See maggots squirming

‘It is now as hot and sultry as it was ever my lot to witness. The cloudy weather and recent rains make everything damp and sticky. Wo don’t any of us sweat though, particularly, as we are pretty well dried up. Laying on the ground so much, has made sores on nearly every one here, and in many cases gangrene sets in, and they are very bad off. Have many sores on my body, but am careful to keep away the poison. To-day saw a man with a bullet hole in his head over an inch deep, and you could look down in it and see maggots squirming around at the bottom.’ This is from the astonishingly graphic diary of John L. Ransom, a Union Army soldier who was imprisoned by the Confederates during the Civil War at Andersonville. Although, initially, Ransom self-published the diary, it has long since been considered a primary source of information about the war and thus been reprinted many times, most recently by Dover Publications.

Ransom was born in Conneaut, Ohio, to Zebina and Mary Ransom, in 1843. While still in his teens, he began working as a printer for the Citizen (a predecessor of the Citizen Patriot), a newspaper based in Jackson, Michigan. In 1862, he joined the 9th Michigan Cavalry, part of the Union Army, becoming a quartermaster sergeant with Company A. However, in 1863, he was captured by the Confederates, and confined at Belle Isle, a Confederate prison on a small island in James River, near Richmond, Virginia. Some three months later, he was taken on a week-long train ride, for incarceration at a new prison in Andersonville, Georgia. Conditions there were appalling, with overcrowding, lack of food, bad water, disease; nearly a third of 45,000 prisoners died.

After around six months, during which time his weight had fallen from a little over 11 stone to six and a half stone, Ransom was transferred to the Marine Hospital at Savannah. There, he recovered, and eventually managed to escape, rejoining his unit in December 1864. After the war, he returned to work for the Citizen, which serialised a diary he had kept during his time in prison. He married twice, once to Eliza Finette Holway, who bore him a daughter, Katherine, and then, after Eliza’s death, he married Frances Wendell. He live in Auburn, New York, for a while, and also Chicago, where he died in 1919. There is very little biographical information about Ransom readily available online, but see MLive, Spartacus or a message board at Ancestry.

The diary kept by Ransom while in Anderson prison and then serialised by his newspaper was first published in its own right (privately, by Ransom himself), in 1881, as Andersonville Diary: Escape and List of the Dead (freely available at Internet Archive). Here is Ransom’s own introduction.

‘The book to which these lines form an introduction is a peculiar one in many respects. It is a story, but it is a true story, and written years ago with little idea that it would ever come into this form. The writer has been induced, only recently, by the advice of friends and by his own feeling that such a production would be appreciated, to present what, at the time it was being made up, was merely a means of occupying a mind which had to contemplate, besides, only the horrors of a situation from which death would have been, and was to thousands, a happy relief.

The original diary in which these writings were made from day to day was destroyed by fire some years after the war, but its contents had been printed in a series of letters to the Jackson, (Mich.) Citizen, and to the editor and publisher of that journal thanks are now extended for the privilege of using his files for the preparation of this work. There has been little change in the entries in the diary, before presenting them here. In such cases the words which suggest themselves at the time are best - they cannot be improved upon by substitution at a later day.

This book is essentially different from any other that has been published concerning the “late war” or any of its incidents. Those who have had any such experience as the author will see its truthfulness at once, and to all other readers it is commended as a statement of actual things by one who experienced them to the fullest. The annexed list of the Andersonville dead is from the rebel official records, is authentic, and will be found valuable in many pension cases and otherwise.’

Since its original publication, Ransom’s diary has become a primary source for US Civil War researchers, and has been reprinted many times, most recently in March 2017 by Dover Publications with the title John Ransom’s Civil War Diary: Notes from Inside Andersonville, the Civil War’s Most Notorious Prison (available to preview at Amazon). The Dover publication is an unabridged copy of Ransom’s original with one exception: it does not contain the 100 odd pages listing (in small print) the tens of thousands of names of those buried at Andersonville. Here are several extracts from the diary.

4 June 1864
‘Have not been dry for many days. Raining continually. Some men took occasion, while out after wood, to overpower the guard and take to the pines. Not yet been brought back. Very small rations of poor molasses, corn bread and bug soup.’

13 June 1864
‘It is now as hot and sultry as it was ever my lot to witness. The cloudy weather and recent rains make everything damp and sticky. Wo don’t any of us sweat though, particularly, as we are pretty well dried up. Laying on the ground so much, has made sores on nearly every one here, and in many cases gangrene sets in, and they are very bad off. Have many sores on my body, but am careful to keep away the poison. To-day saw a man with a bullet hole in his head over an inch deep, and you could look down in it and see maggots squirming around at the bottom. Such things are terrible, but of common occurrence. Andersonville seems to be head-quarters for all the little pests that ever originated - flies by the thousand millions. I have got into one bad scrape, and the one thing now is to get out of it. Can do nothing but take as good care of myself as possible, which I do. Battese works all the time at something. Has scrubbed his hands sore, using sand for soap.’

15 June 1864
‘I am sick; just able to drag around. My teeth are loose, mouth sore, with gums grown down in some places lower than the teeth and bloody, legs swollen up with dropsy, and on the road to the trenches. Where there is so much to write about, I can hardly write anything. It’s the same old story, and must necessarily be repetition. Raiders now do just as they please, kill, plunder and steal in broad daylight, with no one to molest them. Have been trying to organize a police force, but cannot do it. Raiders are the stronger party. Ground covered with maggots. Lice by the fourteen hundred thousand million infest Andersonville. A favorite game among the boys is to play at odd or even, by putting their hand inside some part of their clothing, pull out, what they can conveniently get hold of and say: “Odd or even?” and then count up and see who beats. Think this is an original game here. Never saw it at the North. Some of the men claim to have pet lice, which they have trained. Am gradually growing worse. Nothing but the good care I have taken of myself, has saved me thus far. I hope to last some time yet, and in the mean time, relief may come. My diary about written through. It may end about the same time I do, which would be a fit ending.’

2 July 1864
‘Almost the Glorious Fourth of July. How shall we celebrate? Know of no way except to pound on the bake tin, which I shall do. Have taken to rubbing my limbs, which are gradually becoming more dropsical. Badly swollen. One of my teeth came out a few days ago, and all are loose. Mouth very sore. Battese says: “We get away yet.” Works around and always busy. If any news, he merely listens and don’t say a word. Even he is in poor health, but never mentions it. An acquaintance of his says he owns a good farm in Minnesota. Asked him if he was married - says: “Oh, yes.” Any children? “Oh, yes.” This is as far as we have got his history. Is very different from Indians in general. Some of them here are despisable cowards - worse than the negro. Probably one hundred negroes are here. Not so tough as the whites. Dead line being fixed up by the Rebels. Got down in some places. Bought a piece of soap, first I have seen in many months. Swamp now in frightful condition, from the filth of camp. Vermin and raiders have the best of it. Captain Moseby still leads the villains.’

6 July 1864
‘Boiling hot, camp reeking with filth, and no sanitary privileges; men dying off over a hundred and forty per day. Stockade enlarged, taking in eight or ten more acres, giving us more room and stumps to dig up for wood to cook with. Mike Hoare is in good health; not so Jimmy Devers. Jimmy has now been a prisoner over a year, and poor boy, will probably die soon. Have more mementoes than I can carry, from those who have died, to be given to their friends at home. At least a dozen have given me letters, pictures &c., to take North. Hope I shan’t have to turn them over to some one else.’

9 July 1864
‘Battese brought me some onions, and if they ain’t good, then no matter; also a sweet potato. One-half the men here would get well if they only had something in the vegetable line to eat, or acids. Scurvy is about the most loathsome disease, and when dropsy takes hold with the scurvy, it is terrible. I have both diseases, but keep them in check, and it only grows worse slowly. My legs are swollen, but the cords are not contracted much, and I can still walk very well. Our mess all keep clean, in fact, are obliged to, or else turned adrift. We want none of the dirty sort in our mess. Sanders and Rowe enforce the rules, which is not much work, as all hands are composed of men who prefer to keep clean. I still do a little washing, but more particularly hair cutting, which is easier work. You should see one of my hair cuts. Nobby! Old prisoners have hair a foot long or more, and my business is to cut it off, which I do without regards to anything except to get it off. I should judge that there are one thousand Rebel soldiers guarding us, and perhaps a few more, with the usual number of officers. A guard told me to-day that the Yanks were “gittin licked,” and they didn’t want us exchanged, just as soon we should die here as not. A Yank. asked him if he knew what exchange meant; said he knew what shootin’ meant, and as he began to swing around his old shooting-iron, we retreated in among the crowd. Heard that there were some new men belonging to my regiment in another part of the prison; have just returned from looking after them, and am all tired out. Instead of belonging to the 9th Michigan Cavalry, they belong to the 9th Michigan Infantry. Had a good visit and quite cheered with their accounts of the war news. Some one stole Battese’s wash board, and he is mad; is looking for it - may bust up the business. Think Hub Dakin will give me a board to make another one. Sanders owns the jack-knife of this mess, and he don’t like to lend it either; borrow it to carve on roots for pipes. Actually take solid comfort “building castles in the air,” a thing I have never been addicted to before. Better than getting blue and worrying myself to death. After all, we may get out of this dodrotted hole. Always an end of some sort to such things.’

22 July 1864
‘A petition is gotten up, signed by all Sergeants in the prison, to be sent to Washington, D. C., begging to be released. Captain Wirtz has consented to let three representatives go for that purpose. Rough that it should be necessary for us to beg to be protected by our Government.’

An extraordinary ordinary woman

‘Cloudy. Mrs Heath died this day. Finished my web. Sewing until 2 o’clock. They have a dance to the other house. My husband is there. Oh that he were at home attending prayers with his family but alas there is no hopes for such things.’ This is typical of the matter-of-fact diary kept by Phebe Orvis, a young American, during the early part of her life in the 1820s. The diary has just been published for the first time, by Excelsior Editions, an imprint of State University of New York Press, and is considered to provide a ‘unique perspective of domestic life in northern New England as well as upstate New York in the early nineteenth century’.

Orvis was born in Vermont in 1801, the fourth child and first daughter of Quaker settlers. However, her mother died within a few months, and she was brought up in the comfortable and educated household of her grandparents in Bristol village (where she remained even after her father remarried). As an adolescent, she did housework, read a lot, wrote to family and friends, but also earned money sewing and spinning for local merchants and neighbours. Thus, she was able to enrol in Willard’s female seminary, in Middlebury, in 1820.

For most of 1821, Orvis went to live in Parishville, the western frontier of New York State, at the behest of her uncle and aunt. But, on her return to Bristol, and after much soul-searching, she gave in to the courting of Samuel Eastman. They married in early 1823, and went back to Parishville to develop farm land. Over the ensuing years, she successfully raised ten children to adulthood. While her husband immersed himself in the local Baptist group, she resisted membership of the church preferring to hold on to her Quaker ideals, though without much Quaker society around her. Very little more is known about Orvis, who died aged 67, or Eastman, though they were buried side by side in the Parishville Baptist cemetery.

Without doubt, the only reason Orvis is remembered today is because for ten years, from 1820 to 1830 or so (and for very brief periods in 1855 and 1859), she kept a diary which has survived to the present day. This seems to have been more through luck than any safeguarding by her descendants: the diary was found at an auction in a tattered old box of random books in the 1960s and passed to a local historian, Mary Smallman. Over the years, Smallman transcribed the diary, and researched Orvis’s life as well as she could; eventually, she donated the manuscript to the Saint Lawrence County Historical Association.

Susan M Ouelette, professor of history at St Michael’s College (Colchester, Vermont), has recently edited the diary for publication by Excelsior Editions, an imprint of State University of New York Press, with the title, An Extraordinary Ordinary Woman: The Journal of Phebe Orvis, 1820 -1830. In her book, Ouelette provides a wealth of additional material, in the form of essays, references and maps. The publisher claims ‘this combination of analytical essays and primary source material offers readers a unique perspective of domestic life in northern New England as well as upstate New York in the early nineteenth century.’ In particular, Ouellette finds much in the diary to illuminate, what is known as, the Second Great Awakening (a Protestant revival movement which was peaking in the 1820s). Some years ago, in 2009, she published Religion and Piety in the Journal of Phebe Orvis in Vermont History magazine (Volume 77, No. 1).

Susan M. Ouellette says in her introduction to the new book: ‘What sets Orvis apart - even now in the twenty-first century - is her diary. The manuscript she left behind is a lens into the intimate details of Orvis’s life, but also into another age. Although the diary is sometimes formulaic with obscure and even cryptic passages at times, it is also a charming and honest account of her days. It is not literature; rather, it is typical of the type of daybook kept by many individuals - men and women - of Orvis’s time. Most of her entries begin with a short - sometimes one-word - description of the weather. This observation is often followed by a list of her daily work, social events, and other details that captured her notice that day. It is not organized in a true narrative form, except that it is chronological. For most of the diary the text moves along in fits and starts and is riddled with unfinished, coded language that made sense to the writer, but not necessarily to a casual reader. So, to follow Orvis’s story, a reader must use imagination and make certain leaps of faith to tease out the details. On the other hand, the sum of her prose tells Orvis’s story. And, her feelings - secret and acknowledged - peep coyly from underneath the somewhat terse wording.’

In her conclusion, Ouellette notes: ‘Orvis ended her life in the same gentle, unassuming way she lived. Because of this comfortable anonymity, except for the historical accident that preserved Orvis’s written words, we would never have known anything about her life. Even with those documents we know only a fraction of her life, and even this is imperfectly understood. And we know only an outline of her later experiences, although official records fill in some of the gaps.’ Here are several extracts, with thanks to Excelsior Editions, from The Journal of Phebe Orvis.

29 November 1820
‘Attended school this forenoon not able to compose. Drew a short extract. returned to Dr.’s. distracted with the sick headache together with the toothache not able to get up[.] after puking and taking Essence felt more relieved[.] Esq Hoyt, Miss Sarah Matticke of Montpelier. Miss Delia Hoyt called this eve to see me, hearing that I was out of health. after soaking my feet and taking more essence, retired.’

10 December 1820
‘Snow of considerable depth. returned to Newhaven. heard Mr. Hopkins preach from Ezekiel Thirty-third. Eleventh . . . Turn ye, Turn ye, why will ye die O house of Israel. saw Miss Sylphina Hanchet at Mrs. Phelps. insisted upon my visiting her at Mrs. Spragues, East Street. Miss Maria W[ilcox]. insisted on my spending the night with her. I did. my old tooth threatened to jump out of my head.’

16 November 1821
‘Finished the kersey. put in a Cotton web for Dr. Sprague. he extracted a tooth for me. came very hard, the only one remaining. glad to get rid of it.’

19 December 1821
‘Cold and windy. Mrs. D[urfey] gone all day. Mr. D[urfey] this eve at Mr. Chester Rockwell’s did the wash. Twisted and washed ten knots of yarn. pieced the outside of a quilt. Mr. E[astman, Jr.] called. I spent the eve alone excepting the children. Retired at twelve.’

6 February 1822
‘Stormy. began to find myself on the road to Vermont. eight sleighs in company. rode eight miles to Oliverts. prepared breakfast for the whole. in good spirits rode ten miles to Robinson’s, ten miles to Bankers. left Bird and Eastman. rode six miles to Gordon’s, Plattsburg village. crossed on Cumberland head. snowed so we could scarcely perceive the Bushes in the cracks put up at Fletcher’s on the Grand Isle. prepared tea. visited late with the Ladies. they were preparing for Installation tomorrow.’

10 March 1822
‘Pleasant. hard cough ventured to cross the poles alone. Lucinda accompanied me to meeting. Mr. A. preached from these words: Behold how they love one another A.M. Adam where art thou, P.M. introduced to Miss Sally Cowan. Saw my dear friend and correspondent Abigail Lewis. she returned and spent the night with me. she has been very sick. she could not enjoy herself as I could wish. the place I had chosen for pleasure was where her sister was drowned. wet, muddy.’

16 May 1822
‘Arose and visited the springs before light. drank some water from Saratoga. Cut out the skirt of my white frock.’

30 June 1824
‘Very warm. spun some. very drowsy took a walk to the Mill. went out on the raft fishing. caught none. headache.’

19 October 1824
‘Cold. The harvest is past, the summer is ended and we are not secure.’

2 December 1824
‘Smoaky. Air. wove some. my Babe has one tooth cut through[.] gets up by chair.’

10 June 1826
‘Pleasant. Mr. Converse[’s] son died of the measles today, yet we go on to sin[.]’

13 September 1826
‘Cloudy. Mrs Heath died this day. Finished my web. Sewing until 2 o’clock. They have a dance to the other house. My husband is there. Oh that he were at home attending prayers with his family but alas there is no hopes for such things.’

16 September 1826
‘Pleasant. Mr. Wing died today of a Consumption. Baked[.]’

13 May 1827
‘Pleasant. Visited Mrs. Converse, I think she can live but a little longer. A child of Mr. Tupper’s buried today. Headache.’

19 October 1827
‘More pleasant. Very unable to do anything, but I have a shelter for my little ones, food and clothing. What more can I ask.’

Diary briefs

Diaries: good for memory? - The Telegraph

The journals of Dan Eldon - Chronicle Books, Amazon

Diary of the last Tsar’s lover - Daily Mail

Tina Brown’s diaries to be published - USA Today

The British Army in Flanders - EER, In Flanders Fields Museum

New BBC drama on Anne Lister - Mail Online, The Sun

The War Diaries of Maud Russell - Dovecote Press, The Spectator

‘Dear Diary’ exhibition at King’s - King’s English, Evening Standard

Grandad’s War - Poppyland Publishing, Daily Mail

Shipwreck diary auctioned - Bishop and Miller, Bury Free Press

A Jew in Hiding in Warsaw - Haaretz

Victor Hugo diary auctioned - The Guardian

The Journal of Jean Chevalier - The Idea Works

Kiwi soldiers diaries stolen? - Stuff

The Irish Difficulty

William Joseph O’Neill Daunt, a staunch follower of Daniel O’Connell, the so-called Liberator, who advocated repeal of the union with Great Britain, was born 210 years ago today. Although a modest, somewhat reclusive man, ‘too scrupulous to be a successful politician’, he did make a significant contribution to the home rule movement and towards disestablishment of the Irish church. His diaries - kept through four decades - show a lively and literary mind, perhaps more content writing letters to newspapers in his later years, than as an activist.

William Joseph O’Neill Daunt was born in Tullamore, King’s County (now Offaly County) on 28 April 1807, the son of Joseph Daunt and Jane Wilson. In 1828, he broke with his family to convert to Catholicism. A protégé of Daniel O’Connell, he was a Member of Parliament for Mallow between 1832 and 1833, but was unseated by a petition. He was a charter member of the Repeal Association, set up by O’Connell, for a repeal of the Act of Union between Great Britain and Ireland. In 1839, he married Ellen Hickey, and they had two children. They lived at Kilcascan, Ballineer, County Cork.

In 1841-1842, Daunt was O’Connell’s secretary while the latter was lord mayor of Dublin. He collaborated with others to found the Irish weekly nationalist newspaper, Nation, and occasionally contributed to it, though later he distanced himself from it and the radical Young Ireland movement. After O’Connell’s death, Daunt retired from politics. However, in the mid-1850s, he helped to found the Irish church disestablishment movement, and campaigned regularly through to 1869 when the Disestablishment Act became law. He also supported Home Rule, which he viewed as the best likely outcome for Ireland short of full repeal of the union. Daunt died in 1894. Further brief biographical details can be found at The Peerage and Ricorso.

In his entry on Daunt for the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (log-in required), D. M. Cregier, concludes: ‘Too introverted and reclusive, and possibly too scrupulous to be a successful politician, Daunt was nevertheless important as a link between the repeal and home-rule movements, and as an observer and chronicler of Irish nationalist politics for over sixty years. His unpublished journals and letters to scores of correspondents, as well as his many published works, are major historical sources, significant for their factual accuracy and broadmindedness.’

Daunt wrote several books on Irish politics and history (as well as a few novels under the pseudonym Denis Ignatius Moriarty). His Essays on Ireland (1888), freely available at Internet Archive, includes an essay entitled The Irish Difficulty. Here’s a sample: ‘For eighty-five years we have been subjected to English legislation, a length of time sufficient to test the effect on Ireland of the legislative union; and at the end of that long period we find our country disturbed by conspiracies; great portions of its revenue, public and private, exported to England; its inhabitants divided into hostile classes; whole districts swept by occasional famines; bitter discontent developing into  horrible crimes; manufacturing industry brought so low, that only about 80,000 persons in a population that still amounts to 5,000,000 are engaged in it; multitudes flying to America in pursuit of that prosperity which at home they have failed to acquire beneath the rule of an alien legislature, and bearing with them into exile deep and ineradicable hatred of the system that has stripped their native land of the means God had given for their support.’

Two years after Daunt’s death, in 1896, his daughter, Alice, edited selections from his diaries (40 years worth) which were published by T. Fisher Unwin (London) as A Life Spent for Ireland: Being Selections from the Journals of the late W. J. O’Neill Daunt. Alice writes in her introduction: ‘Mr Daunt’s character stands pretty well revealed through the pages of his diary. He was upright and honourable, unalterably true to his political and religious principles, and to his private friendships. His simplicity was that of a child; he could scarcely be brought to believe evil of anyone, without at least overwhelming proofs. His estimation of himself was a very humble one, and therefore he was quite free from those petty jealousies and spites that sometimes disfigure the career of public men. His urbanity and gentleness were charming, his sweetness of character and manner increasing the more helpless, physically, he grew. Latterly he became very lame and feeble, and moved with difficulty, although he came downstairs daily about two o’clock. The end came very unexpectedly.’

Here are some extracts from Daunt’s A Life Spent for Ireland.

29 March 1847
‘In the midst of sharp privations of various kinds, I this day rode to Clonakilty to borrow money at the bank to pay the tithes to the Protestant minister. I have sometimes dined on Indian meal porridge and sheep’s milk, sometimes on a pennyworth of rice, and gone supperless to bed. Of this I do not complain, for it is caused by a visitation of Providence. But of the Established Church I do complain, for it is the visitation of England, not of Providence. . .’

31 January 1851
‘For a fortnight nothing has occurred to diversity the monotony of existence. Planting, thinning, and pruning as usual, and teaching my daughter to read, spell, etc.

2 February 1858
‘Bought a horse . . . from Curly Crowley for £18. He told me he could have got £2 more from a sporting gentleman in our neighbourhood. “You would have got his promise,” said I, “but you know he is not the best pay.” “Och, I wouldn’t care for that,” returned Crowley, “for he couldn’t keep me out of the money beyond the next quarter sessions, and the cost of the process would be only five shillings.” There was something very ‘Irish’ in this notion of selling a horse on the security of a lawsuit with the purchaser. . .’

17 February 1858
‘Visit from C_, who seems to have found the fairy cap. Recently a hamper of wine was sent to him by an anonymous donor, and a friend, who is not a relation, has written to offer him the gift of a large sum of money. . .  He tells me that when his brother was appointed rector of D_, Father Creedon, whom the previous rector had tormented with souperism, asked him to abstain from interference with the Catholics. His reverence answered, “I’ll get every man of them to come to my church if I can; but I won’t give them so much as a potato for coming.” Creedon was quite satisfied with this, well knowing that, bribery apart, there would be no conversions.’

25 July 1859
‘My pugnacious youngster came in to-day with his face streaming blood from a blow of a stone near the eye. . . It was almost impossible to get him to tell who hit him. “It is done now,” said he, “and what does it matter who did it?” He took the matter very philosophically, saying that “in our course through life we must expect to meet accidents.” . . .’

3 September 1859
‘Letter from Scott, who tells a story of Father Strickland, S.J., recently returned from India, where he learned to wear a long beard kept trimmed to a point. While preaching a few days since in Sligo, he observed that an old woman was greatly affected, and shed tears. He ascribed her emotion to his sermon, and seeing that she still retained her place when the congregation had dispersed, he went to her and . . . inquired the cause of her tears. She looked up wistfully at his beard, and sobbed out, “Och, it’s bekaise your riverence reminds me powerful of my poor ould goat that died last week.” Father Strickland came away more amused than flattered.’

26 September 1859
‘Arthur O’Connor came here. It seems that his Uncle Feargus made a will leaving Arthur everything he had. The legatee is slightly puzzled to discover whether everything means anything or nothing. I incline to the latter interpretation. . . When I was about six or seven years old, a certain countess, whom my mother took me to visit, pronounced me to be “a handsome boy with a bad countenance.” I do not name her ladyship, who was said to have scared Lord C_ into marrying her, by threatening to stab herself in the event of his refusing to accompany her into Hymen’s temple. She was a very clever woman . . . could be very captivating and very disagreeable. In old age she still clung to the vanities of youth. I have seen her, when more than fourscore, with a bare neck, an enormous sable wig, curled into multitudinous ringlets, and surmounted by a fantastic little pink satin hat, that contrasted strongly with her old, withered, wrinkled, toothless, haggard visage. . .’

3 August 1864
‘Returned home. . .  Found a card of invitation to the banquet to come off in the Rotundo on the 8th inst., on the occasion of laying the foundation stone of the O’Connell monument. . . I am pledged to attend the contemplated Repeal meeting whenever it is held, and one political trip to Dublin will be quite enough for me just now.’

9 August 1864
‘Letter from John Martin, asking permission to nominate me one of the Repeal Directory of five. . .’

8 September 1864
‘The Times not having printed my recent letter on the Viceroyalty and the State Church, Mr Carvell Williams sent a copy of it to the Morning Star, in last Thursday’s issue of which it occupies a prominent place.’

9 September 1864
‘The Times has printed my letter, though somewhat of the latest. . .

10 September 1864
‘Letter from the Archbishop of Cashel warmly congratulating me on my letter. . .’

30 September 1864
‘The Times has published four letters of mine. The last was in reply to a Mr W. J. Lawson, who attacked some of my statements on Irish finance and its mismanagement. . .’

24 October 1864
‘The stir we have made about Irish fiscal wrongs has compelled the Government to issue a tract in self-defence. This is a report to the Viceroy by Dr Neilson Hancock on the public accounts between Great Britain and Ireland, and it is precisely such a combination of balderdash, falsehood and impudence as might have been expected, reply. . .’

24 January 1886
‘Letter from Lady F. Dixie, announcing the gracious reception by the Prince of Wales of my article on The Irish Difficulty.’

30 January 1886
‘Parnell and his party have turned out the Tory Government. . .’

16 February 1886
‘Accompanied my son to Dunmanway, where he, as a magistrate, had to register claims to vote for Poor Law Guardians. One of the claimants was a fine old relic of the last century, aged 97; he remembers the French fleet in Bantry Bay. . .’

12 April 1886
‘On the 8th Gladstone made his speech, introducing the measure of Home Rule for Ireland; a speech of splendid eloquence. It occupied three hours and twenty-five minutes. He deserves gratitude for this attempt to solve the old international quarrel. . .’

The Gray Eminence

‘Well, Bismarck’s foreign policy has suffered its first setback. We have meekly accepted a slap in the face from Spain and are retiring from the fray. Other people will be encouraged by this example.’ This is from the diary of Friedrich von Holstein, or the ‘Gray Eminence’ as he was sometimes known, born 180 years ago today. His career was nurtured by Otto von Bismarck, the Prussian statesman who dominated European affairs in the second half of the 19th century, but after Bismarck’s downfall, Holstein’s influence over Germany’s foreign policy grew, though he was unable to temper Emperor Wilhelm II’s impetuous policies.

Holstein was born on the family’s estate in Pomerania, in the Kingdom of Prussia, on 24 April 1837, the son of a military officer. He was a sickly child, tutored at home mostly, but the family travelled much, often to Berlin, and he became fluent in several languages. After studying at the Frederick William University of Berlin, he joined the diplomatic service. In 1860, he was assigned to the Prussian embassy in St. Petersburg where Otto von Bismarck, a family friend, was ambassador. Postings to Rio de Janeiro, London, Washington, Florence, and Copenhagen followed before Bismarck recalled him to Germany, during the Franco-German War, to help negotiate with the Italians.

After peace with France, and the establishment of the German Empire in 1871, Holstein served in Paris under the German ambassador, Harry von Arnim, who was opposed to Bismarck’s support of a republican France. When Arnim was disgraced, some claimed Holstein had been spying for Bismarck. Holstein was recalled to Berlin, where his experience and networks allowed him - as political secretary to the foreign office - to exert significant behind-the-scenes influence, not only over foreign policy but domestic policy too. He declined several diplomatic posts, which would have brought him advancement, and an offer to become head of the foreign office. Over time, he became increasingly opposed to Bismarck’s policies, especially his wish for alignment with Russia, believing in closer ties with Austria and Britain.

After 1890, following Bismarck’s dismissal, Holstein’s influence, under the inexperienced new chancellor Leo von Caprivi (to whom he advised against renewal of the Russian treaty), only increased, as it did under subsequent chancellors, Chlodwig von Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst and Bernhard von Bülow. Indeed, Holstein, famously, became known as the ‘Gray Eminence’. pedalling his authority behind the scenes. However - as Encyclopædia Britannica points out - the most important policies in the years after Bismarck were largely inspired by Kaiser Wilhelm II without much consultation of the government, and Holstein, who saw folly in them, was powerless to oppose the sovereign. Holstein never married; he died, in relative poverty, in 1909. Further information can also be found at Wikipedia or by previewing a biography by Norman Rich at Googlebooks.

Cambridge University Press first published The Holstein Papers in English in the 1960s. Volume 2 of the series reproduces a substantial selection of  Holstein’s diaries as edited by Norman Rich and M. H. Fisher; this was republished most recently in 2011. The publisher states: ‘Friedrich von Holstein was Bismarck’s subordinate at the German Foreign Office. Since his death historians have combined to make him a monster of sinister and self-seeking policy. A selection of his Nachlass [literary remains], which was first published in volume form between 1955 and 1963, is presented here. The original effect of this publication prompted an entire re-judgement of Bismarck, of German foreign policy at that time and since, and of Holstein himself. Though he had been advised by Bismarck that it was indiscreet to keep a diary, Holstein began to do so in the 1880s, and passed the pages to a cousin as they were completed up to 1886, when they died out. This diary (Volume 2) gives an incomparable fresh and direct description of life in the German foreign ministry at the time as well as Holstein’s own mordant comments on the general trend of international politics.’

Here are several extracts.

28 March 1881
‘[…] The trouble about politics is that you can never be certain when your policy has been correct. Perhaps our policy after 1866 was in fact mistaken. The Federal Diet had greater means of checking revolutionary movements and tendencies to disaffection in individual states than the modern Reich with its Federal Council and its Reichstag. […]’

7 September 1885
‘Well, Bismarck’s foreign policy has suffered its first setback. We have meekly accepted a slap in the face from Spain and are retiring from the fray. Other people will be encouraged by this example.’

18 October 1885
‘[…] I had advised Hohenlohe to replace Hofmann, the State Secretary, by Puttkamer, the Under State Secretary, as soon as possible and in addition to appoint a vigorous senior Landrat as his Chef de Cabinet. I enclose his evasive reply. If he retains the present stick-in-the-mud he will do badly, but I wash my hands in innocence. […]’

24 October 1885
‘In the enclosed letter, Radolinski bids me state that the Crown Princess has expressed the wish to see Hatzfeldt before his departure for London. She wants to win him over to supporting Battenberg, and will probably promise to receive and reinstate Countess Hatzfeldt provided Hatzfeldt keeps Battenberg in Bulgaria. His official duty will more likely be the exact opposite. The Chancellor is perfectly prepared to oblige the Russians by supporting their policy in Bulgaria; on the other hand he will not be at all sorry if the English adopt a stiffer attitude which involves them in a quarrel with the Russians. Hatzfeldt can to that extent oblige both sides, however odd that may sound.

In my reply to Radolinski I said I was a man of too little account to pass on such a request, and anyway I thought it probable that Hatzfeldt would in any case be recalled to Berlin to receive his instructions. I shall take care not to get my finger crushed between these two millstones; I saw in the spring where that leads to. But the Crown Prince and Princess seem to have picked on me for that very purpose. Besides Radolinski, Sommerfeld also reproached me recently for not making any advances to the Crown Prince and Princess and said I owed it to my position. We shall see which side is the more obstinate.

The Crown Princess told Radolinski that Battenberg could perfectly well become King of Bulgaria now, which would make things easier for the marriage. Had he not behaved magnificently and heroically? And the young Princess had confessed to her mother in Venice that if anything happened to him she would jump into a canal. ‘Fancy my poor child jumping into a canal’, said her mother to Radolinski, with tears in her eyes.

The whole thing is rather amusing. Far more serious is Herbert’s increasingly apparent inclination towards Russia and aversion to Austria. The son is not a trapeze artist like his father, who constantly kept the balance between them. Whereas the father’s preferences may privately lie with Russia, the son makes no attempt to conceal his feelings. If this is not changed we shall in a couple of years have not a Three Emperors’ Alliance, but a Two Emperors’ Alliance, and Austria will seek support elsewhere. That will certainly not accord with the Crown Prince’s policy.

I fail to understand the Chancellor at the moment. Three months ago, when the Kaiser was so feeble. His Highness spoke of the need for a political volte-face, and consequently dropped France and turned to England. But if we now consistently ill-treat Austria to please Russia, that will hardly be a change of policy which will suit the next Kaiser.

I heard again yesterday how completely out of favour Herbert is with the Crown Prince and Princess. Two days ago they gave a dance for Princess Wilhelm. When Their Imperial Highnesses saw Herbert’s name on the list of guests, they said: ‘Oh no, we don’t want him; we’d better just invite people from Potsdam.’ ’

1 December 1885
‘No one could say that our foreign service is now being efficiently run. To-day, for example, we are still without news of the terms laid down by Bulgaria for the conclusion of peace. The terms are printed in the newspapers already. Our representatives abroad are cowed, and yet it occurs to no one at this end to tell them occasionally which problem or which object should occupy their attention.

The Chancellor’s ideas have lost all coherence - he changes his mind overnight. During the recent colonial debate he began by saying it was legalistic casuistry to regard the German colonies as foreign territory. But the previous day he had written with his own hand in the margin of a document: ‘The colonies are foreign territory.’

The trouble is not that he sometimes confuses or forgets things - any one else would do the same - but that no one dares to point out his mistakes.

The Chancellor told Bleichröder that it would be our duty to collaborate more with England now. And yet Salisbury tells Hatzfeldt that the two proposals at the conference which England finds unacceptable were introduced not by the Russian delegate but by Radowitz. I think, indeed I know, that Radowitz is vain, and easy game for the shrewder Nelidov; even so R. would not go so far unless he had secret instructions from Herbert, who pursues a policy of his own behind his father’s back.

We are now entering upon a critical phase: Russia and Austria are extremely incensed against each other. I wonder how the Chancellor will extricate himself from the difficulty. If he entrusts the affair too much to his son, it may turn out badly.’

1 December 1886
‘Herb. Bismarck recently told me Prince Wilhelm would soon be working in the Foreign Ministry. Herbert said that whenever he was too busy to give the Prince instruction he would send him to me. I replied: ‘Since this is an official request I cannot refuse, but I should find such association with the Prince highly undesirable. In the first place, he gossips about everything he hears - we have had examples of this very recently.’ (I cited several instances.) ‘But in addition my love of the truth would get me into trouble. You see, if he asks me my opinion I shall have to tell him; and my opinion differs from yours in quite a few essentials.’ ’

13 February 1888
‘When Radolinski informed the Kaiser on Thursday that the Crown Prince was to be operated on, the old gentleman wept a good deal, said ‘my poor, poor son’, but slept well all night. In all three generations of that family warmth of feeling is very under-developed.

When the Kaiser celebrated his birthday recently the Crown Prince arrived a quarter of an hour before he was expected. The Kaiserin asked him in a hectoring tone: ‘What are you doing here? Why, the Kaiser is not ready yet’ - and the Crown Prince had to wait outside.

The Crown Prince, although he is the only man of sensibility in the whole family, did not refrain from making waspish remarks about his parents’ longevity. ‘You’ll see’, he said in great irritation to someone the day the corner-stone of the Reichstag building was laid, ‘my father will live to see the building dedicated.’ On another occasion he said: ‘I was standing in the White Room yesterday evening’ - a ball had been held - ‘when I heard something behind me rattling. I looked round, it was my mother. She’s so skinny now that her old bones fairly rattle. But that does not keep her at home. She must put in an appearance even though she’s got one foot in the grave.’

Prince Wilhelm’s attitude to his father’s illness is purely businesslike. Between him and his mother there is fierce hatred. Recently on her son’s birthday she refused to drink to his health.

Except for a few fanatics no one now imagines that the Crown Prince has anything but cancer. And if it is cancer, then, so the doctors think, it will probably be all over by the 1st of April. His strength has declined very rapidly during the past four weeks.

The Chancellor’s speech is a masterpiece of rhetoric. Its contents are admittedly open to criticism in places by the specialist, whether he is a soldier or a diplomatist. The Chancellor felt that himself, which explains why he flattered the officers, the noncommissioned officers, the muscular stalwarts of the reserves, the whole nation in fact. As a result his speech has been a great success at home, and has done less harm abroad than I had feared.

It has made no difference to the general situation. The hatred and mistrust in certain quarters remain as strong as ever. Perhaps we shall keep the peace this year, during which we shall be exposed to the danger of seeing our alliances dissolved.’