an evil I thus fight against
and struggle to avoid. I think the Lord will hear my prayers and
free me from this buffeting of Satan, this thorn in the flesh, which
is a horrible disquiet to me.
_4th._—I found the devil at work with me this morning, and jumped
out of bed at twenty minutes before 3 A.M., dressed, and came down
to prayers.
Paying debts formerly with me had but little effect from the
necessary contraction of new ones; but at present I have abstained
steadily from all, so that though I want shirts, &c., and have only
one coat, and that much worn, yet I order nothing, that I may
endeavour effectively to get quite free as soon as possible.
_17th._—A letter from Arthur, he has had a week’s fever, and went
back to Moscow, which recovered him. It was caused by want of sleep,
owing to bugs, lice, fleas, &c., fatigue and vile food. They are
horrid savages, and five centuries behind us in all but vice,
wickedness, and extravagance. The interpreter behaves much better,
which is comfortable.
_18th._—The last Board for the season sat yesterday and adjourned
till November. Mr. Coke was here, pressed me to go to Holkham; but I
have long determined against it; there is not one feature which
could carry a Christian there for pleasure, but a thousand to repel
him, and this is so much the case with all public meetings that they
are odious. The Norfolk farmers are rich and profligate; of course
oaths and profanations salute the ear at every turn; and gentlemen
and the great, when without ladies, are too apt to be as bad as the
mob, and many of them much worse. I am never in such company, but
the repugnance of my soul to it is so great, that much as I love
agriculture I can renounce it with more pleasure than I can partake
of it thus contaminated. I shall get to Bradfield as soon as
possible, I hope on Saturday, and having much to do there, God send
that employment may keep me out of all temptation.
_July 13._—Every Sunday I hear sixteen or eighteen children read the
Scripture and say their Catechism, and I pay for the schooling of
all that will learn. They are sadly careless and inattentive, but
still they come on. If it pleases God to turn it to account by their
reading the Scriptures it will be well. The rest of the day I pass
in reading; the spirit of visiting in the country among servants
prevents much that might be done, but still I am not satisfied, and
must find the means of doing more in the instruction of the parish
poor.
_14th._—I have been reading over my ‘Inquiry into the Propriety of
applying Wastes to the better Maintenance of the Poor.’ I had almost
forgotten it, but of all the essays and papers I have produced, none
I think so pardonable as this, so convincing by facts, and so
satisfactory to any candid reader. Thank God I wrote it, for though
it never had the smallest effect except in exciting opposition and
ridicule, it will, I trust, remain a proof of what ought to have
been done; and had it been executed, would have diffused more
comfort among the poor than any proposition that ever was made.
_February 21, 1807._—To think of keeping a journal regularly is all
in vain; the gaps in mine are terrible.
_March 9._—Mrs. Wilberforce lent me Crichton’s ‘Diary of
Blackadder,’[236] and gave me Dr. Owen on the 130th Psalm. I have
read much of the former and find it a reproach to my whole soul,
life, and conversation. What a Christian was there! and what a
wretch am I?
_10th._—I am very much struck with ‘Blackadder’s Diary’ and letters
to his wife, so much so that I have prayed earnestly to God to
enable me by His grace to have the same constant trust and reliance
in His mercy and goodness that this excellent Christian had.
_12th._—The Marquis Saloo, from Sicily, gave me many accounts of
Bolsamo, and how much he referred in his lectures to his master,
Arthur Young. If there be glory in this sort of fame, oh! my Father,
let me have done with glorying save in the Cross of the Lord Jesus.
I have been glorying in foreign and domestic fame for forty years in
true fleshly vanity.
I have been seven weeks in London, and, blessed be the Lord, I have
had only four or five invitations to dinner and accepted but two.
There has been a great kick up in the Ministry. Tyrrwhitt, from
Carleton House, called here, and tells me that Lord Sidmouth and his
friends were actually _out_, but the Foxites made it up with the
King, pacified him, and they were immediately restored; but Lord
Howick and the rest are to give their opinion in the House of
Commons, and the obnoxious clause to be left out. The King is ready
to turn many out the moment there is strength enough to carry on
business without them.
Called at Lord Egremont’s; that detestable atheistical profligate
kinsman —— was with him. Lord E. loud in the commendation of the
_Dactylis glomerata_;[237] it succeeds so greatly with him on cold,
strong, wet lands that oxen fatten where they could never be _kept_
before, and it grows all winter. I was the first man in England that
had five acres of this grass. I believe they had a root of it twenty
years ago; I had much, and recommended it greatly.
A letter from Tyrrwhitt, Carleton House, to inform me that
Vansittart and Lord Grenville approve my plan, which I proposed to
T. It is this: The Baltic and co. [country] around it being shut up
or eaten up, and 400,000 men in our grainery [granary], should we
this year have a short crop of wheat or a bad harvest, or a mildew,
the supply being cut off, the price would rise beyond all
experience; therefore I propose that the Government should supply
money to enable the Board to give great premium for the culture of
potatoes _for the use of cattle and horses_; without this object an
alarm might spread and more mischief than good accrue. T. writes me
they approve the idea, and will _advance_ the Board 2,000_l._, but I
will have this explained; it must not be to lend 2,000_l._ but to
_give_ it.
_March 26._—I am very sure that I do not give to poor Christians so
much as I ought to do, but I am in doubt whether I do not give more
than I ought to do to others. Here is a German, Behrens, once a
merchant in good circumstances, whom Sir John received papers from
and sent to me. He translated a paper for the Board, and made known
such poverty that I promised him a pair of boots; but writing to him
on the translation, I took occasion to enquire what religion he was
of; he was educated a Lutheran, but I see plainly he has none. He
shall have the boots, but I shall give him nothing else. I can do
nothing for Christians if I give to all others that apply.
_April 6._—At Bradfield. There is a poor fellow in the gaol
condemned to die next Wednesday for forging or uttering bank notes.
I heard some bad accounts of him, and as I came from Bury early in
the morning, yesterday called to see him. I found that he had been
attended by the minister, Mr. Hastead, and also by a Methodist,
recommended by a brother of his. I had a good deal of conversation
with him, and prayed with him. He was very ignorant, and had no
feeling of religion till he was condemned, but has since been
instructed and spoke properly enough, lamenting his want of faith at
times, and at others being full of faith. I gave him the best
instruction I could, and urged little more than (which is his only
possible hope) faith in the Lord Jesus. He prayed aloud for some
minutes, and more to the purpose than I should have expected. He
thanked me much for coming, and as he begged me to come again I
promised, and accordingly this morning went on purpose. It comforted
him much. I prayed earnestly and fervently for him, and his amens
and ejaculations seemed to come quite from his heart. I left him
tranquil, and, blessed be a merciful God, I think he may without
presumption hope strongly for pardon at the throne of mercy.
I am planting lands, and forming an experiment on the application of
vegetable substances as manure.
_29th._—London. At eight o’clock at night I received the following
note from Sir John Sinclair. I hurried away to the place named in
the cover, Great Shire Lane, where I found Sir John; and Dr.
Garthshore on the same errand as myself.
We signed a bail bond.
‘My dear Sir,—A most extraordinary circumstance has happened to
me. A rascally saddler, whom I employed at Edinburgh to furnish
accoutrements to my regiment of Invincibles, brought me in so
exorbitant an amount, that I refused to pay it; and instead of
bringing an action against me at Edinburgh, he has arrested me for
750_l._ So many of my friends are out of town, that I must trouble
you to give bail for my appearance.
‘Sincerely yours,
‘JOHN SINCLAIR.
‘Tuesday.’
Sir John’s regiment has been disbanded nine or ten years, and
consequently this rascally saddler has been at least so long kept
out of his money. What can these people think of themselves! To live
quietly while thus depriving tradesmen of their right for such a
number of years!
_May 16._—This is the first fine day that has occurred since I left
town; the lilacs are coming fast into blossom, and the fresh verdure
of the grass and trees is highly pleasing.
_August 29._—As the time approaches to go this Oxford journey, I
dislike it more and more, and wish I had firmly rejected it. I am
not in a situation at all comfortable here, and have only one
maid—no man or boy—and only the carpenter to put my horse in the
whisky; but with a little exertion all this could be arranged. Mrs.
Y. going to the sea for seven weeks, and therefore seven weeks’
peace here if I stayed. I am in a regular habitual application to my
‘Elements,’ and have made a good progress in them, so that if I kept
here I should have gone through many meetings of the Board; and then
if it pleased the Lord to take me, they would at least be in a state
to be serviceable to mankind, and the great collection I have made
in divinity would gradually be brought into order.
All around here is a region dead in iniquity and sins, as far as
ladies and gentlemen are concerned. Amongst the Sectaries there is
Christianity, and nowhere else, which is a horrible thing to think
of. The clergy are, if possible, more dead than any others; many of
them very profligate, many thoroughly worldly minded, but some of
very respectable moral characters, but without a spark of vital
religion.
I associate only with Mrs. O. Oakes. Having written till I am tired,
I go once or twice a week to relax with the mild green (_sic_) of
her soul, because I can be free and do as I like, and I try hard to
make her a Christian, but hitherto in vain. If evil ideas at any
time plague me, then I keep away, and, thanks to God, I have of late
had an unusual command over my imagination, which for years plagued
me terribly. Prayer is my refuge.
_November 23._—The 17th, 18th, and 19th at Euston, and I had much
conversation with the duke, in which I earnestly endeavoured to
impress on his mind the fact, that by his tenets he placed himself
entirely under the covenant of works, and that he must be tried for
them, and that I would not be in such a situation for ten thousand
worlds. He was mild and more patient than I expected.
He lent me, and I read it there, Priestley’s Life, by himself. He
asked me what I thought of it? My reply was that through the whole
it was the recital of a man perfectly well satisfied with himself,
not the confessions of a sinner lamenting what has been wrong in
him. He seems to have had no feeling of the sort; as if, when tried
by the test of his own merit, it would be a great injustice in God
not to be satisfied with him, and that I had no conception of any
man having it in his power to review or detail his life with any
religious aspect without much self-condemnation, and beseeching God
to try him in any way rather than by an appeal to his life or his
own merit, but (if he be really a Christian) by the merits only of
the blood of his Redeemer. He said it was my view of things, and not
that of the doctor, whom he believed was undoubtedly a very good
man. The conversation continued, but we were as far as the poles
asunder. The duke has drawn up memoirs of his life, and he and Lady
Augusta read to me that part which concerned his own administration,
which is very satisfactory, as it consists much of original letters.
He appears to much more advantage in it than I conceived he would
have done, and it was certainly a wise step to leave such a memorial
in justification of himself. Lord Templeton there one day. They seem
to me to grow more and more economical, and to descend to minute
attentions which are below their rank and fortune.
I do not feel comfortable, though he always receives me well, and
desires me to come again. It is long since I was there before, and
will be long before I go again; such visits, however, have very
little of dissipation in them, and so much the better.
The less we like them the safer they are.
[Note, probably by Mary, Arthur Young’s only surviving daughter]:
‘1807. It was upon this journey [into Oxfordshire] that Mr. Y. first
perceived the approach of that dimness of sight which afterwards
terminated in its total eclipse. His first suspicion arose from
looking at the planet Jupiter, and perceiving what appeared to him
to be two very small stars near him, at which he was much surprised,
as he knew that the satellites were invisible to the naked eye, and
nobody saw these stars but himself. This multiplication of bright
objects increased the following year, till at last one lamp appeared
to him to be five. Objects became by degrees more and more confused,
and at last totally disappeared.’
(Total blindness appears to have resulted from the failure of an
operation for cataract, as will be seen later on.)
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Footnote 223:
Mrs. Oakes.
Footnote 224:
This recalls Goethe’s line, ‘Der Augenblick ist Ewigkeit.’
Footnote 225:
Ch. Simeon, 1759-1836, an eminent divine of the Evangelical
school. His works, consisting of 2,536 sermons, &c., were
published in twenty-one volumes in 1832.
Footnote 226:
Orbell Oakes, husband of ‘my friend,’ the beautiful Betsy.
Footnote 227:
J. Townsend, 1740-1816, English divine, and author of _A Journey
through Spain_, 2nd edit. 1792.
Footnote 228:
John Owen, D.D., 1616-1683, the great Nonconformist divine who
accompanied Cromwell to Scotland. In 1817 A. Y. published
_Oweniana_ (or selections from his works).
Footnote 229:
John Flavel, Nonconformist divine, 1627-1662, author of numerous
works.
Footnote 230:
By Walter Marshall, 1692; frequently reprinted.
Footnote 231:
Joseph Skinner, _Present State of Peru_, 1805.
Footnote 232:
‘There is now with us a Mr. Van Couver, of Vancouver’s Island, who
would entertain you very much. He is making an agricultural tour
in Sussex.’—_Letters of Maria Josepha Holroyd_, p. 326.
Footnote 233:
Nicholas Vansittart, Lord Bexley, sometime Governor of Bengal of
great financial reputation.
Footnote 234:
W. Marshall, 1778-1817, a voluminous writer on agriculture,
_Minutes of Agriculture_, &c. &c.
Footnote 235:
Evidently alluding to Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, a voluminous writer
in France, whose works are now forgotten.
Footnote 236:
J. Blackadder, lieut.-colonel, afterwards minister, died in prison
1685.
Footnote 237:
‘Cock’s foot grass, considered valuable as a pasture grass in
light soils.’—_Loudon._
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