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.’

Got frantic & burst into tears

‘Lennie came over & I drank some lighter fuel - got frantic & burst into tears - walk in the park & bed at 5AM.’ This is a verbatim extract from the diaries of actor Vivian MacKerrell who died 30 years ago today. Never successful as an actor, his life was so colourful that his friend Bruce Robinson based a film - Withnail & I - on MacKerrell’s character and real-life exploits. Last year, MacKerrell’s diaries from the mid-1970s were put up for auction by Sotheby’s, and rich details of the contents were made publicly available. The lot, however, was withdrawn before sale without explanation.

MacKerrell was born in 1944 in London, the son of a Scottish accountant. He attended Trent College, a private school near Nottingham, and started an acting career in the early 1960s. He performed with Ian McKellen and John Neville at Nottingham Playhouse, before joining the Central School of Speech and Drama in London. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, he had a handful of television and film roles, but his most notable film appearance was in the 1974 horror film Ghost Story, also starring Marianne Faithfull. 

Despite his talent and striking presence, he struggled to secure major film or stage roles, leading to a life of artistic frustration and financial instability. In the mid-1970s, he lived with Bruce Robinson in a dilapidated house in Camden Town, London. However, by this time he had become a heavy drinker and was known for his eccentric behaviour. In his later years, MacKerrell worked for fashion designer Paul Smith in Nottingham. He developed throat cancer in his 40s, and, after a short remission in the mid-1980s, the illness returned and he underwent a laryngectomy. He died on 2 March 1995, in Gloucester. See Wikipedia for more information.

MacKerrell is remembered largely because Robinson used him as a template for Withnail, the dissolute yet charismatic out-of-work actor in Withnail & I - a highly successful and much-loved film written and directed by Robinson. Indeed, Robinson also wove MacKerrell’s real-life exploits, including alcohol-fueled misadventures and a reckless lifestyle, into his film’s script. McKerrell’s life received further exposure when the author Colin Bacon published a memoir, Vivian and I (Quartet, 2010).

Last year, one of the world’s pre-eminent auction houses, Sotheby’s was slated to sell a batch of Mackerrell’s private papers, including diaries - estimated to sell for £12,000-18,000. The auction house said: ‘These diaries, which have never before been seen beyond MacKerrell’s most intimate circle, allow us to hear the original caustic, rebarbative, self-pitying, debauched and hilariously funny voice that inspired Withnail.’ Unfortunately, the lot was withdrawn before the sale, and there’s no been no further news of them. Nevertheless, Sotheby’s substantial information on the lot is still available online. Here is the breakdown of what was in the lot.

i) The Country Gentlemen’s Diary 1974, pre-printed with one week per opening, filled with detailed daily entries beginning 26 January (“. . . Lennie came over & I drank some lighter fuel - got frantic & burst into tears - walk in the park & bed at 5AM. . .”), also with entries recording dreams, lists of songs, and miscellaneous notes, c.121 pages of handwritten text, in blue ink, black ink, and pencil, 8vo (215 x 155mm), blue cloth, binding worn

ii) Personal diary, with regular entries from 14 January to 20 May 1975 (“The diary ends here for the moment as I gradually began to feel better and decided to go up to Islay ...”), with a brief postscript on his visit to Islay, c.176 pages, plus blanks, in black ink and blue ink, 8vo (210 x 153mm), blue cloth

iii) Notebook, with fragments of creative writing in prose, occasional diary entries (26-30 March 1973), draft letters, and other notes, 41 pages, plus blanks, in black, blue and green ink, and pencil, 8vo (200 x 165mm), grey patterned boards

iv-viii) Five photographs of McKerrell: head and shoulders portrait, 204 x 250mm; head and shoulders portrait, 140 x 95mm, studio stamp on the reverse (Charles Domec-Carre of Brixton Hill); quarter-length profile portrait in theatrical costume, 230 x 90mm; sheet of 12 contact prints from a studio session, 251 x 202mm; all photographs creased and with abrasions to reverse where removed from an album’

And here are several partial extracts from MacKerrell’s diaries quoted in the lot press release.

18 March 1974

‘Up 10.00 to find B. had been up all night on coffee & speed - he was writing and fixing up the bathroom.’

25 March 1974

‘Up first - as usual and out for a copy of the Sun and a bottle of red - Bruce’s bunce [unemployment benefit] had not come. He got up after Leslie [Bruce’s girlfriend] had departed an hour late. He ‘phoned them but to no avail so he went out to purchase a bottle of Pernod while I had a bath. When I finished the bath I lashed into the pernicious liquor with him & also into reading Othello. Cassio is a difficult part - another goody goody - at least he displays one flaw getting pissed - shouldn’t have much difficulty there. Got a decent buzz of the Pernod and was slumped in front of the telly when Leslie came back with some soap.’

27 March 1974

‘Up at about 9.30 to go down to sign on with B[ruce]. The labour [exchange] seemed fuller than usual - they’ve cut down on staff - the buggers. After a pint and to Albert while B went to Kentish assio. I read and corrected more of ‘Withnail and I’, his book and when he came back we opened the bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé that L had put out in the window box to chill.’

29 March 1974

‘Up betimes and over to Spread Eagle for wine then another. Then changed into suits & B & I went for a large Pernod as a double bunce arrived for his . . . down to the Little Theatre to see Chick she said if B & I were to do the play she’d be worried about us being stoned - Christ I said - How dare you - and persuaded her that we had discipline at our fingertips . . . Back home by tube and so to kip with copy of men only. God what a fate. Must work work work.’

4 February 1975

‘The afternoon whirred on like the wine and I read a bit and dozed and saw that Margaret ‘Valium’ Thatcher has defeated Ted - and that two hours later ‘The Grocer’ has resigned the leadership.’

16 March 1975

‘I had intended to kip on the couch and nearly away - when I felt this scratching and pattering on my head - a mouse - on the couch I told it to fuck off and it disappeared thank god. The buggers are spreading and no poison can deal with them.’

2 May 1975

‘O Lord the march of time in its inexorable grey cloak - we’re into May now! No job, no chick and no bread - still nil Carborundum. And what is worse - as I peered into the dusty intestinal hall no Bunce! Fuck - I had a fag and coffee and hastened out to a blustery but hazily sunny day.’

An unpleasant odour of musk

‘The flesh [of Hoatzins, locally called Ciganas] has an unpleasant odour of musk combined with wet hides - a smell called by the Brazilians catinga; it is, therefore, uneatable. If it be as unpalateable to carnivorous animals as it is to man, the immunity from persecution which it would thereby enjoy would account for its existing in such great numbers throughout the country.’ This is from the much-revered natural history journals written by Henry Walter Bates - born two centuries ago today - after spending 11 years in the Amazon. His observations and research, like that of his friend Russell Wallace, supported the new theories, at the time, being put forward by Charles Darwin.

Bates was born on 8 February 1825, in Leicester, England, into a family of modest means, his father being a stocking maker. Despite limited formal education, he attended local schools and became proficient in Latin and French, which later helped him access scientific literature. At age 13, he became an apprentice to a hosier but continued pursuing a passion for entomology in his spare time. He joined the Mechanics’ Institute (which had a library), studied in his spare time and collected insects in Charnwood Forest. In 1843 he had a short paper on beetles published in the journal Zoologist. He met Wallace, a keen entomologist, who had taken a teaching post in the Leicester Collegiate School. The two men shared a passion to explore exotic lands. 

Inspired particularly by Alexander von Humboldt’s accounts of the Amazon (see Humboldt’s genius), Bates and Wallace embarked on an expedition to South America in 1848 to study the region’s biodiversity. They intended to fund their trip by collecting and selling specimens of plants and animals. Though Wallace returned to England in 1852, Bates went on to spend 11 years (1848-1859) in the Amazon, a period marked by much hardship and astonishing discoveries: during this period, he collected over 14,000 species, of which approximately 8,000 were new to science. 

On his return, Bates spent the next three years writing an account of the trip, This was published as The Naturalist on the River Amazons in 1863, and would soon become widely regarded as one of the finest accounts of natural history travels. In the work, he details his discovery of what would become named as Batesian mimicry - a phenomenon whereby harmless species evolve to imitate the warning signals of harmful species to avoid predators. The idea proved a significant contribution to the then emerging theory of natural selection.

Also in 1863, Bates married Sarah Ann Mason with whom he had several children. From 1864 onwards, he worked as assistant secretary of the Royal Geographical Society (though effectively he acted as secretary - the senior post being occupied by a noble figurehead). He sold his personal Lepidoptera collection, and began to work mostly on beetles. From 1868 to 1869 and in 1878 he was president of the Entomological Society of London. In 1871 he was elected a fellow of the Linnaean Society, and in 1881 he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society. He died in 1892. Further information is available from Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica, and The Natural History Museum (which today holds most of his collection).

Bates’ original 1863 work, in two volumes, can be freely read online at Internet Archive. However, much more recently, in 2020, The Natural History Museum published The Naturalist on the River Amazon: The Journals & Writings of Henry Walter Bates. According to the museum, the book includes pages from Bates’ illustrated notebooks and excerpts from, in the words of Charles Darwin, ‘the best book of natural history travels ever published’.

Most of The Naturalist on the River Amazons reads more like a memoir than a journal or diary, but there are a few dated extracts. Here are two.

29 August 1848 

‘The Mojú, a stream little inferior to the Thames in size, is connected about 20 miles from its mouth by means of a short artificial canal with a small stream, the Igarapé-mirim, which flows the opposite way into the water-system of the Tocantins. Small vessels like ours take this route in preference to the stormy passage by way of the main river, although the distance is considerably greater. We passed through the canal yesterday, and to-day have been threading our way through a labyrinth of narrow channels; their banks all clothed with the same magnificent forest; but agreeably varied by houses of planters and settlers. We passed many quite large establishments, besides one pretty little village, called Santa Anna. All these channels are washed through by the tides, - the ebb, contrary to what takes place in the short canal, setting towards the Tocantins. The water is almost tepid (77° Fahr.), and the rank vegetation all around seems reeking with moisture. The country however, as we were told, is perfectly healthy. Some of the houses are built on wooden piles driven into the mud of the swamp.

In the afternoon we reached the end of the last channel, called the Anapú, which runs for several miles between two unbroken lilies of fan-leaved palms, forming with their straight stems colossal palisades. On rounding a point of land we came in full view of the Tocantins. The event was announced by one of our Indians, who was on the look-out at the prow, shouting, “La esta o Paraná-uassú!” “Behold, the great river!” It was a grand sight - a broad expanse of dark waters dancing merrily to the breeze; the opposite shore, a narrow blue line, miles away. We went ashore on an island covered with palm-trees, to make a fire and boil our kettle for tea. I wandered a short way inland, and was astounded at the prospect. The land lay below the upper level of the daily tides, so that there was no underwood, and the ground was bare. The trees were almost all of one species of Palm, the gigantic fan-leaved Mauritia flexuosa; on the borders only was there a small number of a second kind, the equally remarkable Ubussú palm, Manicaria saccifera. The Ubussú has erect, uncut leaves, twenty-five feet long, and six feet wide, all arranged round the top of a four-feet high stem, so as to form a figure like that of a colossal shuttlecock. The fan-leaved palms, which clothed nearly the entire islet, had huge cylindrical smooth stems, three feet in diameter, and about a hundred feet high. The crowns were formed of enormous clusters of fan-shaped leaves, the stalks alone of which measured seven to ten feet in length. Nothing in the vegetable world could be more imposing than this grove of palms. There was no underwood to obstruct the view of the long perspective of towering columns. The crowns, which were densely packed together at an immense height overhead, shut out the rays of the sun; and the gloomy solitude beneath, through which the sound of our voices seemed to reverberate, could be compared to nothing so well as a solemn temple. The fruits of the two palms were scattered over the ground; those of the Ubussú adhere together by twos and threes, and have a rough, brown-coloured shell; the fruit of the Mauritia, on the contrary, is of a bright red hue, and the skin is impressed with deep crossing lines, which give it a resemblance to a quilted cricket-ball.

About midnight, the tide being favourable and the breeze strong, we crossed the river, taking it in a slanting direction, a distance of sixteen miles, and arrived at eight o’clock the following morning at Cametá. This is a town of some importance, pleasantly situated on the somewhat high terra firma of the left bank of the Tocantins. I will defer giving an account of the place till the end of this narrative of our Tocantins voyage. We lost here another of our men, who got drinking with some old companions ashore, and were obliged to start on the difficult journey up the river with two hands only, and they in a very dissatisfied humour with the prospect.

The river view from Cametá is magnificent. The town is situated, as already mentioned, on a high bank, which forms quite a considerable elevation for this fiat country, and the broad expanse of dark-green waters is studded with low, palm-clad islands, the prospect down river, however, being clear, or bounded only by a sealike horizon of water and sky. The shores are washed by the breeze-tossed waters into little bays and creeks, fringed with sandy beaches. The Tocantins has been likened, by Prince Adalbert of Prussia, who crossed its mouth in 1846, to the Ganges. It is upwards of ten miles in breadth at its mouth; opposite Cametá it is five miles broad. Mr. Burchell, the well- known English traveller, descended the river from the mining provinces of interior Brazil some years before our visit. Unfortunately, the utility of this fine stream is impaired by the numerous obstructions to its navigation in the shape of cataracts and rapids, which commence, in ascending, at about 120 miles above Cametá, as will be seen in the sequel.’

30 August 1848 

‘Arrived, in company with Senhor Laroque, an intelligent Portuguese merchant, at Vista Alegre, fifteen miles above Cameta. This was the residence of Senhor Antonio Ferreira Gomez, and was a fair sample of a Brazilian planter’s establishment in this part of the country. The buildings covered a wide space, the dwelling-house being separated from the place of business, and as both were built on low, flooded ground, the communication between the two was by means of a long wooden bridge. From the office and visitors’ apartments a wooden pier extended into the river. The whole was raised on piles above high-water mark. There was a rude mill for grinding sugar-cane, worked by bullocks, but cashaça, or rum, was the only article manufactured from the juice. Behind the buildings was a small piece of ground cleared from the forest, and planted with fruit-trees, orange, lemon, genipapa, goyava, and others; and beyond this, a broad path through a neglected plantation of coffee and cacao, led to several large sheds, where the farinha, or mandiocca meal, was manufactured.

The plantations of mandiocca are always scattered about in the forest, some of them being on islands in the middle of the river. Land being plentiful, and the plough, as well as, indeed, nearly all other agricultural implements, unknown, the same ground is not planted three years together; but a new piece of forest is cleared every alternate year, and the old clearing suffered to relapse into jungle.

We stayed here two days, sleeping ashore in the apartment devoted to strangers. As usual in Brazilian houses of the middle class, we were not introduced to the female members of the family, and, indeed, saw nothing of them except at a distance. In the forest and thickets about the place we were tolerably successful in collecting, finding a number of birds and insects which do not occur at Para. I saw here, for the first time, the sky-blue Chatterer (Ampelis cotinga). It was on the topmost bough of a very lofty tree, and completely out of the reach of an ordinary fowling-piece. The beautiful light-blue colour of its plumage was plainly discernible at that distance. It is a dull, quiet bird. A much commoner species was the Cigana or Gipsy (Opisthocomus cristatus), a bird belonging to the same order, Gallinacea, as our domestic fowl. It is about the size of a pheasant; the plumage is dark brown, varied with reddish, and the head is adorned with a crest of long feathers. It is a remarkable bird in many respects. The hind toe is not placed high above the level of the other toes, as it is in the fowl-order generally, but lies on the same plane with them; the shape of the foot becomes thus suited to the purely arboreal habits of the bird, enabling it to grasp firmly the branches of trees. This is a distinguishing character of all the birds in equinoctial America which represent the fowl and pheasant tribes of the old world, and affords another proof of the adaptation of the Fauna to a forest region. The Cigana lives in considerable flocks on the lower trees and bushes bordering the streams and lagoons, and feeds on various wild fruits, especially the sour Goyava (Psidium sp.). The natives say it devours the fruit of arborescent Arums (Caladium arborescens), which grow in crowded masses around the swampy banks of lagoons. Its voice is a harsh, grating hiss; it makes the noise when alarmed, all the individuals sibilating as they fly heavily away from tree to tree, when disturbed by passing canoes. It is polygamous, like other members of the same order. It is never, however, by any chance, seen on the ground, and is nowhere domesticated. The flesh has an unpleasant odour of musk combined with wet hides - a smell called by the Brazilians catinga; it is, therefore, uneatable. If it be as unpalateable to carnivorous animals as it is to man, the immunity from persecution which it would thereby enjoy would account for its existing in such great numbers throughout the country.

A great number of the insects which we found here were different from those of Para. Species characteristic of the one locality were replaced by allied species in the other, a fact which would tend to the conclusion that the Tocantins serves, to some extent, as a barrier to migration. This was especially the case with the Papilios of the group which wear a livery of black, green, and red. P. Echelus of this group, which is so common at Para, was here absent, and its place supplied by the closely related P. Æneides. Both have the same habits, and seem to fill similar spheres in the natural economy of the two districts. Another handsome butterfly taken here was a member of the Erycinidæ family, the Alesa Prema, which is of a dazzling emerald-green colour chequered with black. I caught here a young Iguana; Iguanas, however, are extremely common everywhere throughout the country. They are especially numerous in the neighbourhood of villages, where they climb about fruit-trees overrun with creepers. The eggs, which are oblong, and about an inch and a half in length, are laid in hollow trees, and are very pleasant eating taken raw and mixed with farinha. The colour of the skin in the Iguana changes like that of the chameleon; in fact, it is called chameleon by the Portuguese. It grows to a length of five feet, and becomes enormously fat. This lizard is interesting to English readers on account of its relationship to the colossal fossil reptile of the Wealden, the Iguanodon. The Iguana is one of the stupidest animals I ever met with. The one I caught dropped helplessly from a tree just ahead of me; it turned round for a moment to have an idiotic stare at the intruder, and then set off running along the pathway. I ran after it, and it then stopped as a timid dog would do, crouching down, and permitting me to seize it by the neck and carry it off.

We lost here another of our crew; and thus, at the commencement of our voyage, had before us the prospect of being forced to return, from sheer want of hands to manage the canoe. Senhor Gomez, to whom we had brought letters of introduction from Senhor Joao Augusto Correia, a Brazilian gentleman of high standing at Para, tried what he could do to induce the canoe-men of his neighbourhood to engage with us, but it was a vain endeavour. The people of these parts seemed to be above working for wages. They are naturally indolent, and besides, have all some little business or plantation of their own, which gives them a livelihood with independence. It is difficult to obtain hands under any circumstances, but it was particularly so in our case, from being foreigners, and suspected, as was natural amongst ignorant people, of being strange in our habits. At length, our host lent us two of his slaves to help us on another stage, namely, to the village of Baiaō, where we had great hopes of having this, our urgent want, supplied by the military commandant of the district.’

Catch some of my life

James Gordon Farrell, who might have reached ninety today had he not died young in a storm accident, would have become one of the really great novelists writing in the English language today - according to a claim by Salman Rushdie widely quoted on internet sites. The editor of a collection of Farrell’s letters and ‘diary fragments’, published a few years ago by Cork University Press, argues that her book reveals Farrell’s ‘lost autobiographical voice.’ In a first entry, Farrell writes of using the diary to ‘catch some of my life’, and in another he catches a moment of inspiration, one that will lead to his best book.

Farrell was born in Liverpool on 25 January 1935 into an Anglo-Irish family. Although his family moved to County Dublin after the war, he was enrolled at Rossall boarding school in Lancashire from the age of 12, spending holidays in Ireland. After Rossall, he taught in Dublin, and also worked at a radar station in the Canadian Arctic. He entered Brasenose College, Oxford, in 1956, but contracted polio which left him partially crippled. On leaving Oxford with a low class degree, he went to live and teach in France, the setting for his first novel A Man from Elsewhere.

Thereafter, Farrell led a peripatetic life, variously in Paris, Morocco, Dublin and London. In 1966, he won a Harkness Fellowship to visit the US, and although this did not lead him, as he hoped, to study at Yale Drama School, it did provide him with the stimulus to write Troubles (about Ireland’s struggle for independence), the book that would bring him literary fame. It won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize, and with the proceeds he went to India, the setting for his next novel on colonial power, The Siege of Krishnapur. This won the UK’s Booker Prize in 1973. A third, thematically similar, novel followed - The Singapore Grip.

In 1979, Farrell decided to move from London (where he had been based since around 1970) to the southwest of Ireland. A few months later, he was found dead, after being swept from rocks in a storm while fishing. He never married, though he had affairs, and a wide circle of literary friends. Further information can be found at Wikipedia, which quotes Salmon Rushdie as saying, in 2008, that had Farrell not died so young,‘he would today be one of the really major novelists of the English language.’ There are various other articles online about Farrell, some reporting on how Troubles won, in 2010, the Lost Booker Prize for 1970 - at The Guardian, The Daily Telegraph, and BBC. (‘Lost’ because books published in that year missed out on being considered thanks to a rule change.) A chapter on Farrell in Writing Liverpool: Essays and Interviews can be read at Googlebooks.

Farrell does not appear to have been a committed diarist, but, in 2009, Cork University Press published J. G. Farrell in his Own Words - Selected Letters and Diaries, as edited by Lavinia Greacen. Most of the book is taken up with letters, and Graecen, herself, refers to the rest as ‘diary fragments’. A review can be found online at Estudios Irlandeses.

Although the name J. G. Farrell tends to come with an austerely confident ring to it, Greacen says the ‘lost autobiographical voice’ in this book reveals him to be warm and sometimes full of self doubt. In a very short foreword, John Banville explains that he met Farrell once, a few days before he won the Booker Prize for The Siege of Krishnapur. He notes, however, that Farrell himself thought Troubles was a better book.

Here are two extracts from J. G. Farrell in his Own Words - Selected Letters and Diaries. I’ve chosen the first because it explains Farrell’s motivations for starting a diary; and the second for it records a pivotal moment in the genesis of Troubles. However, I have also chosen the second because of a link with my own life: the very same Surf Hotel on Block Island, mentioned by Farrell, was where I was taken having been expelled from my father’s island house - I never saw or spoke to him again (see my diaries).

22 December 1966
‘This is addressed to an absent third party . . . in all respects like me, but not me. Alright then, the idea of this diary is to help me to get control of my talent for writing. I hope that it will help me in the following ways:
1) That I shall bring myself face to face with things that I normally discard through sheer mental laziness.
2) That I shall be able to remember things people say that make an impression on me as well as things I read.
3) Get in the habit of discussing problems with myself.
4) Catch some of my life before I forget it. I’m appalled to think how little I can remember of my first trip to America, even though it was only ten years ago. However, avoid being garrulous or it will become a chore. Avoid self-pity and sentimentality. Avoid haranguing myself uselessly like this.

On Monday I had lunch with Mike Roemer. He was busy and somewhat harassed; I noticed for the first time how he tends to talk too loud, as if afraid that he won’t be able to assert himself if he doesn’t. He had been to see Polanski’s Cul de Sac and hadn’t liked it. I was unable to understand his reasons for not liking it. He said he thought it was badly written; that it hadn’t gone far enough if it was supposed to be black humour etc. Well, perhaps I do partly see what he means. For all that, he couldn’t convince me (he didn’t try) that it was a bad film. I still find parts of it sublime: the kitchen scene at the beginning and the visit of friends [. . .] Roemer told me had once dined with E. M. Forster and been very impressed with his modesty and simplicity. F. had only wanted to talk about films. In the course of lunch R. repeated his theory that writers use up their experience when young, then go through a middle period of hard work before they can learn to invent their own material. In return I talked to him of intuitive writers, citing Edna O’Brien as one who had gone off the rails once she had begun to think about it. [. . .] I don’t think either of us were particularly convinced by this. Nothing, anyway, will convince R. that writing is not a field in which one only succeeds by hard and ruthless work. With deep misgivings I gave him a copy of The Lung.

Reading Virginia Woolf’s diary in the train to N. Caroline to spend Christmas with Bob. Odd and curious flashes of contempt for the lower classes appear every now and then that seem sadly out of date (these are the only things that seem unusual for a person like V. W. by today’s standards).’

11 May 1967
‘Over a month since my last entry - an interval in which things went downhill at a fairly brisk pace, with the roaches multiplying in my room at the Belvedere faster than I could control them . . . In this time I took out Anita Gross a couple of times. She’s attractive, sure. But there’s something slightly wrong somewhere [. . .]

A week ago I came to Block Island to stay at the Surf Hotel under the aegis of Mr and Mrs Sears. He is a fat, genial chap and she is somewhat severe with elegantly rolled white hair that makes her look like an immigrant from Versailles. [. . .] At first I found myself eating with an English couple called Porter: she is a psychiatrist, he described himself as a ‘poet’ but I didn’t question him about this and he didn’t volunteer any further information. [. . .]

I’ve covered most of the island on foot in the past week and feel much healthier for it. The weather has been a mixture of terrible storms and sunny, windy days. Last weekend the ferry was unable to make the return trip because of a storm. Now the rain has returned I think I shall return to NY tomorrow.

While here I have made yet another ‘fresh start’ on my book - partly inspired by the charred remains of the Ocean View Hotel which stands, or stood, on a cliff overlooking the old harbour where the ferry comes in. It burned down a year or so ago. “A place with a thousand rooms,” Mr Porter (the poet) said. “200 to 300” said his wife. This morning I went up to look at the remains while the sun was still shining. Old bedsprings twisted with heat; puddles of molten glass; washbowls that had fallen through to the foundations; a flight of stone steps leading up to thin air; twisted pipes; lots of nails lying everywhere and a few charred beams. I think the way the glass had collected like candlegreas under the windows impressed me most. When you picked it up it was inclined to flake away into smaller pieces in your hand. I must remember to ask someone how many storeys it had. Anyway this gave me an idea, which seems to me a good one, for the dwelling place of the family.’ [Ocean View Hotel did, in fact, provide the catalyst for the Majestic Hotel in Troubles, and give him the structure for the novel.]

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 25 January 2015.

Dipped into Bacon’s essays

Thomas Green, a man of leisure and a self-professed lover of literature, died two centuries ago today. He kept a diary for much of his life, but one focused almost exclusively on his thoughts and opinions about books he was reading. According to this diary, he was often to be found ‘dipping into’ some great work of non-fiction or other, such as Bacon’s essays.

Green was born at Monmouth in 1769. His grandfather was a wealthy Suffolk soap-boiler who had made a fortune during the reign of Queen Anne, and his father was a man of letters, a pamphleteer, and a champion of the Church of England. Green was partly educated privately, and partly at the free grammar school in Ispwich; he was admitted to Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. However, illness prevented him from taking up his university studies. Instead, he was called to the bar, and travelled the Norfolk Circuit. He married Catherine Hartcup, and they had one son.

Aged 25, Green inherited the family estate, leaving him free to live a life of leisure and reading literature. He resided in Ipswich, visiting the Continent and different parts of England from time to time. Occasionally, he wrote and published political pamphlets, and he provided contributions to The Gentleman’s Magazine. He died on 6 January 1825. Further biographical information is available from an 1834 edition of The Gentleman’s Magazine, Dictionary of National Biography 1895-1900, or Edmund Gosse’s Gossip in a Library.

Green kept a diary for most of his adult life, and he is mostly remembered because of a quirky book, based on this diary, that he published in 1810: Extracts from The Diary of a Lover of Literature (this is freely available at Internet Archive). It records his thoughts and lengthy opinions on the books he was reading, most of which were worthy, non-fiction classics. Although his selection of diary extracts in this book are confined to a five year period (1796-1800), his friend John Mitford published further extracts in The Gentleman’s Magazine between 1834 and 1843 (here and here for example).

Here are several extracts from Green’s book, starting with much of his elaborately self-effacing and wittily apologetic preface.

PREFACE
‘At length, after much hesitation, and in an evil hour perhaps, I am induced to submit to the indulgence of the Public, the idlest Work, probably, that ever was composed; but, I could wish to hope, not absolutely the most unentertaining or unprofitable.

For the errors and defects naturally incident to a composition successively exhibiting the impressions of the moment in the language which the moment prompted, and which must derive any interest it may possess from the ease and freedom with which these impressions are communicated, it would be fruitless and absurd to attempt an apology. [. . .] For faults of every other description; and for more than a due proportion of these, I feel that I am strictly accountable ; and present myself before the Audience whose attention I have presumed to engage with my babble, under an appalling sense of the responsibility which my rashness has incurred.

To the objector, who should fiercely demand, why I obtruded on the Public at all, matter confessedly so crude and so peccant, I have really little to allege which is quite satisfactory to my own mind, or which I could reasonably hope, therefore, would prove so to his: but to an offended spirit of a gentler nature, I might perhaps be allowed to intimate, that, whatever my faults may be, I have not attempted to decoy unwary Readers by an imposing Title, nor to tax their curiosity with the costly splendours of fashionable typography. It has been my earnest wish, at least, to obviate disappointment, by accommodating, as much as possible, my appearance to my pretensions. These are simple, and of easy statement. To furnish occupation, in a vacant hour, to minds imbued with a relish for literary pursuits, by suggesting topics for reflection and incentives to research, partly from an exhibition of whatever struck me as most interesting in the thoughts of others, during a miscellaneous course of reading, and partly, too, from a free and unreserved communication of the thoughts they gave rise to in my own mind - this is all that I venture to propose to the Reader as my aim in the publication of the following Extracts. [. . .]

With respect to my success in this adventure, if I am not generally very sanguine, there are certain moments - under the encouraging influence of a balmy air, bright sky, and vigorous digestion - in which I am not altogether without hope. When I advert, it is true, to the numerous faults that deform the following pages, all crowding in hideous succession before me - when I reflect on the various improvements of which the whole would be susceptible, even under my own mature revisal - above all, when I compute what brighter talents and ampler attainments might have achieved in a similar career - my heart, oppressed with the load of my infirmities, sinks in despondency within me: but when I consider, on the other hand, the wretched trash with which the Public is sometimes apparently content to be amused, my spirits, in a slight degree, revive; I cannot disguise, from myself, that I am at least entitled to equal indulgence with some of these candidates for public favour; and in the momentary elation of this ignoble triumph, am tempted to anticipate a reception, which however moderate and subdued for an illusion of the fancy, may perhaps prove ridiculously flattering compared with the actual doom that awaits me. [. . .]

The following Sheets are, of course, only a sample, though a pretty large one, of a more considerable Work: but the Purchaser of the present Volume (I hasten to add) need not be alarmed. I cannot flatter myself that the materials for a future selection, are eminently better than those from which I have thus far drawn; and with the present Extracts I am so little satisfied, on a review of them in print, that unless they should experience the most unequivocal symptoms of public favour, they are the last that will appear. An idle experiment, however unsuccessful, may be good-naturedly excused; but to persist in a piece of folly of this kind, after a fair warning that it is such, would betray an unpardonable disregard of what is due, on the occasion, both to public feeling and my own character.’

29 September 1796
‘Read the 9th Chapter of Roscoe’s Lorenzo de Medici; in which the rise (or renovation) and progress of the arts of painting, statuary, engraving, and sculpture upon gems, with the merits of the respective artists in each department, are happily delineated. The account of Michael Angelo - his giant powers - and the concussion with which his advent shook the world of genius and taste - is even sublime. Roscoe is not always exact in the choice of his expressions: for instance, he uses “instigate” in a good sense; which, where we have another appropriate term, is unpardonable: “compromise”, which properly means, the adjustment of differences by reciprocal concession, he employs, by what authority I know not, to express, the putting to hazard by implication. A catalogue of synonymes, executed with philological skill and philosophical discrimination, would be a valuable accession to English Literature.

Read, after a long interval, with much delight, the first two Books of Caesar’s Commentaries. The States of Gaul are represented as far more advanced in government and manners, than I should have expected him to find them; and it would puzzle the Directory of France, at this moment, to frame a manifesto, so neatly conceived, and so forcibly yet chastely expressed, as the reply of Ariovistus, a barbaric chief from the wilds off Germany, to the embassy of Caesar. It is interesting to trace the route of this great commander (and the similitude of names will sometimes fix it with precision) on a modern map. Nothing can exceed the ease, perspicuity, and spirit, with which this incomparable narrative is conducted.

Dipped into Boswell’s Life of Johnson. Boswell, from his open, communicative, good-humoured vanity, which leads him to display events and feelings that other men, of more judgment, though slighter pretensions, would have studiously concealed, has depressed himself below his just level in public estimation. His information is extensive; his talents far from despicable; and he seems so exactly adapted, even by his very foibles, that we might almost suppose him purposely created, to be the Chronicler of Johnson. A pleasing and instructive packet-companion might be formed, by a judicious selection from his copious repertory of Johnson’s talk.’

5 October 1796
‘Pursued Boswell’s Life of Johnson. Johnson’s coarse censure of Lord Chesterfield, “that he taught the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing master”, is as unjust as it is harsh. Indeed I have always thought the noble author of Letters to his Son, hardly dealt with by the Public; though to public opinion I have the highest deference. How stands the case? Having bred up his son to a youth of learning and virtue, and consigned him to a tutor well adapted to cultivate these qualities, he naturally wishes to render him an accomplished gentleman; and, for this purpose, undertakes, in person, a task for which none surely was so well qualified as himself. I follow the order he assigns, and that which his Letters testify he pursued. Well! but he insists eternally on such frivolous points - the graces - the graces! Because they were wanting, and the only thing wanting. Other qualities were attained, or presumed to be attained: to correct those slovenly, shy, reserved, and uncouth habits in the son, which as he advanced in life grew more conspicuous; and threatened to thwart all the parent’s fondest prospects in his child, was felt, and justly felt, by the father, to have become an imperious and urgent duty; and he accordingly labours at it with parental assiduity, an assiduity, which none but a father would have bestowed upon the subject. Had his Lordship published these Letters; as a regular System of Education, the common objection to their contents would have, had unanswerable force: viewing them however in their true light, as written privately and confidentially by a parent to his child - inculcating, as he naturally would, with the greatest earnestness, not what was the most important, but most requisite - it must surely be confessed, there never was a popular exception more unfounded. But he - I admit it: he touches upon certain topics, which, a sentiment of delicacy suggests, between a father and son had better been forborne: yet those who might hesitate to give the advice, if they are conversant with the world, and advert to circumstances, will not be disposed to think the advice itself injudicious.’

11 October 1796
‘Read Hawkesworth’s Life of Swift; of whose character and conduct but an imperfect idea is given by the narrative of Johnson. Hawkesworth is much more communicative and interesting; and the minuteness and simplicity with which he details the few, but deplorable, incidents of the four last years of Swift’s life, are highly affecting. The circumstance of his struggling to express himself, after a silence broken but once for more than a year; and, finding all his efforts ineffectual, heaving a deep sigh, quite cleaves the heart.’

12 September 1798
‘Dipped into Bacon’s Essays; so pregnant with just, original, and striking observations on every topic which is touched, that I cannot select what pleases me most. For reach of thought, variety and extent of view, sheer solid and powerful sense, and admirable sagacity, what works of man can be placed in competition with these wonderful effusions.’

6 May 1800
‘Read Gildon’s Essay, prefixed to Shakespear’s Poems; in which he largely discusses Dramatic Poetry. Poetry, he considers as an art; and he is a grand stickler for the rules of this art, which he regards, rather as the original suggestions of right reason, instructing us how to please, than the mere conclusions of experience from what has pleased: a preposterous piece of folly, nearly akin to that which attempts to solve the phaenomena of nature from the chimaeras of the fancy, instead of collecting the materials for this solution from a patient investigation of the laws by which nature is really governed in all her operations; but as a practical piece of folly, leading to consequences still more absurd. According to Gildon, all excellence flows from the observance of the rules of composition, and all deformity from their violation: to such a taste, Shakespear’s Dramas must have a most untoward aspect; yet his “wood-notes wild” occasionally extort, even from this sturdy champion of the summum jus in critical jurisprudence, an approving nod, with - “this is very well”. At the close of his Remarks on Shakespear’s Plays, he observes, that “verisimilitude in the Drama, is more essential than truth, because fact itself is sometimes so barely possible that it is almost incredible”. Hurd has caught this idea: and it is not the only instance in which I fancy I have detected him poaching on this antient and neglected manor.’

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 6 January 2015.

Praise from the King

‘I was invited to go to Buckingham Palace for Dinner to meet Mrs Roosevelt, the wife of the President of the United States who is over here on a visit. She is the guest of the King and Queen. [. . .] Before dinner when the King and Queen joined the party in the ante-room, the King as he shook hands with me said that he thought the Ministry of Food was doing an excellent job, and said that he and the country were grateful to me.’ This is from the diaries of Frederick James Marquis, 1st Earl of Woolton, who died 60 years ago today. The published diaries cover Woolton’s time during World War II under Churchill, first as Minister for Food and then Minister for Reconstruction. 

Woolton was born in 1883 in Salford, Lancashire, the only surviving child of a saddler. He was educated at Manchester Grammar School and the University of Manchester. He hoped to pursue an academic career in the social sciences but his wish was frustrated by his family’s financial circumstances; instead he became a mathematics teacher at Burnley Grammar School. In 1912 he married Maud Smith, and they had two children. Having been judged unfit for military service, he became a civil servant, first in the War Office, then at the Leather Control Board. At the end of the war, he became secretary of the Boot Manufacturers’ Federation, and joined the John Lewis organisation, becoming director in 1928 and chairman in 1936. 

Woolton was knighted in 1935 and was raised to the peerage in 1939 for his contribution to British industry. His career took a significant turn during World War II when, in April 1940 and despite not being affiliated to any political party, he was appointed Minister of Food. He established the rationing system, the National Food Campaign, and the introduction of free school meals and milk for children. His business acumen and communication skills earned him the affectionate public nickname of ‘Uncle Fred’. 

In 1943, Woolton was appointed Minister of Reconstruction, and then, after the war, from 1946 to 1955, he served as Chairman of the Conservative Party. His efforts in rebuilding and revitalising the party were credited with the Conservative victory in 1951. In 1956, he was further honoured when he became Earl of Woolton with the subsidiary title Viscount Walberton. After the death of his wife in 1961, Woolton married Dr Margaret Thomas, the family doctor who had cared for his first wife. He himself died on 14 December 1964. Further information is available from Wikipedia and Bodleian Archives & Manuscripts.

For two periods in his life - 1940-1945 and 1953-1960 -  Woolton kept a diary. However, there seems to be no clear explanation as to why he started to write a diary, why he stopped, nor why he restarted in 1953. Nevertheless, a selection of extracts (alongside letters, a few official papers and other official materials) were published in 2020 by Oxford University Press for The British Academy as The Diaries and Letters of Lord Woolton 1940-1945 (edited by Michael Kandiah and Judith Rowbotham). OUP says this work ‘showcases a wartime figure who has in prior academic work tended to be relegated to the sidelines, enabling an understanding of the importance of the roles undertaken by Woolton, and a better appreciation of his wartime contribution.’ A review found at The Churchill Project suggests that Diaries and Letters is ’an important and revealing addition to the scholarship of the era.’

Here are several extracts

3 February 1941

‘I took to the cabinet proposals for dealing with the milk trade . . . My proposal, in short, was to remove the minimum price for milk and let free competition have its way with the result that milk would have been cheaper.

The proposal was opposed by Mr Alexander (ex-Co-operative Society) who made a very good capitalist speech, supported bv Mr Bevin, who wanted the country to buy out all the milk people and run a nationalised milk scheme. The Labour people were quite solidly against what would have been tor the benefit of the community, in spite of the fact that they are supposed to be anxious to do something about the milk trade.

The Prime Minister asked if the little milkman would be subject to the ravages of competition. And so I withdrew the Report.

The Prime Minister had previously asked me why I had produced it, and I told him that the politicians had been trying for years to get something done about this trade, but since they now didn’t seem to want anything to be done. I wasn’t interested.’

11 March 1942

‘I made a statement in the House of Lords about the introduction ot the 85 per cent extraction flour. I did not make a long speech - merely a statement ot the whole of the facts, and said that the Government knew that it would not be popular with the people, but as it saved a considerable amount of shipping space in the year they also knew that people would accept it without complaint. The House accepted it all right, and Horder came along and spiked the guns of all the people who would complain on medical grounds, by saying that anybody who could eat bread at all could eat wheat meal with impunity as it suited all digestions. The announcement got a very good press. The country doesn’t mind what is asked of it so long as it feels that there is both reason and control.’

19 March 1942

‘I had a very bad attack of colitis in the night, and went this morning to a Privy Council meeting wondering how I would manage to stand through it. I managed but only just.

After the meeting the King took me to his room: he immediately said that I didn’t look very well, and pulled up an easy chair for me to sit in. He talked very intelligently about the food situation, and very frankly about my colleagues! He spoke of Bevin - and mentioned in passing that when he (Bevin) sat in the chair in which I was sitting he bulged all over the sides.  He said that Bevin has no understanding of the mind of the people, adding ‘Neither has the Prime Minister’ The King has been brought up to do the industrial side of the Royal job and he knows more about working men than the Minister of Labour. The King told Leathers a few days ago that the two of his Ministers of whom he always heard as really being in charge of their departments and getting their jobs done were himself and me.’

12 May 1942

‘I made a speech in the House. Lord Arnold had put down a motion about beer. He’s a bigoted teetotaller of the worst variety and made a speech which was little short of offensive. It was difficult not to adopt the same tone with him, but I tried to make a reasoned statement. I suggested to the House that at a time when we were calling for the maximum physical effort from the working-man it was unfair to deprive him of his glass of beer if he wanted it. The House was with me.’

1 June 1942

‘We had a Cabinet Meeting this evening at which I explained the proposals that we intended to put into force to reduce waste of transport and manpower in the milk industry: it’s a scheme to rationalise distribution. I had had charts prepared which had been put up in the Committee Room. I didn’t observe when I went in that they had been put up over the map of Europe that was hanging on the wall, and as soon as I sat down Winston growled at me ‘So you’re disfiguring the map of Europe now’! He was in his best form, and when I’d explained the scheme, which I did in a series of quick thumbnail sketches - which I think it took most of the Cabinet all their time to follow - if they did - and Winston pronounced it a good scheme and silenced any questioning by remarking that ‘He’d follow Lord Woolton anywhere’! There was method in it all: the Honours List is to be published next week and it was being made clear to the other Ministers that there was a reason for this selection.’

9 June 1942

‘In the afternoon I went to the House to address an All-Party meeting of members on the work of the Ministry. I took charts with me, and did the thumbnail sketch technique on them. They were very impressed and indicated their approval of the way we were doing the job.’

13 July 1942

‘We had a Cabinet meeting in the evening. There has been a secret debate about the shipping position, and the press has been urging that more information about the state of our shipping should should be given. The cabinet decided that an impartial statement should be made. It to be that no information would be given! Doesn’t sound very impartial to me.

We also discussed the probable food situation in Europe after the war, and everybody seemed very concerned about how we should feed the starving nations of Europe. Winston was very downright: he realised that there could be no question of the immediate removal of rationing restrictions on food, but said that he felt the people to be considered first were the people who had sweated and toiled to win the war, and that if we had worked and endured as we should have to, in order to gain the victory over the Nazis, both for ourselves and for the other European countries, he felt that we were the first people to be considered so far as food was concerned. I think he’s right, but we can’t leave the other countries to starve because we’ve won the war. It’s going to be a problem.’

28 July 1942

‘Mabane had his first debate in the House of Commons as Parliamentary Secretary to the Ministry of Food and I went to listen to it. He did very well, and there was really very little raised that was of any importance. On the whole the House is pleased with the conduct of the Ministry of Food - although one of its late parliamentary secretaries - Boothby, who was sacked from it - did his best to be difficult.’

18 August 1942

‘I had a talk with Kingsley Wood, who told me that he thought I’d done my job as Minister of food, and he wanted me to tell Winston this, and look for fresh worlds to conquer, he told me again how well he considered the food problem had been managed, and told me that he thought I ought to hold very high office in the Government.’

24 October 1942

‘I was invited to go to Buckingham Palace for Dinner to meet Mrs Roosevelt, the wife of the President of the United States who is over here on a visit. She is the guest of the King and Queen.

It was a small party - the King and Queen, and Mrs Roosevelt, Hardinge, the King’s private secretary and his wife, and Lascelles, one of the assistant private secretaries, and his wife, Ernest Bevin and myself.

Before dinner when the King and Queen joined the party in the ante-room, the King as he shook hands with me said that he thought the Ministry of Food was doing an excellent job, and said that he and the country were grateful to me

I sat next to the Queen, whilst Mrs R. sat on the King’s right-hand with Bevin next to her. The Queen was charming - as she always is - and I had a long conversation with her, chiefly about religion. We were agreed that the only thing that is going to bring England - and the other countries - back to real peace is a re-awakening of a spiritual sense. We talked much about this and I felt that I was sermonising, and begged her pardon adding that she might have thought the Archbishop of Canterbury was talking to her, except, of course, that I felt he would have discussed banking, not religion.’

28 October 1942

‘I dined with Harriman at his flat. Harriman was in a most pessimistic mood about the provision of shipping: said that we were going to be extremely hard put to it and he thought that British agriculture ought to be altered: that we ought to grow more wheat in this country and less feeding-stuffs for animals, thereby saving shipping, both on the importation of wheat and on the importation of meat, since, if we grow less animal feeding stuffs we should have to slaughter our cattle.

I refused lo be drawn into the conversation saying that I thought the only way in which I could possibly get on with Mr Hudson [Minister of Agriculture] was if we each minded our own business.’