Dined at Lyons

‘London - walked to Evans’ the booksellers - dined at Lyons.’ This from a diary kept by John Nash, born 270 years ago today. He was one of Britain’s foremost architects of the early 19th century, being the designer of Regent Street, Buckingham Palace and the Royal Pavilion in Brighton. Considering his importance as a historical figure, it comes as a disappointment to find, firstly, that only two of his diaries have survived, and, secondly, that they are filled only with the scantest of entries - entries which are considered to have ‘little value where major biographical issues are concerned’.

Nash was born on 18 January 1752 in London. From the mid-1760s to the mid-1770s, he trained with the architect Robert Taylor. He married Jane Kerr in 1775, and they had two children. Around 1777, he established his own architectural practice, and invested inherited money in building projects. However, these were unsuccessful and left him bankrupt. At the same time, relations with his wayward and adulterous wife were deteriorating, leading, eventually, to legal proceedings and, in 1787, divorce. He moved to live in Carmarthen in 1784, and over the next decade re-established himself as a country house architect. In the late 1790s, he returned to London as an informal partner of the landscape gardener Humphry Repton. He married Mary Anne Bradley (then 25 years old) in 1798.

In the coming years, he designed many now famous country houses, public buildings and groups of houses. From 1813, he served as an official architect to the Office of Works, and as such advised on the building of many new churches. On commission by the Prince Regent, he laid out Regent’s Park and the Regent Street area (from land that had reverted to the Crown) complete with canal, lake, wooded areas, a botanical garden, shopping arcades and residential terraces. He re-landscaped St James’s Park, and transformed the Royal Pavilion in Brighton. He was involved with building two theatres on London’s Haymarket. Other commissions included the remodelling of Buckingham House (Palace) and the building of Marble Arch.

However, when George IV died in 1830, Nash was dismissed before he could complete Buckingham Palace, and he faced an official inquiry into the cost and structural soundness of the project. Because of the controversy, Nash received no further official commissions, nor was he awarded a knighthood. He retired to East Cowes Castle, a mansion he had built for himself earlier. He died in 1835, after which his wife had to sell the castle and much of its contents to clear debts. Further information is available from Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica and the BBC.

Nash probably kept a diary or ‘pocket journal’ throughout his adult life, but only two of these have survived, both from the last years of his life. They were published in a small spiral-bound pamphlet by Malcolm Pinhorn in 2000 as The Diaries of John Nash Architect - 1835 and 1835. The British Library has a copy (but, as far as I can tell, there are no secondhand copies available online). A preface in the booklet states: ‘In the 1980’s Mr Peter Laing, a great, great, grandson of Mrs John Nash’s relative Sir James Pennethorne, through whom they had descended, allowed the late Sir John Summerson, former Curator of the Soane Museum in London and Nash’s biographer, the loan of the surviving diaries of the architect John Nash for 1832 and 1835.’ 

And, in his introduction, Summerson says the diaries are of ‘little value where major biographical issues are concerned’. However, he adds, ‘they do give a lively picture of the aged architect (he was eighty-two when he began the first diary) in retirement, surviving comfortably among his friends, his books and flowers, his architectural perspectives and his Turner landscapes at East Cowes Castle on the Isle of Wight.’

Indeed, Nash’s entries in the diaries are rarely more than a sentence or two, and banal in the extreme. Here are a few examples.

14 May 1832
‘London - went to the exhibition with Mrs Nash & Anne and drove around the parks -’

15 May 1832
‘London - not out - the Vaughans, Lyons, Hopkinsons & Miss Tierney dined with us - Lord Grey & his colleagues sent for by the Kind - teh Duke of Wellington having failed to make a Cabinet -’

18 May 1832
‘London - called upon Lord Wenlock - read the Papers at the Atheneum - went to Evans the bookseller - and in the Evening to the German opera - Lord Grey announced that he & his colleagues had resumed office -’

19 May 1832
‘London - walked down to the office of Woods - went to the Zoological Gardens -’

23 May 1832
‘London - walked to Evans’ the booksellers - dined at Lyons.’

31 October 1832
‘Cowes - Estimated the value of Lady Lucy Foley’s House in London & wrote to her on the subject - dined at Mr Oglanders - took Mr Hewett & Mrs Smith & brought them home at night - ’

Ye largest Funeral

‘Went to Boston. Saw ye largest Funeral perhaps that was ever in Boston. 8 or 10 thousand present.’ This is from a diary kept by the reverend John Marrett, born 280 years ago today, who visited Boston immediately after the infamous so-called massacre. A few very brief extracts from Marrett’s diary have been published - thanks only to his being a descendant of a more famous relative and clergyman, Henry Dunster, the first president of Harvard College.

John Marrett was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on 10 Septenber 1741, the sixth and youngest child born to his mother, Mary (née Dunster). His father died when he was six years old. He entered Harvard College in 1759, graduating in 1763, but remained working on the family farm for a while. He was ordained in 1774, and preached in various places through Massachusetts and Maine. In 1775, he moved to Woburn. He married Martha Jones in 1779, and they had two children, though one died soon after birth. He remained in Woburn, and died in 1813. 

The only biographical information about Marrett available online, it seems, can be found in Henry Dunster and his Descendants by Samuel Dunster published by Central Falls in 1876 (and freely available at Internet Archive). The book includes around 10 pages with details of Marrett’s life, as well as brief extracts from his diaries and letters. The first entry below concerns the Boston Massacre, when British troops shot and killed several people while being harassed by a mob on 5 March 1770. The editor has added a note to this entry stating that the original contains a much longer and graphic account of the Massacre.

8 March 1770
‘Went to Boston. Saw ye largest Funeral perhaps that was ever in Boston. 8 or 10 thousand present - four men buried in one grave who were shot by the Centry Guard of regulars on Monday night last.’

17 June 1775
‘Preached at home very thin meeting the men gone down to the Army on the Army yesterday. Last night 3000 of our army went to Charlestown and entrenched on a hill. But before they had prepared their cannon the shipping and Regulars by land attacked them. After much fighting we were obliged to quit the entrenchment and the town. Many killed and wounded on both sides The shipping annoyed us much. The town laid in Ashes! The adjacent country gone down - 1000 of the Regulars killed & wounded not more than 200 of ours.’

19 May 1780
‘Morning, Thunder & rain at home. An uncommon Darkness from 1/2 past 10 clock A. M. to 1/2 past one P. M. So dark that I couldnt see to read common print at the window nor see the hour of the clock unless close to it and scarcely to see to read a Bible of large print, people left off work in the house and abroad. The fowls, some of them went to roost. It was cloudy, wind S. W. The Heavens looked yellowish and gloomy what is the Occasion of it is unknown. The moon fulled yesterday. Many persons much terrified never known so dark a day People lit candles to see to dine.

25 August 1803
‘Mrs M dangerously Sick of a Fever.’

11 September 1803
‘Preach’d A.M. - dismissed the People P.M. 1/4 past 4 o’clock my wife died.’

12 September 1803
‘Busy in sorrow preparing for the funeral.’

14 September 1803
‘fair - The funeral of Mrs Marrett. Ministers Revd Messrs. Clark, Stone Dr. Cummings Dr. Osgood, Fisk, Adams - A very large collection of People. The procession reachd from meeting house into the Burying Yard & not all went. The whole conducted with Great Decency and propriety. My people exceedingly Kind and helpful. They propose to defray the funeral Charges.’

18 September 1803
‘Sabbath. Preached at home. Funeral Sermon on the death of my wife.’

16 June 1806
‘The great and Solar Eclipse. The Sun totally covered. The Stars appeard bright Dark as a Moon-Shine night as the eclipse went off could see the moon with the sun.’

A Pole in America

Today marks 180 years since the death of Julian Ursyn Niemcewicz, a great Polish patriot and writer. Having been active in politics during years of turbulence while Poland was trying to establish itself as a state, he found himself imprisoned, but then exiled himself to the US for several years. Although a regular diarist, only the diaries of his travels in America have been published in English. These are said to be among ‘the earliest and most important documents in the complex, fascinating and still largely unexplored story of American-Polish cultural relations’.

Niemcewicz was born in 1757/58 into a noble family established for generations near Brest in the Lithuanian part of the old Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. He was educated at the School for Knights in Warsaw, founded by the King, and the only lay school in Poland, before being taken as an assistant by Prince Czartoryski (who later became one of the leading advocates for the Polish national cause). Niemcewicz travelled widely with the Prince; and in addition to writing poetry and travel books, he undertook translations into Polish from French. In 1788, he became deputy in the lower house of the Polish parliament, and was an active member of the Patriotic Party, known for his speaking ability, that pushed through a new constitution in 1791.

Thereafter, Niemcewicz took part in the insurrection of 1794, but was captured at Maciejowice and imprisoned in St Petersburg for two years. On his release, he went first to England and then to the US, where he married and settled. He moved in high circles during this time, and was even a guest of George Washington. In 1807, he returned to live in Poland. Thereafter, he held no public position, and focused on his literary endeavours - his first popular writing success had come in 1790 with the political comedy The Return of the Deputy. His later publications included translations from the English, Polish songs (his famous Historical Songs), and novels such as John of Tenczyn (1825).

In 1831, Niemcewicz travelled to London where, with Napoleon’s son, he tried, unsuccessfully, to win military support for a Polish insurrection against Russia. He spent the last years of his life in Paris, campaigning for Polish freedom. He died on 21 May 1841. Further information is available from Wikipedia and the Virtual Library of Polish Theatre.

Although it seems there are various published versions of Niemcewicz’s diaries, there is only one that has appeared in English, translated/edited by Metchie J E Budka, and published by The Grassman Publishing Company, New Jersey, in 1965: Under Their Vine and Fig Tree. Travels through America in 1797-1799, 1805, with some further account of life in New Jersey.

‘Niemcewicz’s American diaries are one of the earliest and most important documents in the complex, fascinating and still largely unexplored story of American-Polish cultural relations,’ Wiktor Weintraub begins in his Preface. ‘But [they] are interesting also in their own right, outside the framework of American-Polish relations. If there ever existed a perfect extrovert, Niemcewicz was one. He travelled widely, by eighteenth century standards, had tremendous gusto for life and a keen eye for life’s minutiae. Everything interested him: the prices of foodstuffs, the conditions of prisons, specific fauna and flora of particular regions, good, or not so good, looks of ladies - the reader of the diaries would hardly guess that in this respect he was far from being a disinterested observer only - good, or bad, manners of children, the political climate of the country, the state of the roads. Mostly on the move, always intellectually alert, curious about people, he had a great capacity for absorbing data. Thus, the diaries form an amusing, richly detailed, variegated, if not especially deep, chronicle of the American life by the end of the eighteenth century.’

‘Until recently,’ Weintraub continues, ‘only parts of the text of the diaries were known, and the manuscript was considered to be lost. The Polish edition of the whole preserved text, with its French parts in Polish translation, appeared as late as 1959. The work on the present edition was started independently, at an earlier date. . . [Dr Budka’s] translation, for being careful, manages to recapture the easy grace, the abandon of Niemcewicz’s Polish and French jotting, and, thus, enables the reader to enjoy the diaries as good reading stuff.’

Here is one extract in which Niemcewicz meets the American president.

8 November 1797
‘Brunswick

I found all the inhabitants of the town busy in preparing the reception and dinner for Mr John Adams, President of the United States. The cool heads, and the methodical manners of these solemn Americans lead them to go about their business of a dinner with the same rules that they use in discussing affairs of State. A committee was appointed to arrange the dinner and a President and a Vice-President to maintain good order at the table and to receive the chief magistrate. Many evenings were spent on arranging this important affair. Finally Mr Adams arrived, but two hours before the appointed time. Nothing was ready. Immediately, the militia, both mounted and on foot, ran about the streets; the authorities put their wigs on askew; the elegants arrived with their shoes half buckled. The cannon fired a half [hour] after Mr Adams was already well warmed at the fire-place. Little by little everyone settled down and took breath. At one o’clock I was presented to Mr Adams. He was sitting, reading a newspaper, facing the fireplace with Mr Malcolm, a young man 20 years old, his private secretary. I saw a dumpy little man dressed wholly in gray, well-powdered hair and a long pigtail. His face appeared to me that of a good and honest man, touched nevertheless with a grain of a malice. He received me civilly, asked me news of Gl Kosciuszko and then Mar. La Fayette. I passed then into a room opposite and I found there the true counterpart of Mr Adams. It was his wife. Small, short and squat, she is accused of a horrible crime. It is said she puts on rouge. What is certain is that if her manner is not the most affable, her mind is well balanced and cultivated. She was accompanied only by a niece and a maidservant.

At two o’clock Cl Neilson, elected President of the whole ceremony, accompanied Gl White and all the citizens entered into the President’s room. Mr Neilson in the name of all the inhabitants read an address conceived in a style filled with expressions of attachment for the Constitution and the leading public officials. Mr Adams read his response, he spoke to some, shook the hand of all, and then he departed. At three o’clock the same ceremony to invite him to go into the dining hall. He made his way there through the ranks of citizens and thirty of the militia in uniform who lined his path. They saluted him by lowering flags. The table was set for 60 people. Rost-beef, turkeys, Pays [pies?], etc, were served in profusion.

In the middle of the dinner Mr Goss, a man 6 feet tall, over 70 years old, tanner by trade and prattler by habit, got up from the other end of the table, came to the side where the President was, displaced Gl White, who was seated beside him, sat down there himself and occupied his attention with the most coarse and silly tales possible. The good President laughed, then considering his enormous height said to him, “You should have been born in the states of the King of Prussia. You would have been the ornament of his guards.” “Would I have been the second in his kingdom, I would not wish to have been born there,” the tanner said to him. “Nor I,” answered the President “would I have been the first.” ’

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 21 May 2011.

Settling in California

Today marks the 300th anniversary of the birth of Juan Crespí, a Spanish missionary and explorer. He is remembered today not only for taking part in the expedition that led to the first settlements ever made in the present-day state of California, but for keeping a journal - now historically important - of the journey.

Crespí was born in Majorca, Spain, on 1 March 1721. He entered the Franciscan order at the age of 17. Junipero Serra was his teacher of philosophy at the Convent of San Francisco. When Serra decided to become a missionary in New Spain, Crespí and another missionary Francisco Palóu agreed to join him - they arrived in Vera Cruz in 1749. In 1767, Crespí went to the Baja California Peninsula where he was put in charge of the Misión La Purísima Concepción de Cadegomó. Two years later, he joined an expedition led by Gaspar de Portolá to occupy San Diego and Monterey. The expedition continued up the coast, and the following year the Mission San Carlos Borromeo was founded (in present-day Carmel-by-the-Sea), Crespí served as chaplain of the expedition to the North Pacific conducted by Juan Pérez in 1774. He died in 1882. A little further information is available at Wikipedia and Spartacus Educational.

While there is sparse biographical information available online about Crespí, he left behind a detailed and informative diary kept during his 1769-1779 expedition. This was used by H. E. Bolton for his 1927 biography of Crespí, and has been mined by other historians as a valuable first hand source of information about his expeditions. However, the diary was only published for the first time in an unexpurgated edition, edited by Alan K. Brown, in 2001: A Description of Distant Roads Original Journals of the First Expedition Into California, 1769-1770 (San Diego State University Press). Crespí’s journals have a chequered past, according to Brown, which he unravels in his introduction, alongside plenty of historical context. Here is part of his preface.

‘Overdue for publication by two hundred years and more, these are the genuine journals kept by the missionary explorer Juan Crespí in 1769 and 1770 during the Spanish-American expedition that searched overland for the long-lost harbor of Monterey, and, after many hardships permanently established the first settlements ever made in the present-day state of California. The author, through the ongoing entries in his journals, carefully documented this whole progress and his own participation in it. Equally important, or perhaps even more at the present day, is the description of the native landscape and its inhabitants that he produced through his eye for detail and his extraordinary diligence in keeping the record.

This edition and translation, taken from manuscripts in the original author’s own handwriting, represents a first publication of much of the texts. The versions previously available to historians, scientists, and the reading public were deeply curtailed and adulterated by others than the original author, so much so that it is fair to say that his name has been falsely attached to the traditional editions and translations. Those very well known pseudo-Crespí texts are still often consulted and cited as though they were genuine, a circumstance that unfortunately has been allowed to feed upon itself for more than half a century.’

And here are a few extracts of Crespí’s diary from Brown’s edition.

18 March 1769
‘I set out from this spot early in the morning, but at about two or three leagues past Yuvai. one of the mules which was carrying my effects gave out and lay collapsed upon the trail, unable to go on. It was necessary for the soldier who had been accompanying me to stav behind with some Indians, in order to see whether the might bring it on after resting it, and for me to leave in order to reach the old mission of Santa Maria called Calamofué. I went onward with my own two Indian boys whom I have with me, in company with some other Indians belonging to the missions who are following me; I went the whole day at a good pace, stopping for a while only to eat a bite at midday, and I came about ten o’clock at night to the aforesaid mission of Calamofué, where I met a courier from Santa Maria mission, sent by Reverend Father Preacher Fray Fermin Lasuen, with the vestment and everything else needed in order to be able to say Mass her on the following day, Palm Sunday, as I had requested of him from back at his own mission of San Borja. As it was so late at night upon my reaching here, I told them to make me some chocolate and retired to rest, for I was truly worn out.’

3 May 1769
‘Invention of the Most Holy Cross. I said Mass here at this spot, and it was heard by all of this Expedition, and we lay resting in order for our beasts to approve the occasion of the fine grass here, and for the country to be scouted in the meanwhile to see whether they might find a watering place, in order for us to continue. On reaching this spot, close to one of the aforesaid pools we came across a village, who as soon as they saw us ran off to the hill and commenced shouting at us a great deal, seeming by their gesturing to be telling us to turn back; they were all naked and heavily beweaponed. Several times our commander called to them to come down to the camp without fear, but they never showed themselves nearby. I took the north altitude and made it 32 degrees 14 minutes.’
 
12 May 1769
‘We set out early in the morning from the small Saint Pius valley here, following a northward course veering a bit north-northwestward, along the shore and guided by some heathens belonging to this spot who had offered themselves as guides. They accompanied us a part of the way and left us. It was a march of a bit over three hours, over country that was all very easy going, crossing some gorges though not such difficult ones as those before were. We must have made three leagues, and came to a heathen village upon a tableland that looks to be an island, as it is surrounded by a gorge wherever not laved by the sea. As soon as they saw us, the heathens tried to have us stop close to their village, upon the aforesaid tableland. We thought it better, however, to cross to another one upon the other side of the gorge, where there was grass at the edge of the sea. The village here has, in the gorge, a middling-sized pool of good water that they supply themselves from. Though they might have done so, they refused to water our beasts there, in order not to do anything to spoil these poor souls’ watering place, inasmuch as our beasts had drunk their fill before setting out. The whole village, men, women, and children, came over to the camp at once, without a single weapon, nowise unruly, not wearing paint and not in any way like the last people all of them very friendly and cheerful. As though they had always dealt with us, they spent the entire day sitting down along with us, telling us with great pleasure of the ships, which they said were close by now. The four islands called Los Cuatro Coronados lie about opposite this spot. I named this place The little pool of the village of    Santos Martires Nereo y Sus Companeros, The Holy Martyrs Nereus and Companions. The same spot was ailed La Carcel de San Pedro, Saint Peter’s Prison, by the Reverend Father President.’

Cannon out of the River

‘Went on the Ice about 8 o’clock in the morning & proceeded so cautiously that before night we got over three sleds & were so lucky as to get the Cannon out of the River. . .’ This is from a short diary kept by Henry Knox, born 270 years ago today and the youngest major general in the Continental Army under George Washington. He kept the journal while trekking 300 miles to Fort Ticonderoga and then back to Boston dragging captured cannon - artillery which gave the revolutionaries a decisive advantage over the British.

Knox was born on 25 July 1750 in Boston, Massachusetts, into a large family of pioneers from Northern Ireland. His father was a shipbuilder who ran into financial difficulties and died young. Knox was obliged to leave school aged nine to become a clerk in a bookstore to help support the family. He profited from access to books by teaching himself French, maths and philosophy. In 1770, he was a witness to the Boston Massacre, and testified at the trials of the accused soldiers. The following year he opened his own bookshop, which allowed him to pursue his interests in history, military matters and especially artillery. In 1772, he became a member of the Boston Grenadier Corps, a local militia group opposing British authority. In 1774, he married Lucy Flucker, against the wishes of her father, a Boston loyalist. They would have 13 children, although only one son survived to adulthood.

In 1775, Knox served under General Artemas Ward during the siege of Boston. During the winter, he trekked from Fort Ticonderoga to bring captured British artillery back to Boston - arms which proved crucial in controlling the city. When Washington arrived to take command of the Continental Army, Knox was commissioned a colonel and placed in charge of artillery. In 1777, while the army was in winter quarters at Morristown, New Jersey, he returned to Massachusetts to improve the Army’s artillery manufacturing capability. He raised an additional battalion of artillerymen and established an arsenal at Springfield, Massachusetts, before returning to the main army in the spring.

In the Philadelphia campaign, Knox, by then a brigadier general, distinguished himself in commanding the artillery at Monmouth, New Jersey, and later at the decisive Siege of Yorktown in 1781. He was made a major general; and at the end of the war, he succeeded Washington as commander of the army. Knox resigned his command early in 1784 and returned to Boston. The following year he was made secretary of war in the government under the Articles of Confederation and retained the position in President Washington’s first cabinet. As such, he was responsible for implementing early policies toward Native Americans, and managing the conflicts with them. He believed that Indian nations were sovereign and possessed the land they occupied, though his views had little impact on future government policy.

Knox retired to a large estate at Thomaston, Maine, in 1795, where he involved himself in all kinds of business, including cattle farming, ship building, and real estate speculation. He was made a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1805. He died the following year, aged only 56, and was buried with full military honours. Many towns and counties as well as two forts are named after him. Further biographical information is available from Wikipedia, Historic Valley Force, Encyclopaedia Britannica, Knox Museum or New World Encyclopaedia.

Knox’s grandson, rear-admiral Henry Knox, presented, in the 19th century, a collection of his grandfather’s manuscripts to the New England Historic Genealogical Society. Within this collection is a short diary kept by Knox during his expedition to and from Ticonderoga. The edited text of this diary can found in The New England Historical and Genealogical Register, Volume 30 (see Googlebooks). Images of all 30 pages of the original manuscript with exact transcriptions can also be found at the Online Collections website of the Massachusetts Historical Society. Here are a few extracts.

8 January 1776 

‘Went on the Ice about 8 o’clock in the morning & proceeded so cautiously that before night we got over three sleds & were so lucky as to get the Cannon out of the River, owing to the assistance the good people of the City of Albany gave, in return for which we christen’d her - The Albany.’

9 January 1776

‘Got several spare slays also some spare string of horses, in case of any accident. After taking my leave of General Schuyler & some other of my friends in Albany, I sat out from there about twelve o’clock & went as far as Claverac, about 9 Miles beyond Kinderhook. I first saw all the Cannon set out from the ferry opposite Albany.’

The eve of some fever

‘Meanwhile, a stillness the most uncommon reigned over the whole house. Nobody stirred; not a voice was heard; not a step, not a motion. I could do nothing but watch, without knowing for what: there seemed a strangeness in the house most extraordinary.’ So wrote Frances (Fanny) Burney in her journal about the royal household where she was employed when King George III was ill, suffering from what later would be deemed a first mental episode. Indeed, with some insight she called the King’s illness the ‘eve of some fever’. Today, it’s worth remembering Fanny, one of Britain’s earliest female novelists and diarists, for it is the 180th anniversary of her death.

Fanny was born in 1752 at King’s Lynn, Norfolk, the daughter of Charles Burney, a musician and man of letters. The family moved to London in 1760, where Charles was part of a busy literary circle. Fanny was a precocious child (although her mother died when she was just 10). She was educated at home with the help of her father’s extensive library and of his friends, in particular Samuel Crisp who encouraged her to write journal-letters, in which she carefully reported on the social world around her family. And, it was writing of this ilk that led to her first novel, Evelina, published anonymously when she was only 26.

Evelina was an instant success and led London society to speculate on the identity of the writer - widely assumed to be a man. The Burney Centre biography says Fanny ‘became the first woman to make writing novels respectable’. With Evelina, it adds, she created a new school of fiction in English - a ‘comedy of manners’ - one in which women in society were portrayed in realistic, contemporary circumstances. This new genre then paved the way for Jane Austen and other 19th century writers. Fanny wrote three other novels which were published. She also penned a number of satirical plays, but her father and Crisp thought they might offend the public and they were not therefore produced. Only one was ever performed in her lifetime, and the rest had to wait until the 20th century for a critical assessment.

When discovered as the author of Evelina, Fanny was taken up in her own right by literary and high society, in particular she became very friendly with the Thrales and Dr Johnson. But the success of her second novel, Cecilia, was overshadowed by the deaths of friends and her mentor Crisp in the first half of the 1780s. During the second half of the same decade, she entered the royal household as a Keeper of the Robes for Queen Charlotte; but they were unhappy years and she was allowed to resign in 1791. Two years later, she married Alexandre d’Arblay, and they had one son.

Hoping to recover property lost during the French Revolution, d’Arblay moved his family to France in 1802, but the resumption of the Napoleonic War left them stranded there for a decade. While there, Fanny made medical history by writing about her mastectomy without anaesthesia. Later, she also remained with her husband on the Continent while he was still fighting with French Royalists. He died in 1818, and thereafter Fanny focused on editing the memoirs of her father and her own writings, especially her diary and letters. She died 170 years ago today on 6 January 1840. Apart from The Burney Centre, further information can be found at Wikipedia, The Diary Junction, The British Library, and Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Although Evelina is now considered a classic and is still in print, Fanny Burney is more celebrated today because of her extraordinary diaries, famed not only for their literary quality but for their social content. Here is more from The Burney Centre biography:

‘Although heavily bowdlerized versions of the diaries and letters were published in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, it wasn’t until Joyce Hemlow published her landmark biography, The History of Fanny Burney, in 1958 that the full impact of Burney’s contribution to literature and letters began to be better appreciated. Dr Hemlow’s 12-volume Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney (Madame d’Arblay), which covers the years from 1791 to 1840, also made a great contribution to the contemporary recognition of Burney’s canonical status. The remainder of Frances Burney’s journals, complete for the first time, are currently being published in two series. The Early Journals and Letters (1768-1786) is under the general editorship of Lars Troide and The Court Journals and Letters (1786-1791) is under the general editorship of Peter Sabor.’

All seven volumes of the original Diary and Letters of Madame d’Arblay, edited by her niece and published by Henry Colburn in 1842, are available online at Internet Archive. Fanny’s own introduction to her diary, written when just 15, is worth reproducing:

‘To have some account of my thoughts, manners, acquaintance and actions, when the hour arrives at which time is more nimble than memory, is the reason which induces me to keep a Journal - a Journal in which I must confess my every thought, must open my whole heart.

But a thing of the kind ought to be addressed to somebody - I must imagine myself to be talking - talking to the most intimate of friends - to one in whom I should take delight in confiding, and feel remorse in concealment: but who must this friend be? To make choice of one in whom I can but half rely, would be to frustrate entirely the intention of my plan. The only one I could wholly, totally confide in, lives in the same house with me, and not only never has, but never will leave me one secret to tell her. To whom then must I dedicate my wonderful, surprising, and interesting adventures? - to whom dare I reveal my private opinion of my nearest relations? my secret thoughts of my dearest friends? my own hopes, fears, reflections, and dislikes? - Nobody.

To NOBODY, then, will I write my Journal? - since to Nobody can I be wholly unreserved, to Nobody can I reveal every thought, every wish of my heart, with the most unlimited confidence, the most unremitting sincerity, to the end of my life! For what chance, what accident, can end my connexions with Nobody? No secret can I conceal from Nobody, and to Nobody can I be ever unreserved. Disagreement cannot stop our affection - time itself has no power to end our friendship. The love, the esteem I entertain for Nobody, Nobody’s self has not power to destroy. From Nobody I have nothing to fear. The secrets sacred to friendship Nobody will not reveal; when the affair is doubtful, Nobody will not look towards the side least favourable.’

And here are a few of her diary entries from a time when King George III was beginning to have a ‘sanity crisis’ (a phrase from the Burney Society biography). In fact this was one of the King’s very first episodes in what would later become his chronic mental illness. (See Wikipedia’s entry on George III for a correlation of the dates - ‘in November [1788] he became seriously deranged . . .’).

3 November 1788
‘. . . However, we are all here in a most uneasy state. The King is better and worse so frequently, and changes so, daily, backwards and forwards, that everything is to be apprehended, if his nerves are not some way quieted. I dreadfully fear he is on the eve of some severe fever. The Queen is almost overpowered with some secret terror. I am affected beyond all expression in her presence, to see what struggles she makes to support serenity. To-day she gave up the conflict when I was alone with her, and burst into a violent fit of tears. It was very, very terrible to see! How did I wish her a Susan or a Fredy! To unburthen her loaded mind would be to relieve it from all but inevitable affliction. Oh, may Heaven in its mercy never, never drive me to that solitary anguish more! - I have tried what it would do; I speak from bitter recollection of past melancholy experience.

Sometimes she walks up and down the room without uttering a word, but shaking her head frequently, and in evident distress and irresolution. She is often closeted with Miss Goldsworthy, of whom, I believe, she makes inquiry how her brother has found the King, from time to time.

The Princes both came to Kew, in several visits to the King. The Duke of York has also been here, and his fond father could hardly bear the pleasure of thinking him anxious for his health. ‘So good,’ he says, ‘is Frederick!’

To-night, indeed, at tea-time, I felt a great shock, in hearing, from General Bude, that Dr. Heberden had been called in. It is true more assistance seemed much wanting, yet the King’s rooted aversion to physicians makes any newcomer tremendous. They said, too, it was merely for counsel, not that His Majesty was worse.

Ah, my dearest friends! I have no more fair running journal: I kept not now even a memorandum for some time, but I made them by recollection afterwards, and very fully, for not a circumstance could escape a memory that seems now to retain nothing but present events.

I will copy the sad period, however, for my Susan and Fredy will wish to know how it passed; and, though the very prospect of the task involuntarily dejects me, a thousand things are connected with it that must make all that can follow unintelligible without it.’

4 November 1788
‘Passed much the same as the days preceding it; the Queen in deep distress, the King in a state almost incomprehensible, and all the house uneasy and alarmed. The drawing-room was again put off, and a steady residence seemed fixed at Windsor.’

5 November 1788
‘Oh, dreadful day! My very heart has so sickened in looking over my memorandums, that I was forced to go to other employments. I will not, however, omit its narration. ‘Tis too interesting ever to escape my own memory, and my dear friends have never yet had the beginning of the thread which led to all the terrible scenes of which they have variously heard.

I found my poor Royal Mistress, in the morning, sad and sadder still; something horrible seemed impending, and I saw her whole resource was in religion. We had talked lately much upon solemn subjects, and she appeared already preparing herself to be resigned for whatever might happen.

I was still wholly unsuspicious of the greatness of the cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of the constitution, the payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age for the waste of unguarded health and strength, - these seemed to me the threats awaiting her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of the fact!

I had given up my walks some days; I was too uneasy to quit the house while the Queen remained at home, and she now never left it. Even Lady Effingham, the last two days, could not obtain admission; she could only hear from a page how the Royal Family went on.

At noon the King went out in his chaise, with the Princess Royal, for an airing. I looked from my window to see him; he was all smiling benignity, but gave so many orders to the postillions, and got in and out of the carriage twice, with such agitation, that again my fear of a great fever hanging over him grew more and more powerful. Alas! how little did I imagine I should see him no more for so long - so black a period!

When I went to my poor Queen, still worse and worse I found her spirits. She had been greatly offended by some anecdote in a newspaper - the Morning Herald - relative to the King’s indisposition. She declared the printer should be called to account. She bid me burn the paper, and ruminated upon who could be employed to represent to the editor that he must answer at his peril any further such treasonable paragraphs. I named to her Mr Fairly, her own servant, and one so peculiarly fitted for any office requiring honour and discretion. ‘Is he here, then?’ she cried. ‘No,’ I answered, but he was expected in a few days.

I saw her concurrence with this proposal. The Princess Royal soon returned. She came m cheerfully, and gave, in German, a history of the airing, and one that seemed comforting.

Soon after, suddenly arrived the Prince of Wales. He came into the room. He had just quitted Brighthelmstone. Something passing within seemed to render this meeting awfully distant on both sides. She asked if he should not return to Brighthelmstone? He answered yes, the next day. He desired to speak with her; they retired together.

I had but just reached my own room, deeply musing on the state of things, when a chaise stopped at the rails; and I saw Mr. Fairly and his son Charles alight, and enter the house. He walked lamely, and seemed not yet recovered from his late attack.

Though most happy to see him at this alarming time when I knew he could be most useful, as tliere is no one to whom the Queen opens so confidentially upon her affairs, I had yet a fresh start to see, by his anticipated arrival, though still lame, that he must have been sent for, and hurried hither.

Only Miss Planta dined with me. We were both nearly silent: I was shocked at I scarcely knew what, and she seemed to know too much for speech. She stayed with me till six o’clock, but nothing passed, beyond general solicitude that the King might get better. . .

Meanwhile, a stillness the most uncommon reigned over the whole house. Nobody stirred; not a voice was heard; not a step, not a motion. I could do nothing but watch, without knowing for what: there seemed a strangeness in the house most extraordinary.

At seven o’clock Columb came to tell me that the music was all forbid, and the musicians ordered away!

This was the last step to be expected, so fond as His Majesty is of his Concert, and I thought it might have rather soothed him: I could not understand the prohibition; all seemed stranger and stranger.’

This article is a revised version of one first published 10 years ago on 6 January 2010

Beaver skins and beef fat

’The present they brought was a package of beaver skins and about 100 lbs. of beef fat. I gave them in return one sack of corn and sixteen fathoms of tobacco. ‘My children,’ I said, ‘I will tell you tomorrow what are our Father’s orders to me regarding you, and shall let you know his will.’ They uttered a great shout of joy and retired.’ This is from the journal of Pierre La Vérendrye, a French-Canadian soldier, fur trader and explorer who died 270 years ago today. He and his sons undertook several expeditions attempting to find a route to the western coast of Canada, and in doing so established an important line of trading posts.

Pierre Gaultier de Varennes, sieur de La Vérendrye, to give him his full name, was born in 1685 in Trois-Rivières, New France (now in Quebec), the youngest son of René Gaultier de Varennes, who came to Canada as a soldier in 1665, and Marie, the daughter of Pierre Boucher, the first governor of Trois-Rivières. The Gaultier family were minor nobility from the Anjou area of France with Varennes and La Vérendrye being two of their estates. 

Pierre was educated in a Jesuit seminary in Quebec. Aged 12, he received a cadet’s commission in the French marines in Canada, seeing plenty of action in the so-called Queen Anne’s War between the French and English colonists. At age 22, he enlisted in the French army, and fought in Flanders during the War of the Spanish Succession. He was seriously wounded at the Battle of Malplaquet, was paroled as a prisoner of war, and returned to Canada. In 1712, he married Marie-Anne Dandonneau du Sablé (they would have six children) and set up as a farmer and fur trader along the Saint Lawrence.

In 1726, La Vérendrye decided to join his brother Jacques-René who was commandant of posts along the north shore of Lake Superior in 1726; two years later he succeeded him as commandant. With permission from the French authorities, he was given a three year monopoly on the fur trade of the area. He formed a partnership with other merchants, and. during the 1730s, developed a series of trading posts from Lake Superior to Lake Winnipeg promoting the fur trade. At the same time, with information gathered from indigenous peoples, he was exploring further and further west in the hope of finding a route through to the coast. In 1738, he reached the Mandan Indian villages on the Missouri River in present North Dakota. In 1742, he sent two of his sons to push beyond the Missouri, and it is possible they penetrated Nebraska, Montana, and Wyoming and saw, but did not cross, the Rocky Mountains.

Ultimately, La Vérendrye was severely criticised by the French authorities for failing to find the western sea. He was also blamed for the deaths of one of his sons, a nephew, and a Roman Catholic priest at the hands of hostile native Americans. After four explorations to the west, he resigned and returned to New France and his established business interests. Nevertheless, in time, he pressed the French for yet another opportunity to explore to the west. Permission was finally granted, and he had started planning a trip along the Saskatchewan River when he died, on 5 December 1749. Shortly before his death, he was awarded the Order of Saint Louis. Further information is available from The Canadian Encyclopedia, Wikipedia, Canadian Museum of History, and Encyclopaedia Britannica.

La Vérendrye kept some kind of journal or notebooks on his expeditions, although many of these appear to have been lost. The surviving documents were edited by Lawrence J. Burpee and published by The Champlain Society (Toronto) in 1927 as Journals and Letters of Pierre Gaultier de Varennes de la Vérendrye and his sons. With correspondence between the Governors of Canada and the French Court, touching the search for the Western Sea. The contents listing contains a long list of senders/recipients of letters, but there are six or seven items called ‘Journal’ or ‘Report of La Vérendrye’. The text of the letters and journals is provided in both French and English on split pages. Here is one long extract from La Vérendrye’s journal covering the period May to December 1733.

‘On May 27, 1733, I despatched the Sieur de la Jemeraye, my nephew and second in command, from fort St. Charles, situated to the south of the Lake of the Woods at the mouth of a river discharging therein, to go and report to the Marquis de Beauharnois as to the discoveries we had already made and the two forts we had constructed, the first called fort St. Pierre on Rainy lake, otherwise called Tecamamiouen, the second fort St. Charles, for the purpose of enabling ourselves to execute the orders with which he has honoured us, and to present to him a map of the new countries discovered and of the nations inhabiting them.

The Marquis de Beauharnois is aware that the Sioux and Saulteurs, his children, have been carrying on war from time immemorial against the Monsoni and the Cristinaux or Cree, and even against the Assiniboin (two tribes against three). On both sides they are continually forming war parties to invade one another’s territory, as will be seen further on in this Journal, a state of things which is gradually destroying them, hinders their hunting, and does very considerable harm to the commerce of Canada.

The Monsoni and the Cree having planned to march against the Saulteur of the Point and the Sioux, they divided themselves into two bands. The Monsoni, to the number of three hundred warriors and over, who formed the first band and who were to attack the Saulteurs, arrived on the 15th June at fort St. Charles.

At first they concealed their intention from me for fear I should oppose it, and asked me for powder, ball and tobacco that they might go against the Mascoutens Poüanes; but one of their chiefs having told me the real facts, I got all the chiefs together and gave them a collar in the name of our Father who forbade them to make war on his children the Saulteurs; and I said to them that, if they were obedient to his word, I would give them everything they asked.

They received the collar and promised to obey, submitting themselves to their Father’s will, but, in order to protect their lands from hostile parties, they asked me to go to the St. Pierre river and join the Cree in the prairies, they having given their word to do so. The latter arrived the next day to the number of five hundred, intending to march against the French Sioux; but all their plans came to naught in the same council, and all submitted. I was consequently obliged to give them all they asked, powder, bullets, guns, butcher’s knives, daggers, gun-flints, awls, tobacco, etc., of which I have kept a list.

The 300 Monsoni, having gone up the river St. Pierre again as far as a fork where they were to leave their canoes to go into the prairies, met three men, Saulteur and Sioux, scouts of a party of one hundred. The Monsoni fired on them and killed one whose scalp they took. The two others were lucky enough to escape, and the 300 came back to complain to me, saying that the Saulteur and the Sioux were continuing to kill them and did not heed the word of their Father. I gave them some tobacco, and expressed the joy I felt that they had not fired on the 100 men, saying that I knew by that they were the true children of our Father. They returned highly pleased to their families.

The 500 Cree after twenty days’ march in the prairies came within sight of the smoke of the village which they wished to attack at sunrise (they always take the sun as witness of their valour), when their rearguard was attacked by 30 Sioux who had crossed their track and who took them for Assiniboin not on the war-path. The assailants killed four, when the whole party came on them.

The Sioux, surprised at the number of the enemy, took flight, abandoning a portion of their arms in order to reach an isolated wood in the midst of the prairie, where the fight went on until nightfall, the Cree in the open like brave men the Sioux hiding behind trees. They lost twelve men without counting the wounded.

Night having brought the combat to a close, the Cree chief called out ‘Who is it that is killing us?’ The Sioux replied ‘The French Sioux,’ to which the Cree rejoined ‘We are French Cree. Why are you killing us? We are brothers and children of the same Father.’ When day came excuses were made on both sides, and to mark their repentance they matachâ the dead of both parties and left them without burial, but with their arms and outfits, after which they withdrew.

On the 18th of July the Cree arrived at fort St. Charles after ten days’ march, greatly afflicted at the loss of their four men, amongst whom was the son of their great chief. They had five men wounded and they were obliged to cover their dead. It may be remarked that when they return home, especially after an expedition, they walk day and night.

On the 20th a Monsoni, having discovered on the river St. Pierre twenty Saulteur and Sioux who were seeking to make an attack, came and notified me, complaining that these two tribes were always seeking to kill them, and that I was holding them [the Monsoni] back; whereupon I sent word to all the neighbouring savages to be on the watch and gave them a supply of powder, ball and tobacco.

On the 10th of August three of our canoes arrived here laden with merchandise, having left here on the 27th of May laden with packages [of skins] for Kaministikwia. They met no one, but saw tracks of several men.

On the 29th of August 150 canoes, with two or three men in each, Cree and Monsoni, arrived laden with meats, moose and beef fat, bear oil and wild oats, the men begging me to have pity on them and give them goods on credit, which was granted them after consultation among those interested.

On the 8th of September I sent off my son with six men to go to fort St. Pierre to await the canoes from Montreal for the furnishing of the forts. The first four canoes arrived on the 28th of September, and the remaining two on the 2nd of October with all the Monsoni whom they had met. My son left with Marin Urtebise all that he required for wintering with twelve Frenchmen, gave him the written authority which he had received from me in accordance with what was decided on in the consultation referred to above, and brought to fort St. Charles the rest of the men and canoes, arriving on the 12th of October.

The heavy rains of the spring, which had been incessant and had done great harm to the wild oats on which we were counting, put us in a difficult position as we had not enough provisions to last the winter. I bethought me to send ten men to the other side of the lake, which is 26 leagues wide, with tools for building themselves a shelter at the mouth of a river running in from the north-north-east, and with nets for fishing. They caught that autumn more than 4000 big whitefish, not to speak of trout, sturgeon and other fish in the course of the winter, and returned to fort St. Charles on the 2nd of May, 1734, after the ice had melted. They thus lived by hunting and fishing at no expense.

The rain that had done us harm in the spring troubled us again in the month of September. It rained so heavily from the 6th to the 14th of September that for a long time the water of the lake was so discoloured that the savages, of whom there were a great many at our fort, could not see to spear the sturgeon, and had nothing to eat. In this extreme need of theirs I made over to them the field of Indian corn which I had sown in the spring, and which was not yet entirely ripe. Our hired men also got what they could out of it. The savages thanked me greatly for the relief I had thus afforded them. The sowing of a bushel of peas after we had been eating them green for a long time gave us ten bushels, which I had sown the following spring with some Indian corn. I had by entreaty induced two families of savages to sow corn, and I hope that the comfort they derived from it will lead others to follow their example. They will be better off and we less bothered.

Note, that it does not rain as often here as in Canada, and that these rains are unusual according to the report of the savages.

From the 16th of September up to Christmas we have had the most beautiful weather imaginable. Frost set in about the 15th of November, it froze at night, but there was bright sunshine during the day and no wind. Still the ice took on the lake on the 22nd of November, which caused 100 savages, men and women, who were on the other side of the lake to bring us meat and peltries. All the savages had great hunting up to Christmas, there being no snow.

On the 28th of December four chiefs, two Assiniboin and two Cree, arrived in the evening after the gates were closed. Two Monsoni who came from fort St. Pierre arrived at the same time. I had the gates opened for them to learn the object of their journey.

The first four said that they came on behalf of six chiefs of the two tribes to ask me if I would receive them as children of our Father; they were only half a day’s journey from the fort, and they begged me, if I granted their request, to send them some Indian corn and some tobacco as a mark of my goodwill.

On the morning of the 29th I retained the two Cree and sent my son with the two Assiniboin and two Frenchmen to assure them of my friendship and take them a sack of corn and some tobacco. After six hours they found them encamped to the number of 60 Assiniboin, 30 of their wives, and 10 Cree, awaiting my reply. As soon as they saw my son, of whose approach they were informed by one of the chiefs who had gone ahead, they uttered loud shouts of joy, and received him to the sound of three discharges of their guns and a flight of arrows, as all were not provided with guns.

The two Monsoni gave me a letter from Marin Urtebise and told me that three hundred men ready to start out against the Sioux and the Saulteur were singing the war song; the letter said the same thing and added that they would not listen to anything. On the same day, the 29th, I sent back the two Monsoni with a collar and some tobacco to stop the 300 men until my arrival at fort St. Pierre, saying that I would leave in fifteen days, and that I wanted to go and sing the war song with them, although the season was the most severe of the year. My object in reality was to arrest the blow.

The same day as the gates were closing two Assiniboin arrived, sent by some chiefs to tell me not to be impatient as my son would arrive with them the next day at noon. 
On the 30th at two o’clock in the afternoon, the Assiniboin and Cree appeared and fired three volleys on perceiving the flag; the twenty Frenchmen whom I had, being under arms, replied; and the six chiefs, conducted by my son, entered the fort. I sent to mark their encampment; no business was talked that day; it was passed in mutual compliments, and I had them served with provisions and tobacco.

The Council was held on the 31st. The nephew of a chief spoke in the Cree language in the name of his whole tribe, which consists of seven villages, the smallest of which numbers a hundred cabins and the largest eight or nine hundred. He begged me to receive them all into the number of the children of our Father, to have pity on them and their families, that they were in a general condition of destitution, lacking axes, knives, kettles, guns, etc., that they hoped to get all these things from me if I would let them come to my fort. The present they brought was a package of beaver skins and about 100 lbs. of beef fat. I gave them in return one sack of corn and sixteen fathoms of tobacco. ‘My children,’ I said, ‘I will tell you to-morrow what are our Father’s orders to me regarding you, and shall let you know his will.’ They uttered a great shout of joy and retired.’

Toast, joints, mulberry trees

Pehr Kalm, a Swedish-Finnish explorer and botanist, died 140 years ago today. He’s best known for being one of Carolus Linnaeus’s students, and for spending several years in North America seeking out seeds and plants - not least the red mulberry - to bring back and improve agricultural possibilities in his home land.

Kalm was born in 1716, in Sweden, where his Finnish parents had taken refuge during the Great Northern War. His father died weeks after Kalm was born; and a few years later his mother and he returned to Finland (but academics argue over Kalm’s exact nationality). He studied sciences at the universities in Turku and Uppsala, and was a student of the naturalist Carl Linnaeus (dubbed the ‘father of modern taxonomy’). Kalm became much interested in the useful application of botany in agriculture and industry.

During the mid-1740s, Kalm was engaged in field research in Sweden, Russia and Ukraine. Then, in 1747 he was appointed Professor of Economic Natural History at the University of Åbo in Turku. Very soon after, though, he set off on a mission, planned by Linnaeus, to collect economically-useful plants - particularly red mulberry for silk worms - in North America.

On his journey, Kalm spent six months in England, before arriving in Pennsylvania in 1748 where he met the leading American naturalists. He made the Swedish-Finnish community of Raccoon (now Swedesboro in New Jersey) his base of operations. There, he acted as a substitute pastor in the local church, and even married the widow of the former pastor. Two major trips took him north, firstly to New York, Albany, Lake Champlain, and Canada, and, secondly, to Canada again.

Kalm returned to Turku in May 1751, where he remained for the rest of his life, teaching and writing. He died on 16 November 1779. Wikipedia has a good short summary of his life, as does one found at the Dictionary of Canadian Biography Online. Here is how the latter concludes: ‘Kalm was one of the outstanding utilitarian Linnaean botanists, one genus and 90 species of plants being named for him. His major legacy, his book, stimulated natural history in Sweden and provided Europeans with an accurate and wide-ranging account of North American conditions and customs. Kalm’s descriptions of Canadian life and mores are among the best found in travel literature concerning the country.’

Kalm’s diary of his journey was first published in Stockholm in the 1750s as En Resa til Norra America. This was translated into English by John Reinhold Forster and sold in England in three volumes in the early 1770s. The full English title reads: Travels into North America; containing its natural history, and a circumstantial account of its plantations and agriculture in general, with the civil, ecclesiastical and commercial state of the country, the manners of the inhabitants, and several curious and important remarks on various subjects.

Original copies are available through Abebooks costing hundreds or thousands of pounds, but a 1970s reprint can by bought much cheaper. However, the full texts are freely available at Internet Archive. Here are several extracts taken from volume two of Kalm’s original volumes as found at Internet Archive. (These are relatively short diary entries though most are much longer with detailed descriptions of the flora/fauna, culture and society he finds).

14 April 1749
‘This morning I went down to Chester: in several places on the road are saw-mills; but those which I saw today had no more than one saw. I likewise perceived that the woods and forests of these parts had been very roughly treated. It is customary here, when they erect saw-mills, wind-mills, or iron-works, to lead the water a good way lower, in case the ground near a fall in the river is not convenient for building upon.’

24 April 1749
‘To-day the Cherry-trees began to fhew their bloffoms; they had already pretty large leaves. The Apple-trees likewife began to bloffom; however the Cherry-trees were more forward: They likewife got a greenifh hue from their leaves. The Mulberry-trees were yet quite naked and I was forry to find that this tree is one of the lateft in getting leaves, and one of the firft which gets fruit.’

6 May 1749
‘The Mulberry-trees (Morus rubra) about this time began to bloffom, but their leaves were yet very fmall. The people divided them into male and female trees or flowers; and faid that thofe which never bore any fruit were males, and thofe which did, females.’

22 May 1749
‘The locusts began to creep out of their holes in the ground last night, and continued to do so to-day. As soon as their wings were dry, they began their song, which is almost sufficient to make one deaf, when travelling through the woods. This year there was an immense number of them.’
 
4 June 1749
‘I found vines in several gardens, got from the old countries. They bear annually a quantity of excellent grapes. When the winters are very severe, they are killed by the frost, and die quite to the ground; but the next spring new shoots spring up from the root.’ 

This article is a revised version of one first published 10 years ago on 16 November 2009. 

Hogsheads and puncheons

‘Yesterday arrived, the Continental Schooner Wasp, Captain Baldwin; brought with her a large Guinea ship bound from Jamaica for Liverpool, having on board three hundred and five hogsheads of Sugar, fifty-one puncheons of rum and other goods.’ This is Christopher Marshall, born 310 years ago in Ireland, who emigrated to America, ran a successful pharmacy business in Philadelphia, and was a staunch advocate of American independence. His diaries, which were published several times in the 19th century, are considered to offer ‘interesting insights’ into the revolutionary war era.

Marshall was born in Dublin, Ireland, on 6 November 1709. He was educated in England but emigrated - without his parents permission - to America in the 1720s; by 1729, he had established a pharmacy shop in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He married Sarah Thompson in 1736 and the couple had three sons. He became committed to American independence, but was disowned by the Society of Friends, to which he had been very attached, because of the active part that he took in the revolutionary war. Sarah died, and in 1774 he married Abigail Fisher Cooper. Around the same time he retired from business and took up various public offices.

In 1776, Marshall became a delegate to the Philadelphia Provincial Council, and he was twice appointed to the Continental Committee of Council and Safety. In 1777, he relocated to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to improve his health and avoid the British armies. With the war over, he moved back to Philadelphia where he died in 1797. Brief further details are available at Famous Americans or The Historical Society of Pennsylvania.

From 1774 until 1795, Marshall kept diaries, making near daily entries in some periods. A detailed breakdown of these diaries is provided by The Historical Society of Pennsylvania, which holds the Marshall Papers, including diaries, notebooks and various transcripts and copies made subsequently. The Society says ‘regardless of form, Marshall’s diaries provide interesting insights from a local merchant into Revolutionary War-era Philadelphia, as well as first-hand accounts of events leading up to the war.’ Extracts from Marshall’s diaries in 1774, 1775 and 1776 were first edited (by William Duane) and published in 1839, under the title Marshall’s Remembrancer - available at Internet Archive. A subsequent edition dated 1849 includes diary entries from 1777 as well. Some 30 years or so later, a further edition - Extracts from the Diary of Christopher Marshall kept in Philadelphia and Lancaster during the American Revolution - includes extracts from 1774 through to 1781.

Here are several extracts from the 1849 edition.

9 September 1776
‘A number of the troops, it’s said, from the country, went out of town yesterday. Those gentlemen, delegates, mentioned to go out on the Seventh, to converse with Lord and General Howe, did not go till this morning. It was General Sullivan that went thenabouts, from this City.’
 
13 September 1776
‘Went to [the] Committee Room at Philosophical Hall, where William Wild appeared in support of his Memorial. Upon being interrogated respecting the money, [which,] he had said, belonged to the merchants in England, he now declared otherwise, and that the whole sum was his own private property, and in order to prove that, said his letter and cash books would shew it, which he could fetch in one quarter of an hour, if requested. Upon this he was desired to fetch them, and the Committee would wait. In about that space of time he returned and declared he had destroyed his letter and cash book and every other book, about ten days ago, which might publicly bring his employers into trouble. Referred to next meeting.’

16 October 1776
‘Yesterday arrived, the Continental Schooner Wasp, Captain Baldwin; brought with her a large Guinea ship bound from Jamaica for Liverpool, having on board three hundred and five hogsheads of Sugar, fifty-one puncheons of rum and other goods. Letter from Harlem, where our companies [are], of the Thirteenth instant, says most of Howe’s forces are got about six miles above King’s Bridge, and were landed in order if possible to surround our camp, so that a general engagement may be hourly expected to be heard of.’

6 September 1777
‘This afternoon, the two thieves, who stole Col. White’s cash and trunk, were marched about a mile and a half out of town, in order, it’s said, to be hanged, but upon the Colonel’s lady’s intercession, it’s said, they were pardoned from death, but received two or three hundred lashes each, well laid on their backs and buttocks. A great number of spectators, it’s said, were assembled.’

11 September 1777
‘News was that the enemy advanced towards the Concord road to Philadelphia; that part of our army was gone to Chad’s Ford; that several deserters were gone for Philadelphia; some, very few, come here; that some of the Virginia forces coming to our assistance had crossed [the] Susquehannah to the amount of one thousand; others on the road. From Fort Pitt that one or two persons were apprehended, coming there from Detroit, on one of them were found some papers, particularly one with the list of names of those in the fort and in the neighbourhood, who had declared their allegiance to George the Third. One of the persons, by name Wm. Gallaher, formerly a pedler, had made his escape, for whom a reward of six hundred dollars is offered.’
 
16 September 1777
‘I am informed that yesterday were brought to this jail, three or four persons from Chester County, two of them named Hunter, who, by receipts found upon them, appear to have been as suppliers of Howe’s army with sheep, cattle, &c. The others are called Temple, who appear to have been concerned as directors of the roads to Howe’s army, and informing against sundry persons to him as good friends to the United States, and other inimical practices.’

6 October 1777
‘Went into town; spent chief [part] of the afternoon there in conversation, respecting public occurrences, as the express had just come in; brought account of a parcel of our army’s moving in three divisions last Sixth Day night, eight or nine miles, and [that they] attacked our enemy near five next morning near Chestnut Hill; threw them into disorder and drove their grenadiers with others into Germantown, where they took refuge in churches, houses and meetings, with their cannon (of which our people had brought none with them) and as the main body of the enemy advanced our little party retreated back to their former ground in good order, taking one piece of cannon with them, and all their wounded. Accounts say that we had killed, wounded and prisoners on our side about four hundred, and that the enemy had nearly fifteen hundred in killed, wounded and prisoners.’

A life too bustling

‘I have taken a resolution to write down in this book, as in times of leisure I may have opportunity, things past, or things that may occur hereafter, for the perusal and consideration of my [. . .] beloved children.’ This is Sir Richard Steele, a British political and literary figure from the late 17th and early 18th centuries, who died 290 years ago today. He tried once to keep a diary, starting with the above resolution, and left behind but a handful of entries. The editor of his memoirs regrets that his subject never kept more of a diary - ‘his life was too bustling’. Nevertheless, he had plenty of Steele’s letters to choose from, as well as snippets from a letter-journal kept by Steele’s friend Jonathan Swift.

Steele was born in Dublin in 1672 to an attorney and his wife; however he was largely brought up by an uncle and aunt. He was educated at Charterhouse School where he met Joseph Addison, and at Oxford (first Christ Church and then Merton college). He joined the Life Guards of the Household Cavalry in order to support King William’s wars against France, and was commissioned in 1697. In 1700, he gravely wounded a fellow officer in a duel. He rose to the rank of captain before leaving the army in 1705 (probably because he had neither the money or connections necessary for advancement). The following year, he was appointed to a position in the household of Prince George of Denmark, consort of Anne, Queen of Great Britain. By this time, he was already advancing a parallel career as a writer, with essays and plays. The Christian Hero was a moralistic tract, published in 1701, which led to him being branded a hypocrite for not following the ways of his own writings; and The Funeral and The Tender Husband were two theatrical comedies which brought him some success.

In 1705, Steele married the widow Margaret Stretch, but she died the following year. At the funeral, he met Mary Scurlock who he married two years later. They had one daughter (though Steele also had one illegitimate daughter as well). In 1709, he co-founded (with his friend Addison) The Tatler, featuring cultivated essays - many written by Steele - on contemporary matters. Although it would only last two years, the name has lived on, being re-used several times for later journals. The same is also true for Steele’s next short-lived ventures, The Spectator (1711) and The Guardian (1713). That year, 1713, Steele became a Member of Parliament for Stockbridge but was soon expelled for issuing a pamphlet in favour of The Hanoverian Succession. But when George I (born in Hanover) came to the throne the following year, Steele was knighted and given responsibility for the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane; and he returned to Parliament in 1715 representing Boroughbridge. In 1719, Steele fell out with Addison, who died that same year.

In 1722, Steel wrote his last and most successful comedy, The Conscious Lovers. Two years later - and still notoriously improvident, impulsive, ostentatious, and generous (the Encyclopedia of World Biography says) - he was forced to retire from London because of his mounting debts and his worsening health. He went to live on his wife’s estate in Wales, where he suffered a paralysing stroke in 1726, eventually dying on 1 September 1729. Further information is also available at Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica, and The Twickenham Museum.

Steele was not a diarist, and Henry R. Montgomery, editor of Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Sir Richard Steele, soldier, dramatist, essayist, and patriot (William P. Nimmo, 1865 - see Internet Archive, volume one and volume two), laments this fact more than once. In his preface, however, he does commend Steele for his letters: ‘These letters are wholly unlike those of Pope and many other literary men, written for display. They are artless, unpremeditated effusions of the moment, and serve in some degree to supply the absence of anything in the shape of a diary or journal. It is indeed to be regretted that he did not leave us something of that kind. But his life was too bustling for that. Swift’s Journal to Stella is one of the most interesting things he has left behind him. What would we not give for a Boswell of those men and those times!’ Subsequently, Montgomery says of Steele’s many letters to his (second) wife, ‘while regretting the absence of a diary, which would have taken in a wider range of topics, this correspondence, which is almost as regular as a journal, supplies its place in a more limited circle, it is true, but, so far as it goes, in a more interesting form.’

In his book, Montgomery also employs Jonathan Swift’s famous Journal to Stella which was in fact composed from letters (as opposed to journal entries). Swift was a contemporary of Steele’s, and a friend. Montgomery says: ‘The intimacy of Steele with Swift has been previously noticed. He now made a memorable visit, arriving in London in the beginning of September 1710, with a commission to solicit from the Queen the remission of the first fruits and twentieth parts, payable to the Crown by the clergy of Ireland. There is reason to believe that he procured that commission with the view of pushing his own affairs at the present important crisis when the ministry was tottering. At all events he got so deeply involved in politics on his arrival that his stay was prolonged during the next two or three years. During that time he maintained a regular correspondence with Miss Esther Johnson, better known under the poetical name of Stella, in which he has celebrated her. [. . .] The correspondence was maintained in the form of a journal or diary, and is very valuable as preserving a minute record of the events of those few eventful years. By bringing into one view the scattered notices of Steele that occur in it, we obtain glimpses of him and his affairs at this time more minute and interesting than are to be obtained from any other source.’ (See also Live ten times happier for more on Journal to Stella.)

Steele may not have been a diarist, but at least once in his life he did try to become one. In 1721, just two days after his friend Robert Walpole became prime minister, Montgomery says, ‘we find [Steele] stating distinctly his impression of the secret cause of the deprivation of his rights, in a way to exonerate the Duke of Newcastle, at least of the exclusive blame.’ Unfortunately, his patience with the diary form lasted but a few days. Here is Montgomery again: ‘These entries, with another small fragment at a later date, constitute the whole of the diary; and comparatively trifling as they are, these few items but make us regret the more what we might have had if the plan which he thus late and fitfully took up had been sooner adopted, and he had given us the spirit of those Attic nights which he enjoyed in the company of Addison, Congreve, and the other wits, as well as notices and anecdotes of the leading men and events of the time.’ What follows is most of the diary material left behind by Steele.

April 4, 1721.
‘I have lately had a fit of sickness, which has awakened in me, among other things, a sense of the little care I have taken of my own family. And as it is natural for men to be more affected with the actions and sufferings and observations upon the rest of the world, set down by their predecessors, than by what they receive from other men; I have taken a resolution to write down in this book, as in times of leisure I may have opportunity, things past, or things that may occur hereafter, for the perusal and consideration of my son, Eugene Steele, and his sisters Elizabeth Steele and Mary Steele, my beloved children.’

9 April 1721
‘Easter Sunday. After the repeated perusal of Dr Tillotsou’s seventh sermon, in the third volume of the small edition of his admirable and comfortable writings, and after having done certain acts of benevolence and charity to some needy persons of merit, I went this day to the holy sacrament. In addition to the proper prayers of the Church, I framed for my private use on this occasion the following prayer: [. . .]’

9 [10?] April 1721
‘I have this morning resolved to pursue very warmly my being restored to my government of the Theatre Royal, which is my right, under the title of the Governor of the Royal Company of Comedians, and from which I have been violently dispossessed by the Duke of Newcastle, Lord Chamberlain of his Majesty’s Household, upon a frivolous pretence of jurisdiction in his office, which he has been persuaded to assert against the force of the King’s patent to me. This violation of property I take to have been instigated by the late Secretaries Stanhope and Craggs, for my opposition to the Peerage Bill, by speeches in the House and printed pamphlets.

The Duke of Newcastle brought me into this present Parliament for the town of Burroughbridge, upon which consideration I attempt all manner of fair methods to bring his grace to reason without a public trial in a court of justice: and, therefore, after applying to my Lord Sunderland and Walpole for their good offices, I writ the following letter to his grace’s brother, Mr Henry Pelham, lately appointed one of the Lords of the Treasury [. . .]’

29 April 1721
‘I purchased this day fifteen assignments in the Fish-pool undertaking, with a promissory note to deliver to Mr Robert Wilks (who sold them to me) a bond of five hundred pounds upon demand; the said bound to be payable within two years after this day.’

Society in Salem

‘We now have seriously the Cold of Winter. The Therm, at Zero. Politics become more sour as the severity of winter increases.’ This is the Reverend William Bentley, born 260 years ago today, writing in the diary he kept for most of his life. He served as a church minister in Salem, Massachusetts, and was much involved in the local community. His diary is a gossipy, informative read, covering a wide range of news acquired from his own observations/conversations as well as from the newspapers - indeed his diary is considered an ‘invaluable compendium’ of social and political observations.

Bentley was born in Boston on 22 June 1759, son of a ship’s carpenter, though as a child he lived with his well-off grandfather, a miller. He studied at academic schools, learning Greek and Latin, before entering Harvard College aged 14 where he studied oriental languages. He graduated in 1777, and started to teach at Boston while continuing his studies. He also tutored at Harvard itself, and preached at local churches. In 1783, he began to serve as a minister of East Church in Salem, a position he retained for the rest of his life. From 1794, he contributed a weekly news summary for William Carleton’s Salem Gazette, and he continued doing so until 1817. He also contributed regularly to the Essex Register and the Essex Gazette. He learned many languages, was said to be fluent in seven, and amassed a private library of over 4,000 volumes. In 1805, while planning the University of Virginia, Thomas Jefferson invited Bentley to be its first president, however the offer was declined.

Bentley travelled extensively, maintained active memberships in a fire club, a military unit and a Masonic Lodge. He also helped organise and support a number of music societies and was founder of the East India Marine Society. Indeed, his personal inventory of artefacts and curiosities later became the foundation for the society’s museum collection. Among his many friends, he counted James Winthrop, a fellow Harvard alumnus. Bentley never married but boarded for more than 20 years with Hannah Crowninshield. He tutored her niece as well as others. He received an honorary Doctorate of Sacred Theology from Harvard in 1819, and died later that same year. Further information is available at Wikipedia, Salemweb, Dictionary of Unitarian & Universalist Biography, and Harvard Library.

Bentley was an avid diarist - indeed he is even listed in some places as a diarist and a minister. He kept his diary from 1785 until his death. SNAC (Social Networks and Archival Context) says it ‘is an invaluable compendium of gossip, shipping news, vital statistics, social and political observations, and petty miscellany, in the period of Salem’s prominence as a major commercial center.’ The Diary of William Bentley D.D. was first published - as far as I can tell - between 1905 and 1911 in four volumes (1785-1792, 1793-1802, 1803-1810, 1811-1819) by the Essex Institute (in Salem). All four volumes can be freely accessed at Internet Archive. Here are several extracts from volumes one, three and four.

1 March 1790
‘Drafted a Petition in favor of Capt Ashton, &c. to Selectmen of Salem, remonstrating against the State of the New Road, leading to Essex Bridge.’

2 March 1790
‘The Federal District Court for the first time opened this day in Salem. The Hon: John Lowell, Judge.[. . .] The Judge addressed the Jury in an excellent manner, & Revd Hopkins prayed.’

3 March 1790
‘The Jury sat all last night upon a Seizure & could not agree, & were dismissed this morning. Mr Phippen buried two children in one procession, the first instance within my own knowledge. Both carried in Chaises. Another Jury was collected from the Town who decided upon the short entry, & whether the entries at the State Offices were valid for the Continental Office after the Constitution of the States took place, but before the appointment of officers, & decided both points at once without hesitation. Such are our Juries, & this is the specimen given to us at the first Court, in which Mr. Parsons of Newbury seems to have an unbounded influence.’

4 March 1790
‘A Chimney belonging to Capt J. Gardiner took fire, it being a very windy day, & it burnt with great fury. It has communication with one of your Open Stoves called Philadelphian. This shows the need of these Franklin Stoves, in which by lamina over & under which the smoke passing into the Chimney, the soot is detained in the Stove, & can be cleansed from the lamina upon which it lodges. The Ventilator on the side makes the passage easy for the smoak.’

5 March 1790
‘General Catalogue of Social Library in Salem, as taken from L. Books [appearing in the original is here omitted.]. This Catalogue is taken almost literally from the Catalogue shewn me in the Library by Master Noyes (& tho’ it is very badly arranged), being short, it may be read over in a few minutes. The Library has been collected for some time. There have been no additions to it since the War, deserving of notice. In the War a Library including Phil. Transactions, &c. was taken, going to Canada, which has laid the foundation of a distinct Philosophical Library & this is the object of present attention.’
 
16 December 1807
‘A man named Benjamin Brown, attempting to pass from a boat on the flat to the shore, fell into one of the mud holes dug for the wharves & perished last evening. He was heard but assistance could not be afforded him seasonably. Mr. Chandler who keeps the school near the Branch for proprietors, was at B. B. this evening. This is the fourth year. The first Master Rogers, then Tappan. Tappan has a school at the other end of the town among his particular friends. A new School is projected. A Master’s School for Misses in the fine arts. This is also to be a School for Subscribers like the three Schools in this town under Knap, Tappan & Chandler. I do not know how far it has progressed.’

17 December 1807
‘Mr. B. Brown was interred this evening. As soon as the body was found it was conveyed to the Charity House as the body of a stranger. But his Brethren of the sea refused the Charity & with their usual generosity insisted upon his regular interment at their own expense. They went to the full extent of the funeral charges & no refusal, tho’ repeated, would allow me to dispense with my silk gloves under any pretences. I accepted & gave them to the family of the Sexton. The Seamen were present in remarkable good order & 153 of them accompanied the procession & afterwards returned with it to the house in which their deceased friend lived. I never saw a more happily conducted act of friendship & sympathy.’

5 January 1808
‘We now have seriously the Cold of Winter. The Therm, at Zero. Politics become more sour as the severity of winter increases. Why the Embargo? say all. Some reply, because of France. Some of England. Some hope it will make the administration unpopular. Others wish to complain but they dare not give the opposition so much pleasure. Where interest prevails & patriotism is little known, we can hope nothing from the latter without some present hopes of the former. Prosperity has been at the helm & has corrupted us. Integrity cannot command, without hazard, that obedience will be refused. Failures are expected & the Nat[ional] Int[elligencer] tells us that the daring speculations of individuals deserve to be exposed & prevented. The embargo is general. The attempt to exempt the Fisheries, tho’ supported by all the members from Massachusetts, was unavailing.’

11 February 1808
‘Another melancholy occurrence in English street. A Mrs. Buchanan, alias Getchel, alias Lane, was in the afternoon setting before the fire with a child in her arms, in a fit of intoxication. The child fell from her arms into the fire & before aid was obtained the child was past recovery. The woman has always been thought below the ordinary character of her sex & her habits were known from the difficulty of rousing her. It is an aggravated evil as her numerous & deserving relatives feel more than the insensible fool who has brought disgrace & shame. As this is the second burning to death this season & the first season in which any such thing has happened it is more interesting to notice it. In the former case no suspicion attached itself to the event.’

7 September 1810
‘The Census of Salem is now before the world & the increase has been rapid indeed. So that their own blood which has flowed in our veins has not been unfavourable to increase, activity, powerful attraction. The Negroes have not increased, the worst part of our population, as Men without trades, tyes, & tribute must be. I impute the decrease to the number of sober citizens, & not without property, who finish the life of a seamen in the little offices of labourers & who have character, property, & ability enough to deserve attention.’

22 May 1815
‘A sad alarm at the Post Office. Long suspicions have ended in discovery that the late Robbery of the Mail was done in the Office. One of the Lads has been detected. Everything is done to conceal the matter & the boy is admitted to bonds. Had circumstances been different we should have found the treatment different. The public mind will soon require a change in this office. Lookers out may be found. Some of our Prisoners have returned from England & report between 5 & 6 thousand. Above two thousand of these are to be found among the Impressed men, when the wretches who talk much of integrity have reported to the State a less number than has been found in Salem, only one town upon a coast of several hundred miles. The vilest policy could not venture upon greater insults to the understanding of men.’

29 May 1816
‘I went this morning to see the Elephant now on a visit to this town. I went in the morning when I might examine him without any of the tricks he has been taught to play. I saw nothing pleasing in the form or wonderful in his endowments. His surprising volume will be contemplated with astonishment. His place in Creation is yet to be assigned. Mr. Dane told me he had seen an Ox of 3 th. pounds who was a much nobler animal to survey but that enormous volume did not give but half the weight of this Animal tho it gave 3/4. of its height & not much short of its length. The Elephant is 13 feet round the body. What must our mammoth be?’

12 June 1816
‘Saw on the neck for the first time Rock Splitting at the great Rocks near the Causeway, neck side. First, an entrance was made by a long handled pick much like that used upon mill stones, squared to a point. Then the holes were made by a flat chisel tapering to a point. Then the wedges, four inches long, were put in between pieces of iron hoop & drove home bv a large iron maul. At both splittings the wedges were driven only twice & caused a fracture of more than two feet square in the hard black rock of the neck. The person at work said the Danvers rocks were not so hard, & did not make that ringing under the chisel which he called like pot metal. In few seasons have we heard more hitter complaints against cold weather than since June has come in, tho the winter & the whole season, if I may judge from the woodpile, has been as moderate as 1 have ever known. We shall soon hear complaints of heat.’

13 June 1816
‘Our fishermen have had good fares upon the Banks but think as something is always wanting, that they should have done better had they been permitted to fish nearer the shores. Five fishing vessels with 40 hands including men & boys returned to Province town, point of Cape Cod, with 1000 quintals each. Marblehead begins to revive & having a staple will out step us in Salem if we do not move quicker, says the people of Salem.’