Napoleon plays whist

‘Since General Buonaparte’s arrival at St Helena I have been so occupied that I have seen but little of him. . . but in the evenings I understand he has regularly invited himself to join the family party in the house, where he plays at whist with the ladies.’ This is from a diary kept by Sir George Cockburn while he was in charge of Napoleon, in transit to, and residing on, the island of St Helena. Apart from such daily details, the diary is also full of Napoleon’s recollections of various military campaigns. Cockburn, born 250 years ago today, was a highly successul British sailor who rose through the ranks to become Admiral of the Fleet and First Naval Lord.

Cockburn was born on 22 April 1772 in London, the second son of Sir James Cockburn and his second wife Augusta Anne Ayscough. Educated at schools in Marylebone and Margate, he also attended the Royal Navigational School in London. Aged 14, he went to sea, and rose rapidly in the Royal Navy, being promoted to the rank of lieutenant in 1793. He was appointed to the Victory, Lord Hood’s flagship off Toulon, and then to the sloop Speedy, the frigate Meleager under the orders of Captain Nelson, and to the Minerve, a large frigate captured from the French, which was later present at the battle of Cape St Vincent.

In 1803, Cockburn was appointed to the Phaeton, which he commanded for two years in the East Indies, and to the Captain, then to the Pompée, which took him to the West Indies. After taking part in the capture of Flushing in 1809 (part of the otherwise disastrous landing of British forces in the Low Countries), he returned to Britain, and married his cousin Mary Cockburn with whom he had one daughter.

Further promotion to rear-admiral followed Cockburn’s service on the Indefatigable around Spain. In 1814, on the Marlborough he battled against the American militia, cruising along the Chesapeake Bay to seize shipping and raid ports. In 1815, he was summoned back to Europe and given the task of escorting Napoleon, who had been defeated at the Battle of Waterloo, to St Helena. Cockburn remained there for some months as island governor before being relieved. Napoleon, though, would remain confined there until his death in 1821.

Cockburn was first elected as a Tory MP in 1818, and remained an MP for different constituencies until 1847 with one long gap in the 1830s. He was knighted in 1815, and elected a fellow of the Royal Society in 1820. He served two terms as First Naval Lord (1833-1836 and 1841-1846) and as Commander-in-Chief, North America and West Indies Station between 1832 and 1836. He was appointed a full admiral in 1837. In 1852, he inherited the family baronetcy from his elder brother, before dying a year later. Further biographical information is available from Wikipedia, The History of Parliament, or the book, Cockburn and the British Navy in Transition by Roger Morriss, which can be partially read at Googlebooks.

There is no evidence that Cockburn regularly kept a diary, but he did keep one for a short period while charged with transporting and looking after the prisoner, Napoléon Bonaparte. A first edition appeared in the US in 1833 (published by Lilly, Wait, Colman and Holden) compiled from the original manuscript in the handwriting of Cockburn’s private secretary. This was titled Buonaparte’s Voyage to St Helena; comprising the diary of Rear Admiral Sir G Cockburn, during his passage from England to St Helena, in 1815.

In the book’s preface, the publishers explain: ‘There is another copy of this manuscript in existence, which was, at one period, in the course of publication in England, but considerations, which may be obviously inferred from the character of the production itself, then led to its suppression, and must continue to prevent its appearance from that quarter.’

Indeed, it was not until 50 years later, in 1888, that Cockburn’s journal was published in the UK (by Simpkin, Marshall & Co.) as Extract from a Diary of Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn with particular reference to Gen. Napoleon Buonaparte on Passage from England to St Helena, in 1815 on board HMS “Northumberland”.

This version’s preface says: ‘The manuscript, from which this “Extract” has been printed, was found, in his own hand-writing, among the papers of my late father; attached to it being a note, also in his own handwriting, to the effect that it is a reproduction of a copy found at St Helena, in 1824 or 25, among the effects of one who had held an official position as Admiral’s Secretary or Captain’s Clerk on board the “Northumberland” on her voyage to St Helena, where he died, and who had no doubt made it as a matter of pardonable curiosity and satisfaction for himself; and it is now published in the belief that it’s intrinsic interest, as closing a gap in the later career of the great soldier, will be deemed sufficient excuse for it’s seeing the light.’

Both the earlier US edition and the later UK edition are freely available at Internet Archive. Here are two extracts from the start and end of the diary.

7 August 1815
‘On reaching the deck [Buonaparte] said to me, “Here I am, Admiral, at your orders!” He then asked to be introduced to the Captain, then asked the names of the different officers and gentlemen upon deck, asked them in what countries they were born and other questions of such trifling import, and he then went into the cabin with Lord Keith and myself, followed by some of his own people. After I had shown him the cabin I had appropriated for his exclusive use and requested him to sit down in the great cabin, he begged me to cause the Lieutenant of the ship to be introduced to him; as, however, at this time his own followers came to take leave of him, I thought it best to leave him for a little while to himself, and I found soon afterwards advantage was taken of this for him to assume exclusive right to the after, or great cabin. When I therefore had finished my letters I went into it again with some of my officers and desired M. de Bertrand to explain to him that the after cabin must be considered as common to us all, and that the sleeping cabin I had appropriated to him could alone be considered as exclusively his. He received this intimation with submission and good humour and soon afterwards went on deck, where he chatted loosely and good-naturedly with everybody.

At dinner he ate heartily of almost every dish, praised everything and seemed most perfectly contented and reconciled to his fate. He talked with me during dinner much on his Russian Campaign, said he meant only to have refreshed his troops at Moscow for four or five days and then to have marched for Petersburg, but the destruction of Moscow subverted all his projects, and he said nothing could have been more horrible than was that campaign; that for several days together it appeared to him as if he were marching through a sea of fire owing to the constant succession of villages in flames which arose in every direction as far as his eye could reach; that this had been by some attributed to his troops but that it was always done by the natives. Many of his soldiers however, he said, lost their lives by endeavouring to pillage in the midst of the flames. He spoke much of the cold during their disastrous retreat, and stated that one night, after he had quitted the army to return to Paris, an entire half of his Guard were frozen to death.

He also told me in the course of this evening that previous to his going to Elba he had made preparations for having a Navy of 100 sail of the line; that he had established a conscription for the Navy, and that the Toulon Fleet was entirely manned and brought forward by people of this description; that he ordered them positively to get under weigh and manoeuvre every day the weather would permit of it, and to stand out occasionally and to exchange long shots with our ships; that this had been much remonstrated against by those about him and had cost him at first a good deal of money to repair the accidents that occurred from the want of maritime knowledge, such as from the ships getting aboard of each other, splitting their sails, springing their masts, &c., but he found that even these accidents tended to improve the crews and therefore he continued to pay his money and oblige them to continue to exercise. He said he had built his ships at Antwerp in rather too great a hurry, but he spoke highly in praise of the port and said he had already given orders for a similar establishment to have been formed on the Elbe; and had fortune not turned against him he hoped to have sooner or later given us some trouble, even on the seas. He stated that the reason he had over-hurried the ships at Antwerp, before mentioned, was because he was anxious to press forward an expedition from thence against Ireland.

After taking his wine and coffee he took a short walk on deck and afteryards proposed a round game at cards; in compliance with which we played at vingt-un until about half-past ten, won from him about seven or eight napoleons, and he then retired to his bedroom, apparently as much at his ease as if he had belonged to the ship all his life. I afterwards disposed of his whole party for the night, though not without some difficulty; the ladies with their families making it necessary I should provide them with adequate room and accommodation, and yet each other person of the suite asking for and expecting a separate cabin to sleep in and in which to put their things.’

22 October 1815
‘Since General Buonaparte’s arrival at St Helena I have been so occupied that I have seen but little of him. I went with him, however, one day to Longwood, and he seemed tolerably satisfied with it, though with his attendants he has since been complaining a good deal; and having stated to me that he could not bear the crowds which gathered to see him in the town, he has, at his own request been permitted to take up his residence (until Longwood should be completed) at a small house called the Briars, where there is a pretty good garden, and a tolerably large room, detached from the house, of which he has taken possession, and in which and the garden he remains almost all day; but in the evenings I understand he has regularly invited himself to join the family party in the house, where he plays at whist with the ladies of the family for sugar-plums until his usual hour of retiring for the night.’

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 22 April 2012.

Our spirits were overflowing

‘Yesterday was one of the happiest I have ever passed. It was a yachting party. I love the water, the day was perfect, the people were nice, the race was sufficiently interesting, the lunch was delicious, our spirits were overflowing.’ This is from the vivacious diaries of a teenage Gertrude Vanderbilt. She was an American heiress who would go on to become an important sculptor and art patron. She died  80 years ago today, but a decade or so earlier had founded the now-famous Whitney Museum of American Art.

Vanderbilt was born in 1875 in New York City, into a rich familywith a large house on Fifth Avenue. Her great-grandfather was Cornelius Vanderbilt, a very wealthy railroad and shipping magnate. She was educated by private tutors and at the exclusive Brearley School, spending summers in Newport, Rhode Island, at the family summer home. From an early age she drew and painted, but after her marriage in 1896 to Harry Payne Whitney (with whom she had  three children), she began to pursue sculpture seriously. She studied in New York and in Paris, and began to focus on large-scale public works. 

Whitney’s first public commission was Aspiration, a life-size male nude in plaster, which appeared outside the New York State Building in 1901. Although initially she produced work under an assumed name, by 1907 she had opened a studio in Greenwich Village, and the following year she won her first prize, for a sculpture entitled Pan. Paganisme Immortel was shown at the 1910 National Academy of Design, Spanish Peasant was accepted at the Paris Salon in 1911, and Aztec Fountain was awarded a bronze medal in 1915 at the San Francisco Exhibition. She opened her first solo show in New York City in 1916. In parallel with her artistic career, she also became a major patron of the arts, promoting the advancement of women in the arts, and organising exhibitions for promising artists. As early as 1914, she had organised her first charity exhibition, the 50-50 Art Sale.

During the First World War, Whitney dedicated a great deal of her time and money to various relief efforts, establishing and maintaining a fully operational hospital for wounded soldiers in Juilly, outside Paris. While there, she made drawings of the soldiers and these evolved into plans for her post-war memorials in New York City. She also completed a series of smaller pieces realistically depicting soldiers in wartime. These smaller works were not seen as particularly significant during her lifetime, only  recently have critics rated them more highly. During the 1920s her works received  critical acclaim both in Europe and the US, particularly her monumental works. Her major and lasting accomplishment, though, was the founding, with her husband, of the Whitney Museum for American Art in 1930. She died on 18 April 1942.  See Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica or the New Netherland Institute for further information.

Whitney kept diaries and journals of varying kinds throughout her life. These and most of her other papers have been full digitised in the Archives of American Art. The website provides this summary of the diaries : ‘[Whitney’s] personal journals range from ones she kept as a child and adolescent to ones she kept during her engagement and honeymoon to ones she kept as an adult, and include travel journals, impression books, diaries, confessions album, writing journals, and “A Line A Day” books. Personal journals record Whitney's trips abroad and time spent in Newport as a young girl, her impressions of people, her experiences with friends, her honeymoon trip to Japan, certain early writing efforts, her “thoughts relating to art, subjects for statues, composition symbols, all manner of substances which affects [her] artistic life” (from Art Journal, 1906-1907), her work with the Juilly Hospital in France during the First World War, trips to Spain in 1920 and 1928-1929, and daily events and impressions for certain periods of time.’

Here are a few extracts from her 1894-1895 diary as transcribed by volunteers.

3 August 1894.
‘Last night I dined out. After dinner Mr. Porchon talked to me. It was not quite as nice as on the piazza the surroundings were not as “agreeable, but we got on very well, laughed a lot and enjoyed ourselves generally, that is I enjoyed myself. I don’t know if he enjoyed it. I think we are getting to be very good friends. He is always impressing it on my mind that he is so old and so experienced that I have a wild desire to ask his advice in some imaginary conditions. For instance when I am alone with him the next time I will very seriously tell him that at last his plan has succeeded. He has impressed upon my mind that his grey hairs make him a fit confident for so young and inexperienced a child as myself. Will he listen to what I have to say? Yes, well then he realized that there are things one does not even like to ask ones parents, an old family friends, grey haired and care worn is just the person to apply to’

11 August 1894.
‘Yesterday was one of the happiest I have ever passed. It was a yachting party. I love the water, the day was perfect, the people were nice, the race was sufficiently interesting, the lunch was delicious, our spirits were overflowing.

We met down at the landing at 9.45. There were lots of parties given so of course a great crowd was there. Different people came up and talked and suddenly looking up who should I see in front of me but Regi Renalds. We shook hands said “howd’y do” and that was all. He did not go on the Nournahae, that was the only cloud in my sky all day. It began by being a pretty big one but dwindled down surprisingly as the day went on. To-night I dine at the Cushings Oh Joy! joy! A thousand times joy. Prepare.’

25 August 1894
‘The last week has been such a busy one that I have had to neglect you shamefully. Adele & Emily Sloane who came on the 15th left yesterday. While they were here there was always something to do and the time went by before I knew it. One amusement followed another, but what has given me most pleasure is that I feel I have gotten to know a good many people better than ever before. In the first place I know the Sloane’s themselves better, and it has done me an enormous amount of good. Then I feel now as if I were really getting on with Bobbie Sands. We have had one walk together when we talked of something besides balls etc. and if we are alone again together I am sure we will go still farther. To-night we may have a chance. I do hope so. I am dining on the Electra and so is he. I wish we would “sit” outside it would be what I most want. I would talk of himself, or rather make him talk of himself.

9 September 1894
‘Such rubbish as I have been writing! Such sentimental bosh. To-night for a little I want to think serious by about the future. If I live the chances are there will be some one who will love me only for myself. Of course I will have a good many opportunities of marrying in the next few years. A big heiress! And all that sort of think. I hope it will not effect me. I hope it will not change me for the worse but rather improve me. If I should marry people will say: “Oh for her money”. I don’t care what people say, if it is not true, but suppose it is true? What then? This will be terribly unhappy. The chances are ten to one, I would be married for my money, therefore why marry? How can you discuss it so in cold blood. Suppose you fall in love. What then? I will not fall in love except with the right man. But the right man, who is he? A rich man, a very rich man. But the rich man will he love me? Ten to one - no. What then? Why even if he were rich he would marry you to be richer. No, no, there are true, honest, good men who would not care about the money. But they would not care about me either. You will come to nothing this way, you will not get deeper and deeper. Leave it all to God, he knows what is right & best and good for you. Trust in him and all will be well. Amen.’

17 November 1894
‘When I last wrote I was not feeling at all well. On Saturday I was quite sure I was going to have typhoid fever. I had a miserable pain which had gone on getting worse for several days and was feeling altogether horribly. Sunday I still kept up but as I had not eaten a single thing (without exaggeration) and had consumed glasses of water since Thursday, Mama noticed it and asked me if I was not well. The end of it was the next morning the doctor came and said he thought I had jaundice. And as it proved to be, I was yellow and the pain kept on, and there were the other symptoms. Saturday for the first time I was allowed to get up for a little. That is today, but I have not yet been out of my room. We are going away on Tuesday if I am able, to see Alfred first and then to go to New York. It will be nice getting back for some reasons, but I am very sorry the autumn is over. If I had only not been sick this week Mo & I might have had some of the most delightful rides and walks. I am terribly disappointed about it as I was looking forward to the last week here. Mo has been so nice lately. That is he was especially nice the last time I saw him, the 8th. He was going away till Tuesday & he would have given anything to get out of it. He said how hard it was to go, not as Mo usually says things. Anyway he never says things unless he means them. And he acted as if it were really hard. Of course I said I was awfully sorry and wish he could stay etc, but at last he did say “good bye” after a very nice long talk and off he went. Saturday I received from New York a beautiful box of flowers from him, an enormous bunch of violets just like some I had seen when he was there and that Mr Stewart had sent me a few days before. He wrote in a card he wished he were in Newport & hoped I would wear the flowers, which of course I did. We had planned to ride on Tuesday but of course I could not, so I wrote & thanked him for the flowers and on Wednesday, no Thursday he sent me some more flowers and a letter. Friday he came to see me but I was still in bed. I hope today, oh I do hope I can see him.’

A man with qualities

The Austrian author, Robert Musil, died 80 years ago today. His most famous work and one of the masterpieces of 20th century European literature - The Man Without Qualities - preoccupied him for much of the latter part of his life, but even so was never completed. He was an inveterate keeper of notebooks, only a few of which, though, read like conventional diaries.

Musil was born in Klagenfurt, Austria, in 1880, the only son of an engineering professor. He studied at a military academy and then moved to Vienna university where his father taught. Later in his 20s, though, he went to study philosophy and psychology in Berlin. His first novel, published in 1906 (later translated as Confusions of Young Torless), was a great success.

In 1911, Musil married Martha Marcovaldi, an older Jewish woman who had already been married and had children. From that same year until 1914 he worked as a librarian in Vienna. During the war he served in the Austrian army. After being hospitalised in 1916, he edited an army newspaper, and, subsequently, worked in the defence ministry until he was made redundant in the 1920s. Thereafter, he became a full-time writer, achieving some success with plays.

While trying to write what he hoped would become his masterpiece, The Man Without Qualities, Musil fell into financial difficulties; and, in 1929, he suffered a mental breakdown. The first parts of Qualities were published in the early 1930s (but not in English until the late 1950s and early 1960s). He moved again to Berlin in the early 1930s, and then back to Vienna. In 1938, he and his wife fled to Switzerland, where they settled in Geneva. He died on 15 April 1942. For further biographical information see Wikipedia, New World Encyclopedia, or Jerry van Beers’ website on Musil.

Musil kept notebooks for much of his life, but most of these are not recognisably diaries. They were first edited by Adolf Frisé and published in their original German in the early 1980s by Rowohlt (Hamburg). An English translation by Philip Payne followed in 1998 (Basic Books, New York) entitled simply Diaries, 1899-1941.

The chapters in the published book relate to individual notebooks kept by Musil, the highest numbered one being 35 - but there are not 35 notebooks included in Diaries, nor are they all in numerical order. Furthermore, the notebooks rarely reveal material that looks or reads like a conventional diary. There are some dated entries in some of the notebooks, but, for the most part, the contents resemble a writer’s notes not a diary. According to Mark Mirsky, who wrote an introduction for the English edition, the diaries are ‘angry, at times pathetic, but always thinking, aware, vulnerable’ and, through them, thus, ‘Musil lets us approach him’.

November 1913.
‘Waiting: I look at my work. It is motionless; as if of stone. Not without meaning, but the sentences do not move. I have two hours, in round terms, before I can leave. Every fifth minute I look at the clock; it is always less, not than I had estimated but than I hope - as if by some miracle - it will be. I see for the first time the furniture in my room standing quietly there. This way is different from the way one sees five points as a five in a game of cards. The table, the two chairs, the sofa, the cupboard. This is what it must be like for people without ideas when their day’s work is done. An excess of joyful expectation rises in me. An excess of joy like the end of the day on 24 December before everything gets under way.

Someone is whistling on the street, someone says something, goes on by. Many sounds come at the same moment; someone is speaking, in the upper storey someone is playing the piano; the telephone is ringing. (While I write this down, time tears past.)’

2 April 1905
‘Today I’m beginning a diary; I do not usually keep one but I feel a distinct need to do so now. After four years of diffusion it will give me the opportunity to find that line of spiritual development again that I consider to be properly mine. . . I shall try to carry forward into it “banners from a battle that has never been fought.” Thoughts from that time of great upheaval are to be re-examined, sorted through and developed. One or other of my scattered notes is to be taken up in this process but only when it captures my attention again.’

6 January 1930
‘Since the start of the year I’ve been wanting to write things down. Aim: to record how my 50th year of life turns out! But also, in a quite aimless fashion, to record facts. I have become too abstract and would like to use this method to help me retrain as a narrator by paying attention to the circumstances of everyday life.’

8 February 1930
‘Art has to have an immediate effect! This is one of the most dangerous prejudices. Yet it remains a goal that one constantly tries to achieve. After all, it wouldn’t be difficult to analyze what is required of something to have an immediate effect. The most difficult thing about this is somewhat like a meeting. The immediate impression that some people give is that of peace, sublimity, etc., and this is what is demanded of art. People want to be won over from the very first word, etc. This is not completely unjustified but leads to neglect of books that are demonic, Titanic, (unpleasant) and so forth.’

9 March 1930
‘Yesterday evening I had the following train of thought: I’m correcting a passage in the proofs, get stuck, and note down around 5 variants, none of which pleases me. After a walk, the whole thing - which has already upset me - seems a matter of no consequence, and I feel I’ll probably find the right course without difficulty. The same experience, writ large, when one sets aside a completed piece of work for a few weeks. It is evident that one then looks down upon the work, as it were, from on high. What is the psychological significance of this?

In emotional terms, it means freedom from ambivalence. One had started to be uncertain, beset with a host of little vacillations that eventually made a disproportionate impression - very similar to hesitating for too long before going along a dangerous path. One has, so to speak, subjected the situation to emotional overload. One frees oneself by renouncing the situation?

But it appears that an intellectual process takes effect in the same sort of way. An insight that eluded one in the course of the day may come during the night; or, generally, the way a reflection “sits itself down and sorts itself out.” This even seems to be something physiological, for the same thing happens when one learns new movements. In other words switch the brain to a state of rest; introduce spells of relaxation according to the Kogerer method; take one’s mind off things? But at which point? Make oneself indifferent. Clearly this only works when one has come halfway to achieving something.’

26 August 1930
‘This evening I finished [proofreading] the manuscript of Vol. I [of The Man Without Qualities]’.

This article is a slightly revised version of one first published on 15 April 2012.

Kaiser behind the haystack

Alfred Ludwig Heinrich Karl Graf von Waldersee, a German soldier who rose to become (briefly) Chief of the Imperial German General Staff, was born 190 years ago today. He left behind plenty of written material, including diaries, much of which was published in a three-volume biographical life. In one diary entry (see below), Waldersee recalls the Kaiser (Wilhelm I) confessing to him that he’d eaten some chocolate ‘in secret behind the haystack’.

Waldersee was born on 8 April 1832 in Potsdam into a military and aristocratic family, his father being a cavalry general. He graduated from artillery and engineering school at the age of 20, and joined the Prussian General Staff as an adjutant during the Austro-Prussian War of 1866. He later served in Paris as military attaché and spy, and was selected in 1869 as Aide-de-Camp to Kaiser Wilhelm I. He acted as chief of staff to the military governor of Paris in 1871, and in 1873 he became the commanding general of X. Army Corps in Hannover. The following year, he married Mary Esther Lee, daughter of wealthy New York City merchant David Lee and widow of Prince Frederick of Schleswig-Holstein.

In 1882, Waldersee was chosen by Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke the Elder as his principal assistant on the General Staff at Berlin with the rank of Generalquartiermeister, a position that gave him military and political influence. Developing strategies for a preventative war against Russia and France brought Waldersee into confrontation with the Chancellor, Otto von Bismarck, but also paved the way to a friendship with Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, the future Kaiser Wilhelm II who ascended the throne in June 1888. In August, Waldersee was appointed to succeed Moltke as Chief of General Staff. Rather quickly, however, the new young sovereign lost confidence in a scheming Waldersee and demoted him to command IX Army Corps at Hamburg-Altona.

In 1900, Waldersee was promoted field marshal and given command of an international expeditionary force sent to China aimed at quelling the Boxer Rebellion. Back in Germany in 1901 he was named an honorary citizen of Hamburg, one of many honours he received during his lifetime.  He died in 1904. See Wikipedia or the Prussian Machine for more information.

A ‘life-and-letters’ biography of Waldersee was first published in German in three volumes in 1922-1923. The entire work was edited by Heinrich Otto Meisner, with the approval and assistance of the Waldersee’s  nephew, Lieut.-General George Count von Waldersee. A single-volume English translation by Frederic Whyte appeared in 1924 as A Field Marshal’s Memoirs From the Diary, Correspondence and Reminiscences of Alfred, Count Von Waldersee (Hutchinson). Modern reproductions of the original can be previewed at Googlebooks and Amazon. Here are few extracts from Waldersee’s diaries as found in the translated work.

4 August 1870, Commercy
‘Bismarck, who had a suite of his own, has three four-horsed carriages. He himself travels in a heavy conveyance with four horses which cannot keep up with the King’s stallions. For this reason - so it is said - there is intriguing in progress on his part against long marches. He maintains, moreover, that the King ought not to travel through the land alone in this way, but should keep with the army on the march. I don’t think that is necessary, though some more thought might perhaps be given to his safety.’

16 September 1870, Meaux
‘Yesterday evening Councillor of Embassy von Kendell came to me on behalf of Bismarck and asked me whether I would be Prefect of Paris, supposing we got in. The question came to me rather as a surprise. I said that there were two Prefects there, a so-called Prefect of the Seine and a Prefect of Police - which did he mean? He said that no notice was being taken of this, that I could amalgamate both offices, and that I should be pleasing the Chancellor very much if I decided to do so. No other suitable person was available. I had the great advantage of knowing the conditions of Paris. The President of Police in Berlin, Von Wurmb, would, indeed, be the right man for the post, but the Chancellor regarded him as too untrustworthy. After thinking it over for a while, I said yes, but raised the question whether the King would like one of his aides-de-camp to have a police post. Kendell said we should soon find out that and thanked me for my readiness to accept.’

20 September 1870, Ferrières
‘Yesterday I saw Paris stretched out before my eyes, exactly two months after I left it. The King rode through Aulnay up to the height of Le Blanc Mesnil. From this point a good view of Paris was to be had, so we came to a halt. The King showed how pleased he was to have got so far, and could not tear himself away from the place. He lingered for a good two hours. Once he went behind a haystack for a few minutes. Today he said to me: “Didn’t you give me some bits of chocolate at Rezonville?” I said yes, and he went on: “I had one piece left, and yesterday I ate it in secret behind the haystack!” ’

28 December 1870, Versailles
‘An excellent measure has been taken in hand during these last two days. The management of the attack on Paris, which is now to be undertaken in real earnest, has been entrusted to Lieut.-General von Kameke in his capacity as an Engineer, and to Major-General Kraft zu Hohenlohe-Ingelfingen as an Artillerist. Now at last some life will be introduced into things. . .’

I whipped the first boy

‘In the afternoon I whipped the first boy I have had occasion to. It was a bad business, perfectly disgusting to me, but I found it was absolutely necessary.’ This is from the youthful diary of Edward Everett Hale, a celebrated American writer and minister, born two centuries ago today. Although Hale’s diaries have not been published, his son published a ‘life and letters’ biography which includes some extracts from them. 

Hale was born on 3 April 1822 in Boston, Massachusetts, son of the proprietor and editor of the Boston Daily Advertiser. He was also a nephew of Edward Everett, the orator and statesman, and grand-nephew of Nathan Hale, the Revolutionary War hero. Hale was considered a child prodigy, studying at Boston Latin School, and entering Harvard College aged 13, where he excelled, before moving on to Harvard Divinity School. 

Having become licensed as a Unitarian minister, Hale became, in 1846, pastor of the Church of the Unity in Worcester. The following year, he was elected a member of the American Antiquarian Society, and he would remain involved with the society for the rest of his life. In 1852 he married Emily Baldwin Perkins, the niece of Connecticut Governor and U.S. Senator Roger Sherman Baldwin. They had nine children. From 1856 until 1899, he was pastor of Boston’s South Congregational Church.

Having long written for his father’s publication, it was not until 1859 that his literary work attracted wider attention, this was thanks to a short story - My Double and How He Undid Me - in the Atlantic Monthly. Many other stories followed - often marked by a style dubbed realistic fantasy - for a variety of other publications. His best known work, however, was The Man Without a Country, published in the Atlantic in 1863, which rallied support for the Union cause in the North. Another of his stories - Hands Off in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine (1881) - is considered to have been influential in the emerging genre of science fiction.

Hale was elected a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1865 and of the American Philosophical Society in 1870. He helped found two social reform magazines - the Christian Examiner, Old and New (1870-1875) and Lend a Hand (1886-1897), and he was generally regarded an important leader of the Social Gospel movement being a forceful advocate of emigrant aid, African American education, worker's housing, and world peace. In 1903 he became chaplain of the U.S. Senate in Washington and did not return to Boston until shortly before his death there in 1909. Further information is readily available from Wikipedia, Encyclopaedia Britannica, Dictionary of Unitarian & Universalist Biography, and Harvard Square Library.

Hale kept diaries through much of his life, and wrote many letters. When he was still alive, he had it mind to publish some of the letters with the help of a friend, but this project felt through. However, one of Hale’s sons, Edward E. Hale, Jr., decided to edit and publish his fathers letters and diaries. The amount of material placed in his hand, he says in a preface to the published work, ‘was very great’. ‘There were thousands of letters, many diaries and day-books covering almost the whole of my father’s life.’ Two volumes of The Life and Letters of Edward Everett Hale - including a significant number of diary extracts - were published by Little, Brown, and Company in 1917 - they are both freely available online through Internet Archive. Here are several sample extracts from his diaries - though it’s hard to tell he was only 15-17 years old! 

9 January 1837
‘Met Meyer at Farwell’s, and he agreed to join the German section, which Sam. Guild and I were attempting to raise. Spoke to Longfellow at dinner about the German, and he said that he thought perhaps his brother, who had just returned from Europe, would take it, so he agreed to say nothing to Bokum till that was settled. After French wrote Latin exercise. In the evening went into Williams’ rooms and got the Oedipus. This lesson finished Oedipus Tyrannus. Came home, finished exercise, got Horace and went to bed.’

10 January 1837
‘Longfellow told me this morning that he had not seen his brother, but the President had told him that his election for the Prof’ship must be confirmed by the Senate as a part of the board of overseers. They will meet on Thursday and I suppose will settle it then. If Longfellow will take the section, we had rather recite to him than to Bokum.’

16 January 1837
‘After reciting to Channing today walked down to the bridge with Donaldson, talking about the I. O. H., the interests of which he has a good deal at heart. Came home and read some in Rev. Mr. Emerson’s ‘Nature.’ It is an odd sort of book, but I like it better than most everyone else seems to, though to be sure there is a good deal in it that I can’t understand. In the evening Nathan undertook to Animal Magnetize me. I got horribly sleepy but I believe it was the natural effect of sitting still five minutes without speaking, and feeling his hands stroking me down so.’

23 February 1837
‘All day Nathan was making experiments in sound, which I inspected and assisted in. In the afternoon finished woodcut, upon which I put so much time that I did not get the lesson in Mechanics in time to recite, and so had to say ‘not prepared’ which vexed me horribly, particularly as it was my own fault. In the evening went to Dawes’ room to meet the rest of the Library committee [of the I. O. H.]. We decided on buying Pope’s Homer, Ion, Clarence, Cooper’s Sketches of Switzerland 2 Part, Abercrombie’s Intellectual faculties, &c. &c.’

3 March 1837
‘Slept over prayers this morning and did not get up till nearly breakfast time. First time I have missed for a long time. Found at breakfast that we had a miss in Greek, so that my absence did not hurt me or anybody else, in respect to that. The cause of the miss seems to be that Felton went in to the theatre last night with Profs. Pierce and Longfellow, so that he could not get up in time to give the 1st section an exercise, and we had none in consequence.’

20 November 1838
‘After (evening) prayers I went to Morison’s room where the astronomical forces were to collect, previously to an attack on Mr. Lovering. We did not get ready for a start till 5 o’clock. Mr. Lovering explained to us his fancy, as he modestly called it very intelligibly. In the evening went to a lecture at the Warren St. Chapel by Uncle Edward on the Northmen. It was a short abstract of the history of their discovery of this country with a good deal about Dighton rock which Uncle supposed to have been sculptured by the natives, for various reasons, the principal of which was the fact, which Mr. Catlin told him, that he had seen thousands of such inscriptions in the Indian countries, in tribes which had not, as well as those which had, the use of instruments of steel.’

25 November 1838
‘The President requested “the members of the seminary” to remain after prayers and he then announced that two of the commons waiters had been found insensible, having imprudently slept last night with charcoal in the room. At breakfast some one came from the kitchen to get some of the Davy Club to go down stairs and see the doctors about making oxygen for these men. I went down and they said they wished to try the effect of oxygen. With two or three others I came into the Davy Club room and went to work. I was there most all day, we made as much oxygen as we could, getting the furnace going and using an iron retort. The men were insensible all day.’

20 October 1839
‘I staid to the Sunday School and took a class; not that I have any more faith than ever as to my qualifications as a teacher, or in the beneficial effects of a Sunday School in such a parish as ours, but because in the introduction of the new system there is a dearth of men teachers and as I think it ought to be tried I was willing to give my hand.’

24 October 1839
‘In the afternoon I whipped the first boy I have had occasion to. It was a bad business, perfectly disgusting to me, but I found it was absolutely necessary. The boy was decidedly the worst boy in the room, and utterly regardless of the ordinary machinery of marks, etc. and having run up to ten marks in the first three days in the week, I told him that for the next offence he should be ‘punished’ as the phrase is. And so he was.’

Negotiations can now begin

‘Ambassador Tim Barrow, Permanent Representative of the UK to the European Union, hand-delivers the long-awaited letter to Donald Tusk. Nine months after the referendum, Theresa May has today given notice of her country’s wish to leave the European Union, triggering the two-year period under Article 50 of the Treaty on European Union during which we must find an agreement for the UK’s orderly withdrawal and set out the framework for our future relationship. Negotiations can now begin.’ This is Michel Barnier, the European Commission’s Head of Task Force for Relations with the United Kingdom, writing in his diary exactly five years ago today. Once the negotiations were completed, Barnier published what he called My Secret Brexit Diary - A Glorious Illusion.

Barnier was born at La Tronche in the French Alps in 1951. Wikipedia notes that he was a scout and choirboy. He graduated from the ESCP business school in Paris in 1972. The following year he became a regional councillor for Savoie in the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region, also in the Alps. He served on the staff of various Gaullist ministers in the 1970s, before being elected in 1978, aged 27, to the French National Assembly as deputy for the Department of Savoie representing the neo-Gaullists, serving until 1993. In 1982, he had married Isabelle Altmayer ​and they had three children. He co-organised the 1992 Winter Olympics in Albertville.

Under Prime Minister Édouard Balladur, Barnier was first appointed to cabinet, as minister of the environment in 1993; and, in 1995, Jacques Chirac appointed him secretary of state for European affairs. Barnier then served as a European Commissioner for Regional Policy in the European Commission from 1999 until 2004. Back in national politics, he was made foreign minister in Jean-Pierre Raffarin’s government until  June 2005. Under Nicolas Sarkozy’s presidency, he re-joined the cabinet as minister of agriculture. Briefly (2009-2010), he was a Member of the European Parliament and President of the French delegation of the EPP.

But, in 2010, Barnier was back in Brussels as European Commissioner in charge of Internal Market and Services, a position he held until 2014. From 2015, he acted as a special adviser on European defence policy to the European Commission’s President, Jean-Claude Juncker. Then, in July 2016, Juncker made him the Commission’s chief negotiator with the UK over its arrangements for leaving the European Union, under Article 50, and over the EU-UK’s future trade deal - a couple of jobs which kept him busy until the end of 2020! Most recently, he made a failed bid to become the Republican’s candidate for the 2022 French presidential elections.

Barnier kept a detailed diary throughout the Brexit negations. This was published in French by Gallimard as La grande illusion: Journal secret du Brexit (2016-2020). The text was translated into English by Robin Mackay and published in the UK by Polity as My Secret Brexit Diary - A Glorious Illusion. Polity says: ‘From Brussels to London, from Dublin to Nicosia, Michel Barnier’s secret diary lifts the lid on what really happened behind the scenes of one of the most high-stakes negotiations in modern history. The result is a unique testimony from the ultimate insider on the hidden world of Brexit and those who made it happen.’ A preview is freely available at Googlebooks.

Reviewing it for the The Guardian, Jonathan Powell said: ‘Michel Barnier's new book helps explain why Britain ended up being comprehensively out-negotiated over Brexit and saddled with a flawed withdrawal agreement and a deeply disadvantageous future relationship, both of which will cause us major problems for decades to come. This is therefore an important account.’ And Adam Fleming of the BBC said: ‘If the treaties are the legal texts of the Brexit talks then this is the human version, revealing a Michel Barnier who is much warmer and far less diplomatic than his public persona. It’s a masterclass in how the EU operates, and a rare glimpse into the tensions on their side.’

Here are several extracts from the published diary.

‘Wednesday, 29 March 2017: Notification
Ambassador Tim Barrow, Permanent Representative of the UK to the European Union, hand-delivers the long-awaited letter to Donald Tusk. Nine months after the referendum, Theresa May has today given notice of her country’s wish to leave the European Union, triggering the two-year period under Article 50 of the Treaty on European Union during which we must find an agreement for the UK’s orderly withdrawal and set out the framework for our future relationship. Negotiations can now begin.’

‘Friday, 31 March 2017: Sadness and regret
As I do every week, I go over the weekly report sent to me by the Directorate-General for Communication, which surveys the reaction to Brexit among the twenty-seven member states.

Unsurprisingly, today they arc all focused on Mrs May’s letter of formal notice. Most heads of state or government have issued official responses. Their statements and communiqués are full of sadness and regret, as exemplified by those of the French, Belgian and Polish governments, which, while respecting the choice made by the British people, express their deep regret at the decision.

In parallel, there is an increasing number of calls for unity among the twenty-seven, whether from Slovenian Prime Minister Miro Cerar or Mariano Rajoy in Spain. Other governments, such as Denmark and the Netherlands, explicitly refer to the defence of their national interests.

In general, I am struck by a convergence of the prevailing tone. From Finland to Portugal, the priorities arc the same. Everywhere there is talk of securing the rights of EU citizens living in the UK and of maintaining good relations with the UK in the future.

Behind the remarks of the various parties, I detect echoes of the discussions we have had thus far in each capital. The insistence of all upon the need to do things in the right order - ensuring an orderly withdrawal before discussing the future relationship - is symptomatic in this respect.’

‘Sunday, 11 June 2017: A wager lost...
Theresa May’s strategy has backfired. She called a general election to strengthen her majority and her position in the Brexit negotiations. What happened was the exact opposite. Instead of gaining fifty or even a hundred more seats as it had hoped, the Conservative Party lost thirteen. The Labour Party gained thirty, achieving its best result since 2001. The Liberal Democrats also made gains, UKIP was eliminated, and there is no longer a clear majority in the House of Commons. This is a real political shock for London. Some commentators, including the Financial Times, explain it partly as ‘the revenge of the young and Remainers’.

Forty-eight hours later, Theresa May announced a deal with a dozen MPs from the Northern Ireland Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) that will enable her to achieve an absolute majority in the House. The DUP, founded in 1971, was headed for nearly forty years by Ian Paisley, a well-known Unionist leader. Arlene Foster, who was briefly First Minister of Northern Ireland, is now at the helm. The Unionist position is clear to all: they oppose anything that would remove Northern Ireland from the United Kingdom. What price will Theresa May have to pay for this alliance? And what are the consequences for negotiations on the sensitive issue of the border between Northern Ireland and Ireland?

On Twitter, I read that in Brussels there is rejoicing at Theresa May’s defeat, that I’m about to take a four-week holiday, and that I’m handing out champagne to my team. Frankly, I think I’ll keep the champagne on ice for now. In order to lead these negotiations and make them successful, we need a stable partner who knows what they want.’

House blown up

‘Went to Capitol early and was met by a reporter who told me that my beautiful house at Foxrock had been destroyed by the Republicans. Servants turned out & house blown up was all the news!!’ This is from the diaries of Sir Horace Curzon Plunkett, an Anglo-Irish politician and pioneer of agricultural cooperatives, who died 90 years ago today. His work took him abroad often, and he was in the US when the IRA destroyed his country house (along with many others). ‘Nevertheless,’ his diary for that day continues, ‘delivered a longish speech to the Wisconsin farmers at the College of Agriculture . . .’ Plunkett left behind over 50 volumes of daily diaries, all of which are available online, thanks to the National Library of Ireland, as digital photographs of every page, and transcripts. 

Plunkett was born in 1854, the third son of Admiral Edward Plunkett, 16th Baron of Dunsany, County Meath in Ireland. He was educated at Eton College and University College, Oxford, of which he became an honorary fellow in 1909. Still in his mid-20s, he went to become a cattle rancher in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming, where he remained for 10 years. He returned to Ireland in 1889 and devoted himself to the agricultural cooperative movement, first organising creameries and then, in 1894, the Irish Agricultural Organisation Society, a forerunner of similar societies elsewhere in the UK. A moderate Unionist member of Parliament for South County Dublin from 1892 to 1900, he became vice president (until 1907) of the new Department of Agriculture and Technical Instruction for Ireland, which he had been instrumental in creating.

Plunkett fought strongly for an independent Ireland as chairman of the Irish Convention and, in 1919, as founder of the Irish Dominion League and of the Plunkett Foundation for Cooperative Studies. Between 1918 and 1922, the cooperative movement was targeted by the Black and Tans and other British government forces, as the creameries were alleged to be centres of sedition. Factories were wrecked and burned, stock was destroyed, and trade was interrupted. Plunkett's protests were unheeded and demands for compensation were rejected. In 1922, after the Anglo-Irish Treaty was implemented, Plunkett was nominated to the first Seanad Éireann, the upper chamber of the parliament of the new Irish state. During a visit to the US in 1923, his large house was one of many destroyed by the IRA. Subsequently, he moved to live in Weybridge, England. 

Plunkett, who never married, was made a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1902 and Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order in 1903. He continued to promote and spread his ideas for agricultural cooperatives, advising politicians at home and abroad. He died on 26 March 1932. Further biographical information is available from Wikipedia, Dictionary of Irish Biography, and Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Plunkett was a committed diarist, making entries nearly every day for over 50 years. Although full of the details of his daily work they are surprisingly interesting and broad-ranging. The National Library of Ireland holds 52 volumes, starting in 1881 and continuing through until the last year of his life. Every page of every volume is available to view through the Library’s website (though this can be a little confusing to navigate). Also, transcripts for every one of the annual diaries are available online as transcribed, annotated and indexed by Kate Targett, a Fellow of the Plunkett Foundation. That said there seems to be no links to these transcripts from any part of the Library’s website, but they can be accessed individually using this URL, and then changing the year (i.e. by replacing 1881 with 1882 etc.)

http://www.nli.ie/pdfs/diaries_of_sir_horace_curzon_plunkett/1881_diary_of_sir_horace_curzon_plunkett.pdf

Here are several extracts taken from those transcripts, including one which refers to the destruction of his house, and another in which he describes listening to his mother’s diaries - his mother being the ‘most intimate friend of Florence Nightingale’.

10 September 1900
‘Got up at 5.30 A.M. took a cup of tea & worked at my speech for the night – my first reply to the attack of the Ardilaunites. Then all day I worked & at night I made the best speech I ever made. I think it will have increased my influence & my power for good. There was opposition in plenty at the meeting but that only brought me out. They have no case.

During the morning the memorial requesting me to withdraw was presented by Prof’r. Dowden, Nutting & Ball (the last is to oppose me). It was signed by 750 so they said by affidavit. But I am not to have the signatures.’

9 December 1900
‘Carey snored like a blast furnace & kept me awake most of the night. Started at 8 AM for a bitterly cold 3 hour (15 miles!) drive to Lookout Station across the Laramie plains. There got into a warm sleeper for Omaha. En route to Cheyenne saw the new grade of the U.P.R’y which gets round Sherman summit. The wisdom of this was illustrated by our train breaking in two climbing up the hill. At Cheyenne dropped Carey & picked up Windsor.’

15 May 1906
‘The Council of Agriculture met. The air was electric. I plunged into the constitutional question to be submitted to the Committee of Inquiry & laid down propositions which if accepted would have secured the status quo for the Department. If rejected would have produced the worst kind of Devolution – that is, delegation of business to politicians. The Council did neither. Its sense was on my side, its fears were against me! Moral cowardice illustrated & emphasised. I was well but timidly received. The Council was invited in the evening to Glasnevin & enjoyed the visit. Moore & Prof’r. Campbell did well.’

30 July 1906
‘Irish office, Treasury, J[oh]n Sinclair, Tommy, Caroe, & Conny & Raymond took the whole day.

Consulted Haig the Vegetarian. Chief points were, Reduce tea gradually. Morning worst time for tea. His patients got the early morning brightness without it. Breads better not brown - Hovis anathema. Nuts a complete food, walnuts, hazel, pine kernel. Best almonds but less digestible - roast them but don’t use salt - provokes cancer. Cheeses Caerphilly, Gruyere. Cheaper sorts best because less fat. 3 lemons in quart of milk in 2 hours produces 6 oz curd. Eat like Devonshire cream. Fish whiting or haddock boiled the best. Pruritis will certainly disappear with vegetarian diet & certainly not without. Avoid acids with starchy foods.’

22 April 1922
‘An emergency meeting of the Council of the Chamber of Commerce to decide what (if any) action should be taken to protest against the militarism threatening the country’s very existence as a self supporting one. On Monday a general strike, ordained by the Sovietists, as a protest against militarism looks to the bourgeoisie a remedy worse than the disease. On Wed[nesda]y the Dail is to meet and decide whether, & if yes where, an election is to be held. I found the Council discussing platitudinous resolutions to be debated by the whole Chamber 10 days hence, the earliest consistently with the rules. I proposed scrapping the rules and holding the meeting Tuesday. I spoke with some warmth (& effect) & carried my point. But I shall have to speak! & may have my house burned.’

5 August 1922
‘Packed off the Fingalls in a taxi, which hauled my “broken down” car into the Dublin garage. Went to see Commandant Staines in the H.Q. in Henry St. He was away. His deputy Welsh [sic] received me with friendliness and I told him of the car incident. Also that the charwoman, who comes in on Sat[urda]y morning, had brought the report that my house was to be burned tonight. Urged again the occupation of Foxrock & Carrickmines stations. Lunched at Kildare St Club where Robinson told me he had been visited & asked for his car with a revolver pointed at his forehead. He put his hand in his (empty) pocket & refused to give the car. The raiders thereupon said they did not want it!

J. Clerc Sheridan came for week-end. He is an Irishman from South Africa & bears a letter from Smuts advising Irishmen to listen to his words of wisdom on Dominionism. He seems very nice & well informed.’

30 January 1923
‘Went to Capitol early and was met by a reporter who told me that my beautiful house at Foxrock had been destroyed by the Republicans. Servants turned out & house blown up was all the news!!

Nevertheless delivered a longish speech to the Wisconsin farmers at the College of Agriculture & then spoke at the Capitol (as chief speaker) at the dedication of a hideous tablet to Charles McCarthy. On both occasions I was very well received. They didn’t know of my misfortune and I don’t know how it will affect my influence in Irish America.’

1 April 1923
‘A really good sleep this Easter Sunday night ended the worst suffering of my life. Whatever they say about the wonderful progress in the technique of this operation, it has not been rendered easy to be borne. But my previous bladder opening and the nearby operation for the X-ray burn had doubtless made me unduly sensitive. As bad luck would have it, a carbuncle developed inside the wound. However all is going well and this week I may well be moved to this Nursing Home’s (4 Dorset Sq N.W.1) branch at Brighton.

Gerald Heard - I have hardly seen any callers - has been wonderfully kind. He is a treasure. He is reading to me my mother’s diaries from her marriage on. It is a wonderful picture (so far) of Sherborne & Dunsany life. She was the most intimate friend of Florence Nightingale many of whose letters are inserted though many, many more were burned! She also had an intimacy with Princess Sophia (daughter of George III) after whom my eldest sister “Mary Elizabeth Sophia” was called. Unhappily the diaries are about one half religion of the dreariest imaginable kind.’

9 April 1929
‘To town to talk to Gerald about a permanent secretary. Never have I realised so clearly that it is not good for man to live or be alone. I must have a companion or come to town & be done for in a service flat. Gerald thinks the man with the necessary qualifications may exist but can’t be found. I admit it will be sheer luck if I do find him. A man who has no life of his own to live would be in all probability useless to me. If he had his own life to live he could not fulfil my conditions. The only chance is to find some one whose life has been accidentally interrupted as mine has by senescence. A widower, or one who has prematurely lost his job through ill health would be my best “strike”.’

Newfoundland’s Dr Rusted

Dr Nigel Rusted, a Canadian doctor much honoured and credited with having made outstanding contributions to the medical profession in Newfoundland and Labrador, died 10 years ago today - aged 104! Throughout his long life he kept daily diaries, one per year, for nearly 90 years. All these diaries, every manuscript page of them, are available online thanks to the Memorial University of Newfoundland - Digital Archives Initiative.

Rusted was born, son of a reverend, in 1907 in Salvage, Newfoundland, the eldest of six children, and grew up in Upper Island Cove. He attended the newly-established Memorial University College, graduating in 1927, before training at Dalhousie Medical School. During two summers, he worked as health officer aboard the SS Kyle which visited communities along the Labrador coast. On qualifying, he took a position at St. John’s General Hospital (New Brunswick). But, after suffering a severe throat infection in 1935, he worked on the floating clinic ship MV Lady Anderson for a year. He married Florence Anderson and they had three children.

In 1936, Rusted opened a private clinic in St. John’s and also became a junior surgeon at the General Hospital. He married From 1954 to 1968, he served as chief surgeon; he also served as medical director, chief of staff and chief surgeon at the Grace General Hospital, and senior consultant at St John’s two other hospitals. In 1968, with the opening of Memorial University’s medical school, he was appointed Clinical Professor of Surgery.

Rusted retired from surgery in 1982 and from clinical practice in 1987. Over the years, he received numerous honours, including the Order of Newfoundland and Labrador and the first William B. Spaulding Certificate of Merit for contribution to the history of medicine in Canada. In 2011, he was made a Member of the Order of Canada. He died on 18 March 2012. Further biographical information is available at Wikipedia, the Canadian Medical Association Journal, or the Memorial University’s website.

Rusted kept a daily journal from 1925 through to the year of his death - 88 yearly diaries in all. Every single one of them has been digitalised and made available online by the Digital Archives Initiative of the Memorial University of Newfoundland. They have not, however, been transcribed, and so, although Rusted’s handwriting is legible enough, the pages cannot be scanned or searched efficiently. Rusted also published a memoir based on his diaries and this was published by the university in 1985 - It’s Devil Deep Down There.

A spear through the throat

‘During the days march we passed many rings of fires made by the natives, doubtless for the performance of some one of their extraordinary ceremonies; the inner space in all are perfectly bare, and the small fires forming the ring are about a foot apart, in some I counted ten and in others 12 fires. [. . .] What the ring is for would be very interesting to know, perhaps in some way connected with their superstitions.’ This is  from the Australian outback expedition diary of the British naturalist John Gilbert, born 210 years ago today. He would never discover any more about the rings as that very night, after completing this diary entry, his camp was attacked by aborigines: he was killed by a spear through the throat. 

John Gilbert was born on 14 March 1812 in Newington Butts, south London. Very little is known about his childhood but aged 16 he was employed by the Zoological Society of London where he was trained by the ornithologist John Gould. In 1836, Gilbert seems to have married a widow, Catharine Clump, but she must have died for he then married Esther Sadler. He was appointed curator for a newly-established Shrewsbury natural history museum as well as for a private collector, but, before long, he was back in London, staying with Gould. Gilbert employed by Gould to take part in his forthcoming expedition to Australia to gather material for books on the birds and mammals of the (almost unexplored) new continent.

Reaching Hobart Town with his employer’s party in September 1838, Gilbert at once set about field-work in (what was then still) Van Diemen’s Land. The following February he was sent to the Swan River settlement (later to become Perth) in Western Australia. There he stayed for nearly a year, collecting birds and mammals, and making notes on their habits and native names. On returning to Sydney in April 1840, he found that the Goulds had left for England three weeks earlier. Uncertain what to do, he landed at Port Essington (in the very north of Australia), which had been smitten by a hurricane, remaining until March 1841. Landing back in England in September, he was soon persuaded by Gould to return to Australia.

On his second visit, Gilbert stayed a year and a half in Western Australia collecting over 400 specimens of birds, 300 specimens of mammals, many reptiles, and a great many plants. By the end of January 1844, he was in Sydney again, and thence travelled to the Darling Downs (east of present day Brisbane). There, he joined an expedition to Port Essington led by Ludwig Leichhardt, a Prussian naturalist and explorer, soon proving himself experienced enough to become second in command. However, Gilbert was killed by a spear through the neck during an aborigine attack at Mitchell River (Queensland), and died on the night of 28 June 1845. Various geographic features in Australia have been named after him, as have several animals. Further information is available from Wikipedia, the Australian National Dictionary of Biography, and the National Museums of Liverpool.

Gilbert’s three diaries of his last expedition are held by the State Library of New South Wales. The library’s website gives the following detailed description of these diaries: ‘Volume 1 is a small field notebook. The account of the journey towards Port Essington, written in ink, begins on page 81, with the heading ‘Port Essington Expedition’, and covers the period from 18 Sept. to 31 Dec. 1844. This volume also includes entries for the last part of the diary, 23 to 28 June 1845, written in ink over pencil notes (pp.2-10). Includes pencil sketches of Biggs Range (p.126), Peak Range (pp.159-160) and Expedition Range (p.164). Pages 11-59 contain notes, mainly on birds, in very faint pencil. Pages 60-79 contain diary entries from 10 March to 21 May 1844, in extremely faint pencil, for a journey which began with a steamer trip from Sydney to the Hunter River near Maitland. Volume 2 is written on sheets of paper which have since been sewn together. The account covers the period from 1 Jan. to 21 June 1845. The concluding part  of the diary is contained in volume 1. Volume 3 comprises fragments kept with the diary, including the entry for Sunday 22 June 1845.’

The diaries have not been published as such but the library does have a typed transcript freely available as a pdf on its website. Here are several extracts including the very last one, as well as a note from the transcriber on Gilbert’s death.

14 January 1845
‘Continuing our route down the Mackenzie, at 2 1⁄2 miles crossed a large Flagstone creek running in from the westward, this was the extent of the Drs. reconnoitring: from this we kept the banks of the river, passing many fine reaches of water, the banks very much cut up into deep gullies and ravines, rendering it rather difficult travelling, but our Bullocks have now become so accustomed to this sort of work, they face the crossings without any attempt to throw off their loads as at first. At about three miles from the flagstone creek we came upon a sudden bend of the river to the westward, on the opposite side of which a large creek from the eastward came in; up to this part the rivers course was about NE, it now ran West and NW for about 5 miles, at first very narrow and the bed frequently dry; at the end of a large pool we came upon the rocky shallow bed, from the sides jutted out several thin layers of Coal, nodules of Quartz, Iron stone &c were lying in the bed, but the general formation is sandstone. Here we found three new shells, a Cyclas and a Potamis and a Paludina. From this we came upon a beautiful clear grassy flat, and where we could have camped, but the bed of the river was dry: we moved on about half a mile further and camped at the junction of a small creek, the banks of the river still as steep and as difficult to reach water as before; it being but a small pool we did not succeed in catching any fish. Just before coming to camp, we saw two Native women busily engaged in collecting Mussel from the opposite bank; as soon however as they observed us they ran up the banks in the greatest fright. That we are in a country much inhabited seems clear to us all from the many indications we everywhere meet with, but more particularly from the immense collections of Mussel shells everywhere met with in heaps on the banks; as yet however we have not met with bones of fish and very few of Kangaroo and other animals. The Dr. & Brown set off to explore the river downwards, Charlie accompanied them to lead us a short stage tomorrow. We today made a discovery which is important to us all, particularly those with indifferent teeth, hitherto our dried Beef which has always been so excessively hard and ropey that, notwithstanding the different methods of cooking, always produced a pain in our jaws and gums. Today we beat the meat with a hammer before stewing and found a most agreeable change in consequence, the general flavour of the meat seems improved and the soup richer and the meat not at all stringy.’

26 May 1845
‘Today we got through the rocky pass tolerably well; one Bullock, a large & very heavy beast, was however very lame from the commencement, and the rocky days work did not at all improve the poor brute; with this exception our whole number of Bullocks travelled exceedingly well the whole day. In the afternoon, the Dr. with Brown started off to reconnoitre the next stage. The Dr. returned in the evening; Brown succeeded in shooting a Bustard & 3 Ducks, which will be a welcome breakfast to us tomorrow. Our Salt is now reduced to half a pound, which is kept for our next killing tomorrow; having not salt, none of us feel at all inclined to take our soup as formerly, but prefer having it grilled; cooked in any way dry we do not feel the loss of salt so much. While out this morning, the Dr. came upon a camp of Natives, who at first handled their spears as if disposed to stop him, but seeing that their threats had no effect, they all rushed off in the most hurried & alarmed manner: on the Dr’s return he was surprised to see they had not returned during his absence, and he helped himself to a drink of their prepared Honey water, and ate some of their potatoe-like roots. At night we had a change of weather; heavy clouds with a strong westerly wind began rising at sunset, and during the night it rained in light showers.’

6 June 1845
‘Today we made a further addition of 10 miles down the river; during the whole stage we had tolerable good travelling; there are several rocky ranges still coming upon the river bank, some of which we crossed without difficulty, and one or two of the worst parts we avoided altogether by taking the bed of the river; several large creeks came in from the North & East. During this stage, I was fortunate enough to kill for the first time Geophaps plumifera, a species hitherto only known from a single specimen sent home by Mr. Byrnes of the Beagle; the irides were bright orange; naked skin before and surrounding the eye bright crimson; bill dark greenish grey; scales of the legs and toes greenish grey; the naked skin separating the scales light ashy grey; in its flight and actions on the ground it precisely resemble the two other described species of Geophaps. I only saw the single specimen killed, but I afterwards learnt from Brown, that he had just before observed a flock rise, as do the G. scripta. At the pool of water we camped beside a second pair of Tadorna rajah was killed. The morning set in with very cloudy weather which continued during the day, with a tolerably strong breeze from the Eastward.’

28 June 1845
‘Ten miles further gives us no greater indication of the coast than hitherto: we had again rather a change of country on crossing the creek, we entered a finer forest than we have met with for some time past, the timber consisting principally of Stringy Bark, Box and Bloodwood, and very fine grass; from this we entered a flat wet country again; at about four miles we crossed a considerable creek, or as the Dr. thinks the Nassau, running to the westward; from this the remaining part of the stage was through a beautiful open country, thickly studded with Lotus ponds, at one of which we camped. Natives fires in every direction and very near us, but none of the natives seen: about a mile to our right appeared the dark line of a scrub probably edging the creek we crossed. Dendrocygna again abundant, Brown killed 6 at a shot. The wood Duck, Teal and Black duck still abound, and the Kites as numerous as ever, in fact we have marked several of them and seen them again and again at succeeding camps, so that there is no doubt that they regularly follow us from place to place, as do the crows, which we a long time ago remarked. Another new incident worth noticing are the beautifully constructed ant hills, which are miniatures of the large Turreted ant hills of Coberg Peninsula. Today we passed another of the singular constructions of the natives, which the Dr. thinks are houses. This like the former, had its piece of ground with bent sticks, and as observed in all the former ones, two detached platforms which have no marks of fires. During the days march we passed many rings of fires made by the natives, doubtless for the performance of some one of their extraordinary ceremonies; the inner space in all are perfectly bare, and the small fires forming the ring are about a foot apart, in some I counted ten and in others 12 fires. Round them at a little distance are round heaps of stones sunk in a slight hollow of the ground, where they appear to have been engaged in cooking their food, and pieces of bark or bough, showing it has been a regular camping ground. What the ring is for would be very interesting to know, perhaps in some way connected with their superstitions.’

Transcriber’s note 
‘During the night of the 28 June, the aborigines attacked the camp, throwing a shower of spears among the tents, but were frightened off with gun shots. Roper and Calvert suffered severe spear wounds. John Gilbert was killed with a spear through his throat. The site of his grave was not discovered until 1983. There is a Memorial to Gilbert in St. James Church, Sydney.’

Waiting for Horace

‘Waiting for Horace to come home. The hours drag. I wait for his footsteps - his breathing - this long day at the college must be very exhausting. I feel ready to burst into tears with loneliness and worry.’ This is an extract from the diaries of the Russian-born American poet Marya Zaturenska about her poet husband Horace Gregory. She died 40 years ago in January (see The Diary Review), and he died just a couple of months later, 40 years ago today. 

Gregory was born in 1898 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and educated mainly at home. In 1918 he visited New York and Long Island but returned to Wisconsin to attend the university in Madison. He started to write poetry while studying Latin at college; he moved to New York in 1923 to earn a living as a copywriter and reviewer. During his years in New York, he married the poet Marya Zaturenska and they had two children. A first collection of his poems - Chelsea Rooming House - came out in 1930, and is said to have combined the idiom of modern life with literary influences. Seven or so more collections would follow. He also published translations of Ovid and Catullus.

In 1933, Gregory published Pilgrim of the Apocalypse, a study of D. H. Lawrence;  and in the late 1950s, he would also write biographies of Amy Lowell and James McNeill Whistler. Together with Zaturenska he compiled A History of American Poetry, 1900-1940. He taught modern poetry and classics at Sarah Lawrence College until 1960. He was awarded the Bollingen Prize in 1965. His collected essays, Spirit of Time and Place, were published in 1973. Over the decades his work appeared in many magazines, including The New York Times, The New Yorker, Contemporary Poetry, and Poetry Magazine. He died on 11 March 1982. Further information can be found at Wikipedia, The Poetry Foundation and Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Gregory does not seem to have been a diarist but Zaturenska kept diaries throughout her life. A selection of her diary entries - replete with references to her husband - were published in 2002 as The Diaries of Marya Zaturenska 1938-1944. This can be previewed at Googlebooks and borrowed digitally from Internet Archive. See also Diary Review article on Zaturenska - Obsessed by new poems. 

Here’s a few sample extracts in which Zaturenska is close to obsessing about her husband. 

14 December 1938
‘Endless days in which the tension lifts when dear Horace comes in the house again after a hard day’s work. Count the days when the Christmas holidays will begin and we can be together. I feel safe and secure when he is near me.’

19 January 1939
‘Horace exhausted with overwork. When he returns he talks over and over again of the difficulties and strains at the school. It’s as if he couldn’t shake off the load from his shoulders.’

13 April 1939
‘Horace went to a dinner at the Oxford University Press for Auden, Isherwood and MacNeice. He had a very good time, the crowd, as is usual in these things, was diverse and curious. Freddy Prokosch, who H. says has gotten very fat in the behind, was a sort of social hostess or master of ceremonies. Auden, says Horace, was very gay and witty and Isherwood, utterly delightful. He thought that Auden bore the most amazing resemblance to the portraits of Oscar Wilde. The Boys were surrounded by fawning satellites so Horace, his curiosity satisfied, left early, having had a pleasant enough time. This must have impressed the Boys, for the next day Isherwood phoned and said they all wanted to see him again. Would he come this Sunday to a small party at Selden Rodman’s? Selden, who had been chilly for a long time, phoned too to tell Horace how much the Boys liked him and would I come to the party too. Horace said that no doubt he may have pleased them by talking lightly and cheerfully about nothing in particular and avoiding “shop” and “politics.” ’

13 May 1940
‘A rainy Saturday - closing a difficult week. Work on my book, overcome with dissatisfaction at it - do not dare to lean too heavily on Horace for criticism on it, since I feel he resents my taking his time. When he drinks nowadays I prepare for torment. He is not unjustified. I have become a complete parasite on him and my looks are going. He is nerve-wracked, overworked - no time for his own writing - isolated (and as a good wife I should build some social life around him - and I don’t seem to be able to do it). My only excuse is that I too am far from well - but my ill health has lasted so long that I may as well learn to adapt myself to it. Have had more infected teeth pulled recently. An ordeal.’

16 August 1940
‘Left for Europe on the eleventh - a hot day. Helen McMaster and my brother Max seeing us off. Excited and trembling with joy. Even Horace worn out with last-minute work at Columbia lightened up as the boat came in view. We shall never get over the delight, the joy of traveling.

Horace and I working on our poetry history book, and I’ve just finished a piece on Lizette Reese and am almost through with a piece on Adelaide Crapsey. Though Horace’s critical pieces are sounder than mine, yet I do think my little essays are well written and with a fine narrative sense and a real feeling for the form of the thing. I’m enjoying doing prose very much. And if only Horace had more time for collaboration our book would be going along at a great rate.’

15 December 1940
‘Horace turned in the manuscript of his selected book of verse, Poems, 1930-1940. Have much hope and fear for it. It’s a beautiful and powerful book.’

10 April 1941
‘Dear Horace’s birthday and the first day of real spring weather. The gold, the brightness of the green utterly astonishing. One is taken by surprise every year.

Muriel is giving a birthday party for Horace today. Dread facing people. Wish only to be with Horace. The rest of the world is full of horror, murder, poisonous spirits; the air drips blood, the ground is wet with it and the streets smell like a jungle.

Took a bus ride to town with Joanna, very lively, pretty and gay. We met Horace in front of the Forty-second Street library looking a little guilty because he had bought a new English ash walking stick at a sale. My poor dear, he needs a stick badly and he has bought almost nothing for himself.

Waiting for Horace to come home. The hours drag. I wait for his footsteps - his breathing - this long day at the college must be very exhausting. I feel ready to burst into tears with loneliness and worry.’

Depressed and neurotic

‘Home very tired, midnight. Message to phone Marcia. Did so. She is very depressed and neurotic. Talked for 75 minutes. Attacks Joe, Albert and me. Says we are all out for ourselves. Ganging up against her. And that I am out to replace her. She says she will retire to her country house and wait for HW to sack us all and come personally to ask her to return.’ This is from the Downing Street diaries of Bernard Donoughue, a political adviser to Harold Wilson. Donoghue is writing about Marcia Williams (later Baroness Falkender) - born 90 years ago today - who, notoriously, wielded a powerful influence over Wilson.

Williams was born Marcia Matilda Field in Northamptonshire on 10 March 1932. Her father, a Tory, managed a brickworks. Her mother may have been an unacknowledged illegitimate daughter of Edward VII when he was Prince of Wales. She studied history at Queen Mary College London and was chairman of the college Labour Club. In 1955, she became secretary to the General Secretary of the Labour Party, and the same year married Eddie Williams, chairman of the Conservative Club (though they divorced in 1961). A year later, she became political and private secretary to Harold Wilson, MP, a position she retained through until 1983, covering the years of his leadership of the Labour Party and his premiereship. She had two sons in the late 1960s by the former political editor of the Daily Mail, Walter Terry

Williams was elevated to the peerage in 1974 as Baroness Falkender (her mother’s maiden name). She wrote two books about her time in Downing Street: Inside Number 10 and Downing Street in Perspective. After retiring from working in Downing Street, she worked as a columnist for the Mail on Sunday, though she continued to work for Wilson, handling his private business from the time of his resignation in 1976 until his death in 1995. 

Throughout the Wilson years, there was much speculation about Williams’ role in No. 10, and her influence over Wilson. Indeed, when he unexpectedly resigned in 1976, it was claimed Lady Falkender drafted his controversial resignation honours list, dubbed ‘The Lavender List’ because some of the names were written on lavender-coloured paper in Lady Falkender’s handwriting. In 2007, she successfully sued the BBC for libel over her portrayal in a drama-documentary which wrongly claimed she had compiled the list and that she had included people for her own personal interests. She died in 2019. Further information is available from Wikipedia and various obituaries (The Guardian and the BBC for example). 

There is no evidence that Williams kept a diary, but she figures very prominently in the first volume of diaries kept by Wilson’s political adviser, Bernard Donoughue - Downing Street Diary: with Harold Wilson in No. 10 (see Donoughue's Downing Street Diary). The book can be freely borrowed and read online at Internet Archive. Here are two extracts which give insight into how Williams wielded her power within Wilson’s entourage.

7 March 1994
‘In the morning I telephone Marcia from home. She was ill. Had fainted in the night. Not coming into the office this morning. I offered to bring her in by car, but she declined.

Went in to Downing Street at 9.30. HW seeing ministers. I talked to Jim Callaghan. Saw Albert Murray, who is very depressed about his insecure position in the PM’s entourage. He is a marvellous cockney and we must help him. [. . .]

Return to my room at noon. There waiting are Mary Wilson, Marcia and HW’s long-time housekeeper, Mrs Pollard (also from a Northamptonshire village close to where Marcia and I were born). They want me to recruit a cook for No. 10 to provide meals at all times. We spend some time discussing this. I had not realised I was also to be head of catering, but it appears so. I have already secured a fridge, an infra-red stove and a lot of frozen food. Now we need personnel.

Gerald Kaufman joins us. A family gathering.

But Marcia is jumpy. We go off upstairs to lunch - HW, Marcia, Joe, Albert and myself. Discuss appointments. Marcia starts a row over the exclusion of Bill Rodgers from the government. She thinks it is wrong and a political mistake. Joe and HW say that he was not a complete success as a minister previously. She says nor were most of the people he has appointed. It would be a stupid error, possibly a disaster, to leave Bill out.

I sit silent at first because they all know I am a friend of Bill’s. Then I said I thought he was very capable and disagreed with their criticism. But could not see how my intervention at this stage would help.

At the end of the meal Marcia walks out in a temper and HW is clearly upset. She had attacked him viciously in front of the waiter. He was very calm and patient with her. I get the feeling that everything he does in politics is to please her. He does not care about the people, the party or himself. She is the daughter who he delights in, however outrageous, and who he is working to please. It is amazing to watch. His patience with her is endless.

He leaves the table and Joe goes to help him with the next speech.

I go downstairs and have some appointments. I went into Marcia’s room and she is there with Albert, with her coat on. She has a temperature. Is leaving. We see her out and I said I would telephone her later.

Home very tired, midnight. Message to phone Marcia. Did so. She is very depressed and neurotic. Talked for 75 minutes. Attacks Joe, Albert and me. Says we are all out for ourselves. Ganging up against her. And that I am out to replace her. She says she will retire to her country house and wait for HW to sack us all and come personally to ask her to return.

She was also disturbed by what she called my ‘coolness’. Because I never got angry or upset. She also attacked HW bitterly and said he did not understand how to deal with civil servants.

She felt upset that she had carried the brunt of supporting Bill Rodgers at lunch.

Then it all came out. That HW was no longer consulting her. And I had not telephoned her this evening. She suspected because we all wanted to appoint the government without consulting her. Quite paranoic. Yet still shafts of bright perception and immense intelligence and judgement among the neuroses.’

8 March 1974
‘Spent restless night thinking about the conversation with Marcia. Decided to offer my resignation. Have not come into this, taking massive cut in income and mistrust of old political friends, to sit up half the night being accused of self-seeking. Even worse were the attacks on Albert.

Arrive at No. 10 at 9.30 a.m., before anybody else. Sort out my letters and papers. Then go to sec HW. Tell him two points:

(1) If I stay, have decided to accept a lower position in No. 10 rather than be a deputy secretary on the staff of the Cabinet Office. I want my position to be totally at No.10. And I don’t want him bothered by my personal problems any more. It means a cut of £7,000 p.a. in my income.

(2) I report that Marcia has talked to me, is afraid I am replacing her, and that I do not wish myself or him to be in that position. Therefore he has my resignation in his pocket from that moment. And when he wishes to exercise it, I promise to say to everybody, private as well as public, that it is because of my heavy family commitments, with no mention of Marcia’s jealousy and hostility.

He is very charming, says he appreciates the offer and that the fact that I have made it means it won’t have to be exercised. He tells me that Marcia has at one time or another demanded the resignation of all his previous assistants, including G. Kaufman and J. Haines. And when HW has suggested he might sack them, each time she has reacted by saying that if he did she would resign and tell the press that he was betraying his loyal aides.’