‘This day cut short all our hopes and fears about our only remaining boy. At an early hour this morning his eye became dull, Anna tried repeatedly to make him take nourishing drink, but without effect.’ This is from the diary of John Allen Giles, an historian primarily known as a scholar of Anglo-Saxon language and history, who died 140 years ago. Though his long diary is full of relatively short and mundane entries (even about his own wedding), he does occasionally write more emotionally and at length, as in the entry about the death of his son.
Having published Scriptores Græci Minores in 1831, and a Latin Grammar in 1833, he was appointed to the headmastership of Camberwell College School, and two years later, headmaster of the City of London School. However, after losing the confidence of staff and pupils he was asked to leave in 1840. He retired to Windlesham Hall, Surrey, a house he had built, and there engaged in literary work, as well as teaching private pupils. In 1846, Giles became curate of Bampton, Oxfordshire, where he continued taking in students, and where he wrote many books, at least two of which were suppressed by Samuel Wilberforce, bishop of Oxford. He produced, among others, editions of most of the major English medieval chroniclers, including The British History of Geoffrey of Monmouth (1842), Bede’s Ecclesiastical History (1847), and The Whole Works of King Alfred the Great (1858),
In 1855, Giles was imprisoned for falsifying details of a wedding ceremony (which had been an act of kindness for one of his employees), serving three months of a year-long sentence. He moved to Notting Hill, and in 1857 took the curacy, with sole charge, of Perivale in Middlesex. In 1861 he became curate of Harmondsworth, but resigned after a year and went to live at Cranford, where he again took on pupils, subsequently moving to Ealing. In 1867 he bought the living of Sutton in Surrey, which he held for 17 years. He died at the rectory there on 24 September 1884. Further information is available at Wikipedia and the Oxford National Dictionary of Biography (log-in required).
Giles kept a diary for most of his adult life. He left behind six manuscript volumes written up, mostly in 1878, as a fair copy from rough contemporaneous notes. The manuscripts were passed down through the family, and eventually gifted to the Bodleian Library. They were edited by David Bromwich for the Somerset Record Society and published in 2000 as The Diary and Memoirs of John Allen Giles. Here are several extracts as found in the published edition.
17 December 1833
‘I was married this morning in Bridgewater parish church and went back to a collation at the house of Mr Dailey at the end of West Street, to which he had lately removed from Huntworth. After the usual ceremonies, Anna and I started in a post chaise towards Bristol on our way to Oxford; but, owing to various delays we did not get beyond Crosse, and stopped for the night at the last inn on the road towards Shut-shelf, at the angle formed by the road over the hill and the road to Axbridge.’
18 December 1833
‘We started this morning rather late by a coach which went in the direction which we intended to take; but before we had gone far, I was seized with pain similar to what I had felt some few months before, and we were obliged to stop at Whitechurch, where I passed the night very ill at ease. The people at the Inn did all they could to relieve me.’
19 December 1833
‘I was able to continue the journey to Cheltenham, where we again slept, at the Plough Inn.’
20 December 1833
‘Went on to Oxford and took apartments at a house nearly opposite All Saints church in the High Street. Douglas Giles was residing in St Mary Hall Lane.’
21 December 1833
‘We went to breakfast this morning in Corpus, at the rooms of Crouch, who was next to me in the college list, and by my removal would succeed to a fellowship. After breakfast he went off to Christ Church cathedral to be ordained, but seemed much puzzled to know whether it was necessary for him to wear a white neck-tie or not.’
6 February 1934
‘We went to a large evening party or conversazione at Mr Cantwell’s , No25 Wimpole street. Old Mr Wood, for some time an itinerant lecturer on ancient history, was present. He once spent an evening at my father’s house, and somewhat astonished me both in history and etymology. He said Stonehenge was an antediluvian structure destroyed by the deluge, and derived “righteous’’ not from “right,” but as a corruption from “rightwise.” He however made himself very agreeable this evening, and showed that he was in general very well informed.’
16 February 1934
‘Our man servant John went to Mr Pickering’s in Chancery Lane and brought home the works of Matthew Paris. The same morning Mr Charles Grant, who had taken the pencil drawing (coloured) of me several years before at Oxford, took a sitting of Anna and me for the oil paintings which we still have.’
18 February 1934
‘Anna and 1 dined with Mr Melhuish, a most wealthy and respectable merchant, living at Peckham. His son, who attended the Camberwell Collegiate School, was a very genteel and well-behaved boy, but backward in his learning, from ill health. He had some complaint in his knee, and had a stump fixed to it, on which he walked, the leg sticking out behind him caused him much embarrassment in moving about among the school-boys.’
21 February 1934
‘I spent the afternoon at the British Museum, copying out some Latin poems of George Herbert, which I was preparing to edit for Mr Pickering.’
3 March 1934
‘Anna and I dined at Mr Webb’s, where we met Dr Laing and his two daughters Nancy and Jemima. Mr Walsh also, who held a good appointment in the Custom House, an antiquary, a virtuoso, and a dandy, was present; also another gentleman who knew Bp Heber and W. H. Ireland who forged the Shakespear Manuscripts. Dr Laing kept a school of verv respectable boys, and Anna knew him from her childhood.’
24 May 1837
‘This day cut short all our hopes and fears about our only remaining boy. At an early hour this morning his eye became dull, Anna tried repeatedly to make him take nourishing drink, but without effect. At a quarter before 7 o’clock she offered him some, but he said “No, no!”. She said to him “Arté, Arté, where’s papa?” Upon which he threw back his right arm over, as I lay beside him in the bed. At 7 o’clock his breathing for a minute or two became thick: the dreadful cough was coming on, but want of strength prevented it; one or two long gasps for breath succeeded, and my poor child was gone. The room was still covered with his playthings, the box of tools which Smith the baker had given him only a week before, and the box of bricks which had so often furnished him amusement. His third birthday, if he had lived so long, would have been the 10th of September. He had endeared himself to all the family in a thousand ways: no doubt the case is the same with other persons in the case of their first two or three children, and we now felt that our house was left desolate. The little fellow used to sit with me every day in my little library at Camberwell, whilst I was writing, and would play for hours with an old knife, wooden spoon, steel pencil-case, ivory paper-knife, piece of sealing-wax and many other such articles, which I kept in the cabinet, and took out occasionally to amuse him. It was not 2 months ago that I found him in the long passage of the City of London School running up and down among 300 of the boys, all of whom seemed as delighted as he was. He was a general favourite with all our friends both at Camberwell and elsewhere. He was an especial favourite with my father and all at Frome. His second visit to Frome in last December & January had particularly endeared him to my father, who seldom came into the room without taking him on his knee and singing the old song “Arthur O’Bradley.” That which gave me the greatest pleasure was the readiness with which he acquired the names of my books. Those which he knew the best were - The Byzantine Historians - Dr Johnson’s Works - Dr Lardner’s Works - Sir Philip Sydney - The Cruquian Scholiast - Gregorius Corinthius - and the Forty Commentators. Thus, by his death our house was desolate. In the afternoon we received the visits of several friends, all of whom were grieved but not surprized to hear what had happened.’
25 May 1837
‘Mrs Thurlby, of Camberwell Grove, called and sate more than two hours with us. She was deeply grieved at the loss of our poor boy, whom, next to her only child Ann, she loved better than any body in the world. The last time she had called before this, about a week ago, Arthur no sooner saw her than he asked for a watch which she used to give him to play with, when he was at her house, which was next to our own at Camberwell. The last visit he paid her was about 5 weeks ago: I carried him part of the way, and he walked the rest, until we reached Mr Thurlby’s house. As we passed our old residence in Chatham Place, No 17, in Camberwell Grove, he said pointing to it “Der is de old house, papa!” As Mr Coleman, who occupied it, was my undertenant until my own tenancy expired, we went in to call, and Arthur went at once to the folding doors which separated the dining room from the library behind it, and said “Is dat papa’s liblaly?
3 February 1862
‘Date of a letter to me from my college friend Dr Bloxam about the Chichele professorship of History at Oxford, for which I meant to become a candidate. But my connection with Oxford was now so slight that I had little chance, and indeed cared little about it. I am naturally disinclined to discharge public duties, and above all things hate committees, whereas in these days almost every thing is done by a committee.’
13 February 1862
‘I was agreeably surprized at receiving a letter from the Rev. Evan Davies, formerly master of the Grammar School at Dorchester, of whom I had heard nothing for 40 years - Also an almost illegible letter from a stranger Mr Upton of Cashel in Ireland.
23 April 1862
‘This morning, as I was in Bosworth’s shop in Regent Street, Mr Herbert Watkin, who occupied the rooms upstairs, ran down and begged me to go up and sit for a photograph. I went by invitation to a conversazione at the Marybone Institution, where the first thing I saw was my own photograph in a frame over the fire-place.
Mr Herbert Watkin no doubt knew that I had delivered a lecture at the rooms of that institution and therefore was likely to be known to the members.
About this time I got many letters from my friends hoping I should obtain the professorship at Oxford, and from others who tried to assist me.’
24 May 1862
‘This afternoon as my servant was driving me home from W. Drayton in my dog-cart some pleasure vans came furiously along the road and struck against us, breaking the carriage in such a way that, although the owner of the vans professed to mend it, the cart was fit for nothing afterwards.’
5 July 1862
‘A garden party at Fulham Palace.’
18 August 1862
‘A letter dated this day reached me at Frank’s house, Stourbridge, but I was so pressed for time that I was obliged to return home without going to see William and Anna Louisa as I could have wished.
About this time I began to enquire about an advowson of some living which I might buy, so as to present Herbert to it hereafter. Also at this very time Mr DeBurgh, instigated by his wife, who hated me as a liberal churchman, and afterwards became a Roman Catholic, tried to eject me from the vicarage house at Harmondsworth. I of course resisted, and compelled him to consent to my remaining up to a certain time, when I promised to give up the Vicarage House.’
16 September 1862
‘Date of a letter from Sophy de Vere with a polite invitation from Mrs O’Brien to pay them a visit. Mrs O’Brien told Sophy that she could not put down my life of Thomas à Becket, so thoroughly did she agree with me about him.
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