LAST YEARS, 1808-1820
Gradual loss of sight—Illness and death of Mrs. Oakes—Daily
routine—A disappointment—Riots—Death of Mrs. Young—Anecdotes of
Napoleon—A story of the Terror—National distress—Close of
diary—The end.
In February I was obliged to take a reader as my sight was failing
fast.
_February 27._—For some months past I have had the comfort of seeing
my debts drawing to such a conclusion that I might consider myself
as free; and I have certainly thought too much of it, and rested too
much satisfaction in it, and not sufficiently been thankful to God
for so great a blessing. If I am so ungrateful as not to thank God
sufficiently for blessings, how can I expect to avoid misfortunes?
My eyes! My eyes! Is not His hand upon me here, too, for the same
reason?
What has been my gratitude to Him for their preservation during
sixty-seven years? and what uses have I made of them?
_April 4._—How employment can be carried further than with me I am
at a loss to conceive. Notwithstanding the state of my eyes I am
generally up at 4 A.M., though I do not call St. Croix [his reader]
before five.
Last Tuesday I read the first lecture that was, I believe, ever read
on agriculture in England, my subject ‘Tillage at the Board,’ The
room was well filled, and several of much ability and more of rank;
but the day was a bad one, which kept others away. I found that they
were well satisfied.
So many years in the habit of incessant employment has made any
idleness irksome to me. But my eyes force me to have time for
contemplation; and I pray to God to enable me to fill it as a
Christian ought to do whose conversation is in heaven; but my mind
will run out too much on worldly objects, and sometimes on sinful
ones.
How much in all things do I want washing in the fountain opened for
sin and uncleanness!
_May 13._—Much of my time has of late been lost by people calling on
the malt business.[238] I am tired of sugar and malt before the
question comes into the House of Commons, which will not be till
Monday. I sent another letter to Cobbett last Monday, but he did not
insert it. I care little about it, and I wish that I cared less, for
these questions only connect one more nearly with the world than a
Christian ought to be connected with it.
However, it is in my vocation, and my conscience is not at all
wounded by the part I take, for I am well persuaded that the
consequences of this measure will be mischievous and tend to
scarcity, which is so greatly to be guarded against for a thousand
reasons. Sir John Sinclair spoke once against it in the House, and
he tells me that Percival looked as black and indignant at him as if
he had been talking treason.
_July 25: Bradfield._—I am tired of the thoughts of such a journal;
had I kept it of late it would have been employed on my departing
sight. I can see to write a little, but can read scarcely anything.
Praised be the mercy of God that enables me to pay a reader; St.
Croix is with me. And I have been hard at work on my ‘Elements’ to
get those papers into such order as to want as little as possible my
own sight in the future progress of completing them. Whenever it may
be the will of God to make me quite blind, oh! may I receive His
dispensation with the submission of a Christian!
_1809. May 16._—April twelvemonth I read my own lectures by means of
Baker’s great hand and black ink; but last month Mr. Cragg read the
two, and one new one for me, for I am unable to do it; yet I can
write a little, but cannot read when written. The Lord’s will be
done, and may He sanctify the affliction and turn all my attention
to Himself.
Mrs. Oakes arrived at Bury last Sunday fortnight; and on Sunday
se’nnight she broke a blood-vessel and brought up two spoonfuls, and
on Saturday evening last had another smaller attack. My own fear and
opinion is that it will end fatally. Her fatigue coming from Bath
and Bristol, and at London, contrary to advice, has caused it. I
have prayed most earnestly for her. Oh! may the Lord of all mercy
hear and grant my petitions. My thoughts are all employed on the
state of her soul. The long intimacy and friendship I have had for
her, and the kindness and attention I have ever received from her,
now lacerate the heart with wounds that sink deep; and my conscience
reproaches me that I have not done all that I might have done to
turn her heart more to God.
_May 18._—I am very, very unhappy, and cannot think of her without
wretchedness. In every worldly respect what a loss will she be to
me! A placid, sweet temper, with a good understanding; that ever
rec^d. [received] me with kindness, and attention, and preference,
with whom I was at my ease, and where I could be at any time; a
resource in blindness fast coming on that would have been great. The
hope has fled and a sad and dreary vacancy, which freezes me, is in
its place.
_May 19._—Good news though not of better health. Hastead has been
with her, to be sure, by desire, which shows an attention to her
soul.
Poor thing! she has been bled twice more, and the blood as highly
inflamed as ever; bleeding gives relief to her lungs.
The Duke of Bedford and Mr. Coke [have written] desiring me to go to
Woburn and Holkham; but all great meetings, and anything like
festivity, have for some years become so insipid and disagreeable
that I shall have done with them wholly. They, like so many other
things, are links of that worldly harness which it is high time for
me to throw down for ever.
_June 1._—Read the ‘Edinburgh Review’ on ‘Cœlebs in Search of a
Wife,’ by Sydney Smith. Wretched stuff; false and frivolous,
reasoning on cards, assemblies, plays,[239] &c.
_June 3._—Yesterday, as the ‘Edinburgh Review’ was read to me, I was
much struck with a reference to Necker on the finances, saying that
7,000 pedigrees of the nobility in the archives of the old
Government were destroyed in the Revolution. It occurred at once to
me that this was the exact number of _names_ of _men_ slain in
Revelations. It is in the eleventh chapter: ‘The tenth part of the
city fell in a great earthquake, and 7,000, &c.’ The commentators
all seem to have reckoned France as the tenth part of the city; but
of the names of men they knew not what to make, but 7,000 pedigrees
answer to a wonderful degree, and the coincidence of numbers is
truly amazing.
_June 6._—Yesterday’s letter bad. Poor thing, she has been bled
eight ounces, and much inflamed; had been out twice, and I suppose
took cold. She wrote herself, and there are some comfortable
expressions relative to the state of her mind with regard to
religion. I have little hope of her recovery.
_July 4._—Betsy continues just the same, whether better or worse,
the cough does not go, and therefore I conclude the case bad. But,
thanks to God, her mind, I hope, goes on; she has the Testament read
to her by all the four children.
_July 6._—I work at the ‘Elements’ every day, and find every time
they are read to me something to cancel, something to add, and much
to reconsider and correct.
_July 8._—The gradual declension of my sight in viewing the scenery
of this place, but especially in knowing faces, makes me surprised
that I can manage to write; I cannot read in the least degree, or
know anything of the views in Lord Valentia’s Travels.[240] It is a
very great deprivation, but much better than feeling the torture of
very painful distempers, so that I am very thankful to God for the
less affliction. It was, I doubt not, very necessary for me to have
some heavy one, and what I am likely to suffer is comparatively a
mercy to what might have been the dispensation of the Almighty.
Mrs. O. the same, and the weather as unfavourable to her; I drank
tea there on Thursday.
_July 19._—Drank tea with her last night. [She was] bled in the
morning, and going to have a blister. All her symptoms worse, I
suppose she has caught cold.
_August 4._—I have been so provoked, my dear Jane,[241] with so many
of my letters miscarrying that I am determined to begin a book to
use some safe opportunity of conveying it to you, for I know nothing
so provoking as to write twenty letters for one or two that arrive
safe. In your last you made many enquiries into what I was doing?
How I passed my time, &c. &c. A very short account will answer this.
I rise from four to five in the morning, pray to God for half an
hour, more or less, according as He affords me the spirit to do it.
At half-past five I call Mr. St. Croix, who comes to me at six, and
reads a chapter in Scott’s Bible with notes. I then dictate such
letters as want to be written, after which we sit down to my
‘Elements of Agriculture,’ which have been more than thirty years in
hand, and at which I have worked for two years past with much
assiduity, wishing to finish it before my sight is quite gone. At
half-past eight the servant brings me the water to shave; from nine
to ten we breakfast, and sit down again to work for two or three
hours, as it may happen, as I take the opportunity of sunshine for a
brisk walk of an hour, very often backwards and forwards on the
gravel between yours and the round garden. I wish much to have my
thoughts during that hour employed upon death and the other world,
but my weakness and want of resolution are lamentable, so that I
sometimes think on every subject except that which I intend should
occupy me. We then sit down to work again, till the boy and his
dicky arrive with the letters and newspapers. When they are read we
work again, but usually catch half an hour for another walk before
dinner. When alone we dine at four, and always at that hour in the
height of summer, but if any person be in the house, as it prevents
an evening work, five is the dinner hour. What is read afterwards is
usually some book not immediately connected with work. At eight we
drink tea and go to bed at ten, but the Sunday is an exception; you
know there is service but once a day. At the church hour, whether
morning or afternoon (when no service), about thirty children from
Bradfield, Stanningfield, and Cuckfield come to read in the
Testament and repeat their Catechism, and undergo some examination
from Mrs. Trimmer’s ‘Teacher’s Assistant.’ Whatever is well done
receives a mark against the name; the girl or boy that has fewest
marks receives nothing, the next a halfpenny, next a penny, and so
on, all which does not amount to more than two or three shillings. I
cannot boast much of their progress, though I pay for most of them
as constant scholars. In the evening, between six and seven o’clock,
forms are set in the hall to receive all that please to come to hear
a sermon read, and the numbers who attend amount from twenty to
sixty or seventy, according to weather and other circumstances.
Such, my dear Jane, is the tenor of my life both in summer and
winter while I am in the country.
_December 1._[242]—Here is a pretty breach in the continuance of
this book letter, but you are not to fail to remember that during
this period I have sent off two letters to you, not short ones,
which, from Smirenove’s account of the conveyance, I hope may get to
you safe. I have also received two short ones from you, and another
from Arthur at Odessa, describing the severity of the winter, and an
escape he had of being burnt in a Tartar combustion of old grass,
but, most provokingly, saying not one word of his own intentions, or
a syllable of what he is about. This is very mortifying to me, for
what are frost and fire to me compared with his own plans and views?
Nor does he say a word about coming to England; and the idea of the
possibility of your coming in autumn is now all past by, and I am
precluded from the possibility of seeing you till next summer, by
which time I shall have no eyes to see you.
_April 9, 1810._[243]—The discovery lately made by your letter of
the enormous expense of postage must limit my correspondence to
private hands, and will not permit the communication of anything but
topics the most immediately interesting to your future motions. My
notes of the riots, therefore, are preserved for your eye by copying
a letter to Mrs. Oakes:—
‘I know not what reports may have reached you relative to the state
of London, nor what newspapers you read, but I have been witness to
such a scene as I hope, through the blessing of God, will not occur
again. On Friday night the mob was extremely agitated in Piccadilly,
especially near Sir Francis Burdett’s, and they took the
unaccountable whim of forcing everyone to illuminate. I lighted up
as other people did, and when I went to bed left orders with the
servant who sat up to be sure to keep the candles burning till
daylight, instead of which, when others put out their candles, ours
were extinguished also. At two o’clock the mob returned and broke
many windows, and ours among the rest. The servant ran into my room
and waked me out of my sleep to tell me the windows were smashing.
We hurried the candles out again, and, upon examination, found the
alarm exceeded the damage, for only three panes were broken. All
Saturday passed in a very quiet manner, and in the evening the
illumination was more general, but troops pouring into London from
all quarters, we hoped to be secure without violence. The mob,
however, were so determined, that by twelve o’clock we heard
platoons firing in Piccadilly, and a few in other directions more
remote, the Riot Act having been read. A person who saw much, and
clearly, told me that orders being received by the commanding
officer to fire with ball, about fifty cavalry fired twice over the
heads of the people, that the whizzing of the balls might inform
them what they had to expect; still, however, they were audacious,
insomuch that the officer was forced to fire on them. In five
minutes all Piccadilly was cleared. We afterwards heard a little
more distant firing, and a party of horse scoured up Sackville
Street, firing in a scattered manner at the flying mob; but, from
the reports of the pieces, I believe with powder only. The reports
relative to the mischief done are extremely vague and not to be
depended on. Some say that one trooper was killed, others three or
four; what was the loss suffered by the mob is, I believe, quite
unknown, but certainly it was very inconsiderable. During Sunday the
agitation of the streets threatened a bad night, but Government had
brought in so many troops, that had we known it we need not have
been alarmed. A train of artillery in the park, horses attached and
matches lighted, two pieces of artillery in Berkeley Square, two
others in Soho Square, and many more about the town, and doubtless
many others of which I knew nothing, all ready at a moment’s
warning, with parties of troops scouring the streets, showed such a
state of preparation as effectually awed the mob, notwithstanding
the efforts of Sir F. Burdett to inflame them. He was at his house
ready to resist the Speaker’s warrant for commitment, and had the
audacity to write to the sheriff to bring the _posse comitatus_ to
assist him in so doing, printing the letter in the Sunday’s
newspaper. They say he is still at his house, and that he will not
be seized before the House meets this day. It really is a tremendous
moment, for if they do not carry it with a high hand, as a means of
prevention, we shall have an organised mob and great mischief will
follow. It is expected that the gallery of the House will to-day be
cleared by acclamation and a Bill brought in to suspend the Habeas
Corpus Act, and the rascally authors, printers, and publishers of
those inflammatory papers which have done so much mischief seized
and imprisoned; but whether the Ministry, with such a violent
opposition, will have resolution enough for this will depend on the
influence the Marquis of Wellesley has among his colleagues in the
Cabinet. I am much inclined to expect that good will result by
drawing close to the Ministry all the honest men in both Houses,
with all others that might be wavering; for it is a question now
whether we are to be governed by Parliament or the mob. Many
circumstances, however, are unfortunate, and not the least, that
though the public revenue amounts to 62,000,000_l._, yet the
expenses of the year will rise to above 80,000,000_l._, and must be
made good by means that will occasion the necessity of having
additional taxes. This will cause a yell for peace—and such a peace
as must be ruinous if made. We have also one adversary armed at all
points, and whose depth of policy is such as ought ever to create
alarm and the exertions of all the talents the country possesses to
oppose him.’
_May 3, 1811._—I do not think that for the last twenty years of my
life my general health has been better than at the moment when
discontent, I fear, with the will of God, induced me to oppose that
will. In the most mild and merciful manner He had nearly deprived me
of sight without my feeling the smallest pain. Heavy as this
dreadful deprivation is and must remain to me, I feel, in proportion
to my convalescence, that even blindness itself may be a temptation;
as a dispensation from God, it must have been meant as a calamity,
and a calamity to be deeply felt. Is there not danger then that a
mind which has been accustomed to look upon the favourable side of
objects, should gradually so accustom itself to its new situation as
to deprive it in a good measure of the misery which might be the
direct intention of the Almighty? The capacity of continuing the
attention formerly given to old objects by means of the eyes of
others, may leave the mind almost as full of the world as when by
sight I could enjoy its visible objects; this is a circumstance
which ought undoubtedly to be guarded against, that is, prayed
against. For a man of seventy to be struck blind and to continue
worldly-minded, with his head and heart full of objects which,
though not of sight, command attention, is to tempt God to send some
deeper affliction in order to bring his heart home to its true
centre. This is a subject which merits great attention, and may the
Lord of His mercy enable me to consider it as I ought to do!
_May 8._—Twelve o’clock at noon my dear friend Mrs. Oakes breathed
her last, after a long severe illness, and many and great
sufferings. Thanks to God she was attentive throughout this sad
period, as I am well informed, to the state of her soul with God.
Thus is terminated in this world a very intimate friendship of
twenty-six years, with a temper so mild and cheerful, with manners
so gentle and persuasive, that had it pleased the Almighty to have
spared her, she would have been the source of great comfort to me in
my melancholy state.
_May 16, 1812._—At this time a new oculist appeared in town, a
desideratum much wanted. The highest accounts were universally
circulated of his skill and success, and the most unequivocal good
effects attended his new attempts at removing cataract. I was
unwilling to go to him, cherished no hope of my own case, and
considered this calamity as the appointment of Providence,
concerning which I had but one wish—that of submitting to it with
the most unaffected resignation. But the persuasions of my friends,
more sanguine than myself, and the high reputation of Mr. Adams at
length prevailed, and a day was appointed finally to decide my
state—to give some expectation of recovery or to destroy all hope.
The feelings of the mind may be subdued, but they cannot be
destroyed. From the reluctance I showed to name the day even after
resolving to go, the dread of hearing my doom, and the natural
desire to enjoy a little longer the precious glimmering of hope, may
be inferred. At length the long-wished-for dreaded morning came. The
sun shone brightly as I walked to the house; I felt its warmth, and
the thought that perhaps his light may still, ere long, ‘revisit
these sad eyes,’ lent new interest to his cheering beams.
The man who has never had his mind enlivened and his senses cheered
by contemplating the scenes of nature or the employment of his
fellow creatures, would feel much less at the thought of learning
whether this would ever be his fate or not, than he who, once having
felt in every variety the extent of the blessing, loses it, learns
by experience the sadness of the contrast, and goes with a throbbing
heart to enquire if any hope exists of again enjoying that power he
would gladly forfeit all his possessions to recover.
I was shown into a room, where I waited a few minutes (they were
painful ones), and Mr. Adams appeared. ‘I wish, sir, to be informed
what is the state of my eyes,’ looking very attentively at him. ‘You
have not, sir, undergone an extraction for cataract?’[244] ‘That you
must decide.’ ‘Why, yes, and I fear unsuccessfully.’ ‘Is there any
hope of recovery?’ Mr. Adams started, and looked down with evident
marks of bitter disappointment the first instant he saw me. ‘I
grieve, sir, to say that the eye itself is destroyed, the cornea
gone, and there has been such an excessive discharge of the vitreous
humour, that the coats are collapsed.’ ‘No chance, then, of course?’
‘I fear, sir, _none_;’ then, after a pause, ‘I believe I am
addressing Mr. A. Young?’ I bowed. ‘I have heard your case
differently reported; it was the subject of much conversation, and
excited unenviable interest last spring when it happened, and I had
hoped that it would have been possible to relieve you, but I now see
the contrary.’ ‘I am much obliged to you, sir, good morning,’ I
replied, and came away.
Mr. Adams was a young man, his aspect was pleasing and intelligent,
and there was a sorrowful look when I departed that well became the
sad occasion. There were two things worth repeating on that morning,
one was his liberality in clearing his brother professor from the
character of _carelesness_, which he endeavoured to do. I complained
that I was sure I could not have been well prepared. But Mr. Adams
replied that preparation was _not_ necessary for extraction, that
people of the worst habits had been treated in that way with no
preparation and complete success; that the fault was not of the
operator, but of the operation, which must always be liable to
failure. Mr. Adams’ own method of removing cataract was not this
ill-fated scheme of extraction. The second remark is this. It had
become much the custom to use hot water for the eyes when weak or
inflamed. The author of this memoir had been afflicted with a
transient indisposition of them, and on application to Phipps, hot
water had been recommended and used for a twelvemonth without
effect.
Mr. Adams, on being questioned with regard to the expedience of its
continuance, decidedly answered, that by increasing the relaxation,
hot water would only augment the disease; prescribed the frequent
use of the _citrine ointment_[245] (to be had at any druggist’s) and
_cold_ water constantly. On the way home, I was for a few moments
depressed. ‘How happy,’ I cried, ‘are those beings who can see; no
one can tell the misery of blindness, the dark gloom over that mind
never cheered by the light of the sun, especially now with me, who
am certain never to see again. If it were not for religion, I should
wish to be the poor man who is to be hanged next Monday; but, thank
God, I can consider the whole affair as His appointment, intended
not for a curse but a blessing, and can reconcile my mind to it
completely as His will. You will see,’ I added after a pause
[presumably addressing Mr. Adams], smiling, ‘I shall be as cheerful
and happy as ever,’ and so I was.
_1814._—This year I paid much attention to the ‘Elements.’
My son came from Russia.
_1815._—Arthur, Jane, and myself went post to London the last day of
January, Mary remained at Bradfield with Mrs. Young, who was unable
to move.
About this time ‘Baxteriana’[246] was published. Through the
following spring I was, at various times, too apt to fall into
reflections which tended, more than they ought to have done, to
discontent; but in thirteen weeks to the present day I have not once
entered the doors of any other person than those of Mr. Wilberforce,
and I have not dined once with him, having been only at breakfast
for the pleasure of hearing his Exposition and Prayer; for the
conversation at and after breakfast has been entirely desultory, and
not once on any religious question. And as to any Christian calling
on me, John Babbington, from Peterborough, once breakfasted here,
and is, I believe, never in town without calling. Mrs. Strachey, who
was in town a month, was so kind as to call three or four times;
Mrs. John Wayland twice, and here, I think, except Miss
Francis,[247] dining once a week, is the whole amount of my
communication with those whose conversation would please me.
It would be natural to suppose that a poor old blind man who,
through the blessing of God, retains his health and strength might
have received something more of friendly attention than this, but
such discontent should be banished, for let me not a single moment
forget the great mercies of God to me; and while many are on beds of
torment from dreadful diseases, I am free from bodily pain. These
are points that should give a perpetual spring of gratitude in my
bosom, and if the neglect which I have been apt to think of too much
turns my attention more to the Lord Jesus, it is a benefit and not a
misfortune. Let me only take care to be looking unto Jesus, and then
I shall esteem, in the manner it deserves, all that the world can do
for me.
Monday, March 6, most execrable riots began in London, on account of
the Corn Bill, then in the House of Commons, attended with
circumstances proving decisively the abominable effects
(sufficiently proved before) of printing in all the newspapers those
violent and mischievous speeches which are made as much to the
Gallery as to the House, and can be intended for nothing else but to
inflame the people, which they have done to a degree of desperation.
Petitions from a multitude of cities and towns pour in to the Houses
every day they meet, and, in fact, the prayer of them all is to beg
that they, the petitioners, may be starved, which would probably be
the result of granting their desire. 600,000 qrs. of French wheat of
an excellent quality have been poured into our markets to meet a
crop generally mildewed; this has reduced the price on an average of
the kingdom to 59_s._ per quarter, and that average taken in so
preposterous a way that the real price fairly ascertained would not
amount to 50_s._; 90_s._ per qr. [quarter] would not pay the farmer
in so bad a year. If importation was to be continued, at least half
the farmers in England would be ruined, and wheat consequently must
rise in a year or two to scarcity, and if importation should be
prevented, by many probable events to famine. Country labourers
throughout the kingdom are in the greatest distress, as I know from
many correspondents. For want of employment they go to the parish,
but these poor families never petition, even when starving, and a
Legislature which attended not to their interest would deserve the
abuse now vomited forth by towns. From thirty to forty houses at
London have had their windows broken, many their doors forced, and
everything in them destroyed; and after much mischief, with general
anxiety and apprehension, the military were called forth; but it was
the last day of the week before their numbers were sufficient to
secure any tolerable tranquillity.
_Monday, March 13._—I breakfasted with Mr. Wilberforce: a file of
soldiers in his house, because his servants had been violently
threatened that it should be speedily attacked.
The bawler bearing[248] last week, in the House, read a denunciation
in a petition from Carlisle against the Board of Agriculture, which
made it necessary for me to hire a bedchamber elsewhere, as
blindness would not permit an escape by the roof of the house.
I wrote to Mr. Vansittart, transcribing a resolution of the
Committee of 1774, proposing to lay the millers under an assize. The
Bill for that purpose passed the Commons, but was lost in the Lords.
In Mr. Vansittart’s answer to me, he mentioned the difficulties in
the way, but observed that as Mr. Franklin Lewis had taken up the
business of bread and flour in the House, he would mention to him
what I proposed. From Lord Sidmouth’s speech it seems they intend to
remove the assize of bread, which will leave in case of scarcity the
bakers without protection in case of riots, and also leave the
millers in full possession of their rascality.
At Mr. Wilberforce’s I met Miss Francis and Mr. Legh Richmond, who
read to us, with Lord Calthorpe and General Macaulay, a most
interesting letter from a Russian Princess, describing her
conversion to vital Christianity by Mr. Pinkerton instructing her
children, and her translating into Russian the ‘Dairyman’s
Daughter,’ and thanking Mr. Richmond for his other tracts sent her
for the same purpose. Her English extremely good, and real
Christianity, with expressions of the deepest humility, breathing in
every line.
This was an eventful year, for my poor wife breathed her last after
a long illness, and it gives me great comfort to be informed that
she showed great marks of resignation and piety. My daughter was
with her to the last.
_May 12._—A few days ago, writing to Miss Francis, I used the
expression, ‘If a Christian was to call on me it should be entered
in a pocket-book with a mark of exclamation.’ Mr. Wilberforce saw
this note, and yesterday morning Mr. Pakenham called on me, and
introduced himself by saying that he came for some conversation with
me, by desire of Mr. W. He was quite unknown to me, but I found that
he was the grandson of that Lord Longford with whom I was in Ireland
in 1776, forty years ago, which lord was in the Navy; and the
present gentleman is also in that employment, about twenty-six or
twenty-seven years of age; his father living and an admiral. I soon
found that he was a firmly established Christian, ready to converse
on the good subject, which he did with good sense and no
inconsiderable energy.
He is in mourning for General Pakenham, and the Duchess of
Wellington is his first cousin. Mentioning Miss Francis, he said he
met her twice at Mr. Wilberforce’s, and speaking in commendation of
her, I told him that she was to dine with me at five o’clock, and
that it would give me much pleasure if he would meet her; this he
readily complied with, and came accordingly.
I have not had so much religious conversation for an age past; and
had not Dr. Halliday from Moscow called between seven and eight,
expecting to see my son, this conversation would have been
uninterrupted. I wish he had come on some other day. Remarking that
I had some apprehension of the ensuing war, because we should be, in
fact, fighting for the restoration of the Pope, the Jesuits, and the
Inquisition, Mr. P. replied, that Lord Liverpool had informed Mr.
Wilberforce that Bonaparte was reconciled to the Pope, pretending to
be a most dutiful son of the Church. It seems agreed by all that the
first victory gained on either side will have most decisive
consequences. I hope I shall hear more of this young man, whose
determined avowal of his religious principles pleases me much.
_May 15._—Breakfasted at Mr. Wilberforce’s. General Macaulay there;
he told me that in his late tour in France, travelling from Lyons to
Geneva, he met with a Monsieur Michaud, who, speaking much of his
farm and offering to show it, the general accompanied him to view
it, and found everything in the highest state of management, and so
much superior to all the rest of the country, that he enquired into
the origin of such great superiority. The answer was, ‘My
cultivation is entirely that of Monsieur Arthur Young, whose
recommendations I have carried into practice with the success you
see.’
Much conversation about Bonaparte; the general is well persuaded
that the allies will be entirely successful, as B. is, and must be,
very badly provided to resist them, and that the first campaign will
carry them to Paris.
_May 17._—Last night, being at West Street Chapel, Mr. Gurney, after
the sermon, came into the pew, when I told him he had not performed
his promise, by calling, on which he came home with me, and gave us
a long account of his life and conversion, beginning at four years
old with a magpie which his father found in a nest, in a haunted
wood, where he went at night in search of a reputed ghost, and which
proved to be only a white pony. This magpie was, by a strange series
of little events, his introduction to Drummond, the banker, and to
procuring himself a school and college education, a knowledge of
several of the nobility, and eventually, through Lord Exeter, the
appointment to the Rectory of St. Clement Danes; and all this from
having been no more than a poor country labourer’s son, and one of
_twenty-two_ children. The detail was very interesting, from being
not only well told, but, from the providence of God, clearly marked
in many little circumstances, and attended by what to him were great
events. These were so remarkable as to induce him to make many
memoranda, and to think at times that they ought to be published,
but on this point he does not seem to be at all determined. I urged
it strongly as a sort of duty. He is uncommonly lively and animated
in conversation, and contrived to talk with little interruption,
from drinking tea and smoking several pipes, till twelve o’clock at
night. I much hope that we shall see him often.
_1816._—This was a very barren year, for the memoranda made are
uncommonly few, but among them is the preparation for the
publication of ‘Oweniana.’[249] The extraction from my religious
papers of those published under the titles of ‘Baxteriana’ and
‘Oweniana’ has greatly diminished the mass, but the remainder is
considerable, and increases every year.
_February._—Last Tuesday se’nnight Sir John Seabright, coming up to
me, said: ‘Mr. Young, the Archdukes of Austria desire to be
introduced to you,’ and the Archduke John, who Seabright said was
the farmer, began a conversation on agriculture which, as many
persons were around, was very short. Some days afterwards Mr.
Ackerman, of the Strand, called to inform me that his Imperial
Highness Archduke John desired to have more conversation with me,
and in three or four days he called and made many enquiries into
those points upon which, I suppose, he had most doubts, contrasting
many circumstances with the system of Austrian peasants, who, by his
account, are in general the proprietors of their little farms even
to the amount of as little as three or four acres. In the
conversation I took occasion to mention my son being in the Crimea,
and intending to return to England by Vienna. In a most obliging
manner he desired me to write to him to tell him to be sure not to
pass Vienna without making himself known to him (the Archduke), as
he would show him everything worth attending to in agriculture. The
conversation was in French, for he speaks no English. It is a pity
that he will go away without seeing anything of Norfolk or Suffolk.
Sir J. Sinclair just come from Paris. He saw Sylvestre[250] there,
the secretary to the Royal Society of Agriculture, who told him that
agriculture saved his life in the Revolution. He was in prison and
brought to trial, and told that his life should be saved if he could
show that he had ever done anything really useful to the Republic.
He replied that he had unquestionably done good, for Arthur Young’s
‘Travels through France’ contained much highly important
information, and in order to spread it through the Republic in a
cheap form, ‘I published a useful abridgement,’ he said, ‘which has
been much read, and has had important effects. I was pardoned and
set at liberty,’ and then, turning to Sir John, he said, ‘Tell your
friend, Mr. Young, that he was thus the means of saving my life.’
_February 17._—The Board met for the first time last Tuesday, but
had no business whatever before them. I suggested the propriety of
sending a circular letter throughout the kingdom, in order to
ascertain by facts the real state of the farming world. They
approved the proposal, observing that not a moment should be lost,
and I retired in order to draw out a letter with _Queries_. This
they examined and altered to their mind; it was immediately
despatched to the printer, and all the rest of the week has been
employed in drawing out lists of persons from the reports, to whom
these letters have been addressed, post paid, to the amount of
12_l._, and many yet to despatch on Monday.
The replies have just begun to come in; by two valuable ones from
Maxwell, near Peterborough, and from Page, of Cobham, the
probability is that much important information will be gained, and a
basis laid for a very interesting publication, but I greatly
question whether they will permit any public use to be made of the
information, and I suspect that it will disclose so lamentable a
state of distress, that it may prove somewhat dangerous, or, at
least, questionable to make it public. What are we to think of the
infatuation of Government in laying on a property tax at such a
moment, rather than borrow a few millions to avoid the necessity,
one of the great evils resulting from our Government being in all
money matters little better than a Committee of the Bank?
Answers to the circular letter of the Board, which was despatched
throughout the kingdom the first week in February, flowed in rapidly
till about April 10, and they describe such a state of agricultural
misery and ruin as to be almost inconceivable to those who do not
connect such a defect with the utter want of circulating medium; the
ruin of the country banks, and the great want of confidence in those
that remain, with an issue of Bank of England notes utterly
insufficient to fill up the vacuity thus occasioned, has made the
want of money so great as to cripple every species of demand.
It is difficult to pronounce what the consequence of the present
ruined state of agriculture will prove, but I must confess that I
dread a scarcity, which must have dreadful effects, coming at a
period when such multitudes are almost starving for want of
employment, even with such cheap bread. What must be their situation
should it be dear? To my astonishment, Government seems utterly
insensible of the danger, and has not taken one single step to
prevent it, or to meet it should it come.
_March._—Lord Winchilsea, who I have not seen for some time, called
on me yesterday and mentioned his having been long absent in France,
Spain, &c. He was at Marseilles when Bonaparte landed from Elba, in
Provence; every circumstance was previously arranged. Messina, at
Marseilles, kept everything quiet on his left, and the [garrison?]
at Grenoble was prepared to receive him; of all this there was no
doubt. Uncertain of what might be the event in France, his lordship
embarked instantly for Barcelona; from thence he crossed Spain to
Lisbon, and throughout the whole of his Spanish journey he did not
pass through a town that was not in a state of ruin and desolation.
He everywhere enquired the cause, and was always told ‘that the
French had done all the mischief,’ with many expressions of cordial
detestation. He would not have conceived a country to be in a more
wretched and deplorable state.
_April 24._—Miss Way and Miss Neve, daughter of the late Sir Richard
Neve, both high Calvinists and constant hearers of Mr. Wilkinson,
called on me the other day in order to converse on religion. They
appear to me to be perfectly sincere, but seem wedded to the high
Calvinistic notions of that preacher. Miss Way lent me two
manuscript sermons of his full of predestination, and the
impossibility of falling from grace; her sister took them in
shorthand. This day Miss Neve called on me again, bringing with her
a Miss Johnson, another Calvinistic lady, who, being in Italy with
some relations, went to Elba to see Bonaparte, and had much
conversation with him. He had told somebody, who told the Johnsons,
that he wanted to see my ‘Travels in France,’ which he had often
thought of reading, but came to Elba without them. Mr. Johnson had
these ‘Travels,’ and took them with him to Elba and presented them
to the Emperor, who expressed much pleasure at receiving them, and
Mr. Johnson afterwards heard that he had read them eagerly and with
much approbation. His countenance indicates a steadfast, resolute,
determined mind, and he is known to abhor all doubtful and
hesitating answers that do not come immediately to the point in
question. In the very short interview that took place he was
standing with his hands in his breeches pockets clinking the money
in them; but she observed that his nails as well as his teeth were
dirty. He enquired, when they were in Provence, and especially on
the coast, whether there were troops at Antibes or at Nice. This
conversation took place on the Thursday, and he left the island on
the Sunday following. He asked her name, and on the reply of Helen,
‘Oh! I am to be sent to St. Helena,[251] this is ominous of my
voyage.’ The interview was very short with him, but with the
Bertrands the conversation was rather longer.
I have finished reading the first volume of ‘Gibbon’s Miscellaneous
Works,’ published by Lord Sheffield. Of mere worldly production, it
is the most interesting that I have read for many years, more
especially Gibbon’s own memoirs of himself. I have been acquainted
with Lord Sheffield above forty years, and more than once met Gibbon
at his house; and, if I remember rightly, the first time I was at
Sheffield Place, which, I think, was in 1770, being invited by him
on my advertising the intentions of the Eastern tour. Mr. Foster and
Lady Elizabeth his wife, daughter of the Earl of Bristol, were
there. I thought her a most fascinating woman—an opinion many times
afterwards confirmed by often meeting her at Ickworth. I was not
therefore surprised to find such advantageous mention made of her by
Gibbon, but, alas! the whole volume has not one word of Christianity
in it, though many which mark the infidelity of the whole gang. Lord
Sheffield never had a grain of religion, and his intimate
connections with Gibbon would alone account for it. Of course he
took no pains to instil it into his family, and if Mrs. Clinton and
Lady Stanley have any, they are not indebted for it to their father
or to his friend. A great number of persons of high rank,
extraordinary talents, and great celebrity thus passing in review,
and all of them (Burke alone excepted) without the least suspicion
of religion attaching to their characters, yield a melancholy
impression on the mind of a Christian. Nineteen in twenty of the
persons mentioned are gone to their eternal state, and of what
account is it at present whether they were celebrated authors,
splendid orators, great ministers, or successful generals or
admirals? Whatever might be their worldly greatness how little are
they to be compared at present to the case of a poor Christian whose
employment was sweeping the streets! Without doubt the propriety of
such observations depends entirely on Christianity being true; but
what a dreadful situation is that man in whose safety is attached
solely to the falsehood of that religion. The reflection makes my
blood almost run cold, and old and blind as I am, and scarcely
exchanging in six weeks a single word with more than one or two
persons out of my family, I feel a comfort and consolation, and I
will add a measure of happiness, not one atom of which would be
found in my bosom if I were not most perfectly convinced of the
absolute truth and importance of that blessed religion which forms
the sole enjoyment of my life.
_June._—Lord Winchilsea called here and chatted with me upon
cottagers’ land for cows, which he is well persuaded, and most
justly, is the only remedy for the evil of poor rates.
1817.—The death of the Princess Charlotte this year created the
greatest sensation ever known.
1818.—On coming to London in February, five-and-twenty claims for
the premium on the [summary of] the state of the poor, the causes of
their distress, and the means of remedying it, were received, and it
afforded me continued employment for many weeks in reading and
giving a character of them. Much the greater part of the authors who
drew up these memoirs were of the same opinion as to the cause of
the national distress, attributing it to the peace having thrown a
vast number of men out of employment who were in the Army or Navy,
or working in the manufactures immediately supported by military
demands; and this evil concurring with a general stagnation from the
failure of a multitude of country banks, had materially affected the
industry of the whole kingdom. The remedies proposed were various,
and many of them visionary; the most rational advised the issuing of
Exchequer Bills in payment of various sorts of public works, such as
canals, roads, harbours, fisheries, and many other employments. Such
suggestions had been proposed to Government, but unfortunately the
ministers in England have very rarely indeed listened to any such
propositions. My friend Mr. Attwood, of Birmingham, in a work
publicly addressed to me, wrote upon the subject with great ability,
and most justly remarked upon dismissing at once both the Army and
the Navy, and turning such numbers loose upon the public when it was
perfectly well known that they could not find employment was highly
mischievous. This ought to have been done slowly and gradually, as
the expense would have been an evil far less deplorable than that
which was insured by a contrary conduct. It was the beginning of
1818 before the kingdom was decidedly found to be in a reviving
state, and in the mean time the infinite number of offences against
the peace and property of the people arose to an alarming height in
every part of the kingdom. The first week in January I received half
a year’s rents, and it was a great comfort to me to find that the
tenants continued their regular payments without running the least
in arrears, and this at a time when complaints on the non-payment of
rents were very general over the greater part of the kingdom. I
attributed this effect, which was very general around Bury and
through all Suffolk, to the stability and flourishing state of our
country banks, whose paper passed readily current, and formed a
perfect contrast to the deficiencies and distress so generally felt
in various other countries; nor can anything be more lamentable than
for gentlemen of small estates finding their tenants running in
arrears of rent.
This was much experienced in the counties of Cambridge, Huntingdon,
and part of Bedford. Sir George Leeds informed me that he had farms
in the former counties abandoned and lying absolutely waste.
[Illustration: ARTHUR YOUNG’S TOMB AT BRADFIELD.]
Here ends the diary. Arthur Young died in Sackville Street on April
20, 1820, and was buried at Bradfield. The following letter from
Mary Young to her brother in Russia gives some details about his
last years. The letter (undated) apparently belongs to 1818: ‘My
father talks of going to Bradfield in June with Miss Francis and Mr.
St. Croix. He is fearful lest Miss Francis (who is a granddaughter
of Dr. Burney, and a daughter of Mrs. Broom by her first husband)
will join the Wilberforces at Brighton, and leave him. When at
Bradfield she sleeps over the servants’ hall, with a packthread tied
round her wrist, and placed through the keyhole, which he pulls at
four or five times, till he awakens her, when she gets up and
accompanies him in a two hours’ walk on the turnpike road to some
cottage or other, and they take milk at some farmhouse; and she
distributes tracts (religious ones), and questions the people about
their principles, and reads to them and catechises them. They return
at half-past six, as that is the hour Mr. St. Croix gets up (his
secretary), who finds it quite enough to read and write two hours
and a half before breakfast. After breakfast they all three adjourn
to the library till one, when Mr. St. Croix takes his walk for an
hour; she and my father read, or write, or walk till three. Before
she went to Bradfield, Mr. St. Croix had but one hour. She has a
table and great chair filled with books in all languages, as she
reads in every language every day to keep them up—Greek, Latin,
Italian, Hebrew, Arabic, German, Spanish, French, Dutch, &c. &c. &c.
‘My father puts children to school at Cuckfield, Stanningfield, and
Bradfield. Every morning, summer or winter, she inspects and teaches
at these schools. Every Sunday they all meet in the hall and read,
and are catechised; and every Sunday night a hundred meet, when St.
Croix reads a sermon and a chapter, and my father explains for an
hour, after which a prayer dismisses them! Last summer they went to
church at Acton or Ampton every Sunday, each church ten miles out
and ten home, besides teaching the schools and the meeting at night
in the hall.
‘He has taken out a licence for the hall, as there is an assembly of
people which would have been otherwise liable to an information.
‘Adieu, my dear Arthur. Are we ever to meet any more?
‘Yours affectionately,
‘M. Y.’
The following is added by Mr. St. Croix:—
‘Mr. Young’s benevolent exertions for the poor in his own and the
adjoining parishes, and constant plan for welfare and relief of
their necessities, was very beautiful, and I believe and fear very
uncommon. To women this attention is natural.
‘H. More truly says, “Charity is the employment of a female; the
care of the poor is her profession;” but to see this extend to the
other sex, to witness the same solicitude for the distresses of
the ignorant, unextinguished by business or by ingratitude, in a
man of such activity of genius as Mr. Y., was indeed an impressive
sight. At one time he established spinning matches; a cap was the
prize, and several young girls contended for it, the best spinner
being victorious. This occasioned industry and emulation,
certainly; but even this was not without its attendant evil, and
Mr. Y. finally abandoned it, from the dread of encouraging vanity,
and appropriated the money to _winter feasts_.
‘In this cold, unproductive season, there were amongst the poor
constant endeavours and constant failure at repletion. Every
Sunday after church a set of poor people, chiefly children, were
invited, and a plentiful dinner provided for them, Mr. Y. waiting
on them and carving himself.
‘But this he was at last obliged to relinquish. The Sunday cooking
was certainly a grand objection; and some neighbouring ladies who
had (charity) schools remonstrated at the absence of the children,
who were crazy if they were not allowed to forsake everything in
order to attend Mr. Y.’s dinners. But another scheme, more
extensive and more useful, succeeded this—namely, the introduction
of straw-plaiting among the young cottagers.’
INDEX
[Illustration]
Abercorn, Marquis of, 347
Aldworth, Richard, 72
Allen, Alderman (father-in-law of Arthur Young), 32
— —(son of the above), 60
— Mrs., 36, 38
Althorp, Lord, 313
Amorette, Abate, 176
Anson, Mr., 394
Arblay, Madame d’, 23 _note_ 12, 32 _note_ 29, 61 _note_ 52, 100
_note_ 74, 135 _note_ 99, 196, 214, 216
Arbuthnot, Mr. (son of Viscount Arbuthnot), 66, 92, 97, 98, 124
Armstead, Mrs., 260
Ashby, Rev. George, 104 and _note_ 79, 114, 129
Aspin, Miss, 15
Attwood, Mr., 471
Auckland, Lord, 314
Augusta of Saxe Gotha (Princess of Wales), 16
B., Countess of, 29
Baker, Whyman, 88, 111
Bakewell, Robert, 135 and _note_ 101
Balgrave, Rev. —, 355
Banks, Sir Joseph, 150, 151, 163, 165, 167, 174, 201, 224, 321,
339, 350
Baroude, A. F., 464 _note_
Barrington, Dr. (Bishop of Durham), 254, 348, 352, 358, 376
Barry, James (painter), 115-118
Bayley, Butterworth, 59
Bedford, fifth Duke of, 172, 206, 244, 245, 246, 254, 256, 273,
276, 301, 313, 318, 330, 351, 360, 363, 372, 374, 375
Bedford, sixth Duke of, 372, 373 _note_, 374, 383, 384, 396, 444
Bentham, Jeremy, 247, 249, 308, 341
Bentinck, Lady Mary, 327
— Lord Charles, 328
Berchtold, Count Leopold, 167 and _note_, 168-170, 180
Bernard, Mr., 376
Berry, Edward, 323
— Miss Jane. _See_ Young, Mrs. Arthur, daughter-in-law of Arthur
Young
Bolton, M.P., Cornelius, 75, 80
Boswell, 191
Boulainvilliers, Comte de, 32 and _note_ 30
Boyd, Hugh, 92-97
Bristol (Bishop of Derry), Earl of, 101, 102, 103-105, 113,
128-131, 228
— Countess of, 225, 227, 243
Brudenell, Mr., 18
Brunswick, Duke of, 355, 356
Bryant, Jacob, 245 and _note_, 291
Buccleugh, Duke of, 245, 256, 261
Bukaty, M., 159, 180 and _note_
Bulkeley, Lady Frances, 52
Bunbury, Sir C., 412
Burdett, Sir Francis, 345, 449, 451
Burgoyne, Montague, 418, 419
Burke, Edmund, 67, 93, 174, 232, 256-261, 302, 345, 428
— W., 257, 428
Burney, Dr. Charles, 23 and _note_ 12, 51, 65, 92, 100, 101, 115,
144, 181, 194, 196, 197, 214, 232, 250, 299, 326
— Fanny. _See_ Arblay, Madame d’
Burney, Hester, 51, 100 _note_ 74
—Sarah, 215 and _note_
Burrell, Sir Peter, 164
Burton, Colonel (afterwards Lord Cunningham), 67, 68
Bute, Lord, 192, 355, 412
Cadell (the publisher), 395
Cadogan, Lady, 313
Caldwell, Sir James, 69, 70, 75
Camden, Lord, 304
Canham, the elder, Bartholomew, 2
Canning, Mr., 327, 362 _note_
Carew, Pole, 202
Carnot, M., 307 and _note_
Carrington, Lord, 314, 315, 319, 333 _note_, 351, 356, 360, 361,
363, 370, 379, 393, 407, 413
Cartier, M., 157
Cartwright, Dr., 367, 373, 374, 396
Castiglioni, Count di, 176
Castries, Marshal de, 240
Catherine, Empress, 124
Charlemont, Earl of, 75
Chester, Bishop of, 97, 98
Chesterfield, Lord, 33, 34, 49
Chevalier, Rev. M., 14
Cibber, Mrs., 15
Clermont, Lord, 211
Clive, Lord, 49
Cobbett, William, 442
Cocks, Sir Charles (afterwards Lord Somers), 52
Coke, J. W., 212, 384, 385, 386, 400, 432, 444
Cole, Charles, 243, 245, 255, 290, 297, 304, 368
Colhoun, Mr., 363
Collier, Joseph and Mary, 27 and _note_ 15
Cornwallis, Archbishop, 139
— Marquis of, 205
Cotton, Lady, 338
Coulter, Rev. Mr. (Master of Lavenham School), 7, 8, 23
Courtenay, Sir W., 192
Cousmaker, John, 103
— John de, 3, 126
— Miss, 102, 103
— — Anne Lucretia de. _See_ Young, Mrs. (mother of Arthur Young)
Coventry, Lady, 20
Cowper’s ‘Letters,’ quoted, 410
Coxe, Archdeacon, 236
Crewe, Mrs., 214, 233, 259, 260, 327
— Mr., 326
Crosse, Lady, 17
Cullum, Sir John, 104 and _note_ 78, 114, 134
Cumberland, Duke of, 4, 6, 16 _note_ 10
Danby, Mr., 50, 55, 76
Darnley, Earl of, 245
Dartmouth, Lord, 236
Day, Thomas (author of ‘Sandford and Merton’), 166 and _note_
Derry, Bishop of. _See_ Bristol, Earl of
Doddington, George Bubb, 12, 161
Dolmein (geologist), 368 and _note_ 209
Douglas, Bishop, 236, 304
Dryden (quoted), 35
Ducket, Mr., 172
Dundas, Lady Jane, 327
— Mr., 261, 327
Dundonald, Lord, 160
Dunstanville, Lord de, 245
Durham, Bishop of. _See_ Barrington, Dr.
Edward Augustus, Prince. _See_ York, Duke of
Egremont, Lord, 111, 179, 244, 245, 275, 299, 313, 315, 317, 324,
352, 358, 360, 363, 434
Elizabeth, Princess (daughter of George II.), 16
Ellerton, Mr., 50
Erne, Lady, 267
Estissac, Duchess d’, 175
Euston, Lord, 365
Fawcett, Sir William, 329
Fielding, Sir John, 69
Fife, Lord, 112
Folkes, Sir Martin, 2, 11
Folkestone, Lord, 59 _note_ 49
Forbes, Mrs., 252, 253
Fordyce, Lady Margaret, 338
— Sir William, 147
Forster, Lord Chief Baron, 75
Foster, Lady Elizabeth, 468, 469
Fox, Charles James, 202, 227, 233, 234, 259, 424, 425
— Henry (afterwards Lord Holland), 16, 134, 164
Francis, Miss, 457 and _note_ 247, 460, 461, 472
Freeman, Miss, 20
Frere, J. H., 362 _note_
Fry, Mr., 391, 395, 398, 407
Gage, Sir Thomas, 191
Garrick, 10, 15, 22, 31, 32
— Mrs., 245
George II., 16
— III., 112, 132, 138, 160, 178, 190, 224, 237, 268, 321, 322
George, Prince (afterwards George III.), 16
— — (afterwards George IV.), 192
Gibbon, Edward, 258, 259, 468
Gifford, W., 362 _note_
Gloucester, Duke of, 371
Gordon, Duchess of, 334
Gough, Captain, 5
Grafton, Duchess of, 139, 140
— Duke of, 139, 140, 141, 193, 201, 211, 239, 254, 305, 325, 361,
362, 372, 382, 426, 438, 454 _note_
Granby, Marquis of, 355
Gray, Thomas (the poet), quoted, 89, 90
Green, Valentine, 59
Grenville, Lord, 360, 435
Grey, Sir Charles (afterwards first Earl Grey), 327
— — — (afterwards second Earl Grey), 233, 234, 235, 424
Grigby, Joshua, 390
Guerchy, Comtesse de, 186, 187
Gurney, Rev. Mr., 462
Halifax, Dr., 372, 376
Hanger, Colonel George (afterwards Lord Coleraine), 192 and _note_
141
Harcourt, Countess of, 50 _note_ 39, 358
— Earl of, 67, 75
Hardwicke, Lord, 338
Hardy, Professor, 238
Harte, Rev. Walter, 32 and _note_ 31, 33, 35-43, 49
Harvey, Fenton, 20
Hastings, Warren, 164
Hawke, Lord, 241
Hawkesbury, Lady, 267
Hawksworth, Dr., 343
Héritier, C. de l’, 367 and _note_
Hertford, Marquis of, 427
Hervey, General, 105, 106
— Lady Mary, 267 and _note_
Hesketh, Lady, 233
Hill, Rev. Rowland, 359
Hoar, Captain, 350, 352
Holdernesse, Lord, 56
Holroyd, John Baker (afterwards Lord Sheffield, _q.v._), 58
Hoole, Mrs., 189, 198, 246, 250, 252
— John, 189
— Rev. Samuel, 189, 246, 251, 252, 361, 362
Horsley, Bishop, 359 and _note_ 204
Howard, Sir Charles, 28
— John, 59, 60, 248
Howlett, Rev. —, 97, 285
Hunter, Dr. Alexander, 61 and _note_ 53
Hutchinson, Rev. Mr., 336
Huthhausen, Baron, 173
Ingoldsby, Dr., 19
— General, 4, 5, 6, 7
— Mrs., 6, 10
Jarré, General, 123
Jarvis, Lord, 267
Jefferys, Mr. and Mrs., 73
Jenkinson, Mr., 256
Jenyns, Soame, 244, 245
Jermyn, Sir Thomas, 2
Jobson, Rev. Mr., 337
John of Austria, Archduke, 463, 464
Johnson, Dr., 26, 27, 32 _note_ 31, 285 _note_ 177, 353, 421, 422
Joy, Mrs., 19
Kalaskowski, Count, 144
Kames, Lord, 84 and _note_ 63
Keene, Mr. and Mrs., 3
Kennon, Mrs. Sidney, 10, 11, 12, 13
Kenrick, Dr., 27 and _note_ 14
Keppel, Lord, 108
Kingsborough, Lord, 76, 77-80
Kinsman, Mr. (master of Bury St. Edmunds School), 7
Knight, Cornelia, 368 and _note_ 208
Lafayette, 191
Lamb, Mr. (King’s Messenger), 45
Lambert, Captain, 29
Langford, Dr., 142
Latrobe, B. H., 172
Lauderdale, Lord, 314, 397
Law, Thomas, 229
Lawrence, Dr., 345
Lazowski, M. de, 119 and _note_ 91, 120-124, 154, 175
Leeds, Duke of, 51
— Sir George, 472
Leigh, Mr. (Clerk of the House of Commons), 261, 262
Liancourt, Duke of, 119 and _note_ 90, 120-123, 154, 259, 382
Liverpool, Lord, 339
Llandaff, Bishop of. _See_ Watson, Richard
Lofft, Capel, 101 and _note_ 75, 102, 276, 291, 317, 318
Longford, Lord, 71
Loughborough, Lord, 86, 98, 207, 208, 219
Louisa, Princess (daughter of George II.), 16
Luther, Mr., 179
Macartney, Lord, 196
Macaulay, General, 460, 462
Macklin, Rev. Mr., 154, 267, 274
Macpherson, Sir John, 224, 225, 239
Macro, Mr., 170
Magellan, Mr., 150
Manchester, Duke of, 367, 395
March, Lord, 140, 141
Marlborough, Duke of, 26
Marshall, W., 427 and _note_ 234, 429
Martin, Professor, 147
Massalski, Prince (Bishop of Wilna), 52
Mauduit, Israel, 255 and _note_
Medlicott, Mr., 71
Milbank, Lady, 350
Mildmay, Sir A. St. John, 348
Milner, Dean, 371 and _note_, 372
— Professor, 150
Miripoix, M. de (French Ambassador), 17
Moira, Lord, 243, 304
Moncrief, Sir Henry, 238
Montagu, Mrs., 233, 243, 244, 245, 312, 349, 358, 386
Montrose, Duke of, 245, 347
Mordaunt, Lady Mary, 52
More, Hannah, 233, 245, 246, 473
Mouron, M., 124
Murray, General, 171
Nepean, Mr., 341, 342
Neve, Miss, 467
Neville, Mr., 134
Newcastle, Duke of, 16
North, Lord, 60, 107, 201
— Rev. Mr., 344
Northey, Mr., 363
Oakes, Orbell Ray, 154, 266, 382, 388, 406
— Mrs. Orbell Ray, 266 and _note_, 270, 320, 321, 354, 359, 370
_note_ 211, 382, 385, 388, 392, 438, 443, 444, 445, 446, 453
O’Connor, A., 317 and _note_
Oliver, Right Hon. Silver, 74
Onslow, Dr., 191
— General, 4, 15, 16, 191
— Lady, 20
— Mr. Speaker, 4, 20, 28
Orde, Mrs., 245
Orford, Earl of, 60, 206, 207, 233
Orwell, Lord, 16 _note_ 9
Ossory, Lord, 331, 332, 395
Otto, L. W., Count of Morlay, 377 and _note_ 215
Overton, J., 376 and _note_
Pakenham, Mr., 460, 461
Paley, Dr., 378
Parkyn, Mr., 367
Partridge, Rev. S., 280
Patulle, M., 36, 40, 42
Pearson, Dr., 376
Pelham, Lord, 381
Peterborough, Bishop of, 147
Peterson, Lady, 20
Petty, Lord Henry, 370
Phillips, Sir John, 17
Pigot, Admiral, 193
Pitt, William, 134, 137, 161, 166, 201, 203, 219, 221, 254, 255,
306, 314, 315, 327, 345, 346, 363, 371, 424, 427
Plampin, Betsy. _See_ Oakes, Mrs.
— Captain John, 154, 423
Polignac, Prince and Princess de, 162 and _note_
Pope, Alexander (quoted), 136 _note_ 102
Popple, Mr. (Governor of Bermuda), 13
Porteus, Bishop, 178, 179
Portland, Duke of, 51, 326
Potemkin, Prince, 102, 125
Poulett, Mr., 246
Preston, Lord, 367, 368
Priestley, Dr., 99, 150-153, 439
Queensberry, Duke of, 192
Radnor, Lord, 161
Richardson, Samuel, 192
Richmond, Legh, 460
Roberts, Dr., Provost of Eton, 142
— Lewis, 91 and _note_ 67
Robertson, Messrs. (of Lynn), 22, 23
Rochefoucault, Counts de la, 119-121, 154
Rochester, Bishop of, 4, 28
Rockingham, Marquis of, 42, 50
Roper, Dr., 52
Rose, George (President of the Board of Trade), 132 and _note_ 97,
137, 221, 241, 242
Ross, Bishop, 160
Rosslyn, Lord, 360
Rossmore, Lord, 347
Rostopchin, Count, 387, 401
Ruggles, Th., 194 and _note_ 143
Rumford, Count, 323
Ryder, Lady Susan, 327, 328
— Mr., 327, 386
St. Vincent, Earl of, 418, 419
Sambosky, Rev. —, 124, 125
Saunderson, Dr. Nicholas, 14 _note_ 8
Scott, Rev. Thomas, 349, 359, 391, 392
Seabright, Sir John, 463
Sheffield, Lord, 132, 220, 245, 258, 344 and _note_ 199, 393, 395,
402, 407, 468, 469
Shelburne, Earl of (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne), 67, 69, 102
Shelley, Mr., 20
Sheridan, R. B., 164 and _note_, 234
Shipley, Mr., 59 _note_ 49
Sidmouth, Lord, 419, 434, 460
Simeon, Rev. Charles, 369, 395, 397, 398, 399, 400
Sinclair, Sir J., 159 and _note_ 119, 160, 219, 220, 224, 241, 242,
243, 245, 247, 256, 299, 314, 315, 316, 413, 414, 437, 443, 464
Smirenove, Mr., 387, 400
Smith, Sydney (quoted), 445 _note_ 239
Somers, Lord, 359
Somerville, Lord, 245, 315, 316, 318, 347, 361, 363, 384, 385, 404
Souga, Anthony (Austrian Consul), 169
Spencer, Lord, 313, 367
Stafford, Lord, 161
Stanhope, Lady, 313
— Philip, 33
Stanislas, King, 119
Stonehewer, Mr., 193, 346
Sturton, Sir Thomas, 344
Sutton, Dr. Robert, 8 and _note_ 4
Symonds, Professor John, 103, 114 and _note_ 84, 120-124, 129, 140,
144, 146, 154, 160, 184, 192, 201, 210, 236, 239, 253, 283, 295,
304, 344, 355, 362, 368, 400, 412, 419-421
Thornhill, Major, 78, 79
Thurlow, Lord, 161
Tillet, Mr. de, 170
Tomlinson, Mr., 22
— Mrs. (sister of Arthur Young), 20, 22, 126
Tour du Pin, Count de la, 257
Townsend, Rev. J., 407 and _note_ 227
Townshend, Lord, 136
Trant, Mr. and Mrs., 73
Tuam, Archbishop of, 75
Turner, Miss, 15
Turton, Dr., 264, 273, 274
Valpy, Dr. Richard, 106 and _note_ 81, 133, 297
Vancouver, 426 and _note_ 232
Vansittart, Nicholas, (afterwards Lord Bexley), 426 and _note_ 233,
435, 459
Vary, Mr., 140, 141, 193
Vassy, Governor, 4
Voltaire (quoted), 39
Wakefield, Edward, 75 and _note_
Washington, General, 189, 191, 360
Watson, Richard (afterwards Bishop of Llandaff), 97, 123, 124, 147,
150, 177-180, 236, 237, 254, 375
Way, Miss, 467
Wedderburn, Alexander (afterwards Earl of Rosslyn), 97 and _note_
70
— Colonel, 16 _note_ 9
Wellesley, Marquis of, 451
Wentworth, Lord, 245
Whitbread, Samuel, 52, 59, 161
Wight, Alexander, 84 and _note_
Wilberforce, William, 201, 287 and _note_ 180, 288, 289, 297, 307,
325 and _note_, 326, 345, 348, 359, 371, 375, 407, 454 _note_,
457, 459
Wilkes, John, 10
Willes, Mr. Justice, 52
Willoughby, Sir C., 351, 413
Winchester, Earl of, 245
Winchilsea, Earl of, 244, 315, 351, 363, 388, 466, 470
Windham, William, 161
Wollaston, Dr., 277
Wurtemburg, Queen of, 425
Wyndham, M.P., Mr., 259
Yeldham, John, 47
York, Duke of, 16, 266, 327
York, Mrs., 245
Young, Rev. Dr. (father of Arthur Young, writer of the
Autobiography), 2-6, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14, 24
— Mrs. (mother of Arthur Young), 3, 22, 24, 28, 56, 57, 61, 77, 81,
126
— Arthur (son of Arthur Young), 51, 139, 143, 299, 317, 318, 323,
352, 363, 382, 402, 403, 406, 408, 415, 418, 428, 429, 432, 448,
456, 457, 464
— — (last descendant of Arthur Young), 127 _note_ 94
— Mrs. Arthur (wife of Arthur Young), 32 and _note_ 29, 46, 81,
142, 146, 319, 339, 389, 413, 424, 429, 438, 457, 460
— — — (daughter-in-law of Arthur Young), 323, 397, 398, 399, 404,
409, 415, 429, 446, 448, 457
— Bartholomew (grandfather of Arthur Young), 2
— Elizabeth (‘Bessy’) (second daughter of Arthur Young), 51, 146,
181, 189. _See_ also Hoole, Mrs.
— Elizabeth Mary (‘Elisa Maria’) (sister of Arthur Young), 1, 15,
19, 20. _See also_ Tomlinson, Mrs.
— Rev. Dr. John (brother of Arthur Young), 2, 9, 57, 107, 127, 132,
138-143
— Martha Ann (‘Bobbin’) (youngest daughter of Arthur Young), 110
and _note_ 83, 158, 159 _note_ 118, 184, 185, 263-284, 286, 287,
290, 294, 295, 298, 323, 382, 423
— Mary (eldest daughter of Arthur Young), 43, 184, 382, 425, 440,
454 _note_ 244, 457, 472
PRINTED BY
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note
In the Table of Contents, the page for Chapter I was missing and has
been supplied. The page given for Chapter III was ‘4’ and has been
replaced by the correct page 44.
The Index has frequent references to footnotes, mentioning the page
and number on those pages. Since all footnotes have been renumbered
sequentially, for uniqueness, across the text, the Index references
have been modified to reflect the new numbers.
On p. 223, Young includes a memorandum from August 21, opening with
a quotation mark which is never closed. Judging from the tone of the
memorandum, it is likely that it closes at the end of a long
paragraph on p. 224 (see below).
Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected,
and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the
original.
32.23 [I ]shall make the tea Added.
58.13 were the numbers ascertained.[’] Removed.
187.30 quoted particulars o[f] yearly expenses Restored.
211.11 ‘Last night, in[s]tead of reading Inserted.
213.13 on the p[oli/la]ce of corn and capital Probable.
employed
224.22 secretaryship of the Board.[’] Added.
284.26 dwells upon the present.[’] Added.
306 the study of polite letters[.] Added.
315.27 the same answer was [r]eturned Restored.
381.16 I have taken places[.] Added.
393.31 ‘Der Augenblick ist Ewigkeit.[’] Added.
459.12 general anxiety and app[r]ehension Inserted.
Transcription of Manuscript Letter after p. 188
The following is a transcription of a letter from Arthur Young to
his wife Mary. There are several place names that resist
transcription in indicated with bracketed dashes.
No 82
Besançon July 27. 89
Dear Mary
I expected a L^r here, but was disappointed How comes y^t: I
hope not to be so at Dijon.
I think I wrote you fr^o Strasbourg: the day after at y^t
place 20,000 mob pillaged the Hotel d. Ville a house 3 times as big
as the Angel & almost tore it in pieces: It was well furnished, but
all turn’d out of windows in sight of 6 Regim.^{ts} who could not or
w’d not do anything to save it. From y^t time to this moment all has
been riot in every place I have been at. I spent a day at Schelestad
with the Ct. de la Rochefoucauld who was very civil & obliging but
on y^e qui vive for populace who are every where in motion At one
place I was near being knocked on the head for want of a Tiers etat
Cockade; and at another saved by self being an english^n. by
explaining how y^e Tiers etat p^d no taxes but the Seigneurs all in
England; proposing to them to do the same in France, they relished
this, and believed y^t I was not a Seigneur, but an honest fellow.
In this country worse & worse—they are burning and plundering
chateaus, & hunt down the Seigneurs like wild beasts—some have been
shot, others hanged, and hundreds driven out of the Country &
ruined. You see by y^e papers I suppose that the King is at
Versailles bereft of Guards power, family & all but claps and
huzzas: the Queen shut up at St Cyr; the Count d’Artois gone to
Spain it is said but first to [————]; and all the Queen’s friends
fled the Kingdom to escape halters. Never was such a revolution
known or heard off. The towns are every where arming the tiers etat,
so it will very soon be too late for the nobility to stir in their
defence.
Pray tell Hyde to take Care that the acre in Grav P.field y^t is to
be inclosed be well dunged & sowed with cabbage seed I ordered fr^o
[——] thro Bess—with^t fail by the 20^{th}. august in fine order.
Write me how the Cabbages are, fr^o a little bed in [——] past Round
garden; How does Cooper go on? I desire that Arthur may lose no time
at home, but take M^r Symonds directions when to go to C. I have not
had a L^r from him of 11 months; I suppose because I expressly
desired one once a fortnight: But nothing surprizes me that come
fr^o him; Eton has I hope has done so much for his head that it
leaves nothing for his heart—God send it may prove so; & y^t I have
not impoverished myself for nothing.
Give my dear Bobbin a Kiss for me & tell her I shall write her a L^r
next.
Adieu Y^r affect^t AY
Rem^r me to y^r Mother
Say nothing to Arth. ab^t writing; I had much rather have no L^r
than such as those hints bring: observe this:
Miss Young
Bradfield Hall
Bury
Suffolk
Angleterre