Remarks and collections

Thomas Hearne, Oxford scholar and librarian, died all of 290 years ago today. He is highly regarded for his editions of historical works which he managed to continue publishing throughout his life - this despite falling out of favour with the university authorities for refusing to take oaths of allegiance to the crown. Apart from his valuable chronicles, Hearne’s diaries are also highly rated, not only for providing much information on books/manuscripts and intellectual history, but for portraits of eminent scholars and academic figures of the day. They are also a good read: Hearne is quite unguarded in his opinions, and he recounts interesting news items of the day, as well as amusing anecdotes.

Hearne was born at Littlefield Green in Berkshire, in 1678, the son of a parish clerk. He received an early education thanks to a wealthy neighbour. Later he was educated at St Edmund Hall, Oxford, where he studied classical history, philology, and geography, graduating in 1699. He came to the attention of the principal, Dr John Mill, for whom he did transcription work. In 1701, he was taken on as an assistant by John Hudson, the newly appointed librarian of the Bodleian Library, and set to work on a planned edition of Thomas Hyde’s Bodleian catalogue of printed books. (Hudson, however, gave up this project, and when the catalogue was finally published in 1738 by a successor to Hudson, Hearne’s work was uncredited.)

Soon after joining the library, Hearne published his first book, Reliquiae Bodleianae (1703), a collection of correspondence between the library’s founder, Sir Thomas Bodley, and his first librarian, Thomas James. Hearne also published, with Hudson’s help, editions of Latin classics; undertook bibliographical research for many visiting scholars, such as Jeremy Collier and Bishop Francis Atterbury; and contributed to various important historical chronicles and literary works. By 1712, he had risen to second librarian; but, thereafter, he failed to advance further in the university because he proclaimed himself nonjuror, i.e. he refused to take oaths of allegiance to King George I (a requirement of higher offices). Indeed, his written reflections on nonjurism and nonjurors became increasingly problematic for the university, and caused mounting tension with Hudson. Eventually, in 1716, having failed to take a legally-required oath, he was dismissed from his position in the Bodleian; the door locks were even changed to bar him entry.

Subsequently, Hearne was denied use of the university imprint, and measures were put in place to forbid him printing from Bodleian manuscripts. He was also persecuted for a short while by the university authorities. Nevertheless, he managed to pursue a living for himself as a private publisher, using historical manuscripts from other libraries, such as the Ashmolean, and Trinity College in Cambridge. Also, he had a considerable following among collectors and scholars who assisted in bringing many of his works to publication.

Hearne fell ill in 1735 and died, unmarried, in his lodgings at St Edmund Hall on 10 June. His library was sold soon after, and (ironically) his diaries, correspondence, and manuscript collection ended up at the Bodleian Library. The fullest biography of Hearne online can be found at the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (though log-in is required); otherwise Wikipedia, Berkshire History have briefer bios.

According to the ODNB, Hearne’s reputation today rests especially on his diaries, a series of 145 octavo diary volumes, written between 1705 and 1735, which he entitled ‘Remarks and collections’. The ODNB says: ‘[These] are filled with detailed information about books and manuscripts, contemporary scholarship, and intellectual history. They also contain lively if politically prejudiced portraits of the lives of late seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century scholars and antiquaries and autobiographical pieces. Though less accessible today (as workbooks, the diaries are also filled with scholarly and bibliographical detail) than the more urbane diaries of Evelyn and Pepys, Hearne’s volumes are still rewarding when read entire.’

Hearne’s ‘Remarks and collections’ was first edited by Philip Bliss and published, in 1857, as Reliquiæ Hearnianæ: The Remains of Thomas Hearne being extracts from his MS. Diaries (two volumes). This was republished in 1869 in three volumes. Then C. E. Doble and others edited the diaries for the Oxford Historical Society’s edition in 11 volumes (1885-1921). The original Bliss edition can be read online at Googlebooks or Internet Archive, and the Doble editions can also be found at Internet Archive. Images from Hearne’s manuscript diaries can be viewed at the Digital Bodleian website. Here, though, are several extracts taken from the 1857 edition.

14 September 1705
‘I was told last night that in the great fire at London was burnt a MS. Bible curiously illuminated, like the historical part of the Bible in Bodley’s archives, and that ’twas valued at 1500 libs.’

21 September 1705
‘Last night I was with Mr. Wotton (who writ the Essay on Ancient and Modern Learning) at the tavern, together with Mr. Thwaites, and Mr. Willis. Mr. Wotton is a person of general learning, a great talker and braggadocio, but of little judgement in any one particular science. He told me, he had begun sometime since to translate Graeve’s Rom. Demarius, but had not finished, and could not tell whether he should ever perfect it.

Mr. Wotton told me, Mr. Baker of St. John’s col. Cambridge had writ the history and antiquities of that college; and that he is every ways qualified (being a very industrious and judicious man) to write that hist. and antiq. of that university. He told me also, that he really believed Cambridge to me much later than Oxon.’

27 November 1713
‘Mr. Tompion of London, one of the most eminent persons for making clocks and watches, that have been produced in the last age, dyed last week. Indeed he was the most famous, and the most skillfull person at this art in the whole world, and first of all brought watches to any thing of perfection. He was originally a blacksmith, but a gentleman imploying him to mend his clock, he did it extraordinary well, and told the gentleman that he believed he could make such another himself. Accordingly he did so, and this was his first beginning, he living then in Buckinghamshire. He afterwards got a great name, lived in London, was acquainted with the famous Dr. Hooke, grew rich, and lived to a great age. He had a strange working head, and was well seen in mathematicks.’

22 April 1715
‘This morning was a total ecclipse of the sun. It began after eight o’clock. But the sky being not clear, the observations that were designed were in a very great measure hindered. There were many papers printed, before it happened, about it. This inserted [described in a footnote], is done by D. Halley. It was very dark when it happened. The birds flocked to the trees as they do at night. Many people used candles in their houses as in the night.’

19 February 1716
‘This has been such a severe winter, that the like hath not been known since the year 1683/4. In some respects it exceeded that. For tho’ the frost did not last so long as it did at that time, yet there was a much greater and deeper snow. Indeed it was the biggest snow that ever I knew: as it was also the severest frost that ever I have been sensible of. It began on Monday Dec. 5th, and continued till Friday, Feb 10th following, which is almost ten weeks, before there was an entire thaw. Indeed it began to thaw two or three times, but then the frost soon began again with more violence, and there was withall a very sharp and cold and high wind for some days. When it first began to thaw, and afterwards to freeze again, it made the ways extreme slippery and dangerous, and divers accidents happened.’

23 August 1716
‘Sir Christopher Wren says the ways of making mortar with hair came into fashion in queen Elizabeth’s time. Sir Christ. says there were no masons in London when he was a young man. Sir Christ. is about 85 years of age.’

13 December 1716
‘I had this day a hint given me as if the present vice-chancellor and some others (to be sure some of our heads of houses) have a mind to force open my chamber, and to sieze upon my papers.’

18 April 1719
‘A present has been made me of a book called The Antiquities of Barkshire, by Elias Ashmole, esq. London, printed for E. Curll, in Fleet-street, 1719. 8vo in three volumes. It was given me by my good friend Thomas Rawlinson, esq. As soon as I opened it, and looked into it, I was amazed at the abominable impudence, ignorance, and carelessness of the publisher, and I can hardly ascribe all this to any one else than to that villain Curll. Mr. Ashmole is made to have written abundance of things since his death. All is ascribed to him, and yet a very great part of what is mentioned happened since he died. For, as many of the persons died after him, so the inscriptions mentioned in this book were made and fixed since his death also. Besides, what is taken from Mr. Ashmole is most fraudulently done. The epitaphs are falsely printed, and his words and sense most horribly perverted. What Mr. Ashmole did was done very carefully, as appears from the original in the museum, where also are his exact draughts of the most considerable monuments, of which there is no notice in this strange rhapsody. I call it a rhapsody, because there is no method nor judgement observed in it, nor one dram of true learning. Some things are taken from my edition of Leland, but falsely printed, and I cannot but complain of the injury done me.’

6 June 1719
‘Last Sunday died Edmund Dunch, of Little Wittenham, in Berks, esq. parliament for Wallingford, being about 40 years of age. He was a very great gamester, and had a little before lost about 30 libs. in one night gaming. He had otherwise good qualities. By gaming most of the estate is gone. He was drawn into gaming purely to please his lady. King James I. said to one of the Dunches (for ’tis an old family) when his majesty asked his name, and he answered Dunch, “Ay, (saith the king), Dunch by name, and Dunce by nature.” ’

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 10 June 2015.

Dallam travels to Constantinople

‘The 11th day, being Tuesday, we carried our instrument over the water to the Grand Signor’s Court, called the Seraglio, and there in his most stately house I began to set it up.’ This is from a diary kept by Thomas Dallam, organ maker, who travelled to Constantinople in 1599 expressly at the wish of Queen Elizabeth 1, to present and deliver an organ to the Ottoman sultan. Dallam died 360 years ago today, but the diary was not published until the late 19th century.

Dallam was born in Flixton, Lancashire, and trained as an organ maker in London, where he became a member of the Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths. This guild oversaw various trades, including organ building, and Dallam eventually attained the status of liveryman within the company. 

Dallam’s first notable commission came from Queen Elizabeth I who trusted him to construct an elaborate mechanical organ as a diplomatic gift for Sultan Mehmed III of the Ottoman Empire. The organ, which played music automatically and featured moving figures, was a marvel of engineering and artistry. Dallam personally accompanied the instrument on its long and perilous journey to Constantinople. During his time there, he was tasked with assembling and demonstrating the organ at the Topkapi Palace, impressing the Sultan and his court with both the instrument and his ingenuity. See Historic UK for much more on this inc the above sketch.

Upon his return to England in April 1600, Dallam married (but his wife’s name is unknown) and fathered six children. He continued his work as an organ builder, undertaking commissions across the country - Windsor, Worcester Cathedral, St John’s College, Oxford, and Eton College among others. 

In 1626, Dallam was fined by the Blacksmiths’ Company for refusing the office of steward for the lord mayor’s feast, likely due to his professional commitments. He later negotiated to pay the fine in instalments to retain his livery status. His last major commission was the great double organ and choir organ for Bristol Cathedral in 1630, completed with his son Robert. Dallam died on 31 May 1665. The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography says, ‘his achievement was the consolidation of the two-manual ‘double organ’ with twelve to fourteen flue stops (without reeds, mixtures, or pedals) as the norm for English cathedrals and for larger collegiate churches during the pre-civil war period.’

Dallam is probably mostly remembered thanks to a diary he kept on his travels to the Ottoman Empire. His account provides a vivid and rare first-hand glimpse of Constantinople and the Ottoman court at the turn of the 17th century. The diary was first published in 1893 by the Hakluyt Society in Early Voyages and Travels in the Levant. I. The Diary of Master Thomas Dallam, 1599-1600. II. Extracts from the diaries of Dr. John Covel, 1670-1679, as edited by Theodore Bent. (See My dear Lord Harvey’s body for extracts from Covel’s diary.

Although many entries are dated, much of Dallam’s diary reads more like a memoir - the full text can be read at Internet Archive. Moreover, the language and spelling in the 1893 edition is rather old-fashioned and awkward to read. The following longish extract has been rendered more readable by Perplexity AI. 

11 September 1599

The 11th day, being Tuesday, we carried our instrument over the water to the Grand Signor’s Court, called the Seraglio, and there in his most stately house I began to set it up. This water which we crossed from Galata to Seraglio is a stream that comes from the Black Sea, and is called the Hellespont, which separates Asia and Thrace. As it comes down by Galata, a creek of that river goes up into the country about six miles, which separates the two cities of Constantinople and Galata; they may go between them by land, but it is 12 miles, and to cross the water it is only one mile.

At every gate of the Seraglio there always sits a stout Turk, about the rank or degree of a justice of the peace, who is called a chia; nevertheless, the gates are fast shut, for no one passes in or out at their own pleasure.

Having entered within the first gate, there were placed right against the gate five great pieces of brass, with Christian arms upon them. Then we passed through very delightful walks and gardens; the walks are, as it were, hedged in with stately cypress trees, planted at an equal distance from one another, between them and behind them, smaller trees that bear excellent fruit; I think there is nothing good that is missing. The gardens I will omit writing about at this time.

The way from the first gate to the second wall is somewhat rising up a hill, between walls about a quarter of a mile and more. The gates of the second wall were also shut, but when we came to the gate, my interpreter called to those who kept it within. Though they had knowledge of our coming, yet they would not open the gates until we had called and told them our business. These gates are made all of massive iron; two men, whom they call jemeglans, opened them.

Within the first walls there are no houses but one, and that is the bustanjebasha’s house, who is captain of a thousand jemeglanes, who do nothing but keep the gardens in good order; and I am persuaded that there are none so well kept in the world. Within the second walls there are no gardens, but stately buildings; many courts paved with marble and similar stone. Every odd corner has some excellent fruit tree or trees growing in them; also there is great abundance of sweet grapes, of diverse sorts; a man may gather grapes every day of the year. In November, as I sat at dinner, I saw them gather grapes from the vines, and they brought them to me to eat. For the space of a month I dined every day in the Seraglio, and we had grapes every day after our meat; but most certainly it is true that grapes grow there continually.

Coming into the house where I was appointed to set up the present or instrument; it seemed to be rather a church than a dwelling house; to tell the truth, it was not a dwelling house, but a house of pleasure, and likewise a house of slaughter; for in that house was built one little house, very curious both within and without; for carving, gilding, good colours and varnish, I have not seen the like. In this little house, that emperor who reigned when I was there, had nineteen brothers put to death in it, and it was built for no other use but for the strangling of every emperor’s brethren.

This great house itself has in it two rows of marble pillars; the pedestals of them are made of brass, and double gilt. The walls on three sides of the house are walled but halfway to the eaves; the other half is open; but if any storm or great wind should happen, they can suddenly let fall such hangings made of cotton wool for that purpose as will keep out all kinds of weather, and suddenly they can open them again. The fourth side of the house, which is closed and joined to another house, the wall is made of porphyry, or such kind of stone that when a man walks by it he may see himself in it. Upon the ground, not only in this house, but all others that I saw in the Seraglio, we tread upon rich silk carpets, one of them as much as four or six men can carry. There are in this house neither stools, tables, or forms, only one couch of state. There is one side of it a fish pond, that is full of fish that are of diverse colours.

The same day, our Ambassador sent Mr. Paul Pinder, who was then his secretary, with a present to the Sultana, she being at her garden. The present was a Coach of six hundred pounds value. At that time the Sultana took great liking to Mr. Pinder, and afterwards she sent for him to have his private company, but their meeting was prevented.’

Young Boswell in London

‘It is very curious to think that I have now been in London several weeks without ever enjoying the delightful sex, although I am surrounded with numbers of free-hearted ladies of all kinds.’ This is a young James Boswell - who died 230 years ago today - having just arrived in the capital city writing rather candidly in his diary. Indeed, he kept diaries for most of his life. Two of his travel diaries - one about Corsica and another, with Samuel Johnson, about the Hebrides - were published in his lifetime, and very much helped develop his literary career, which was to culminate with a biography of Johnson. However, most of Boswell’s diaries - including his so-called London Journal - were considered lost for more than a hundred years, and not published until the second half of the 20th century.

Boswell was born in Edinburgh in 1740 into a strict family, his father, Lord Auchinleck, being a lawyer and eventually a senior judge, and his mother a Calvinist. He studied at Edinburgh and Glasgow universities before escaping to London, where he discovered much about society, women, and himself. When his father arrived to fetch him back, he was suffering with gonorrhoea, the first of many bouts he was to contract in his life.

Having come of age, Boswell returned to London in 1762 determined to secure a commission in the foot guards. There he fell in with Andrew Erskine, an army officer, and George Dempster, a young, wealthy, and newly-elected MP from Scotland. Among many others, he met Oliver Goldsmith and the radical politician John Wilkes. Towards the end of his sojourn in the capital, he became firm friends with Samuel Johnson, 30 years his senior. They would meet and spend significant amounts of time together until the end of Johnson’s life in 1784.

Having given up the idea of an army commission, Boswell moved to Utrecht in 1763 to continue studying law, but then embarked on a Grand Tour around Europe. On his way he became more friendly with Wilkes, he was exiled in Italy, and he met Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who persuaded him of Corsica’s right to liberty from Genoa. This idea underpinned his first successful book - published in 1768 - that gave an account of his experiences on the island, and of his friendship with the independence leader Pasquale Paoli: An Account of Corsica, The Journal of a Tour to That Island, and Memoirs of Pascal Paoli.

Boswell moved back to Edinburgh, where he completed his law studies, and where he went on to practise as an advocate for the best part of two decades. He married his cousin, Margaret Montgomerie, with whom he had two sons and three daughters who survived into adulthood. He also had at least two extramarital children. A couple of years after inheriting the Auchinleck title on the death of his father in 1782, Boswell moved his family to London. He was called to the English bar from the Inner Temple, but rarely practised, preferring to focus on his writing.

For several years after the first book on Corsica, Boswell’s only published writings were essays in a periodical called London Journal, under the title The Hypochondriack. However, a year after Johnson’s death, he edited a diary he had kept of a tour he took with Johnson in the Highlands and Western islands of Scotland. Johnson, himself, had already published an account of that tour - Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland - ten years earlier. Whereas Johnson’s writing was generalised and philosophical, Boswell’s diary - The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides - proved to be more entertaining, both anecdotal and gossipy, as well as rich in observant detail.

The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides was a commercial success, foreshadowing Boswell’s future, and now famous, biography - The Life of Samuel Johnson - first published by Charles Dilly in 1791. Gordon Turnbull’s entry for Boswell in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography says The Life ‘remains the most famous biography in any language, one of Western literature’s most germinal achievements: unprecedented in its time in its depth of research and its extensive use of private correspondence and recorded conversation, it sought to dramatize its subject in his authorial greatness and formidable social presence, and at the same time treat him with a profound sympathy and inhabit his inner life.’ (Many editions of this are freely available online at Internet Archive.)

Boswell’s last years are known to have been rather unhappy ones. His wife died in 1789, and though his children loved him dearly, he was unsatisfied with his achievements. He drank excessively and continued to indulge in other vices. Moreover, his eccentricities became increasingly self-indulgent making him a difficult guest. He lived to see a second edition of The Life of Samuel Johnson in 1793, but died on 19 May 1795. Further information is readily available at Wikipedia, NNDB, or Thomas Frandzen’s Boswell website.

Both Boswell’s early published diaries - The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides and An Account of Corsica - can be found online at Internet Archive. It was not until the 20th century that any more diaries came to light. After Boswell’s death, his executors, and then his heirs, considered it prudent to keep his papers secret (because they contained details of intimacy). They were then kept in the archives at the Auchinleck estate for many years, until they passed from one great grand-daughter to another who, having married Lord Talbot de Malahide, lived at Malahide Castle, north of Dublin. There, in the 1920s, a large stash of Boswell’s private papers was discovered, including diaries. They were bought by the American collector Ralph H. Isham, and are now mostly archived at Yale University’s Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. The story of how Isham acquired Boswell’s papers and how they were brought to publication is the subject of more than one book.

Boswell’s London Journal, 1762-1763 - the first of many Boswell publications by Yale - was edited by the Boswell scholar, Frederick A. Pottle, and came out in 1950. The publishers (Yale in the US and Heinemann in the UK) did not hold back in their admiration: ‘The Boswell Papers are the largest and most important find of English literary manuscripts ever made;’ and, ‘The incredible fact about Boswell’s London Journal is that it is an entirely new book.’ Today, this is the most famous and popular of Boswell’s published journals. Perhaps because it is the only one that survived expurgation by family members - and is a racy read. Boswell’s comings and goings as a young man (he was only 22) in London are interesting enough, but it is the way he examines his own psyche, and records the dilemmas he finds there, particularly those of a sexual nature, that makes this book so extraordinary for its time. Indeed, this constant self-examination by Boswell of Boswell feels very modern.

Here are several extracts from Boswell’s London Journal (which can be freely borrowed digitally at Internet Archive.)

26 November 1762
‘I was much difficulted about lodgings. A variety I am sure I saw, I dare say fifty. I was amused in this way. At last I fixed in Downing Street, Westminster. I took a lodging up two pair of stairs with the use of a handsome parlour all the forenoon, for which I agreed to pay forty guineas a year [later bargained down to £22], but I took it for a fortnight first, by way of a trial. I also made bargain that I should dine with the family whenever I pleased, at a shilling a time. [. . .] The street was a genteel street, within a few steps of the Parade; near the House of Commons, and very healthful.’

14 December 1762
‘It is very curious to think that I have now been in London several weeks without ever enjoying the delightful sex, although I am surrounded with numbers of free-hearted ladies of all kinds: from the splendid Madam at fifty guineas a night, down to the civil nymph with white-thread stockings who tramps along the Strand and will resign her engaging person to your honour for a pint of wine and a shilling. Manifold are the reasons for this my present wonderful continence. I am upon a plan of economy, and therefore cannot be at the expense of first-rate dames. I have suffered severely from loathsome distemper, and therefore shudder at the thoughts of running any risk of having it again. Besides, the surgeons’ fees in this city come very high. But the greatest reason of all is that fortune, or rather benignant Venus, has smiled upon me and favoured me so far that I have had the most delicious intrigues with women of beauty, sentiment, and spirit, perfectly suited to my romantic genius.’

15 December 1762
‘The enemies of the people of England who would have them considered in the worst light represent them as selfish, beef-eaters, and cruel. In this view I resolved today to be a true-born Old Englishman. I went into the City to Dolly’s Steak-house in Paternoster Row and swallowed my dinner by myself to fulfill [sic] the charge of selfishness; I had a large fat beefsteak to fulfil the charge of beef-eating; and I went at five o’clock to the Royal Cockpit in St James’s Park and saw cock-fighting for about five hours to fulfill [sic] the charge of cruelty.

A beefsteak-house is a most excellent place to dine at. You come in there to a warm, comfortable, large room, where a number of people are sitting at table. You take whatever place you find empty; call for what you like, which you get well and cleverly dressed. You may either chat or not as you like. Nobody minds you, and you pay very reasonably. My dinner (beef, bread and beer and waiter) was only a shilling. The waiters make a great deal of money by these pennies. Indeed, I admire the English for attending to small sums, as many smalls make a great, according to the proverb.

At five I filled my pockets with gingerbread and apples (quite the method), put on my old clothes and laced hat, laid by my watch, purse and pocket-book, and with oaken stick in my hand sallied to the pit. I was too soon there. So I went into a low inn, sat down amongst a parcel of arrant blackguards, and drank some beer. [. . .] I then went to the cockpit, which is a circular room in the middle of which the cocks fight. It is seated round with rows gradually rising. The pit and the seats are all covered with mat. The cocks, nicely cut and dressed and armed with silver heels, are set down and fight with amazing bitterness and resolution. Some of them were quickly dispatched. One pair fought three-quarters of an hour. The uproar and noise of betting is prodigious. A great deal of money made a quick circulation from hand to hand. There was a number of professed gamblers there. An old cunning dog whose face I had seen at Newmarket sat by me a while. I told him I knew nothing of the matter. “Sir,” said he, “you have as good a chance as anybody.” [. . .] I was shocked to see the distraction and anxiety of the betters. I was sorry for the poor cocks. I looked around to see if any of the spectators pitied them when mangled and torn in a most cruel manner, but I could not observe the smallest relenting sign in any countenance. I was therefore not ill pleased to see them endure mental torment. Thus did I complete my true English day, and came home pretty much fatigued and pretty much confounded at the strange turn of this people.’

17 December 1762
‘I mentioned to Sheridan [Thomas Sheridan, actor, and father of Richard Brinsley Sheridan] how difficult it was to be acquainted with people of fashion in London: that they have a reserve and a forbidding shyness to strangers. He accounted for it thus: “The strangers that come here are idle and unemployed; they don’t know what to do, and they are anxious to get acquaintances. Whereas the genteel people, who have lived long in town, have got acquaintances enough; their time is all filled up. And till they find a man particularly worth knowing, they are very backward. But when you once get their friendship, you have them firm to you.” ’

19 January 1763
‘This was a day eagerly expected by [George] Dempster [a young and wealthy, newly-elected MP from Scotland], [Andrew] Erskine [a lieutenant], and I, as it was fixed as the period of our gratifying a whim proposed by me: which was that on the first day of the new tragedy called Elvira’s being acted, we three should walk from the one end of London to the other, dine at Dolly’s, and be in the theatre at night; and as the play would probably be bad, and as Mr David Malloch, the author, who has changed his name to David Mallet, Esq. was an arrant puppy, we determined to exert ourselves in damning it.

I this morning felt the stronger symptoms of the sad distemper, yet I was unwilling to imagine such a thing. However, the severe exercise of today, joined with hearty eating and drinking, I was sure would confirm or remove my suspicions.

We walked up to Hyde Park Corner, from whence we set out at ten. Our spirits were high with the notion of the adventure, and the variety that we met with as we went is amazing. As the Spectator observes, one end of London is like a different country from the other in look and in manners. We eat an excellent breakfast at the Somerset Coffee-house. We turned down Gracechurch Street and went up on the top of London Bridge, from whence we viewed with a pleasing horror the rude and terrible appearance of the river, partly froze up, partly covered with enormous shoals of floating ice which often crashed against each other. [. . .] We went half a mile beyond the turnpike at Whitechapel, which completed our course, and went into a little public house and drank some warm white wine with aromatic spices, pepper and cinnamon. We were pleased with the neat houses upon the road. [. . .] We had some port, and drank damnation to the play and eternal remorse to the author. We then went to the Bedford Coffee-house and had coffee and tea; and just as the doors opened at four o’clock, we sallied into the house, planted ourselves in the middle of the pit, and with oaken cudgels in our hands and shrill-sounding catcalls in our pockets, sat ready prepared, with a generous resentment in our breasts against dullness and impudence, to be the swift ministers of vengeance. [. . .] [The three of them went on to write a highly critical pamphlet about Elvira.]

The evening was passed most cheerfully. When I got home, though, then came sorrow. Too, too plain was Signor Gonorrhoea.’

25 March 1763
‘As I was coming home this night, I felt carnal inclinations raging through my frame. I determined to gratify them. I went to St James’s Park, and, like Sir John Brute [a character from John Vanbrugh’s The Provoked Wife], picked up a whore. For the first time did I engage in armour, which I found but a dull satisfaction. She who submitted to my lusty embraces was a young Shropshire girl, only seventeen, very well-looked, her name Elizabeth Parker. Poor thing, she has a sad time of it!’

3 May 1763
‘I walked up to the Tower in order see Mr Wilkes come out. [Wilkes, a radical journalist and MP, who had been arrested on a general warrant that soon proved inadequate to keep him in prison]. But he was gone. I then thought I should see prisoners of one kind or another, so went to Newgate. I stepped into a sort of court before the cells. They are surely most dismal places. There are three rows of ‘em, four in a row, all above each other. They have double iron windows, and within these, strong iron rails; and in these dark mansions are the unhappy criminals confined. I did not go in, but stood in the court, where were a number of strange blackguard beings with sad countenances, most of them being friends and acquaintances of those under sentence of death. [. . .]

Erskine and I dined at the renowned Donaldon’s, where we were heartily entertained. All this afternoon I felt myself still more melancholy, Newgate being upon my mind like a black cloud.’

4 May 1763
‘My curiosity to see the melancholy spectacle of the executions was so strong that I could not resist it, although I was sensible that I would suffer much from it. In my younger years I had read in the Lives of the Convicts so much about Tyburn that I had a sort of horrid eagerness to be there. [. . .] I got upon a scaffold very near the fatal tree, so that [I] could clearly see all the dismal scene. There was a most prodigious crowd of spectators. I was most terribly shocked, and thrown into a very deep melancholy.’

19 July 1763
‘At eleven I went to St Paul’s Church; walked up to the whispering gallery, which is a most curious thing. I had here the mortification to observe the noble paintings in the ceiling of the Cupola area a good deal damaged by the moisture of winter, I then went up to the roof of the Cupola, and went out upon the leads, and walked around it. I went up to the highest storey of roof. Here I had the immense prospect of London and its environs. London gave me no great idea. I just saw a prodigious group of tiled roofs and narrow lanes opening here and there, for the streets and beauty of the buildings cannot be observed on account of the distance. The Thames and the country around, the beautiful hills of Hampstead and of Highgate looked very fine. And yet I did not feel the same enthusiasm that I have felt some time ago at viewing these rich prospects.’

30 July 1763
‘Mr [Samuel] Johnson and I took a boat and sailed down the silver Thames. I asked him if a knowledge of the Greek and Roman languages was necessary. He said, “By all means; for they who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. Nay, it is surprising what a difference it makes upon people in the intercourse of life which does not appear to be much connected with it.’

“And yet,” said I “people will go through the world very well and do their business very well without them.”

“Why,” said he, “that may be true where they could not possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well without literature as if he could sing the song which Orpheus sung to the Argonauts, who were the first sailors in the world.” He then said to the boy, “What would you give, Sir, to know about the Argonauts?”

“Sir,” he said, “I would give what I have.” The reply pleased Mr Johnson much, and we gave him a double fare.

“Sir,” he said, “a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind; and every man who is not debauched would give all that he has to get knowledge.”

We landed at the Old Swan and walked to Billingsgate, where we took oars and moved smoothly along the river. We were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships that were lying at anchor. It was a pleasant day, and when we got clear out into the country, we were charmed with the beautiful fields on each side of the river. [. . .]

When we got to Greenwich, I felt great pleasure in being at the place which Mr Johnson celebrates in his London: a Poem. I had the poem in my pocket, and read the passage on the banks of the Thames, and literally “kissed the consecrated earth.” ’

4 August 1763
‘This is now my last day in London before I set out upon my travels, and makes a very important period in my journal. Let me recollect my life since this journal began. Has it not passed like a dream? Yes, but I have been attaining a knowledge of the world. I came to town to go into the Guards. How different is my scheme now! I am upon a less pleasurable but a more rational and lasting plan. Let me pursue it with steadiness and I may be a man of dignity. My mind is strangely agitated. I am happy to think of going upon my travels and seeing the diversity of foreign parts; and yet my feeble mind shrinks somewhat at the idea of leaving Britain in so very short a time from the moment in which I now make this remark. How strange must I feel myself in foreign parts. My mind too is gloomy and dejected at the thoughts of leaving London, where I am so comfortably situated and where I have enjoyed most happiness. However, I shall be the happier for being abroad, as long as I live. Let me be manly. Let me commit myself to the care of my merciful creator.’

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 19 May 2015.

Weeds don’t spoil

‘My [90th] birthday. [. . .] It is unusual, I believe, for persons of this age to retain possession of their faculties, or so much of them as I do. The Germans have an uncomplimentary saying: “Weeds don’t spoil” ’. This is Henry Crabb Robinson, one of the most interesting and entertaining of 19th century diarists, who was born a quarter of a millenium ago today. He trained as a lawyer, but an inheritance left him wealthy enough to pursue a life of cultured leisure. He was a great theatre-goer, knew a lot of literary types - was on very good terms with William Wordsworth, for example, with whom he travelled often - and was one of the first to recognise William’s Blake’s genius.

Robinson was born in Bury St Edmunds on 13 May 1775, the son of a tanner. He attended private schools, and was articled to a lawyer in Colchester when 15, and subsequently to another in London. In 1796, he was left an inheritance which allowed him to travel to the Continent frequently. Between 1800 and 1805 he studied in Germany, meeting, among others, Goethe and Schiller. He operated as a war correspondent for The Times for a short while during the Peninsular War, and, on his return to London, finished his legal training and was called to the bar.

Through an old friend, Catherine, who had married the writer and abolitionist Thomas Clarkson, Robinson was introduced into London literary society; and, in time, his own breakfast parties became famous. After retiring in 1828, he continued to take part in public affairs and to travel often. In 1828 he was one of the founding members of London University; and, in 1837, he revisited Italy on a tour with Wordsworth. He never married, but lived to an old age, dying in 1867. Further biographical information is available from Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica, or Peter Landry’s Bluepete website. The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography has a good short biography (but requires a login).

Robinson left behind a large amount of papers including the following: brief journals covering the period to 1810, a much fuller home diary (begun in 1811, and continued to within five days of his death - 35 volumes), and a collection of 30 tour journals. The papers were edited by Thomas Sadler and published by Macmillan in 1869 in three volumes as Diary, Reminiscences and Correspondence of Henry Crabb Robinson. And it is thanks largely to these volumes that Robsinson is remembered today, for his diaries are full of important detail about the central figures of the English romantic movement, not only Wordsworth, but Coleridge, Charles Lamb and William Blake. Of the latter, he was an early admirer, writing in his diary: ‘Shall I call Blake artist, genius, mystic or madman? Probably he is all’. Moreover, his diaries are also prized for their information about the London theatre in the first half of the 19th century (see the Society for Theatre Research’s 1966 volume: The London theatre 1811-1866: Selections from the diary of Henry Crabb Robinson.)

All three volumes of Diary, Reminiscences and Correspondence can be read at Internet Archive (Vol 1, Vol 2, Vol 3). Here are a few extracts.

7 December 1831
‘Brighton. Accompanied [John James] Masquerier [a British painter] to a concert, which afforded me really a great pleasure. I heard Paganini [Niccolò Paganini, an Italian musician and composer]. Having scarcely any sensibility to music, I could not expect great enjoyment from any music, however fine; and, after all, I felt more surprise at the performance than enjoyment. The professional men, I understand, universally think more highly of Paganini than the public do. He is really an object of wonder. His appearance announces something extraordinary. His figure and face amount to caricature. He is a tall slim figure, with limbs which remind one of a spider; his face very thin, his forehead broad, his eyes grey and piercing, with bushy eyebrows; his nose thin and long, his cheeks hollow, and his chin sharp and narrow. His face forms a sort of triangle. His hands the oddest imaginable, fingers of enormous length, and thumbs bending backwards.

It is, perhaps, in a great measure from the length of finger and thumb that his fiddle is also a sort of lute. He came forward and played, from notes, his own compositions. Of the music, as such, I know nothing. The sounds were wonderful. He produced high notes very faint, which resembled the chirruping of birds, and then in an instant, with a startling change, rich and melodious notes, approaching those of the bass viol. It was difficult to believe that this great variety of sounds proceeded from one instrument. The effect was heightened by his extravagant gesticulation and whimsical attitudes. He sometimes played with his fingers, as on a harp, and sometimes struck the cords with his bow, as if it were a drum-stick, sometimes sticking his elbow into his chest, and sometimes flourishing his bow. Oftentimes the sounds were sharp, like those of musical glasses, and only now and then really delicious to my vulgar ear, which is gratified merely by the flute and other melodious instruments, and has little sense of harmony.’

9 June 1833
‘Liverpool. At twelve I got upon an omnibus, and was driven up a steep hill to the place where the steam-carriages start. We travelled in the second class of carriages. There were five carriages linked together, in each of which were placed open seats for the traveller, four and four facing each other; but not all were full; and, besides, there was a close carriage, and also a machine for luggage. The fare was four shillings for the thirty-one miles. Everything went on so rapidly, that I had scarcely the power of observation. The road begins at an excavation through rock, and is to a certain extent insulated from the adjacent country. It is occasionally placed on bridges, and frequently intersected by ordinary roads. Not quite a perfect level is preserved. On setting off there is a slight jolt, arising from the chain catching each carriage, but, once in motion, we proceeded as smoothly as possible. For a minute or two the pace is gentle, and is constantly varying. The machine produces little smoke or steam. First in order is the tall chimney; then the boiler, a barrel-like vessel; then an oblong reservoir of water; then a vehicle for coals; and then comes, of a length infinitely extendible, the train of carriages. If all the seats had been filled, our train would have carried about 150 passengers; but a gentleman assured me at Chester that he went with a thousand persons to Newton fair. There must have been two engines then. I have heard since that two thousand persons and more went to and from the fair that day. But two thousand only, at three shillings each way, would have produced £600! But, after all, the expense is so great, that it is considered uncertain whether the establishment will ultimately remunerate the proprietors. Yet I have heard that it already yields the shareholders a dividend of nine per cent. And Bills have passed for making railroads between London and Birmingham, and Birmingham and Liverpool. What a change will it produce in the intercourse! One conveyance will take between 100 and 200 passengers, and the journey will be made in a forenoon! Of the rapidity of the journey I had better experience on my return; but I may say now, that, stoppages included, it may certainly be made at the rate of twenty miles an hour!

I should have observed before that the most remarkable movements of the journey are those in which trains pass one another. The rapidity is such that there is no recognizing the features of a traveller. On several occasions, the noise of the passing engine was like the whizzing of a rocket. Guards are stationed in the road, holding flags, to give notice to the drivers when to stop. Near Newton, I noticed an inscription recording the memorable death of Huskisson.’

26 December 1836
‘Brighton. This was a remarkable day. So much snow fell, that not a coach either set out for or arrived from London - an incident almost unheard of in this place. Parties were put off and engagements broken without complaint. The Masqueriers, with whom I am staying, expected friends to dinner, but they could not come. Nevertheless, we had here Mr Edmonds, the worthy Scotch schoolmaster, Mr and Mrs Dill, and a Miss Robinson; and, with the assistance of whist, the afternoon went off comfortably enough. Of course, during a part of the day, I was occupied in reading.’

28 December 1836
‘The papers to-day are full of the snow-storm. The ordinary mails were stopped in every part of the country.’

3 May 1850
‘I read early a speech by [Frederick William] Robertson [a charismatic preacher] to the Brighton Working Class Association, in which infidelity of a very dangerous kind had sprung up. His speech shows great practical ability. He managed a difficult subject very ably, but it will not be satisfactory either to the orthodox or the ultra-liberal.

I went to Mr Cookson, who is one of the executors of Mr Wordsworth, and with whom I had an interesting conversation about Wordsworth’s arrangements for the publication of his poems. He has commissioned Dr Christopher Wordsworth to write his Life, a brief Memoir merely illustrative of his poems. And in a paper given to the Doctor, he wrote that his sons, son-in-law, his dear friend Miss Fenwick, Mr Carter, and Mr Robinson, who had travelled with him, “would gladly contribute their aid by communicating any facts within their knowledge.” ’

18 February 1851
‘At Masquerier’s, Brighton. We had calls soon after breakfast. The one to be mentioned was that of [Michael] Faraday, one of the most remarkable men of the day, the very greatest of our discoverers in chemistry, a perfect lecturer in the unaffected simplicity and intelligent clearness of his statement; so that the learned are instructed and the ignorant charmed. His personal character is admirable. When he was young, poor, and altogether unknown, Masquerier was kind to him; and now that he is a great man he does not forget his old friend.’

29 November 1852
‘I went to Robertson’s, and had two hours of interesting chat with him on his position here in the pulpit; also about Lady Byron. He speaks of her as the noblest woman he ever knew.’

17 August 1853
‘Dr King wrote to me, informing me of the death of Robertson, of Brighton. Take him for all in all, the best preacher I ever saw in a pulpit; that is, uniting the greatest number of excellences, originality, piety, freedom of thought, and warmth of love. His style colloquial and very scriptural. He combined light of the intellect with warmth of the affections in a pre-eminent degree.’

13 September 1853
‘Brighton. Dr King called, and in the evening I called by desire on Lady Byron - a call which I enjoyed, and which may have consequences. Recollecting her history, as the widow of the most famous, though not the greatest, poet of England in our day, I felt an interest in going to her; and that interest was greatly heightened when I left her. From all I have heard of her, I consider her one of the best women of the day. Her means and her good will both great. “She lives to do good,” says Dr. King, and I believe this to be true. She wanted my opinion as to the mode of doing justice to Robertson’s memory. She spoke of him as having a better head on matters of business than any one else she ever knew. She said, “I have consulted lawyers on matters of difficulty, but Robertson seemed better able to give me advice. He unravelled everything and explained everything at once as no one else did.” ’

13 May 1865
‘My birthday. To-day I complete my ninetieth year. When people hear of my age, they affect to doubt my veracity, and call me a wonder. It is unusual, I believe, for persons of this age to retain possession of their faculties, or so much of them as I do. The Germans have an uncomplimentary saying : “Weeds don’t spoil.” ’

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 13 May 2015.

Folly, ignorance, idleness

‘Early in life, at the age of fifteen, I had commenced the dangerous habit of keeping a journal and this I maintained for ten years. The volumes remained in my possession unregarded - never looked at - till 1870, when I examined them, and, with many blushes, destroyed them.’ Alas, the great British novelist Anthony Trollope - born 210 years ago today - did not leave behind any diaries, only an autobiography with tantalising snippets about the journals he used to keep.

Trollope was born on 24 April 1815, in London, England, into a family of declining fortunes. His father, Thomas Anthony Trollope, was a barrister who struggled with financial management, while his mother, Frances Trollope, later became a successful writer. The family’s unstable income and eventual move to Belgium after financial ruin affected Anthony’s early years. He attended several schools, including Harrow and Winchester, but his time there was marked by unhappiness and bullying.

In 1834, Trollope began working as a junior clerk at the General Post Office, enduring several years of poverty before being transferred to Ireland in 1841, which improved his circumstances. During his postal career, he helped introduce the pillar box system, first in the Channel Islands, later spreading to Britain and Ireland. He wrote in the early morning hours before work, maintaining a disciplined schedule that allowed him to produce a vast body of literature. His first novel, The Macdermots of Ballycloran (1847), gained little attention, but he achieved fame with The Warden (1855), the first of what became known as the Barsetshire series.

Trollope married Rose Heseltine in 1844, and the couple had two sons, Henry and Frederick. He enjoyed a stable family life and often drew on domestic and clerical settings in his fiction. His works are known for their realism, detailed characterisations, and exploration of Victorian society’s moral and political issues. He remained prolific throughout his life, producing over 45 novels, numerous short stories, travel books, and essays. His political ambitions, including a failed run for Parliament in 1868, were less successful.

Trollope retired from the Post Office in 1867 to focus on writing full-time. He continued to publish steadily until his death in 1882. Though his popularity waned in the decades after his death, the 20th century saw a revival of interest in his work. Today, Trollope is considered one of the great chroniclers of Victorian England, admired for his insight into human behaviour and the intricacies of social life. His Barsetshire and Palliser novels remain widely read and studied. More information is readily available online at Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica and the Trollope Society.

An Autobiography by Trollope was first published in 1883 by William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh and London. Trollope completed the manuscript in 1879 and, after his death in 1882, his son Henry M. Trollope edited and arranged for its publication in 1883. This is freely available to read at Internet Archive.

On page 38, Trollope confesses: ‘Early in life, at the age of fifteen, I had commenced the dangerous habit of keeping a journal and this I maintained for ten years. The volumes remained in my possession unregarded - never looked at - till 1870, when I examined them, and, with many blushes, destroyed them. They convicted mo of folly, ignorance, indiscretion, idleness, extravagance, and conceit. But they had habituated me to the rapid use of pen and ink, and taught me how to express myself with facility.’

There is one other references to these journals later in the autobiography, and a further passage about ‘a little diary, with its dates and ruled spaces’ in which he seems to have set himself deadlines and recorded progress in writing the novels.

p48

‘I had often told myself since I left school that the only career in life within my reach was that of an author, and the only mode of authorship open to me that of a writer of novels. In the journal which I read and destroyed a few years since, I found the matter argued out before I had been in the Post Office two years. Parliament was out of the question. I had not means to go to the Bar. In official life, such as that to which I had been introduced, there did not seem to be any opening for real success. Pens and paper I could command. Poetry I did not believe to be within my grasp. The drama, too, which I would fain have chosen, I believed to be above me. For history, biography, or essay writing I had not sufficient erudition. But I thought it possible that I might write a novel. I had resolved very early that in that shape must the attempt be made. But the months and years ran on, and no attempt was made. And yet no day was passed without thoughts of attempting, and a mental acknowledgement of the disgrace of postponing it.’

p110

‘I have known authors whose lives have always been troublesome and painful because their tasks have never been done in time. They have ever been as boys struggling to learn their lesson as they entered the school gates. Publishers have distrusted them, and they have failed to write their best because they have seldom written at ease. I have done double their work, - though burdened with another profession, - and have done it almost without an effort. I have not once, through all my literary career, felt myself even in danger of being late with my task. I have known no anxiety as to ‘copy’. The needed pages far ahead - very far ahead - have almost always been in the drawer beside me. And that little diary, with its dates and ruled spaces, its record that must be seen, its daily, weekly demand upon my industry, has done all that for me.

There are those who would be ashamed to subject themselves to such a taskmaster, and who think that the man who works with his imagination should allow himself to wait till inspiration moves him. When I have heard such doctrine preached, I have hardly been able to repress my scorn. To me it would not be more absurd if the shoemaker were to wait for inspiration, or the tallow-chandler for the divine moment of melting, if the man whose business it is to write has eaten too many good things, or has drunk too much, or smoked too many cigars, as men who write sometimes will do,- then his condition may be unfavourable for work; but so will be the condition of a shoemaker who has been similarly imprudent. I have sometimes thought that the inspiration wanted has been the remedy which time will give to the evil results of such imprudence. - Mens sana in corpora sano. The author wants that as does every other workman, - that and a habit of industry. I was once told that the surest aid to the writing of a book was a piece of cobbler’s wax on my chair. I certainly believe in the cobbler’s wax much more than the inspiration.’

William Derham - natural philosopher

William Derham, an English clergyman and natural philosopher, died 230 years ago today. He was best known for his works on natural theology - trying to marry science with Christian ideology - and his early calculations of the speed of sound. Though not a diarist, he did keep weather records, moreover, he published commentaries on ‘meteorological diaries’ from as far afield as Naples and Bengal.

Derham was born in 1657 in Stoulton, Worcestershire. He showed an aptitude for learning from a young age, and was educated at Blockley Grammar School before entering Trinity College, Oxford, in 1675. He was ordained in 1681, and the following year became vicar of Wargrave, Berkshire, and from 1689 to 1735 he was Rector at Upminster, Essex. While at Upminster, in 1716, he became a Canon of Windsor - the vestry minutes show that thereafter he divided his time between those two places. His tenure at Upminster saw improvements to the church and its surroundings, and he was noted for his diligence in both pastoral and scholarly duties. 

Derham was deeply interested in natural philosophy and science. In 1696, he published his Artificial Clockmaker, which went through several editions. In 1703, he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society. In 1713, he published Physico-Theology: or, a Demonstration of the being and attributes of God, from his works of creation (freely available to read at Googlebooks). This was widely read and translated into several languages. Similar books followed: Astro-theology (1714) and Christo-theology (1730) followed. 

One of Derham’s most significant scientific contributions was to calculate the speed of sound by measuring the time lapse between the flash and report of distant cannon fire. He edited and published some of the posthumous works of Robert Hooke, helping to cement Hooke’s legacy as a pioneering scientist. Derham also studied insects and birds and corresponded with leading intellectuals of the age, including Sir Isaac Newton.

Although Derham married and had a family, few details of his personal life have survived time. In Upminster, he was known for his hospitality and engagement with scientific and theological discussions. He died on 5 April 1735. His writings, particularly in natural theology, would later be cited by thinkers such as William Paley, forming part of the intellectual groundwork for discussions on design in nature. His careful empirical studies and theological reflections positioned him as a bridge between the worlds of faith and emerging science in the early 18th century. See Wikipedia and the Barking and District Historical Society for further information.

Although there is no evidence that Derham was a diarist, he did leave behind his own weather records (see The Royal Society for images) as well as commentaries on the ‘meteorological diaries’ of others, such as this one with ‘diaries’ from Naples, Bengal and Christiana in 1727.

Lloyd George’s scant diaries

David Lloyd George, the only Welshman to serve as UK Prime Minister, died 80 years ago today. Although not a diarist, his literary estate, held by the National Library of Wales, does include a dozen diary manuscripts. Most of these have been digitised, and the pages can be viewed online. However, they do not seem to have been transcribed, and the original handwriting is difficult to decipher. As far as I can tell, there are no published extracts from these diaries. Nevertheless, Lloyd George is a key focus of diaries kept by at least three people close to him: Frances Stevenson, illicit lover and then second wife - see We had great fun; Albert James Sylvester, David Lloyd George’s personal assistant - see He is a very great man; and George Allardice Riddell, a key adviser to David Lloyd George - see Riddell and Lloyd George.

Born in Manchester in 1863, Lloyd George was raised, after his father’s early death, in Llanystumdwy, Wales, by his uncle, a strong Liberal and Nonconformist. This upbringing is said to have shaped his political views, instilling a deep commitment to Welsh nationalism, social reform, and radical Liberalism. He entered politics as the Member of Parliament for Caernarfon Boroughs in 1890, and quickly gained a reputation as a fiery orator and champion of social justice. As Chancellor of the Exchequer (1908-1915), he introduced landmark reforms, including the 1911 National Insurance Act, laying the foundations of the welfare state. His controversial ‘People’s Budget’ of 1909, which aimed to tax the wealthy to fund social programmes, led to a constitutional crisis but ultimately strengthened democratic control over the House of Lords.

During World War I, Lloyd George played a key role in mobilising Britain’s war effort. In 1916, he replaced H. H. Asquith as Prime Minister, leading a coalition government. Under his leadership, Britain saw victory in 1918; and he then played a key role in the postwar peace process, notably at the Treaty of Versailles. However, his postwar administration faced economic difficulties, industrial unrest, and the Irish War of Independence, leading to his resignation in 1922.

Lloyd George remained politically active but never returned to power. He spent his later years writing and advocating for international peace. Created the Earl Lloyd-George of Dwyfor, he died shortly thereafter, on 26 March 1945. Despite controversy over his policies and personal life, he is remembered as one of Britain’s most dynamic and reformist leaders. Further information is available from Wikipedia, History of the UK Government, Encyclopaedia Britannica, and The National Library of Wales.

Lloyd George was not a natural diarist, however, he did leave behind a modest collection of diary material, all contained in the papers of William George, David Lloyd Georges brother (purchased by the National Library of Wales in 1989). The diary from 1886 contains an account of his personal life and his political career. It describes his first public speech - in Blaenau Ffestiniog on 12 February - and describes his political activities and ambitions in some detail.

Further details on this diary can be found at the People’s Collection Wales: ‘This diary is one of a series kept by David Lloyd George while he was working as a solicitor in Criccieth. It is, perhaps, the most fascinating, as it was written just as Lloyd George was on the brink of launching into a political career. The diary contains lengthy entries giving details of Lloyd George's personal life and public activities. In particular, he describes his first public speech at Blaenau Ffestiniog on 12 February, which made a deep impression locally and led to speculation that he might be invited to stand as a Liberal candidate for Meirionethshire that year. During subsequent entries Lloyd George describes his political activities, aspirations and ambitions candidly and in some detail. There are also a number of revealing references to his courtship with Margaret Owen of Mynydd Ednyfed, Criccieth.’

The diary can be viewed digitally online at the Library website, but as far as I know, it has not been transcribed. The Library also provides summary information about 11 other diary manuscripts it holds, as follows:

David Lloyd George's other diaries

1887 Jan-Nov

1878 The Diary of the Calvinistic Methodists, brief entries for July-December

1880 Pocket note-book bearing brief diary notes for the whole of the year, some in shorthand

1881-1882 Loose papers bearing diary entries, fairly complete, some in detail

1883 Detailed diary entries written on the reverse of a printed voters' list for the county of Merioneth

1884 Ditto

1885 Renshaw’s Almanac and Diary

1887 Diary and Memoranda. Very few entries; almost completely blank

1888 The Legal Pocket Book & Calendar 1888 containing brief entries for only a few days

1888 Collins’ Pocket Diary bearing few entries

1892 Calendar and Diary of the Alliance Assurance Company bearing brief entries from January to July.

Eskmeaux use slings

‘To the Eastward & the Westward the Ice breaks up but soon freezes again. The Eskmeaux saw large Canoes full of White Men to the Westward 8 or 10 Winters since, from whom they got Iron of which they exchanged part with them for Leather. [. . .] That the Eskmeaux dress like them wear their Hair short, have two holes one in each Side of the Mouth in a line with the under Lip, in which they stick long Beads, which they find in their Lakes, their Bows differ from theirs they make use of Slings to throw Stones at their Enemies, at which they are very dextrous.’ This is from the diaries of Sir Alexander Mackenzie, a Scottish explorer who was the first European to cross North America north of Mexico. He died 205 years ago today. 

Mackenzie was born in Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis, Scotland, in 1764. His father, a merchant and landowner, sought greater opportunities in the New World, prompting the family to emigrate to British North America (modern-day Canada) in 1774. Young Alexander was sent to school in Montreal, where he received a formal education and was later apprenticed to a fur-trading company. He joined the North West Company, a major rival of the Hudson’s Bay Company, in the 1780s and quickly rose through the ranks. Eager to expand the company’s influence and find a viable trade route to the Pacific, he embarked on a series of expeditions.

In 1789, Mackenzie set out from Fort Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca, following what he hoped was a passage to the Pacific. Instead, he reached the Arctic Ocean via the river that would later bear his name, the Mackenzie River. Undeterred by this unexpected outcome, he redoubled his efforts. His most famous journey came in 1792-1793, when he led an arduous overland expedition from Fort Chipewyan, through the Rocky Mountains, and down the Bella Coola River to the Pacific Ocean. He became the first European to cross the North American continent, predating the famed Lewis and Clark expedition by over a decade (see White bear, drunk Indians).

Following his explorations, Mackenzie returned to Britain, where he was knighted in 1802 for his contributions to geographical discovery. Crossing the Atlantic again to Canada as Sir Mackenzie, he was elected to the Legislature of Lower Canada, serving as member for Huntingdon County from 1804 to 1808. Once again, though, he returned to Scotland, in 1812, where he married 14-year-old Geddes Mackenzie, twin heiress of Avoch. They had two sons and a daughter, living alternatively in Avoch and London. He died in his mid-50s, on 12 March 1820. Further information is available from Wikipedia, Dictionary of Canadian Biography, or this Mackenzie Clan website.

Mackenzie kept detailed, and somewhat dry, journals on his expeditions. In his own lifetime, he published Voyages from Montreal, on the River St. Laurence through the Continent of North America, to the Frozen and Pacific Oceans; In the Years 1789 and 1793 (London, 1801). This is freely available to read online at Internet Archive.

More than 150 years later, in 1966, the University of Oklahoma Press published Exploring the Northwest Territory: Sir Alexander Mackenzie’s Journal of a Voyage by Bark Canoe from Lake Athabasca to the Pacific Ocean in the Summer of 1789 as edited by T. H. McDonald. More recently, modern reproductions of the journals have been issued by The Narrative Press.

Here are several extracts from the original 1801 volume.

9 July 1793

‘Thunder and Rain last Night, (and, in the course of it) our Conductor deserted. Could not find him, embarked one of the others against his will, and took his paddles from the one that remained that he might not follow us, at which he that was in our Canoe got quite enraged, jumped at the Paddle threw it on shore, but we embarked it again and pacified him. At half past 3 left our Campment. In a very short time, we saw a Smoak on the East shore which we made for. Our Stranger began to Hallow to them in a very strange manner. He told us that they were not of his Tribe that they were very wicked and would beat us all, and pull out our Hair etc. The Men waited our Arrival, but the Women and Children took to the Woods. They were only 4 in Number and they began to Harangue us all at the same time before we debarked seemingly in a very violent Passion, but our Hunters could not understand what they said. Our Conductor spoke to them and they became quiet. I made them presents of Beads, Knives, Awls etc. The Women and Children came out of the Wood and met with a similar Treatment. In all they were 15 People, and had a better appearance than any of those we had seen, being healthy and full of Flesh and more cleanly. Their language was something different, but I believe only in the accent, for they and our Conductor understood one another very well, and the English Chief understood one of them, tho’ he could not understand him. Their Arms and Utensils differ but little from those I have already described. They have no Iron except very small Pieces that serve them for Knives, which they get from the Eskmeaux. Their arrows are made of light wood and have only two Feathers at the End. They had a Bow which is different in Shape from theirs, and say they had it from the Eskmeaux who are their Neighbours.

Its of 2 pieces and a very strong Cord of Sinews along the Back of it tied in different places to keep it to the Shape which is this: When this Cord gets wet it requires a good Bow String and a strong arm to draw it. The former must resist the elastic force of the wood and the Cord (I mentioned above) which is very great when it is wet, as it is much contracted, but when it is dry it extends to its common length and is even then a great support to the Bow. The Vessel they cook their victuals is made of a thin frame of wood, oblonged shaped, the Bottom fixed in a Notch, same as a Cask. Their Shirts are not square at Bottom but Tapering to a point from the Belt downwards before and behind and come opposite the Knee embellished with a short Fringe. They have another Fringe the same as I have already described, with the addition of a Stone of a Grey furmacous Berry of the Size and Shape of a large Barley Corn, brown coloured and fluted which they bore thro’ the middle and run one on each String of the Fringe with which they decorate their Shirts by sewing one of them on forming a Demy Circle on the Breast and Back and crossing over both Shoulders. The Sleeves are wide and short, but their Mittens supply this Deficiency, as they are long enough to come over part of the Sleeve, and they wear them continually hanging by a Cord over their Necks. Their lygans want nothing but Waistbands to make them Trowsers. They fasten them with a Cord round the Middle so that they are more decent than their Neighbours. Their shoes are sewed to their lygans and garnished on every seam.

One of the Men were dressed in Shirt made of Musqural Skins. The Womens dress is the same with the Mens, only their Skirts are longer, and have not a Fringe on the Breast. They have a peculiar way of tying the Hair of the Head, viz the Hair of the Temples or fore part of the Skull is tied in the Fashion of two Queues and hanging before the Ears, the Hair of the Scalp or Crown is tied in the same manner down to where People commonly tie their Hair at some distance from the Head and hangs in Balance the whole with a Cord garnished very neatly with original Hair coloured. Some of the Men only dress their Hair in the above manner, the rest and the Women have it hanging loose long or short.’

23 July 1793

‘We began our March half past 3 this Morning, the Men on the lines (to tow the canoe) I walked with the Indians to their Huts which were further off than what expected. We took 3 Hours hard walking to get to them. Passed a narrow deep River in our way, at the Entrance of which the Natives had Nets set. They had hid their Effects and young Women in the wood, as we saw but few of the former and none of the latter. They have a large Hut built with Drift wood upon the Declivity of the Beach and dug in the Inside to a level. At each End are two Stout Forks, whereon is laid a strong Ridge split open to dry. They make Fires in different parts of the House that the Fish may dry the sooner. They have Rails on the Outside of the House which are likewise covered with Fish, but fresher than those in the Hut. They appear very careful of the Roes or Sperme (spawn) of the Fish which they dry in like manner. We got as many Fish from them as we chose to embark, for which I gave them Beads, as they were fonder of them than of any thing I possessed, tho’ I did not observe they had any of them. Iron they put little value in. During 2 Hours that I remained here I kept the English Chief continually questioning them - the result of which is as follows: That their Nation or Tribe is very numerous, that the Eskmeaux are always at variance with them, that they kill their Relations when they Find them weak. Notwithstanding they promise to be always Friends, they of late have shewn their Treachery by Butchering some of their People in proof of which some of the Relations of those deceased shewed us that they had cut off their Hair upon the occasion, & that they are determined not to believe the Eskmeaux any more; that they will collect all their Friends to go to revenge the Death of their Friends. That a strong Party of the Eskmeaux comes up this River in their large Canoes in search of Flint Stones to point their Spears and Arrows, that they were now at their Lakes due East from where we are now, that the distance is not great over land, where they kill the Rein Deer & that they will begin soon to kill big fish for their winter stock, that they know nothing about the Lake in the Direction we were in.

To the Eastward & the Westward the Ice breaks up but soon freezes again. The Eskmeaux saw large Canoes full of White Men to the Westward 8 or 10 Winters since, from whom they got Iron of which they exchanged part with them for Leather. Where the big Canoes came to, they call Belan howlay Tock (Belhoullay Toe) (White Mens Lake). That the Eskmeaux dress like them wear their Hair short, have two holes one in each Side of the Mouth in a line with the under Lip, in which they stick long Beads, which they find in their Lakes, their Bows differ from theirs they make use of Slings to throw Stones at their Enemies, at which they are very dextrous. They likewise informed us that we should not see any more of their Relations, that they had all left the River to go & kill Rein Deer for their Winters Provision, & that they intended to do the same in a few Days; that Rein Deers, Bears, Carcajeaux (wolvereens), Martin, Foxes, Hares and White Buffaloe, are the only quadrupèdes upon their Lands, the latter are only to be met with in the Mountains to the Westward. 

Went with the Line all Day except 2 Hours Sailing. We camp’d at 8 oClock. From where we started this Morning, the Banks of the River are well covered with Small wood, Epinette, Birch & Willows. We found it very warm travelling.’

7 August 1739

‘Commenced our Day at 1/2 past 3 this Morning. Shortly after we saw two Rein Deer on the Beach a head. We stopp’d & our Indians went to approach them, but they were too ambitious who shou’d first get near them, that they rais’d the Animals, of course lost them. At the same time we saw an Animal traversing, we immediately made for it & killed it. It proved to be a Rein Deer Female, & from the Number of cuts she had in the hind Legs, we judged she had been pursued by Wolves & that they had destroy’d her Young Ones. Her Udder was full of Milk, one of the Young Indians cut it up & emptied the Milk among some boiled Corn & ate it declaring it was (Wicazen) delicious. At 5 PM. we saw an Animal running along the Beach which some said was a Dog & others said was a Grey Fox. Soon after I put a Shore for the Night at the Entrance of a small River, as I thot. there might be some Natives not far off. I order my Hunters to arange their Fuzees & gave them Ammunition to go a hunting To-morrow & at the same Time to look out for Natives in the Neighbouring Mountains. I found a small Canoe in the Edge of the Wood, had a Paddle & Bow in it. It had been mended this Spring, the Bark was much neater sewed than any I had yet seen. We saw many old Campmts. in the Course of the Day. The Current very strong & point (along the points) equal to rapids.’

An arch-druid was buryed

‘At the Royal Society. Mr. Collison showed me a Druid bead of glass, enameled, found at Henbury, near Macclesfield. Henbury is the old grave, as our Saxon ancestors would call an old long barrow, where an arch-druid was buryed, and I suppose this ornament belonged to one. They wore such hanging from their neck.’ This is from the diaries of William Stukeley, an English antiquarian, physician and Anglican clergyman, who died 250 years ago today. Though trained as a physician, his life’s work - reflected in his diaries - was to explore and study the country’s antiquities. He is credited with pioneering the scholarly investigation of prehistoric monuments such as Stonehenge.

Born in 1687, in Holbeach, Lincolnshire, Stukeley grew up in an era of expanding scientific curiosity. His early education at Stamford School set the stage for a lifetime of intellectual pursuit, and in 1703, he entered Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, where he studied medicine and developed a fascination with antiquities. By 1710, he had qualified as a physician, establishing a practice in Boston, Lincolnshire. 

However, Stukeley’s interest in ancient monuments soon drew him away from medicine, and over the next decade he made extensive tours across Britain, meticulously sketching and documenting prehistoric sites. His travels led him to Stonehenge in 1719, where he undertook a first systematic study. After moving to London, he joined the Royal Society and became friends with Isaac Newton. The 1720s marked a period of intense study and fieldwork. He co-founded the Society of Roman Knights, dedicated to the study of Roman Britain, and became increasingly involved in Freemasonry. 

By 1721, Stukeley had been elected a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, this despite his continuing focus on antiquities rather than medicine. In 1724, he published Itinerarium Curiosum, a richly illustrated account of his travels. His life took a turn in 1726 when he married Frances Williamson (with whom he would have three daughters) and moved to Grantham. In 1739, two years after his first wife’s death, Stukeley married Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Gale, dean of York, who brought a substantial marriage portion to the union. In 1740, he published Stonehenge: A Temple Restor’d to the British Druids, proposing that these monuments were built by ancient Druids.

In late 1747, Stukeley became the rector for St George the Martyr, Queen Square, a parish in Bloomsbury, London, and soon after moved permanently to the city. In 1753, he was selected as a trustee to help establish the British Museum, reflecting his standing in London antiquarian circles. He was also involved in the running of the Foundling Hospital. One of his last books, in 1752, was a memoir of Newton in which he mentions how a falling apple inspired the theory of gravitation. He died on 3 March 1765. Further information is available from Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica, and the BBC.

Stukeley was an inveterate diary keeper. The Spalding Gentlemen’s Society holds a collection of his papers covering the years 1740 to 1751, and the Bodleian Archives & Manuscripts houses other papers including diaries. Many diary entries can be found in the three volumes of The Family Memoirs of the Rev. William Stukeley as edited by the Surtees Society in the 1880s. These volumes (available at Internet Archive) remain an important source for researchers studying Stukeley’s life and work, as well as for those interested in the development of antiquarian studies and archaeology in 18th-century Britain. Volume 1 contains an autobiographical memoir and some chronological diary extracts from his early life, as well as correspondence. Volumes 2 and 3, however, are not structured as a chronological survey of his life, but by geographical counties (each county chapter including different kinds of texts, inc. diaries).

Here are some diary extracts as found in volume 2.

26 May 1743

‘Mrs. Lepla told me of a Roman urn dug up at Thorney Abby, with the ashes, which they buryed again. She says there’s a high raised gravel road, Roman, from Thorney to Ely, which, I doubt not, belonged to the Carsdike navigation, bringing corn from Cambridg. She says they dig up much antidiluvian oak there, of huge dimensions. They made a maypole of one, together with deers’ horns and nuts.’

4 November 1744

‘Dined with the Archbishop of York in his journey to town. His Grace told me Mr. Roger Gale dyed with a prophecy in his mouth, according to report of the country, viz., that it would be a most excessively wet harvest, for so it proved in the north this year, though with us it was very favourable. Mr. Hill told us he ordered a certain oak tree to be cut down, brought into his yard, and to be sawn into planks, a fortnight before his death. No one knew his purpose till he dyed, and then a paper was found directing they should dig a grave for him in such a place in the churchyard 8 foot deep or deeper if the springs hindered not. They should plank the bottom of it with those oak planks. He ordered his coffin to be made of a certain shape which he drew out upon paper, which being laid upon the planks was to be bricked round the height of the coffin, and a particular large blew stone which he mentioned laid over the whole, then to be filled up with earth and fresh sods laid so as that it might not be discernible where he was laid, that he might be the sooner forgot, as he exprest it.’

December 1748

‘A dog was taken from London in a ship, carried to Newcastle, some victuals given him, and let goe at the same time that a letter was put into the post to his master at London. The dog never had been at Newcastle before, yet was at home before the letter. Many are the instances of this nature, well attested. Therefore I conclude providence has extended some universal principle to all animals, which we are apt to call instinct, like that of attraction, gravitation, cohesion, electricity, &c., imparted to mere matter. This principle overrules animals, and irresistibly draws them on to pursue the ends purposed by them, or to which they are designed by providence, without variation, such as bees making their inimitable combs, birds making the nests peculiar to their kind, &c, whilst man acts spontaneously and of his own free will, and therefore only accountable for his actions. Many like storys are told of cats, a more unlikely creature than dogs, which I know to be true.’

16 February 1749

‘At the Royal Society. Mr. Collison showed me a Druid bead of glass, enameled, found at Henbury, near Macclesfield. Henbury is the old grave, as our Saxon ancestors would call an old long barrow, where an arch-druid was buryed, and I suppose this ornament belonged to one. They wore such hanging from their neck. Henbury is at the head of the river Pever. Henshaw, the next town, old wood. A great forest hard by, and a very open country too.’

24 July 1749

‘My wife, daughters, Mrs. Wade and I, went to Waltham Cross. We saw the two posts remaining which I set down 25 years ago to guard the noble edifice. Nevertheless it has very much suffered since that time. We visited the Abby. The front of the great gate-house remains, and some part of the north side of the abbatial buildings. The present cellar is part of the old cloysters, as thought; ’tis arched at top. At the very end of it, they have fixed up against the wall the side of king Harold’s tomb; ’tis a black stone with a grotesc head carved on it, and some cherubims. We saw the famous tulip tree, now in flower. The east of the present church has exactly the same appearance as that of Crowland. In both places they have pulled down the choir and transept. Crowland first church was exactly the same as what now remains here. They were both magnificent cathedrals of the first style; semicircular arches, great pillars. The building on the south is said to have belonged to the nuns of Cheshunt. We visited the old house at the end of the town, said to have been the house where the famous John Fox the martyrologist lived, whose family still remains in the town. There is his picture; and Archbishop Cranmer lived in the same place; his study remains. Mr. Fowler, the curate, showed me an old town book from the dissolution; mention of the last abbot, Robert Fuller.’

28 January 1752

‘Rode to Cheshunt; observed a Hebrew inscription over a door in Hockley in the hole ; an inscription by Clarkenwel. The two posts remain which I set up at Waltham cross 30 years agoe, and without them this curious fabric had been quite demolished by this time. The lord of the manor, instead of repairing it, as he ought to do, gave leave for the adjacent alehouse to build against it and take part of it away. The 4 Swans there belonged to Waltham Abby. The suit of rooms where the chimnys are were made for the tenants to meet in on court days, and to lodg pilgrims in. I take it that 4 swans with a cross were the arms of king Harold, and he had a mistress, whom he called swan’s neck, who only could find his body out among the slain.’

25 January 1759 

‘At the Antiquarian Society. A pot of English coins of Henry II. found near Southampton, some cut in half for halfpennys, some in quarters for farthings.’