------------------------------------------------------------------------

                          Transcriber’s Note:

This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. Superscripted
characters are indicated using a carat (‘^’). If multiple characters are
encountered, they are enclosed in brackets ‘{ }’.

Footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which they are
referenced.

A multi-page manuscript letter was included between page 188 and 189,
which are reproduced here. A transcription of the contents is provided
in the transcriber’s notes at the end of the text.

Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
see the transcriber’s note for details regarding the handling of any
other textual issues encountered during its preparation.

                           THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY

                                   OF

                              ARTHUR YOUNG

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  _Walker & Boutell, phot._

  _From a Miniature in the possession of Alfred Morrison Esq.^r_

  London Published by Smith Elder & Co 15 Waterloo Place
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                           THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY

                                   OF

                              ARTHUR YOUNG

                                  WITH

                   SELECTIONS FROM HIS CORRESPONDENCE


             ‘That wise and honest traveller“’—JOHN MORLEY

                               EDITED BY

                           M. BETHAM-EDWARDS



                    WITH PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS


                                 LONDON
                 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE
                                  1898

                         [All rights reserved]




                           INTRODUCTORY NOTE


An apology for these Memoirs is surely not needed. Whilst Arthur Young’s
famous ‘Travels in France’ have become a classic, little is known of the
author’s life, a life singularly interesting and singularly sad. Whether
regarded as the untiring experimentalist and dreamer of economic dreams,
as the brilliant man of society and the world, or as the blind, solitary
victim of religious melancholia, the figure before us remains unique and
impressive. We have here, moreover, a strong character portrayed by
himself, an honest piece of autobiography erring, if at all, on the side
of outspokenness. In his desire to be perfectly frank, the writer has
laid upon his editor the obligation of many curtailments, the Memoirs
from beginning to end being already much too long. From seven packets of
MS. and twelve folio volumes of correspondence I have put together all
that a busy public will probably care to know of Arthur Young—his
strength and weakness, his one success and innumerable failures, his
fireside and his friends. One striking and instructive feature in this
man’s history is his cosmopolitanism, his affectionate relations with
Frenchmen, Poles, Russians, Danes, Italians, Scandinavians. Never
Englishman was more truly English; never Englishman was less narrow in
his social sympathies.

The religious melancholia of his later years is explicable on several
grounds: to the influence of his friend, the great Wilberforce; to the
crushing sorrow of his beloved little daughter ‘Bobbin’s’ death; lastly,
perhaps, to exaggerated self-condemnation for foibles of his youth. Few
lives have been more many-sided, more varied; few, indeed, have been
more fortunate and unfortunate at the same time.

The Memoirs, whilst necessarily abridged and arranged, are given
precisely as they were written—that is to say, although it has been
necessary to omit much, not a word has been added or altered. Whenever a
word or sentence needed explanation or correction, the editorial note is
bracketed. The foot-notes, unless when otherwise stated, are all
editorial.

For the use of Memoirs and letters, &c., I am indebted to Mrs. Arthur
Young, widow of the late owner of Bradfield Hall, the last of Arthur
Young’s race and name, a gentleman alike in his public and private life
well worthy of his distinguished ancestry.

Mr. Arthur Young, who died last year, is buried beside the author of the
‘Travels in France,’ in the pretty little churchyard of Bradfield, near
Bury St. Edmunds.

                                                            M. B.-E.




                                CONTENTS

                               CHAPTER I

                    CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH, 1741-1759

                                                                 PAGE


  Ancestry—Anecdotes—Childhood—School life—Inoculation—The          1
    paternal character—Mrs. Kennon—Letters to a schoolboy—A
    mercantile apprenticeship—A youthful love affair—Family
    troubles—A gloomy outlook


                              CHAPTER II

                    FARMING AND MARRIAGE, 1759-1766


  The gay world—A call on Dr. Johnson—A venture—Offer of a         26
    career—Farming decided upon—Garrick—Marriage—Mr.
    Harte—Lord Chesterfield on farming—Literary
    work—Correspondence—Birth of a daughter


                              CHAPTER III

                   IN SEARCH OF A LIVING, 1767-1775


  Home travels—A move—Anecdote of a cat—Disillusion—‘A             44
    Farmer’s Letters’—Another move—‘In the full blaze of her
    beauty’—Hetty Burney and her harpsichord—‘Scant in
    servants’—Maternal solicitude—Money difficulties—More
    tours—Lord Sheffield—Howard the
    philanthropist—Correspondence


                              CHAPTER IV

                          IRELAND, 1776-1778


  The journey to Ireland—Characteristics—Residence at              66
    Mitchelstown—Intrigues—A strange bargain—Departure—Letter
    to his wife—A terrible journey


                               CHAPTER V

                  FARMING AND EXPERIMENTS, 1779-1782


  Corn bounties—A grievance—Reading—Hugh Boyd—Bishop               83
    Watson—Howlett on population—Irish Linen
    Board—Experiments—Correspondence


                              CHAPTER VI

                  FIRST GLIMPSE OF FRANCE, 1783-1785


  Birth of Bobbin—Ice baths—‘The Annals of Agriculture’—A         110
    group of friends—Lazowski—First glimpse of France—Death of
    my mother—The Bishop of Derry—Fishing parties—Rainham


                              CHAPTER VII

                    FIRST FRENCH JOURNEY, 1786-1787


  Death of my brother—Anecdotes of his character—Dr. Burney on    138
    farming—Greenwich _versus_ Eton—Blenheim—Correspondence
    with Dr. Priestley—County toasts—French projects—First
    French journey


                             CHAPTER VIII

          TRAVEL AND INTERNATIONAL FRIENDSHIPS, 1788-89-1790


  The Wool Bill—Sheridan’s speech—Count                           163
    Berchtold—Experiments—Second French journey—Potato-fed
    sheep—Cost of housekeeping—Chicory—Burnt in
    effigy—Correspondence—Third French journey—With Italian
    agriculturists—Bishop Watson and Mr.
    Luther—Correspondence—Literary work—Illness—The state of
    France


                              CHAPTER IX

                     PATRIOTIC PROPOSALS, 1791-92


  Illness—Correspondence with Washington—The King’s gift of a     189
    ram—Anecdotes—Revising MSS.—Patriotic proposals—Death of
    the Earl of Orford—Agricultural schemes—Correspondence


                               CHAPTER X

                    THE BOARD OF AGRICULTURE, 1793


  The Board of Agriculture—Secretaryship—Residence in             219
    London—Twenty-five dinners a month—The King’s bull—The
    Marquis de Castries—‘The Example of France’—Encomiums
    thereof—Correspondence


                              CHAPTER XI

                    THE SECRETARYSHIP, 1794-95-1796


  The Secretaryship and its drawbacks—Social                      241
    compensations—Illness and death of Elizabeth Hoole—Letters
    of Jeremy Bentham and others—A visit to Burke—Home
    travels—Enclosures


                              CHAPTER XII
                   ILLNESS AND DEATH OF BOBBIN, 1797


  Illness of Bobbin—Letters of Bobbin and her father’s            263
    replies—Dress minutes at the opera—Hoping against
    hope—Bobbin’s death—Seeking for
    consolation—Retrospection—Beginning of
    diary—Correspondence


                             CHAPTER XIII

              DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE, 1798, 1799, 1800


  Assessed taxes—Society—Mr. Pitt and the Board of                312
    Agriculture—A foolish joke—Dinners to poor
    children—Interview with the King—Royal
    farming—Correspondence—Bradfield—Incidents of home
    travel—Portrait of a great lady—Correspondence


                              CHAPTER XIV

                      DIARY CONTINUED, 1801-1803


  Public affairs and prophecy—The divining rod—The                347
    appropriation of waste lands—The word ‘meanness’
    defined—South’s sermons—Projected theological
    compendia—Correspondence—Journalising to ‘my
    friend’—Anecdote of Dean Milner and Pitt—Death of the Duke
    of Bedford—Napoleon and Protestantism


                              CHAPTER XV

                   APPROACHING BLINDNESS, 1804-1807


  A great preacher—Arthur Young the younger goes to               391
    Russia—Cowper’s letters—Mrs. Young’s illness—Dr.
    Symonds—Novel reading—Skinner’s ‘State of Peru’—Death of
    Pitt—Burke’s publishing accounts—Literary
    projects—Approaching blindness


                              CHAPTER XVI

                         LAST YEARS, 1808-1820


  Gradual loss of sight—Illness and death of Mrs. Oakes—Daily     441
    routine—A disappointment—Riots—Death of Mrs.
    Young—Anecdotes of Napoleon—A story of the Terror—National
    distress—Close of diary—The end


  INDEX                                                           475




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


 PORTRAIT OF ARTHUR YOUNG                                 _Frontispiece_
 BRADFIELD HALL AS IN ARTHUR YOUNG’S TIME                   _to face p._
                                                                     127
 FACSIMILE OF LETTER FROM ARTHUR YOUNG TO MISS YOUNG              ”  188
 PORTRAIT OF ‘BOBBIN’ (MARTHA YOUNG)                              ”  265
 ARTHUR YOUNG’S TOMB AT BRADFIELD                                 ”  472




                             AUTOBIOGRAPHY

                                   OF

                              ARTHUR YOUNG

[Illustration]




                               CHAPTER I
                     CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH, 1741-1759

Ancestry—Anecdotes—Childhood—School life—Inoculation—The paternal
    character—Mrs. Kennon—Letters to a schoolboy—A mercantile
    apprenticeship—A youthful love affair—Family troubles—A gloomy
    outlook.


I was born at Whitehall, London, on September 11, 1741, many years after
my brother John and my sister Elizabeth Mary. In examining the family
papers from which the following detail is drawn, I should observe that
difficulties often occurred by reason of the ancient hand-writing of
many documents, and from several being written in the Latin language not
easily deciphered; but the circumstances relative to the following dates
were clearly ascertained as far as they are noted. The principal object
is the possession of the Manor of Bradfield Combust, which is traced in
the family of Canham till it came by marriage into that of Young.
Bartholomew Canham the elder had two sons and two daughters. In 1672 he
transferred Bradfield Hall, manor and lands to Arthur Young, married to
Elizabeth, his daughter. The Young shield bears a Field Argent, three
Bends sable and a Lyon rampant; that of Canham a Field Gule, Bend Argent
charged with a cannon ball sable, the Bend cotised with Or. The estate
had been purchased in 1620 by my ancestor of Sir Thomas, afterwards Lord
Jermyn of Rushbrooke, being part of the great possessions of that
family. The steward who acted for Sir Thomas was Martin Folkes, ancestor
of the present Sir Martin Folkes. And here it is curious to observe the
different results affecting the posterity of the private gentleman who
purchases, and of the steward of the great man who sells—I am a poor
little gentleman, and Sir Martin Folkes owner of an estate not far short
of 10,000_l._ a year. My father, Dr. Arthur Young, inherited Bradfield
from my grandfather, Bartholomew Young, Esq., called Captain from a
command in the Militia, and it is remarkable that with only a part of
the present Bradfield estate he lived genteely and drove a coach and
four on a property which in these present times just maintains the
establishment of a wheel-barrow.

Dr. Arthur Young, my father, was educated at Eton and admitted to
Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, in 1710, afterwards settling at Thames Ditton,
Surrey. He was so much liked by the inhabitants that they elected him,
against a violent opposition of the inferior classes, minister of that
parish. Whether the ladies of the place had a particular influence I
know not, but he was a remarkably handsome man and six feet high. It was
here he became acquainted with Miss Anne Lucretia de Cousmaker, to whom
he was afterwards married. She was the daughter of John de Cousmaker,
Esq., who came to England with King William III., bringing with him a
fortune of 80,000_l._, the greater part of which he was deprived of by
the imprudence of one or two of his sons. If ever there existed in human
form an Israelite without guile, it was this worthy man; and it gives me
great pleasure to reflect on the extreme respect and affection which
were always felt for him and my dear mother. Mr. de Cousmaker, my
maternal grandfather, was executor and residuary legatee to a Mrs.
Keene, on which account he could have legally possessed himself of an
estate left by her. With an honesty unexampled he would not take one
penny of it, but exerted himself with incredible industry to discover
some distant relation to whom he might transfer the property. He did
find one who had no legal claim, and he gave him the estate. This Mr.
Keene dying without issue, his widow told my grandfather that out of
gratitude she would provide for two of his children. To a daughter she
left an annuity of 300_l._ a year, to a son an estate which passed on to
his descendants.

My mother brought a fortune to my father, the amount I know not, but it
was sufficient to demand the settlement of the Bradfield estate upon her
for life. She was of a very amiable, cheerful disposition, loved
conversation, for which she had a talent, and read a great deal on
various subjects. The residence at Thames Ditton resulted in a
friendship with the Onslow family, which proved highly advantageous to
my father. General, then Colonel Onslow, appointed him chaplain to his
own regiment, and the General’s brother, Speaker of the House of
Commons, also named him chaplain, a step which afterwards led to the
prebendaryship of Canterbury. Mr. Speaker Onslow and the Bishop of
Rochester were my godfathers. Colonel, afterwards General Onslow, was in
the estimation of the world a highly respectable character, in the
formation of which it may easily be supposed that religion formed no
part from the following anecdote. One Sunday morning his wife obtained
his permission to read a chapter of the Bible, but he first bolted the
door lest the servants should witness the performance. He was afraid
that the matter might reach the ears of his Commander-in-Chief, the Duke
of Cumberland, who to much brutality of character added the abhorrence
of a soldier troubling his head about religion.

In 1734 my father published his ‘Historical Dissertations on Idolatrous
Corruptions in Religion,’ a very learned work which is quoted by
Voltaire. In 1742 he was in Flanders acting as chaplain to Colonel
Onslow’s regiment, and I have found among his papers the journal of a
tour made through Brabant, Flanders, and a part of Picardy; on the
whole, it is interesting, and the cheapness of living therein described
is remarkable. The following letter is from my father to his relation,
his Excellency Governor Vassy, relating to the conduct of General
Ingoldsby (who married my mother’s sister) at the battle of Fontenoy,
and which throws a little additional light upon that transaction, though
at the expense of the Commander-in-Chief.

                              ‘Bradfield Hall: July 22, 1745 (O.S.).

  ‘Dear Sir,—My last, which I wrote some time before our Parliament
  broke up, was of such a length as I suppose has tired you of my
  correspondence, since which I, having been here in the country, have
  had nothing of news worth troubling you with. I make little doubt but
  that our friend Ingoldsby’s behaviour has made much the same figure in
  your publick papers as your Appius’s has done in ours. But I can
  assure you, Sir, that, notwithstanding the account published in our
  Gazette, he behaved like a good and a brave officer. A court-martial
  has set upon him, but what the result of it is we know not as yet. But
  fear the worst, since the clearing of him must reflect upon a King’s
  son who has the command of an Army. I have enclosed his case, which
  contains as much of the truth as he could have leave to print, at the
  bottom of which you will find something wrote which his Royal Highness
  commanded particularly to be left out. But if you, Sir, who are nearer
  to the Army than we are, desire a more particular account of this
  affair, your nephew Everet, who will continue here with us for more
  than a month longer, shall give you the full detail of it.

  ‘If, dear Sir, the gentleman who is the bearer of this shall want your
  protection, I recommend him to it; he is going to the Army as my
  substitute. His name is Gough, and is nephew to Captain Gough, who is
  a member of the House of Commons and director of, and the great
  manager in, our East India Company. All that I particularly ask in
  behalf of him is that you will give him your directions how to find
  our Army, and, if it be necessary, to halt in your garrison.

                       ‘I am, dear Sir,
                             ‘Your Excellency’s kinsman and servant,
                                                         ‘T. YOUNG.’

Ingoldsby was cruelly used at the battle of Fontenoy by the Duke of
Cumberland, who had sent him orders to put himself at the head of a
detachment to attack a temporary redoubt which the French had thrown up,
but gave him no directions to take cannon; and when Ingoldsby arrived at
the spot he saw the necessity. He instantly dispatched his Aide-de-camp
to demand cannon, but before they came the position of the troops
changed, and an order came to draw off. No consequences attended this
business, nor had it any effect on the loss of the battle; but an
opportunity was taken to throw the whole blame on Ingoldsby, and to
attach to him all the consequences of that defeat. Ingoldsby complained
of this, and Ligonier himself came to him from the Duke to assure him
that the D. knew his bravery, and highly valued him, but advised him by
all means to be quiet, and everything would blow over, and the business
be forgotten. Nothing had been said on the affair, but to save the
reputation of the Duke. Mrs. Ingoldsby, losing all patience at his not
being promoted according to promise, never let him rest till he
published his case, which put an end to all hope of promotion in the
Army, and he was obliged to retire. He was in all the Duke of
Marlborough’s campaigns, and served with great reputation to the moment
of the battle of Fontenoy.

When I was of a proper age to be placed at school, a choice had to be
made between those of Bury St. Edmunds and Lavenham[1]; no possible
motive could induce any one to think of the latter, except the
circumstance of my father having been there himself. The master of the
former school, Mr. Kinsman, was one of the finest scholars of his age,
and is mentioned with much respect by Cumberland in his memoirs.[2]
Whilst the matter was in abeyance the Rev. M. Coulter, Master of
Lavenham School, came to Bradfield, and my mother, unfortunately for me,
was so much pleased with the extreme good temper manifested in his
countenance that she persuaded my father to entrust me to his care. I
was accordingly sent to that wretched place. I was to learn Latin and
Greek, with arithmetic, but whether from being a favourite or from the
diversion of frequent visits home, I afterwards found myself so
ill-grounded in the above languages that for some time before I left the
school I found it necessary to give much attention to them in order to
recover the lost time. It is easy to suppose how much I was indulged
from one instance among many others. At dinner the first dish the boys
were helped to was pudding, which I disliked, and was excused from
eating—the case of no other pupil. As to correction, I have no
recollection of receiving any thing of the sort.[3] I had, however, a
sufficient awe of the Master. During the last years of my stay I had a
pointer and gun, and often went out with Mr. Coulter, he with a
partridge net and I with my gun. I had a room to myself and a neat
collection of books. I remember beginning to write a history of England,
thinking that I could make a good one out of several others. How early
began my literary follies! I seemed to have a natural propensity for
writing books. The following bill for a year’s schooling and board must
in the present period (about 1816) be considered a curiosity:—‘The Rev.
Dr. Young to John Coulter, Xmas 1750, to Xmas 1751. A year’s board, &c.
15_l._ Sundries 2_l._ 4_s._ 4_d._ Total 17_l._ 4_s._ 4_d._’ I find from
a memorandum book of my mother’s that in 1746 beef was 3_d._, veal
3_d._, and mutton 3½_d._ per pound at Bury.

About the year 1753 I was inoculated. This was a scheme of my mother’s
which she had more than once proposed, but my father would not consent
to it. Taking, however, the opportunity of his visit to Cambridge, she
ventured on the experiment. At this period inoculation was so little
understood that it is utterly astonishing how anyone could escape;
instead of the cool regimen afterwards prescribed by Sutton,[4] the
practice was to keep the patient’s chamber as close and hot as possible,
the shutters were kept up, and the door never opened without being shut
speedily. I suffered much, and Dr. Kerrich, the physician at Bury, for
some time attended every day. It pleased the Almighty that I should
recover, one of many instances in which His providence preserved a
wretch who was to sin against Him by a multitude of offences. When my
father returned and I ran out to meet him, my mother exclaimed in a
triumphant tone, ‘There! I have had Arthur inoculated, and you enjoy the
comfort of knowing that your boy has had that terrible disorder.’ My
father looked at me, but neither spoke a word on the subject then nor
ever after. This was his way—resolute in rejecting all proposals
touching upon novelty, and cool after their accomplishment. In an
inferior circumstance he showed the same temper, as I will relate. The
family pew at church was a wretched hole, lined with ragged cloth and
covered with dust; the pulpit also was tumbling with age and rottenness.
On my father’s going to London and leaving my brother at Bradfield, he
begged permission to have a new pew and pulpit. This was refused. ‘Good
enough, Jack!’ said my father. But Jack attacked his mother, and set the
carpenter to work, who made a spacious pew, with one for the servants,
new pulpit and reading desk. The first Sunday my father went to church,
on approaching the place, he stopped short, surveyed all three with
great attention, said nothing, and on joining the family party home
never opened his lips, nor ever after mentioned the subject. He was
inwardly pleased, but not gracious enough to confess it. There was in
Dr. Young a strong mixture of obstinacy and _sang-froid_, as the
preceding anecdotes prove.

In 1753 I went to London, and find by an old pocket-book that I saw Mr.
Garrick in ‘Archer,’[5] heard the Oratorio, ‘The Messiah,’ spent an
evening at Ranelagh, and viewed the Tower and St. Paul’s. I also
remember visiting the widow of General Ingoldsby, who opened her house
every evening to all comers, nor was the number of fashionable people
inconsiderable. John Wilkes, afterwards so well known, I met there more
than once; he was then considered a wit. Mrs. Ingoldsby made a point of
going to Court at least twice a year, but I never heard her repeat any
other conversation with the King than complaining to him how much she
was afflicted with rheumatism.

In 1754 died Mrs. Sidney Kennon, a lady highly respected and well known
as the midwife to the Princess of Wales; she also brought into the world
my brother, sister and myself, and was a very old friend of my father’s,
and him she left executor and residuary legatee. That her professional
emoluments were of some consideration was proved by the fact of a
gentleman after her decease presenting her executor with fifty guineas
as her fee for having delivered his wife. By her will all her furniture
and a great collection of medals, bronzes, shells, curiosities, books on
natural history, &c. with money in the funds, came into his possession,
to the amount of nearly five thousand pounds. By a codicil she had
ordered that her servants should be retained and the house kept for six
months after her death, in consequence of which our family moved into
her residence in Clifford Street. It was, of course, to be expected that
my father would sell all the curiosities, but that a clergyman, a man of
learning, having a son of my brother’s attainments should dispose of
such a collection, was not looked for; my maternal Uncle, de Cousmaker,
dining one day at the house enquired as to my father’s intentions. On
being informed that everything would go to an auction, he asked the
price. My father replied that the articles had not been valued, but he
supposed that they would fetch fifty or sixty pounds. Mr. de C. at once
offered sixty guineas, the bargain was struck, and the books departed
next day, to our great mortification; the price was preposterous, as the
collection contained many curious and scarce publications, and my Uncle
afterwards sold many of the duplicates for a greater amount than he had
given for the whole, yet retaining a most valuable number. As a proof of
the worth of what might be called Mrs. Kennon’s Museum, I insert a
letter to her from Sir Martin Folkes, President of the Royal Society.

  ‘Madame,—I am sorry I had not the happiness of seeing you when I was
  last to wait on you, but will take another opportunity of paying my
  respects. The worms you were pleased to send seem to me the very same
  I received from Holland, and which I was in the utmost distress for,
  being quite out, and my Polypes in great want, so that a word of
  instruction, how I may get at some of these worms, will be a great
  obligation. When I had the honour of leaving you a Polype, I had never
  a one by me with a young one fairly put out, so here was one
  beginning. I now beg leave to send you such a one; and when you are
  disposed to cut one will wait on you, and show it you in a microscope,
  if you have not yet seen it. I beg leave to return very many thanks
  for the favour of seeing your noble collection of rarities, and have
  hardly talked of anything else since.

                  ‘I am, Madam, with the sincerest respect,
                      ‘Your ladyship’s most obedient humble servant,
                                                     ‘M. FOLKES.

  ‘May 6, 1743.

Doddington, in his diary, under the date of June 28, 1750, mentions
supping at this lady’s house, in company with Lady Middlesex, Lord
Bathurst, and Lady Torrington; and in the ‘World’ (No. 114) there is a
humorous paper on the distinctions between noble birth, great birth, and
no birth, in which the writer says, ‘I never suspected that it could
possibly mean the shrivelled tasteless fruit of an old genealogical
tree. I communicated my doubts, and applied for information to my late,
worthy, and curious friend, Mrs. Kennon, whose valuable collection of
fossils and minerals, lately sold, sufficiently prove her skill and
researches in the most recondite parts of nature. She, with that
frankness and humanity which were natural to her, assured me that it was
all a vulgar error, in which, however, the nobility and gentry prided
themselves; but that, in truth, she had never observed the children of
the quality to be wholesomer and stronger than others, but rather the
contrary, which difference she imputed to certain causes which I shall
not here specify.’ I possess several letters written to this lady by the
Governor of Bermuda, Mr. Popple, in 1739 and 1740, in which he considers
her of sufficient importance to request that she would speak a good word
for him in behalf of his being removed to a better Government, or some
other employment at home, and concludes a letter with saying, ‘I believe
your present power to assist your absent friends is now as great as I
have always thought your inclination was.’

When my father returned to Bradfield, after passing the winter in
London, he pulled down the old part of the house, a wretched lath and
plaster ill-contrived building; then, to the astonishment of every one,
he employed a hedge carpenter to rebuild exactly on the old foundations.
Thereby was constructed a mansion which had not a single room free from
every fault that could be found, whether as to chimney, doors, windows,
or connecting passages, and this at a larger expense than need have cost
an excellent house. The new stables, with coach-house, brew-house and
offices, were built of brick, and cost 500_l._ It was rather whimsical
to give his horses, carriage, and brewery[6] the warmth of solid walls,
and to house himself in lath and plaster; but in fixing his new
farmery,[7] a sad error was committed. The whole interposed between the
dwelling, and four acres of turf dotted with beautiful oaks. My poor
father, however, did not live to enjoy his improvements, for he was very
soon seized with a dropsy, and which—as will be seen—terminated his
life. During one of his journeys to London in order to consult a doctor,
occurred a circumstance so whimsical that I must mention it. Several
sleepless nights made him take it into his head that anything would be
better than a bed; as an experiment at one inn he ordered that a hole
should be cut in a haystack, in which he passed the night. But it is
time to return to myself. During all these years I was at Lavenham
School reading Cæsar, Sallust, Homer and the Greek Testament, when a
sudden whim seized my father, and he ordered Latin and Greek to be
discarded and algebra to take their place. I thus became absorbed in
Saunderson.[8] But what commanded more of my attention at this time was
a very different branch of learning, namely, the lessons of a dancing
master; he came once a week from Colchester to teach the boys, also some
young ladies of the neighbourhood, two of whom made terrible havoc with
my heart. The first was Miss Betsy Harrington, a grocer’s daughter,
admitted by all to be truly beautiful; the second of my youthful flames
was Miss Molly Fiske, a clergyman’s sister. For one or two years we
corresponded, but afterwards I went away, and she married the Rev. M.
Chevalier, of Aspall. Long after her marriage she told me that she had
accepted that gentleman on finding that I did not come forward with the
proposal. Her fortune was 4,000_l._

              _Arthur Young, from his Sister Elisa Maria_

                                                              ‘1755.

  ‘Dear Brother,—I acknowledge it’s very long since I last wrote to you,
  but I enclose you my excuses, and what was I assure you the occasion
  of my delay. I designed making you a present of lace for a pair of
  ruffles, and the weather had been so bad that it was too dirty for me
  to go out and get them. I hope they will engage your approbation,
  which is all I desire, and you’ll do me honor in wearing them. I’ve
  not yet seen Miss Aspin, and believe I shall not till Monday, when we
  propose going to Gen^l Onslow’s, and calling upon her in our way. We
  have had so much rain lately that there has been no stirring, or I
  would have made her a visit long ago.

  ‘I believe I told my Mother my Uncle was disappointed of his company
  which were to be here on Saturday last by Miss Turner being ill, but
  she recovering we are to have the same party next week, and a very
  grand concert it is to be, because we are musical people.

  ‘Ranelagh is to be opened on the 8th with a rural carnival. I vastly
  wished for you at Mrs. Cibber’s benefit. The play was “Tancred and
  Sigismunda,” the plan of which you and I have often weep’d over
  together in “Gil Blas.” It was most inimitably acted by Garrick and
  Mrs. Cibber; you would have been vastly entertained. The play I was at
  before, but went purposely to see the Princess of Wales and her
  family. The Prince and Prince Edward were in one box, and the
  Princess, Lady Augusta, Elizabeth, and Louisa in the other. Upon my
  word, they are a fine parcel of children; only poor Elizabeth is,
  unhappily, almost a dwarf, but the rest make very good figures.

  ‘Monday your Aunt and I were in the House of Commons from one o’clock
  at noon till nine at night; it was the Mitchell Election,[9] when the
  great ones were setting themselves in combat against each other; it
  was a most hard-fought battle. _The_[10] Duke espousing our party
  against the Duke of Newcastle in support of the other, but the Tories
  most of them going with the D. of N. gave him the majority. Though he
  lost it at the Committee. There was much speaking, which was very
  entertaining; Mr. Fox talked a great deal with great vehemence, for
  this loss frustrates his schemes, as he finds the strength of the D.
  of N.’s party though he had all the Army and the Duke’s Court people
  with him. And now, Mr. Arthur, you being a very good polititian, I
  shall proceed to entertain you with some more Parliamentary affairs.
  Tuesday last the Message was brought from the King to the House. It
  imparted little; nothing to be collected from it of either peace or
  war. Only desiring the Parliament would support him in the armaments
  he might have occasion for by sea and land, &c. &c. General Onslow
  says during the eight and twenty years he has sat in that house he
  never saw, or could have conceived it to be so unanimous in the
  acclamations of the King. Every one striving who should in the
  strongest terms express their confidence in him, Tories and all. Even
  Sir John Phillips declared he would vote the King twenty shillings in
  the pound, for that their lives and _whole_ fortunes were not too much
  for him, and the House rung with their _confidence_ in the King,
  without any one of the Ministers saying a syllable. They were the
  silentest people. The General says he would have given any money
  Miripoix[11] had been in the House to have heard the Parliament of
  England’s hearty affection for their King. I should have much liked to
  have been there, but the ladies’ privilege extends no farther than
  elections. Lady Crosse sent to us on Monday morning at ten o’clock to
  let us know she would call on us at eleven, and we had to dress in
  gowns and petticoats and eat our breakfasts, which last was not to be
  omitted, for it was certain we were to have no dinner. And by much
  hurry we did get ready for her ladyship, but waited at her house for
  Sir John till near one, frighted to excess, fearing we should not get
  in. This Mitchell Election so famous an affair that all the town
  wanted to hear it, and evidently the gallery would hold a small part
  of them. However, we had the luck to get excellent places, having a
  chair for one of us brought out of the Speaker’s chamber. The
  elections for this year are now all over except the Oxfordshire, and
  whether they will be able to finish that no one can tell. In answer to
  this long letter I shall hope to hear very soon from you, and am,

                                        ‘Your most affectionate
                                                       ‘E. M. YOUNG.

  ‘Friday Good (_sic_).’

                          ‘August 26, 1755 (from Bristol Hot Wells).

  ‘Dear Arthur,—I was in hopes you would have given me the pleasure of
  hearing from you. I should have wrote to you before now, but have so
  many letters perpetually upon my hands that no clerk to an attorney
  has more pen exercise. I want much to have a particular account of the
  Bury Assizes; I suppose you will go to an Assembly, and therefore pray
  you to send me intelligence of who and who are together, who dresses
  smartest, looks best, and seems most pleased with themselves and those
  about them. The balls here are vastly disagreeable. I dance French
  dances constantly, but none of the people of fashion dance country
  dances; there are such numbers of Bristol people that do, and they are
  such an ordinary set that it prevents the fine folks. The rooms of
  another night are much cleverer; there is a lottery table which we
  play at from eight till half an hour after nine most nights. My Aunt
  and I have both hitherto played with great success. The principal
  support of our table we lose to-day, Mr. Brudenell, member for
  Rutlandshire, an extreem good-natured, pretty kind of man; the company
  is going off so fast and the place is so thin, that I fear we shall
  miss him very much. My Aunt sends her love to you. She says she made
  you a promise of giving you a pair of lace ruffles or a guinea, which
  ever you chose, and desires you will consult with your mother which
  you will have, and if the lace, let her know it; for it’s sold here as
  well as at Bath. I should advise the money; for you have two pair of
  lace ruffles which I am sure is as much as you can possibly have
  occasion for; those you have must be taken off the footings, for the
  fine men weer them extreemly shallow; they should not be near a nail
  of a yard deep.

  ‘Pray make my compliments to everybody that enquires after me, and let
  me have a very long letter from you very soon. I have nothing to add
  to your entertainment, heartily wish I was at Bradfield, and beg you
  to tell me all you can that is doing there; and

                         ‘Believe me with great sincerity,
                                            ‘Your most affectionate
                                                       ‘ELISA MARIA.

  ‘Be sure don’t speak before my father of my playing at lottery.’

                    _Extracts from further letters_

  ‘My Uncle Ingoldsby I think looks very well. He asked after you, and
  so did my Aunt. He goes out of town for a fortnight next Monday, and
  Mr. and Miss go then. Dr. In. has made a new coach. Yesterday was the
  second day of using it, cost him 82_l._; it’s very handsome, all but
  being painted in a mosaic, which all the smart equipages are. Miss
  Joy’s mother has made one this spring, cost 147_l._ There is hardly
  such a thing seen as a two-wheeled post-chaise; nobody uses anything
  but four-wheeled ones, and numbers of them with boxes put on and run
  for chariots, and vastly pretty they are.

  ‘Now I must give you some account of the masquerade at Mrs. Onslow’s;
  Lady Onslow was there, Mr. and Mrs. Onslow, the Mr. Shelley we met at
  the Speaker’s, and Miss Freeman. Lady Onslow was in a Venetian domino
  white lustring trimmed with scarlet and silver blonde. Mrs. Onslow’s
  dress we thought not at all pretty nor becoming; she had no jewels on,
  but was ornamented with mock pearl. Mr. Onslow was in a domino, as was
  Mr. Shelley; the first was very genteel and handsome, white lustring
  trimmed with an open shining gold lace and little roses of purple with
  gold in the middle of them. I never saw anything prettier. Miss
  Freeman was the sweetest figure I ever saw. Her dress, a dancer, blue
  satin trimmed with silver in the richest genteelest taste and very
  fine jewels. They say Fenton Harvey was the best figure there amongst
  the gentlemen, with his masque; on his dress was a domino which was
  reckoned the genteelest dresses.

  ‘Lady Coventry, amongst the ladies, was the best figure; Lady Peterson
  another much admired. The Town said beforehand that she was to be Eve
  and wear a fig leaf of diamonds; however, this was not true.’

         _Mrs. Tomlinson (née Elisa Maria Young) to her Father_

  ‘Honoured Sir,—Mr. Tomlinson and myself are your urgent petitioners
  for a favour which, if granted, will give us very great pleasure. It
  is that you will give my brother Arthur leave to make us a short
  visit; my mother (who we found safe and well at Chelmsford and have
  conducted hither) rejoins in the request; she desires you to determine
  in what manner is best for him to come hither on horseback, the joiner
  with him or in the stage coach, but either way, we beg to see him
  Tuesday at farthest, but on Monday if he comes on horseback. Be
  pleased to direct him to have his linnen washed, stocking (_sic_)
  mended, &c., and in case he comes on horseback, it may not be amiss to
  hint to him that he is not to reach London on one gallop, for his
  impatience may outrun his prudence. It was a great pleasure to hear a
  pretty good account of your health, and hope we shall hear often from
  Bradfield during my mother’s stay here.

  ‘Beg my love with Mr. T.’s to my brother. He desires to present his
  duty to you.

              ‘And I am, honoured Sir,
                 ‘Your most affectionate and most dutifull daughter,
                                                ‘E. M. TOMLINSON.

  ‘Bucklersbury: Tuesday night, 10 o’clock (1757).’

Whilst at school I made in the playground a famous fortification, and
then besieged it with mines of gun-powder, nearly blowing up two boys
and an old woman selling pies. A better example was my habit of reading,
which became a sort of fashion. I was thought to be of an uncommon
stamp, and when the pupils returned home their parents became desirous
of seeing the lad to whom they thought themselves indebted. My own
acquisitions received a mortal shock on the marriage of my sister with
Mr. Tomlinson, of the firm of Tomlinson & Co. The opportunity of
introducing me into their counting-house was thought advantageous by my
father, and in consequence orders came that I should receive immediate
instruction in mercantile accounts; as a further preparation the sum of
400_l._ was paid to Messrs. Robertson, of Lynn, Norfolk, for a three
years’ apprenticeship.

In February 1758 I took my last farewell of Lavenham, and paid a visit
to my married sister in London. I remember nothing more of this visit
than several performances of Mr. Garrick. When I took leave of my
sister, who was far advanced in her pregnancy, she wept and said she
might never see me more. This proved to be the case, as she died during
her lying-in. She was a remarkably clever woman, with much beauty and
vivacity of conversation, combined with much solidity of judgment. My
mother grieved so much for her loss that she could never be persuaded to
go out of mourning, but mourned till her own death, nor did she ever
recover her cheerfulness. This had one good effect, and that a very
important one for me; she never afterwards looked into any book but on
the subject of religion, and her only constant companion was her Bible,
herein copying the example of her father.

Every circumstance attending this new situation at Lynn was most
detestable to me till I effected an improvement. This was done by hiring
a lodging, surrounding myself with books, and making the acquaintance of
Miss Robertson, daughter of my employer’s partner. She was of a pleasing
figure, with fine black expressive eyes, danced well, and also sang and
performed well on the harpsichord; no wonder, as she received
instructions from Mr. Burney.[12] He was a person held in the highest
estimation for his powers of conversation and agreeable manners, which
made his company much sought after by all the principal nobility and
gentry of the neighbourhood. Here I must reflect, as I have done many
times before, on the unfortunate idea of making me a merchant. The
immediate expense absolutely thrown away differently invested would have
kept me four years at the University, enabling my father to make me a
clergyman and Rector of Bradfield. This living he actually gave to my
Lavenham schoolmaster. The whole course of my life would in such a case
have been changed. I should have known nothing of Lynn, and have taken a
wife from a different quarter. I should probably have been free from all
attraction to agriculture, and that circumstance alone would have
changed the whole colour of my existence. I might never have been of any
use to the public, but my years would have passed in a far more tranquil
current, escaping so many storms and vicissitudes which blew me into a
tempest of activity and involved me in great errors, great vice, and
perpetual anxiety. This was not to be the case, and what I thought an
evil star sent me to Lynn. In this place monthly assemblies were held, a
mayor’s feast and ball in the evening, a dancing master’s ball and
assemblies at the Mart. It was not common, I was told, for merchants’
clerks to frequent these, a suggestion I spurned, and attended them,
dancing with the principal belles. I was complimented by the dancing
master, who assured me that he pointed out my minuet as an example to
his scholars. But pleasure alone would not satisfy me; I was by nature
studious, and from my earliest years discovered a thirst for learning
and books. These, the smallness of my allowance (I think not more than
30_l._ per annum), with my great foppery in dress for the balls, would
not permit me to purchase and supply me with what I so much needed.
Accordingly in 1758 I compiled a political pamphlet named ‘The Theatre
of the Present War in North America,’ for which a bookseller allowed me
ten pounds’ worth of books; as he urged me to another undertaking I
wrote three or four more political tracts, each of which procured me an
addition to my little library. My first year’s apprenticeship had not
expired before the death of my sister overthrew the whole plan which had
sent me to Lynn. As 400_l._ had been paid for the agreed period of three
years, I was kept there from no other motive. Under such circumstances
it may be supposed that the counting-house and the business received not
an atom more of attention than could be dispensed with. I was twenty
years old on leaving Lynn, which I did without education, profession or
employment. In June of this year (1759) my father died, and as he left
debts, my mother thought it necessary to take an exact account of his
effects. The following is the result:—

                                            £  _s._
                    Household goods       674     1
                    Farming stock         226     4
                    Plate                 149    13
                    Books                  57     0
                                          —-—    ——
                          Total        £1,106    18

I am sorry to add that money or money due to him made no part of the
estimate. The fact was that my father died much in debt, and it was two
years before my mother found herself tolerably free.

-----

Footnote 1:

  Lavenham is a very pretty village, with splendid church, lying between
  Sudbury and Whelnethan, whilst Bury St. Edmunds is the second town in
  Suffolk.

Footnote 2:

  _Memoirs of Richard Cumberland_, 1806.

Footnote 3:

  Elsewhere Arthur Young mentions a severe flogging ‘very properly’
  administered by his father for an act of cruelty, adding, ‘It was the
  only time that I ever received any correction at his hands, yet he was
  a remarkably passionate man.’

Footnote 4:

  Robert Sutton, physician and inoculist, 1757, _Dict. of Biography_,
  Sampson Low. Dr. Guy’s _Public Health_ has the following: ‘The Suttons
  were noted for their success in inoculation, but Dr. Gregory gives
  more credit to diet and exposure to air than to the antimonial and
  mercurial medicines they extolled.’

Footnote 5:

  Hero of _The Beaux’ Stratagem_, G. Farquhar.

Footnote 6:

  Till the last generation it was the fashion to brew one’s own beer in
  Suffolk.

Footnote 7:

  ‘The buildings and yards necessary for the business of a
  farm.’—_Webster._

Footnote 8:

  Nicholas Saunderson, D.D., author of the _Elements of Algebra_, in ten
  books, 1740.

Footnote 9:

  The Mitchell Election, a petition brought by Lord Orwell and Colonel
  Wedderburn against undue election and return for borough of Mitchell,
  in Cornwall. See _Commons’ Journals_, xxii., xxiv. and xxxii.

Footnote 10:

  The Duke of Cumberland.

Footnote 11:

  M. de Miripoix, then French Ambassador at St. James’s.

Footnote 12:

  Dr. Charles Burney, author of the _History of Music_, father of Madame
  d’Arblay.

-----




                               CHAPTER II
                    FARMING AND MARRIAGE, 1759-1766

The gay world—A call on Dr. Johnson—A venture—Offer of a career—Farming
    decided upon—Garrick—Marriage—Mr. Harte—Lord Chesterfield on
    farming—Literary work—Correspondence—Birth of a daughter.


In 1761 I was at the Coronation, had a seat in the gallery of
Westminster Hall, and being in the front row above the Duke’s table, I
remember letting down a basket during dessert, which was filled by the
present Duke of Marlborough. On this visit to London I had a mind to see
everything, and ordered a full dress suit for going to Court. This was
in September. In December I was again in London figuring in the gay
world.[13] In January 1762 I set on foot a periodical publication
entitled ‘The Universal Museum,’ which came out monthly, printed with
glorious imprudence on my own account. I waited on Dr. Johnson, who was
sitting by the fire so half-dressed and slovenly a figure as to make me
stare at him. I stated my plan and begged that he would favour me with a
paper once a month, offering at the same time any remuneration that he
might name. ‘No, sir,’ he replied, ‘such a work would be sure to fail if
the booksellers have not the property, and you will lose a great deal of
money by it.’ ‘Certainly, sir,’ I said; ‘if I am not fortunate enough to
induce authors of real talent to contribute.’ ‘No, sir, you are
mistaken, such authors will not support such a work, nor will you
persuade them to write in it; you will purchase disappointment by the
loss of your money, and I advise you by all means to give up the plan.’
Somebody was introduced, and I took my leave. Dr. Kenrick,[14] the
translator of Rousseau, was a writer of a very different stamp; he
readily engaged to write for me; so did Collier[15] and his wife, who
between them translated the ‘Death of Abel.’[16] I printed five numbers
of this work, and being convinced that Dr. Johnson’s advice was wise and
that I should lose money by the business, I determined to give it up.
With that view I procured a meeting of ten or a dozen booksellers, and
had the luck and address to persuade them to take the whole scheme upon
themselves. I fairly slipped my neck out of the yoke—a most fortunate
occurrence, for, though they continued it under far more favourable
circumstances, I believe no success ever attended it.

In September of the following year I broke a blood-vessel and was
attended by a Lynn physician, who ordered me to Bristol Hotwells, as I
was in a very consumptive state. I accordingly went, boarding and
lodging in a house where I met very intelligent and agreeable society;
amongst the number was one gentleman with whom I had many arguments
concerning Rousseau and his writings, I, like a fool, much admiring
both, my new acquaintance abusing them with equal heat. But the
principal acquaintance I made at the Hotwells was Sir Charles Howard,
K.B., then an old man. Being informed that I was a chess-player, he
introduced himself to me in the pump-room and invited me to coffee and a
game of chess. After some time and various conversations he made
enquiries relating to my family and destination. I took it into my head
that he seemed more affable when he was informed (for his enquiries were
numerous) that Mr. Speaker Onslow and the Bishop of Rochester were my
godfathers. On understanding that I was not bred to any profession and
was without hope of any settlement in life, he asked me if I should like
to enter the Army. I answered in the affirmative, but added that it
could only be matter of theory, as I had not lived with any officers. He
often recurred to the idea, and at last told me that he would give me a
pair of colours in his own cavalry regiment, and bade me write to my
mother for her approval.

This I did, and was not at all surprised by her reply. She begged and
beseeched me not to think of any such employment, as my health and
strength were quite inadequate to the life. I loved my dear mother too
much to accept an offer against her consent. I also became acquainted
with an officer in the Army, Captain Lambert, who visited the Countess
of B. at B. Castle. She was esteemed a demirep, handsome and
fascinating. A little before I left Bristol I was introduced to her, and
had my stay been longer should have made one in the number of her many
slaves. On returning from Bristol to my mother at Bradfield, I found
myself in a situation as truly helpless and forlorn as could well be
imagined, without profession, business, or pursuit, I may add without
one well-grounded hope of any advantageous establishment in life. My
whole fortune during the life of my mother was a copyhold farm of twenty
acres, producing as many pounds, and what possibility there was of
turning my time to any advantage did not and could not occur to me; in
truth, it was a situation without resource, and nothing but the
inconsiderateness of youth could have kept me from sinking into
melancholy and despair. My mother, desirous of fixing me with her,
proposed that I should take a farm, and especially as the home one of
eighty acres was under a lease expiring at Michaelmas. I had no more
idea of farming than of physic or divinity, but as it promised, at
least, to find me some employment, I agreed to the proposition, and
accordingly commenced my rural operations, which entirely decided the
complexion of all my remaining years. My connections at Lynn carried me
often to that place, and my love of reading proved my chief resource. I
farmed during the years 1763-4-5-6, having taken also a second farm that
was in the hands of a tenant. I gained knowledge, but not much, and the
principal effect was to convince me that in order to understand the
business in any perfection it was necessary for me to continue my
exertions for many years. And the circumstance which perhaps of all
others in my life I most deeply regretted and considered as a sin of the
blackest dye, was the publishing the result of my experience during
these four years, which, speaking as a farmer, was nothing but
ignorance, folly, presumption, and rascality. The only real use which
resulted from those four years was to enable me to view the farms of
other men with an eye of more discrimination than I could possibly have
done without that practice. It was the occasion of my going on the
southern tour in 1767, the northern tour in 1768, and the eastern in
1770, extending through much the greater part of the kingdom, and the
exertion in these tours was admitted by all who read them (and they were
very generally read) to be of most singular utility to the general
agriculture of the kingdom. In these works I particularly attended to
the course of the farmer’s crops, the point perhaps of all others the
most important, and the more so at that period, because all preceding
writers had neglected it in the most unaccountable manner. They relate
good and bad rotations with the same apathy as if it was of little
consequence in what order the crops of a farm were put in provided the
operations of tillage and manuring were properly performed.

It has been very justly said that I first excited the agricultural
spirit which has since rendered Britain so famous; and I should observe
that this is not so great a compliment as at first sight it may seem,
since it was nothing more than publishing to the world the exertions of
many capital cultivators and in various parts of the kingdom, and
especially the local practice of common farmers who, with all their
merit, were unknown beyond the limits of their immediate district, and
whose operation wanted only to be known to be admired.

In December 1762 I was again in London, and, as usual, constantly at the
theatre. The parts in which Mr. Garrick acted to my great entertainment
were, Macbeth, Benedict, Lear, Posthumus, Oakely,[17] Abel Drugger,[18]
Sir J. Brute,[19] Sir J. Dominant,[20] Bayes,[21] Carlos,[22] Felix,[23]
Ranger,[24] Scrub,[25] Hastings.[26] I must once for all remark that
this astonishing actor so much exceeded every idea of representing
character that the delusion was complete, Nature, not acting, seemed to
be before the spectator, and this to a degree a thousand times beyond
anything that has been seen since. The tones of his voice, the clear
discrimination of feeling and passion in the vast variety of characters
he represented, surpassed anything one could imagine, and raised him
beyond competition. I have often reflected on the principal personages
who figured in England during this age, and I am disposed to think that
Garrick was by far the greatest, that is to say, he excelled all his
contemporaries in the art he professed. Few men have been able to laugh
at their own foibles with as much wit as Garrick. A striking instance
was his little publication called ‘An Ode to Garrick on the Talk of the
Town,’ in which we find this stanza:

                Two parts they readily allow
                Are yours, but not one more they vow,
                  And they close their spite.
                You will be Sir John Brute[27] all day,
                  And Fribble[28] all the night.

In 1765 the colour of my life was decided. I married. My wife[29] was a
daughter of Alderman Allen, of Lynn, and great-granddaughter of John
Allen, Esq., of Lyng House, Norfolk, who, according to the Comte de
Boulainvilliers,[30] first introduced the custom of marling in the
above-named county. We boarded with my mother at Lynn.

This year (1765) I was in correspondence with the Rev. Walter Harte,[31]
Canon of Windsor, and author of the ‘Essays on Husbandry’ and the ‘Life
of Gustavus Adolphus.’ He advised me to collect my scattered papers in
the ‘Museum Rusticum,’ and, with additions, to publish them in a volume.
This I did under the title of ‘A Farmer’s Letters.’ I visited Mr. Harte
at Bath; his conversation was extremely interesting and instructive. I
have rarely received more pleasure than in my intercourse with this
amiable and deeply learned man. It is well known that he was tutor to
Mr. Stanhope, natural son of Lord Chesterfield, to whom so many of that
nobleman’s letters were addressed.[32]

                             _To Mr. Harte_

                                       ‘Blackheath: August 16, 1764.

  ‘Sir,—I give you a thousand thanks for your book, of which I’ve read
  every word with great pleasure and full as great astonishment. When in
  the name of God could you have found time to read the ten or twenty
  thousand authors whom you quote, of all countries and all times, from
  Hesiod to du Hamel?[33] Where have you ploughed, sowed, harrowed,
  drilled, and dug the earth for at least these forty years? for less
  time could not have made you such a complete master of the practical
  part of husbandry. I can only account for it from the Pythagorean
  doctrine of the transmigration of souls, and the supposition that
  Hartlib’s soul has animated your body with a small alteration of name;
  seriously, your book entertains me exceedingly, and has made me quite
  a _dilettante_, though too late to make me a _virtuoso_, in the useful
  and agreeable art of agriculture. I own myself ignorant of them all,
  but am nevertheless sensible of their utility, and the pleasure it
  must afford to those who pursue them. Moreover, you’ve scattered so
  many graces over them that one wishes to be better acquainted with
  them, and that one reads your book with pleasure most exquisite. It is
  the only prose Georgic that I know, as agreeable, and I dare say much
  more useful, in this climate than Virgil. Why have you not put your
  name to it? for though some passages in it point you out to be the
  author here, they will not do it so in other countries, and as I am
  persuaded that your book will be translated into most modern languages
  and be a polyglott of husbandry, I could have wished your name had
  been to it. How goes the Havabilious complaint: has not the Bath
  waters washed it away yet? I heartily wish it was, as I sincerely wish
  you whatever can give you ease or pleasure.

                    ‘For I am with great truth your
                                       ‘Faithful friend and servant,
                                                    ‘CHESTERFIELD.

  ‘P.S.—Though I can be as partial as another to my friends, I cannot be
  quite blind to their omissions; for though you have enumerated so many
  sorts of grass, with a particular panegyrick on your dear Lucern, you
  have not described, nor so much as mentioned, that particular sort of
  grass _which while it grows the steed starves_.

  ‘Your Elève is very well at Dresden. I will send him his book when I
  can find a good opportunity.’

The following letters Mr. Harte was so good as to address to me:—

                                            ‘Bath: February 3, 1765.

  ‘Dear Sir,—That I am obliged to trouble you with a letter, purely on
  my own account, I balance not a moment within myself, between
  interrupting a friend and being thought ungrateful. The kind mention
  you have been pleased to make of my Essays on Husbandry in the last
  number of the Museum Rusticum deserves my warmest thanks and
  acknowledgements: and though your good opinion of me as _bonus
  agricola, bonus civis_ may be a little partial, yet sure I am that
  your favourable report is the overflowing of a generous mind, and
  under that medicament I must with modesty and diffidence arrange it,
  feeling at the same time that inward pleasure which Tacitus describes
  _Dulce est laudari a laudato Viro_. For my own part, my ill health, as
  I greatly fear, will make me unable to continue much longer on the
  theatre of agriculture; but if it pleases God that this nation is ever
  touched with a true vital sense of the uses of husbandry in _their
  full extent_ (and runs not mad with the visionary notions of
  Colonies), there will soon be a succession of younger and abler
  genius’s to perfect _that_, which I have had the honor and
  satisfaction of suggesting to my beloved but mistaken country. I may
  say as old Dryden did to Congreve. (You will put aside the vanity of
  naming Dryden in the same paragraph with myself.)

              ‘So, when the States one Edward did depose,
              A greater Edward in his room arose,
              But now not I but husbandry the curst,
              And Tom the Second writes like Tom the First.

  ‘And now, Sir, give me leave to assure you that I am extremely pleased
  with your last published performance, and the rather as the idea is
  useful and new. In order to send abroad a truly qualified person, as
  you have most judiciously characterised him, you do well to address
  yourself to noble-spirited individuals. Kings and ministers look upon
  agriculture as only _physical_ means of supplying mankind with food;
  nor does one glimpse of an idea ever enter their heads or hearts
  concerning the circulation of profit from the highest to the lowest
  resulting from thence; nor of the national strength, health,
  population, and, I may say, the sobriety of getting money which
  results from that art when it is exercised and maintained in full
  activity. France might till this time have languished for her
  enclosure of waste land and exportation of superfluous corn if a
  shrewd and artful foreigner had not flattered a fair lady into a
  passion for agriculture; the man I mean is M. Patulle.[34] And indeed,
  since the times of Augustus and Mæcenas (which latter loved
  agriculture, before he loved poetry, but lavishly united both in
  Virgil) and since the time of Constantine IV. to the present hour I
  can recollect no Princes and Prime Ministers who understood the
  national advantages of husbandry in their full extent but Henry IV.
  and Sully.’ [_Letter breaks off here._]

                                              ‘Windsor: May 1, 1765.

  ‘Dear Sir,—Your last kind pacquet was conveyed to me here by our much
  esteemed friend Mrs. Allen, whom I hope to see at Bath in about twelve
  days. I am now to thank you for entertaining me with so much and so
  good matter relating to Harrows, and look upon your improvement to be
  a most sensible and most ingenious one at the same time. This is the
  happy perfection in writing which Horace mentions:

               ‘Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.

  ‘In the same manner I have also read with delight and improvement your
  remarks upon broad-wheeled waggons, in the Museum for last March: but
  why, my good friend, do you bury such dissertations as yours in
  blue-paper Periodical Essays? Or why rather do you not throw them
  together in one book, or large pamphlet? I return you my best thanks
  for your Technical Terms of Art in the Suffolk Husbandry, and the
  provincial words, which latter, one time or other, shall be considered
  by me in a more extensive and critical view respecting the English
  language in general. Many of these provincial words[35] are the truly
  classical words of our nation. Some of them are elegant and musical,
  and most of them in general express the sense in their sound. In one
  word, from a thorough knowledge of the provincial words of our
  language, one might venture to explain Shakespear, B. Jonson, Beaumont
  and Fletcher, &c., better and safer than all his editors and
  conjectural critics. If you have a friend tolerably skilled in
  husbandry, who lives in any part of England except the southern and
  western, be so obliging to me as to solicit his assistance, and convey
  the list of words to me; for by what I have before suggested, you see
  I have views that extend beyond husbandry.

  ‘When you go to London, will you not be tempted to make a flying
  excursion to Bath? ’Tis a digression, but it can hardly be called an
  episode. If I have any skill, or knowledge of the world, Mrs. Allen’s
  conversation alone will indemnify you for your trouble, and that most
  amply. He also who subscribes his name to this letter has a private
  ambition to be better known to you than upon paper.

  ‘I am, dear Sir, your most obedient and most humble servant,

                                                         ‘W. HARTE.‘

                                      ‘Kintbury, Berks: May 7, 1765.

  ‘Dear Sir,—If gratitude did not operate strongly upon me (and that
  towards a friend whom I never saw but hope to see, know, and cultivate
  his friendship) I should not trouble you with another letter so quick
  upon the heels of my last from Windsor; but finding by chance here, in
  a lone village, the Museum Rusticum, I see you have done justice to
  the Essays on Husbandry. I wish they had half the merit which your
  partiality to the author fancies they have.

  ‘In the main particular you have spoken exactly my private sentiments.
  When I write for the instruction and amusement of _Cuddy_ and _Lobbin_
  and _Clout_ in matters of husbandry I will also publish a supplemental
  essay on the art of push-pin,[36] stylo puerili. Who would write for
  farmers, who perhaps cannot read, or who, I am sure, will never try to
  read? Were I condemned to this punishment I would desire my footman to
  hold the pen—and even _then_ what would such critics say? They would
  find fault with inelegance and want of propriety in the work. They
  bring to my mind an anecdote which de Voltaire once told me of his
  father (by the way, Voltaire put the incident into a farce, and was
  disinherited for it). The peevish old gentleman said one morning when
  his son rose from bed at about 11 o’clock: “Young man, you were drunk
  last night; you will sleep away your senses, neglect your studies, and
  die a beggar.” Piqued at this reproach, Voltaire got up at 4 next
  morning, and by the by it was in winter. “Son,” said his father at
  breakfast, “you will ruin us in the expenses of fire and candle. All
  your draggle-tailed Muses will never indemnify us with the
  wood-merchant and chandler.” This is a just picture of a reviewing
  Critic or a Mago.

                 ‘Quo teneam vultus mutantem Protea noto?

  ‘As to the Museum Rusticum (your writings in it excepted) I know
  nothing of the authors, but look upon it (as I am now speaking to you
  _sub sigillo silentii_) as a blue-paper job. Books in this age are a
  manufacture as much as hats or pins. The bookseller chooses a subject
  and the author writes at 10_s._ a sheet. It is probable that one man
  in a garret, who does not know a blade of wheat from a blade of
  barley, writes half the letters from the ‘Kentish man,’ ‘Yorkshire
  man,’ ‘Glocester man,’ &c. And perhaps the same hand, in the notes,
  signs with all the letters in the alphabet. Perhaps this very man
  Rocque (I speak only from conjecture), for I observe the whole work
  has a tendency to favour this avanturier in agriculture. I declare to
  you seriously that I know nothing of its authors, you excepted. Might
  it not be better if you kept your admirable tracts by you, and to
  those you have already published, so much to your honour, you may add
  such occasional pieces as you shall afterwards write, and let them all
  appear together in a volume which might be entitled SYLVAE,[37] or
  occasional tracts on husbandry and rural economics. I would have all
  books on husbandry, if possible, pocket volumes, that one may read in
  the fields, &c. In short, I would print it in a beautiful duodecimo as
  du Hamel does; you have written enough already to make one such
  volume, or nearly. However, there must be some new things in this
  work; doubtless you have the plan of more tracts by you. If you read
  French I would recommend a charming idea to you in this enclosing age,
  namely a little 12mo. called "L’amélioration des Terres," by Patulle.
  In that work are plans, and also the manner of throwing a square tract
  of ground of three or four hundred acres, &c., into an ornamented
  farm, or, as the French call it, _ferme ornée_: the house and
  buildings in the centre; the fields are square, the hedges quick set,
  and the owner may command with his eye, and almost with his voice,
  everybody and thing he is concerned with. If you cannot get the book
  (though you certainly may at Vaillant’s) I will send you mine.

              ‘Adieu, dear Sir,
                         ‘Your most affectionate and obliged friend,
                                                   ‘WALTER HARTE.’

                                ‘Barton Street, Bath: Oct. 16, 1766.

  ‘Dear Sir,—My wretched state of health must be my just excuse for
  being so bad a correspondent. I owe you an answer to a letter of yours
  which was equally kind and long, and that answer is now of near a
  quarter of a year’s standing; not but that I think of you and my
  honoured friend at Lynn almost every day of my life. Pray inform me in
  your next how your husbandry lucubrations go on in point of progress
  and advancement? I will be responsible for their good taste and
  accuracy. You are like the Matinian bee mentioned by Horace, which
  gathers more fragrance from a few sprigs of thyme than others can do
  from the stately lilac and larch trees. You gave me some hopes that my
  ever honoured friend at Worcester should convey to me, from you, some
  manuscript dissertations on agriculture, but I have been so unhappy as
  to know no more of them than of the lost books of Livy. In the course
  of the winter you will see an octavo volume of religious poems
  intituled the “Amaranth,” adorned with very fine sculptures from the
  designs of the greatest masters, and executed by an artist of my own
  forming, who never appeared before in a public capacity, except on my
  Essays on Husbandry. The poetry I hope will prove that I have been
  bred up in the school of Pope, and I hope the disciple will retain
  something at least of the manner of the master. When you see Mrs.
  Allen you will impart this little anecdote to her, because I am not
  yet quite clear whether I shall prefix my name or not.

                                     ‘I am, dear Sir, &c., &c.,
                                                      ‘WALTER HARTE.

  ‘P.S.—I have just had a visit from my old friend the Marquis of
  Rockingham, who (to say truth) loves husbandry as much as you or I do,
  and is, besides, an excellent judge of it speculatively and
  practically.’

                                               ‘Bath: Nov. 24, 1766.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I received safely by coach your manuscript, which shall be
  perused with all the accuracy of friendship, after having turned
  partiality out of doors. My impatience about whatever concerns you has
  already made me read a part of your work, and enables me to prophesy
  well concerning it. Pray be not fearful about the execution of your
  plan, which seems to me a good one; authors must be careful but not
  fearful; we have a proverb in husbandry (as old, I think, as Henry
  VII.’s time), which deserves to be written in letters of gold: "He
  that’s afraid of a blade of grass must not sleep in a meadow."

  ‘I like one part of your manuscript exceedingly; it is in truth the
  only thing wanted, and yet the only thing too often omitted, I mean
  the idea and calculation of the outgoing expenses. M. Patulle felt
  this as folly as you do, and as good wit will jump, hit upon a part of
  your plan. You therefore must see that book, as the French say, _coûte
  que coûte_; I have, I believe, almost the only copy in England, which
  shall be conveyed to you in a week’s time.

                     ‘I am, dearest Sir,
                                    ‘Your affectionate friend,
                                                     ‘WALTER HARTE.’

Mr. Harte published a volume of religious poems called ‘Amaranth,’ which
he sent me. He took great pains about the decoration of this book by a
young artist of his own forming, but it had no success.

In 1766 my daughter Mary was born, and I remained at Bradfield, with the
exception of several journeys to Lynn.

-----

Footnote 13:

  The following notes are taken from a small memorandum-book appended to
  memorials:—

    ‘1761.    July 23.—Leak in full (meaning debts), 5_l._ 5_s._
            Sept. 22.—Coronation.
             ”    28.—To Court.
            Oct. 9.—Blackheath; cards.
            Dec.   —To London with Ed. Allen.
             ”   31.—Debts 62_l._
            (My) History of the War published.’

Footnote 14:

  Dr. Kenrick, critic of the _Monthly Review_, attacked Dr. Johnson, who
  said, ‘I do not think myself bound by Kenrick’s rules.’

Footnote 15:

  Joseph and Mary Collier; the first, author of a _History of England_.

Footnote 16:

  Gesner Solomon, born at Zurich, 1730.

Footnote 17:

  _The Jealous Wife._

Footnote 18:

  _The Alchemist._

Footnote 19:

  _The Provoked Wife._

Footnote 20:

  _The Man of Mode._

Footnote 21:

  _The Rehearsal._

Footnote 22:

  _Love Makes a Man._

Footnote 23:

  _The Wonder._

Footnote 24:

  _The Suspicious Husband._

Footnote 25:

  _The Beaux’ Stratagem._

Footnote 26:

  _She Stoops to Conquer._

  This last play seems to have been first acted in 1773. See Brewer’s
  _Reader’s Handbook_.

Footnote 27:

  ‘The coarse pot-house valour of Sir John Brute, Garrick’s famous part,
  is finely contrasted with the fine lady airs and affectation of his
  wife.’—_Chambers’s English Literature._

Footnote 28:

  ‘All the domestic business will be taken from my wife’s hands, I shall
  shall make the tea, comb the dogs, and dress the children
  myself.’—Fribble, in _Miss in her Teens_ (Garrick).

Footnote 29:

  Mrs. Young was sister to Fanny Burney’s stepmother. The marriage
  proved unhappy from the beginning.

Footnote 30:

  See his work, _Les Intérêts de la France mal entendus_, Henri, Comte
  de Boulainvilliers, voluminous author on French history, 1658-1722.

Footnote 31:

  Rev. W. Harte, poet, writer on rural affairs, historian, 1700-1774.
  Dr. Johnson much commended Harte as a scholar and a man of the most
  companionable talents he had ever known. He said the defects in his
  history (Gustavus Adolphus) arose not from imbecility, but from
  foppery. His _Essays on Husbandry_ is an elegant, erudite, and
  valuable work (Lowndes).

Footnote 32:

  The accompanying letter is included in Arthur Young’s correspondence
  of this year, and is given, although not addressed to himself.

Footnote 33:

  Duhamel du Monceau, botanist and _agronome_, contributor to the
  _Encyclopédie_, 1700-1781.

Footnote 34:

  Patulle. A French writer on agriculture.

Footnote 35:

  Here is an illustration. The Suffolk husbandman’s afternoon collation
  is invariably called ‘beaver.’ In Nares’ _Glossary_ we find, ‘Bever,
  from the Sp. and It.: an intermediate refreshment between breakfast
  and dinner.’ ‘Without any prejudice to their bevers, drinkings, and
  suppers.’—_B. and Fletcher, ‘The Woman Hater.’_

Footnote 36:

  ‘A child’s game, in which pins are pushed alternately.’—_Webster._

Footnote 37:

  Included in _A Farmer’s Letters_.

-----




                              CHAPTER III
                    IN SEARCH OF A LIVING, 1767-1775

Home travels—A move—Anecdote of a cat—Disillusion—‘A Farmer’s
    Letters’—Another move—‘In the full blaze of her beauty’—Hetty
    Burney and her harpsichord—‘Scant in servants’—Maternal
    solicitude—Money difficulties—More tours—Lord Sheffield—Howard the
    philanthropist—Correspondence.


During this year I executed that journey, the register of which I
published under the title of a ‘Six Weeks’ Tour,’ in which, for the
first time, the facts and principles of Norfolk husbandry were laid
before the public, and which have since become famous in the
agricultural world. Till my work appeared nothing of that husbandry was
known beyond the county. The publication excited great interest, and
became unquestionably the origin of many and great improvements in
various parts of the kingdom. I scarcely went into any company in which
it was not mentioned. Had I better understood the art of husbandry it
might, perhaps, have been well for me. Finding that a mixture of
families was inconsistent with comfortable living, I determined to quit
Bradfield, and advertised in the London papers for such a house and farm
as would suit my views and fortune, that is to say, one thousand pounds
which I received with my wife, the remainder being settled upon her. I
fixed upon a very fine farm in Essex called Samford Hall; there I worked
with incredible avidity both in the agricultural and literary
department. I remember once to have written a quire of foolscap in one
day! The work was entitled ‘Political Essays on the Present State of the
British Empire.’

And here I may mention a singular instance of animal sagacity. The
gentleman who gave up the house to me was a Mr. Farquharson. His wife
had a favourite cat which, upon their removal, was put into a sack and
carried away with the furniture from Essex to Yatesby Bridge in
Hampshire. I was surprised in about five or six days to see poor puss
again at Samford Hall; nearly at the same time a letter was received
from Mrs. Farquharson lamenting her loss, but doubting the possibility
of the cat having returned to its original home. The circumstance is
astonishing, and shows an instinct almost incredible, for the animal
must have travelled seventy miles and threaded the Metropolis.

My landlord, a Mr. Lamb, was a King’s messenger. He had formerly been, I
believe, butler or _valet de chambre_ to the Duke of Leeds, and gave me
many accounts of the journeys he had made to Petersburg, Constantinople,
Naples, &c., profiting by every journey very considerably, as he
expended much less in travelling than was allowed by Government. I write
from memory, but I think he said that a journey to Petersburg or
Constantinople paid him a neat profit of a hundred guineas.

This speculation turned out a bitter disappointment. I trusted to the
promise of a relative to lend me some money, making, with what I
possessed, sufficient for the undertaking. But he was himself
disappointed of the money, and I clearly foresaw that an insufficient
capital would infallibly cramp me in such a manner as to render all my
efforts very uncomfortable and perhaps vain. I determined to make a
short cut and get rid of it immediately, which I did at the end of six
months at no further loss than of 100_l._ This was a lesson of some use
to me at subsequent periods of my life, and taught me early to
distinguish between certainty and probabilities.

                       _Arthur Young to his Wife_

                                                 ‘Tuesday: 1767.[38]

  ‘My Dearest,—I am much in hopes I shall have a letter from you
  to-morrow; if I have not it will be a great disappointment; for when
  you don’t write in huffs your letters are my only comfort. I went to
  Yeldham’s this morning, but he, according to custom, was out, and will
  not be home of some days; it will be Saturday before I can see him.
  How this terrible affair will end I cannot conjecture, nor what I am
  to do. The most miserable circumstance of all is the being in such
  suspense and anxiety. It absolutely stupefies me, and I am forced to
  pin myself down to writing without the soul for anything but mere
  copying. I would give my right hand that I had never seen this place,
  but such reflections only make one the more miserable; and the
  thoughts at the same time of what you feel with a young child to
  suckle hurt me more than I can express in a word; we shall both be
  capitally miserable till we are fixed somewhere on a certainty, and
  when that will be Heaven knows. I had infinitely rather live in a
  cottage upon bread and cheese than drag on the anxious existence I do
  at present. Whichever way I turn my thoughts I see no remedy, nor know
  who can advise me what step to take. I know not which is best myself,
  I am sure, for everyone depends so on contingencies that sagacity
  itself cannot foresee the consequences of all. An ill star rose on my
  nativity; had I never been born it would have been just so much the
  better for me, for you, and our wretched children. If anybody was to
  knock me on the head it would be a trifling favour done to you all
  three, for most assuredly no good will ever come from my hands.

  ‘Adieu! I have scribbled out the paper to but little purpose.

                                                             ‘A. Y.’

The gentleman who assisted me in getting rid of this nuisance was a Mr.
Yeldham. I am sure the reader will peruse with gratification the
following letter (given in part):—

                                             ‘Saling: Dec. 10, 1768.

  ‘Dear Sir,—Your obliging present of lampreys and more obliging letter
  of the 7th came safe to my hands, as did your books and Westphalia
  ham. I assure you I thought myself amply rewarded for the service I
  did you in Essex by the present of your work on agriculture, and
  everything beyond that was unnecessary and the result of your
  generosity. Give me leave to return you my respectful thanks, and to
  assure you that in the twenty-six years I have had transactions with
  mankind, and whenever in my power have endeavoured to assist as many
  as I could, I have scarce ever met with so much gratitude as you have
  shown. It will not be in my power ever again to do you any acceptable
  service, but for your sake I shall be more ready to do a kind office
  than ever; so if I mended your fortune by helping you off a hurtful
  contract, you will mend my heart by making me more in love with
  mankind, and more ready to seek opportunities of being useful.

  ‘I have often heard of the fine husbandry of the North. If such things
  as you speak of are to be had every day, why are North Country farmers
  so poor? Here we give from ten to fifteen shillings per acre for lands
  not a whit better than you can have in the North for a penny. We get
  estates and live like gentlemen; North Country farmers are poor and
  live worse than our labourers. These are allowed truths, but utterly
  irreconcilable to the small share of reason I possess. All our good
  farmers can lay up from one to two years’ rent of their farms in
  common years, after paying the landlord, the parson, the poor,
  servants’ wages, &c. &c. Were the North Country farms in the least
  comparable should not we hear of it? Would not some of us get farther
  from the capital for the sake of profit? Our mercantile people ramble
  all over the world for gain, so would the farmer could he find it; and
  any distance would be agreeable. There must, I think, be something in
  the distant counties’ prices which counterbalances the cheapness of
  the land and labour. I heartily wish you success and comfort in all
  your undertakings, and that Bradmore Farm may produce corn, wine, and
  oil in abundance.

  ‘Mrs. Yeldham joins in compliments to you and Mrs. Young.

                                   ‘I remain, dear Sir, &c. &c.,
                                                     ‘JOHN YELDHAM.’

My correspondence with Mr. Harte continued. It gave me pain to find that
his health greatly declined. He was a cripple at Bath, but the disorders
of his body seemed little to affect the vigour of his mind. He spoke
very flatteringly of the reception of my ‘Farmer’s Letters.’ ‘I am
amazed,’ he writes, ‘that you have so soon and so easily acquired the
hardest point in all writing—namely, perspicuity and ease of style.’ And
elsewhere, ‘Your letter addressed to my Lord Clive on an experimental
farm is new, spirited and pleasing, but I fear he has not a spark of the
_divina aura_ in him. I have shown your pamphlet to the best judge in
England, my Lord Chesterfield, who is now here. He likes it extremely,
and vows if he was young and rich enough he would carry your scheme into
execution.’

From Samford Hall I moved, in 1768, to another farm at North Mimms, in
Hertfordshire. I had scarcely settled here before my bookseller united
with many correspondents in urging me to take another tour. I
accordingly travelled through the north of England, registering so many
observations, and noting the experiments of such a number of gentlemen,
that the record of the whole, with the necessary remarks, filled four
octavo volumes, and enabled me to present the public with interesting
agricultural details never before published. I may assert this without
vanity, because the real merit belonged to those who furnished me with
the information; and the success of the work was so great that the first
edition was sold almost as soon as it appeared. In the ‘Six Weeks’ Tour’
I visited but few gentlemen, and consequently witnessed but few
experiments. On the ‘Northern Journey’ the case was very different, and
the number of trials reported on a variety of soils were great and
interesting. I spent some time with my friend, Mr. Ellerton, of Risby,
in the East Riding; he accompanied me to York races and on a visit of
several days to the Marquis of Rockingham, who had previously to the
journey invited me to see him, and pointed out a number of persons
proper for me to visit. Amongst the company at Wentworth was Mr. Danby,
of Swinton, and his daughter,[39] then in the full blaze of her beauty.
My Lord Rockingham overheard her speaking to me and using the expression
‘amazingly fine turnips.’ ‘So, so, Mr. Young,’ said his lordship, ‘you
are getting farming intelligence of Miss Danby; the lady must let us
hear more of those fine turnips.’[40] His lordship ordered me into an
apartment, in a closet of which was a considerable collection of ancient
and curious books on agriculture, which he pointed out for my amusement
when I had time to consult them. There was one circumstance which seemed
very awkward to me at Wentworth, the necessity of every person always
having his hat under his arm, a hint of which Lord R. gave me on my
arrival, and I saw the want of it in one or two new comers, who, when
the horses were brought to the door, had a journey to make through the
house before they could find their hats. From Wentworth I went to the
Duke of Portland’s and others, and afterwards examined a great part of
the county of York with much attention, everywhere being received in a
very flattering manner.

This year I made many visits to my friend, Dr. Burney, in Poland Street,
to whom my wife’s sister was married, and whose daughter Hester (by a
former marriage) entertained, or rather, fascinated me, by her
performance on the harpsichord and singing of Italian airs. I was never
tired of listening to the ‘Ah, quelli occhi ladroncelli,’ and ‘Alla
larga,’ of Piccini,[41] and it is marvellous to me now to recollect that
I was thus riveted to her side for six hours together.

During this year my daughter Bessy was born, and the second edition of
my ‘Farmer’s Letters’ published.

1769.—My son Arthur born. The whole of this year I passed at North
Mimms, very well received and visited in that thronged neighbourhood.
The Duke of Leeds, who lived in the parish, condescended to make
overtures with a view to my acquaintance. Sir Charles Cocks, afterwards
Lord Somers, if I do not mistake the year, did the same, and often drank
tea with me; also Dr. Roper and his wife Lady Harriet. He was a man of
great learning, and she a most amiable woman, free from all pride and
affectation. I also often met Lady Mary Mordaunt at two or three houses,
and her sister Lady Frances Bulhely, with whom she lived; with the
former I had something of a flirtation and lent her many books; she was
rather handsome and very agreeable. I was elected member of a dining
club at Hatfield, and became acquainted with Samuel Whitbread, Esq.
M.P.,[42] and Mr. Justice Willes from East Barnet. I was very well
received by Mrs. Willes, a fine lady, and rather fantastical. They were
both vain people, and I remember one day at dinner Judge Willes saying
to his wife, ‘My dear, I think we are rather scant in servants’—yet
there was one to every chair and some to spare. She was making an
ornamental path round the homestead, and asked my advice in several
difficulties. During this year Prince Massalski, Bishop of Wilna, wrote
me a long French letter on the agricultural prosperity of England. He
afterwards passed two days with me in Hertfordshire, an agreeable,
well-instructed man, who much lamented the miserable state of his own
country.

1770.—What a year of incessant activity, composition, anxiety and
wretchedness was this! No carthorse ever laboured as I did at this
period, spending like an idiot, always in debt, in spite of what I
earned[43] with the sweat of my brow and almost my heart’s blood, such
was my anxiety; yet all was clearly vexation of spirit. Well might my
dear mother write to me as she did. I trusted in an unparalleled
industry, but not in God; and see how He brought it all to nought, as if
to convince me of my supreme folly and infatuation. My old Suffolk
bailiff was the channel through which I ran into debt to the Bury banker
by a series of drawing bills, one to pay another, till the plan became
so obvious that he cut short and refused to accept any more. I had run
near a thousand pounds into his debt, and it was necessary for me to go
over directly to Bury to see what could be done to pacify him. He was at
his country seat at Trosston. Thither I followed him, and, with great
difficulty, persuaded him to have patience, under a promise that I would
make arrangements to pay him very speedily. This I did with difficulty,
and I scarcely recollect how. I shall, in the first place, note that the
Eastern Tour was accomplished, the journal of which was afterwards
published in four volumes. In the preface I returned thanks to those who
contributed to my information, and in the number were many most
distinguished personages amongst the nobility and gentry in the counties
through which I travelled, with numerous distinguished farmers.

It is necessary here to pause a little in order to examine the object
and the effect of the three tours I made and published. They have, by
the very best judges, been esteemed highly useful to practical
agriculturists, and unquestionably they are equally so for the
information they afford in political economy: they have accordingly, in
these views, been celebrated[44] in almost every language of Europe.
When a work appears, the object and execution of which are equally novel
and unexampled, it is not surprising that a certain measure of success
should attend such a work. Nothing in the least similar to it had before
appeared in the English language; for though there had been a tour of
Great Britain, and other tours through great part of the kingdom, yet
all these works agreed in one circumstance—that of the authors confining
their attention absolutely to towns and seats, without paying any more
thought to agriculture than if that art had no existence between the
towns they visited. Indeed my work was admitted on all hands to be
perfectly original. In regard to the practical husbandry of the farmers,
and the experimental observations of the gentlemen I visited, the
utility of these could not be doubted. When a Lord Chancellor of
England, amusing himself with husbandry, read the English works on that
subject for information, and burnt them as affording him nothing but
contradictions, without doubt he complained that these writers did not
describe the common management of the farmers, and on that management
founding their propositions of improvement. But the fact was, and it
must be, in the nature of things, writers confined to their closets, or,
at most, to a single farm, could not describe what it was impossible for
them to know; and before the appearance of my tours there was scarcely a
district in the kingdom described in such a manner as to convince the
reader that the authors had any practical knowledge of the art; for a
man to quit his farm and his fireside in order to examine the husbandry
of a kingdom by travelling above four thousand miles through a country
of no greater extent than England was certainly taking means
sufficiently effective for laying a sure basis for the future
improvement of the soil. To understand well the present state of
cultivation is surely a necessary step prior to proposals of
improvement. This I effected; and in the opinion of some very able
agriculturists now living, the greatest of the subsequent improvements
that have been made during the last forty years have, in a great
measure, originated in the defects pointed out by me in the detail of
these journeys.

I shall venture to insert one anecdote which occurred in the Northern
Tour. At Mr. Danby’s, at Swinton in Yorkshire, I met a very uncommon
instance of extraordinary industry in a collier, who improved some waste
moors by the labour of his own hands beside his common hours of working
in the colliery. He had so animated a spirit of improvement that I
thought it a great pity that he should be left without better support;
and therefore I proposed a subscription for him, which raised in all
about 100_l._, and Mr. Danby, his landlord, releasing him from his
colliery, he was enabled to extend his improvements with much more
comfort to himself. After a few years he died, leaving his farm for the
benefit of his family. He shortened his life, poor fellow, by his
industry.

This year I was obliged to decline an invitation from Lord Holdernesse
to accompany him to Hornby Castle. Upon informing my mother of the
refusal, she, with her ever watchful kindness concerning my interests,
wrote thus: ‘I am extremely sorry that you refused Lord Holdernesse’s
invitation; it was an opportunity you may never have again, for when
favours that great people offer are refused, they seldom, if ever, make
a second; it is very extraordinary indeed if they do. He is as likely to
be one in the Administration as any other, for since Lady H. is one of
the Ladies of the Queen’s Bedchamber it is not likely that he [Lord H.]
will be long out of post; and who knows? you might have found favour in
his sight. I fear as long as my poor eyes are open I shall never want
for something relating to your welfare to vex me extremely, which I must
own is a great weakness. As to the regard of this world, thank God I do
often reflect on the shortness of every earthly felicity, a misery
compared with the duration of hereafter, and I am fully convinced that
on God all events depend. I can’t help transcribing a few lines out of a
book you know little of. [_Here follow scriptural texts._] Thank God, I
don’t owe five pounds in the world, not that I brag of being free from
debt as owing to any merit to me, for I am far from thinking anything
like it; no, it is to the mercy and goodness of God who has given me a
comfortable provision for the situation I am in, and in a better I don’t
desire to be, for a little with God’s blessing goes much farther than a
great deal without it. You may call all this rubbish if you please, but
a time will come when you will be convinced whose notions are rubbish,
yours or mine.’ I here insert another letter from my mother, at the risk
of being taxed with personal vanity:—

‘I had a letter yesterday from your brother, in which was a paragraph
that I think will give you a little pleasure. It is as follows: "I find
that Arthur has printed lately a pamphlet on the ‘Exportation of Corn.’
A gentleman who came from the Drawing Room yesterday told me that the
King asked him whether he had read Mr. Young’s pamphlet on the subject,
and commended it." Oh, dear! how pleasing it is to have the approbation
of a King, even though we never get sixpence by it. And yet how few are
desirous of the approbation of the King; yet they may be sure of it if
they sincerely try, and can never fail of being well rewarded, both in
this world and the next. Oh! Arthur, with what capacities are you
endowed—with what advantages for being greatly good! But with the
talents of an angel a man may be a fool if he judges amiss on the
supreme point.’

1771.[45]—The same unremitting industry, the same anxiety, the same vain
hopes, the same perpetual disappointment. No happiness, nor anything
like it.

This year I published the third edition of the ‘Farmer’s Letters,’ the
second edition of the ‘Northern Tour,’ the ‘Farmer’s Calendar,’ my
‘Proposals for Numbering the People’—the occasion of which was the Earl
of Chatham’s words: ‘When I compare the number of our people—estimated
highly at seven[46] millions—with the population of France and Spain,
usually computed at twenty-five millions, I see a clear, self-evident
possibility for this country to contend with the united powers of the
House of Bourbon merely upon the strength of its own resources.’ I
conceived that to draw such political principles for the national
conduct from a mere supposition of population was a doctrine tending to
very mischievous errors. I therefore was convinced that an actual
enumeration of the people ought to take place. Nothing, however, was
done at the time, but thirty years afterwards[47] the Legislature was of
the same opinion, and not till then were the numbers ascertained.

This year I began my correspondence with Mr. John Baker Holroyd,[48]
afterwards so well known for his literary productions as Lord Sheffield.
In his first letter, dated March 1771, he mentions his wish that I
should forward some cabbage seed, and hopes that I may be the means of
introducing the culture of cabbages into that neighbourhood (Sussex),
but adds—what must now appear singular—that the very extraordinary
scarcity of hands cramps him very much. ‘All the lively, able young men
are employed in smuggling. They can have a guinea a week as riders and
carriers without any risk; therefore it is not to be expected that they
will labour for eight shillings a week until some more effectual means
are taken to prevent smuggling.’

I had also a letter from the deservedly celebrated philanthropist, John
Howard, with a basket of his American potatoes, afterwards known under
the name of ‘the Howard and cluster potatoes.’ He added: ‘Permit me,
sir, to offer my thanks for the entertainment of your very ingenious and
useful labours, and the honour you did me in the mention of my name.’

1772.—Published ‘Political Essays on the British Empire,’ ‘Present State
of Waste Lands.’ A third edition of the ‘Six Weeks’ Tour’ was also
published.

This year I attended very much the meetings of the Society for the
Encouragement of Arts,[49] Manufactures and Commerce, as well as the
Committee of Agriculture,[50] of which I was Chairman. In a letter from
Mr. Butterworth Bayley, he lamented the want of a respectable
publication by the Society of Arts, and called on me to think of some
means of remedying the misery (_sic_). When I became Chairman of the
Committee of Agriculture, I was the first to propose that annual
publication which afterwards took place. This proposition was at once
acceded to, and Valentine Green, the engraver, had the impudence to
assert that it originated with him.

This year I visited Samuel Whitbread, Esq., at Cardington, in
Bedfordshire, and as Mr. Howard, who afterwards became so celebrated for
his philanthropy, lived in the same parish, Mr. W. took me to call upon
him one morning. He was esteemed a singular character, but was at that
time quite unknown in the world. He was then only famous for introducing
a new series of potatoes into cultivation. We found him in a parlour,
without books or apparently any employment, dressed as for an evening in
London—a powdered bag wig, white silk stockings, thin shoes, and every
other circumstance of his habiliments excluding the possibility of a
country walk. He was rather pragmatical in his speech, very polite, but
expressing himself in a manner that seemed to belong to two hundred
years ago. I asked Mr. Whitbread if Mr. Howard was usually thus dressed
and confined to his room, for he was as intimate with Whitbread as with
anybody. He had never seen him otherwise, he said, but added that he was
a sensible man and a very worthy one.

At this time I published my ‘Political Essays on the Present State of
Affairs in the British Empire,’ also the third edition of the ‘Six
Weeks’ Tour.’ Comber’s ‘Real Improvements in Agriculture on the
Principles of A. Young, Esq.,’ was likewise printed. Comber was
afterwards deeply engaged in the ‘Monthly Review,’ and belaboured me
with all the abuse he could accumulate. I published also a tract
entitled ‘The Present State of Waste Lands in Great Britain.’

In March, Mr. Allen, my wife’s brother, an alderman of Lynn, applied to
the Earl of Orford to procure for me an establishment in some public
office, and his Lordship wrote to Lord North on the subject. In his
reply the latter spoke of me as one ‘whose very ingenious and useful
writings point out as a very proper object of notice and reward.’ It was
an application for a King’s waiter’s[51] place, a sinecure.

At this time I was so distressed that I had serious thoughts of quitting
the kingdom[52] and going to America. Surely the three last years ought
to have convinced me, had I not been worse than an idiot, of the vanity
and folly of my expenses, and how utterly all comfort and happiness must
fly such pursuits. Feeling a force and vigour of mind in myself
erroneously, I trusted in them. As to God, I lived without Him in the
world, and had not a companion that could bring me to Him. But my
mother, my ever dear mother, wrote in vain to me; her advice was not
listened to. She tried to bring me to a right sense of religion, which
would have conferred that peace and content which flew before my vain
pursuits.

Dr. Hunter,[53] of York, wrote to me this year on the Georgical Essays,
and on carrots and their conversion into a confection for the use of
seamen, of which he entertained great expectations. ‘I received much
pleasure,’ he wrote, ‘from the perusal of your Eastern Tour, and could
not help expressing uneasiness at the rancorous treatment of the monthly
reviewers. We are all open to fair and candid criticism, but when there
is the least spark of resentment seen it then ceases to be criticism,
and deserves another name. I propose to finish the Georgical Essays,
with two more volumes, in 1773. My own natural avocations will not
permit me in future to be anything but an editor; I wish I had leisure
to prosecute so agreeable a study. I have, however, some satisfaction in
seeing the art (of agriculture) improve under your hands, and hope that
nothing will prevail upon you to withdraw yourself from the public. I
have, this year, a large experiment with onions and carrots. These
vegetables have not hitherto been cultivated in the field in this
country. Besides the application of carrots for horses and hogs, I am
persuaded that they may be converted by a cheap process into a
confection for the use of seamen. This, and the last year’s experiments,
convince me of the practicability of the scheme, and next year I propose
to ship a considerable quantity for the above purpose. The expense is
small, and my expectations are great.’

1773.—Here began a new career of industry, ill-exerted, of new hopes and
never-failing disappointments, labour and sorrow, folly and infatuation,
which it is scarcely possible for a man, turned into the world without
business or profession, to escape, and it affords a most impressive
lesson to all parents to be almost as ready to hang their children as to
bring them up without a regular profession. If I had been a country
curate with 50_l._ a year, in addition to the income I possessed, and
had lived in a quiet parsonage, the probability of happiness would have
been far greater. The business of my farm at North Mimms was
insufficient to keep me employed, and the intercourse I constantly had
with London I considered as a means which should be turned to some
account in the increase of a most insufficient income; in fact, I was in
a most uncomfortable state, which induced me to listen to the proposals
of a gentleman I met with—I have quite forgotten whom—who informed me
that the ‘Morning Post’ proprietors were in great want of some person to
report the debates in Parliament. In consequence of this information I
applied at their office, and they very readily engaged me for a trial,
to see if I was able to perform the business they required. This was
done, and as they were well satisfied with the manner in which the work
was executed, I continued it at a salary, as well as I can recollect, of
five guineas a week. Every Saturday I walked seventeen miles to my farm,
and back again on the Monday morning. This year I published my
observations on the present state of waste lands, which contained a new
idea of extreme importance in the mode of working any great and
effective improvement. In most of the attempts that have been made by
individuals to accomplish these meritorious works, there generally
appeared a weakness of effort and insufficiency of means, which
prevented anything considerable being effected, and the cause I justly
explained to be, a want of proportion between the means and the end, not
so much in a want of money as in a most erroneous method of applying it.
To raise a set of buildings for a farm, with gradual additions to the
whole, and enclosing from the waste, field after field for improvement,
with views merely of forming a large farm, and keeping the whole in
hand, demands so large a capital that the succeeding languor of the
exertions has been evidently owing to want of money, the capital being
insufficient for the two distinct objects of farming and improving. The
novel idea struck me that the whole capital in such cases should be
appropriated to improvements alone; that no other buildings should be
raised than exactly sufficient for such a small farm as lets most
readily in the district—and this, usually, is little more than a
cottage, and ten or twenty acres of grass round it. Hence I proposed
that an entire new farm should, after one course of crops, be formed,
and let, sold, or mortgaged every year. In this mode of proceeding the
farming would be entirely subservient to the improvement, and the
capital would be constantly moving to fresh land. I showed that a small
sum of money, thus employed, would gradually improve a great and
increasing breadth of waste; whereas, if the same money was employed in
the common manner of farming and occupying a larger farm, the space
improved, after fifteen or twenty years, would be trifling, and the
profit very inferior. My explanation of this system carries conviction
with it; but the work appearing at a period when the rapidity of my
publications satiated the world, little or no attention was paid to it.

1774.—I, this year, published on my own account my political arithmetic,
one of my best works, which was immediately translated into many
languages, and highly commended in many parts of Europe. Judges of the
subject here, as well as abroad, have considered it as abounding in
valuable information and the justest views; but, unfortunately, as in
the case of my work on waste lands, it followed so many other of my
publications that little attention was paid to it, except by the _few_
who saw the importance of the subject, or who were able to judge of the
merit of the work.

The winter was passed in London in the same employment as the preceding;
but I had become known to so many men of science that several hinted to
me the propriety of my being a candidate for election as a Fellow of the
Royal Society, and my recommendation as such being garnished with some
respectable names I was accordingly elected, which adds the F.R.S. to my
name. Once in conversation with Dr. Burney on these elections, he said,
‘No matter, for that we have got our _ends_ of them.’ This year I was
elected an honorary member of the Palatine Society of Agriculture
established at Mannheim, also of the Geographical Society of Florence.

1775.—This winter I spent in London. From 1766 to 1775 being ten years,
I received 3,000_l._, or 300_l._ a year.

-----

Footnote 38:

  ‘We were married more than two years.’ [Note by A. Y.]

Footnote 39:

  ‘The Mashamshire Molly,’ afterwards Countess of Harcourt.

Footnote 40:

  It must be remembered that turnips were a comparative novelty at this
  date, not being cultivated as food for cattle till the latter part of
  the last century.

Footnote 41:

  Nicolo Piccini, 1728-1800, composer of the opera _Zénobie_, &c.

Footnote 42:

  Samuel Whitbread, son of a great brewer, distinguished in
  Parliamentary life as a vigorous assailant of Pitt; committed suicide
  1815.

Footnote 43:

  Entry in memorandum-book of this year: ‘The year’s receipts,
  1,167_l._’

Footnote 44:

  _Sic_ in author’s MS.; ‘translated’ would seem to be the word.

Footnote 45:

  In a memorandum-book occurs the following entry: ‘1771.—Receipts,
  697_l._; expenses, 360_l._—I know not how.’

Footnote 46:

  Estimated population of England and Wales in 1770, 7,428,000.—_Haydn’s
  Dictionary of Dates._

Footnote 47:

  The first census was taken in 1801.

Footnote 48:

  1740-1821. The friend and editor of Gibbon.

Footnote 49:

  Founded 1754, mainly owing to the efforts of Mr. Shipley and Lord
  Folkestone.

Footnote 50:

  This evidently depended on the Society of Arts.

Footnote 51:

  King’s waiter. I have not been able to discover the precise nature of
  this sinecure.

Footnote 52:

  ‘Mr. Young is not well, and appears almost overcome with the horrors
  of his situation; in fact, he is almost destitute. This is a dreadful
  trial for him, yet I am persuaded he will find some means of
  extricating himself from his distress—at least, if genius, spirit, and
  enterprise can prevail.’—_Early Diaries of Fanny Burney._

Footnote 53:

  Dr. Alexander Hunter, died 1809, editor of Evelyn’s _Sylva_, and
  author of _Georgical Essays_, ‘an able and esteemed work’ (Lowndes).

-----




                               CHAPTER IV
                           IRELAND, 1776-1778

The journey to Ireland—Characteristics—Residence at
    Mitchelstown—Intrigues—A strange bargain—Departure—Letter to his
    wife—A terrible journey.


The events which followed the close of this year carried a better
complexion than the preceding period, and therefore I shall in general
remark that the last four or five years of my life had been detestable,
my employments degrading, my anxiety endless, every effort unsuccessful,
exertion always on the stretch, and always disappointed in the result,
uneasy at home, unhappy abroad, existing with difficulty and struggling
to live, never out of debt, and never enjoying one shilling that was
spent. What would not a sensible, quiet, prudent wife have done for me?
But had I so behaved to God as to merit such a gift?

The only pleasant moments that I passed were in visits to my friend
Arbuthnot[54] at Mitcham, whose agriculture so near the capital brought
good company to his house. He was upon the whole the most agreeable,
pleasant and interesting connection which I ever made in agricultural
pursuits. He was brother of the present Rt. Honorable.

I had in 1775 determined on making the tour of Ireland, to which the
Earl of Shelburne[55] much instigated me, and I corresponded with
several persons on the subject, who urged me much to that undertaking,
but I was obliged to postpone it to the following year. The following is
a note from Mr. Burke on the subject:—

‘Mr. Burke sends the covers with his best compliments and wishes to Mr.
Young. He would be very glad to give Mr. Young recommendations to
Ireland, but his acquaintance there is almost worn out, Lord Charlemont
and one or two more being all that he thinks care a farthing for him.
However, if letters to them would be of any service to Mr. Young, Mr. B.
would with great pleasure write them.’

On June 19 of this year 1776 I embarked at Holyhead for Ireland, and in
consequence of this journey through every part of the kingdom, produced
in 1780 that tour which succeeded so well, and has been reckoned among
my best and most useful productions; and I have reason to believe had
considerable effect in enlightening the people of that country. I took
with me many letters of introduction, from the Earl of Shelburne, Mr.
Burke, and other persons of eminence in England; and on landing at
Dublin, was immediately introduced to Colonel Burton, afterwards Lord
Cunningham, aide-de-camp to the Earl of Harcourt, at that time Lord
Lieutenant, and well known to the whole kingdom. Colonel Burton, to whom
I was more indebted for letters of introduction than to any other man in
England, was a most remarkable character. He had great care and elegance
united with a measure of roughness, which may be attributed to a sort of
personal courage which was apt to boil over. This led him into many
quarrels, and not a few duels, one of which was fought across a table of
no great length from end to end, and, not strange to tell of in Ireland,
several of the party stood near enjoying the sport. He was a true friend
to the interests of Ireland, and far more enlightened upon it than the
greater part of well-informed people to be found there. He made immense
exertions to improve the fisheries on his estate at Donegal, but they
were unsuccessful. He was respectable[56] for general knowledge, and
possessed a great flow of animated conversation. He carried me to Lord
Harcourt’s villa at St. Woolstans, with whom I spent some days; and the
Colonel arranged the plan of my journey, giving me a multitude of
letters to those who were best able to afford valuable information. I
kept a private journal throughout the whole of this tour, in which I
minuted many anecdotes and circumstances which occurred to me of a
private nature, descriptive of the manners of the people, which, had it
been preserved, would have assisted greatly in drawing up these papers;
but, unfortunately, it was lost, with all the specimens of soils and
minerals which I collected throughout the whole kingdom. On returning to
England, I quitted my whisky[57] at Bath, and got into a stage, and sent
a new London servant, the only one I had, thither to bring the horse and
chaise to London, and the trunk containing these things. The fellow was
a rascal, stole the trunk, and pretended that he had lost it on the
road; in addition to the loss was the torment of hunting him out (for he
went away directly) through London for punishment. With great difficulty
I found him, and serving a warrant upon him, carried him to Bow Street,
where Fielding the magistrate at once dismissed the complaint, it being
only a breach of trust, as the robbery could not be proved; and all I
got for my pains was abuse from the fellow.

This was a very great loss to me, as the specimens I brought of soils
would have been of great use to me in the course of experiments which I
soon after began in the object of expelling gases from earths. In my
journey through Ireland I was received with great hospitality, which
characterises the nation, and with that particular attention which my
peculiar object excited in so many persons who rendered agriculture
either their profit or amusement.

I travelled four hundred miles _de suite_ without going to an inn.
Amongst those who were most desirous of my calling upon them was Sir
James Caldwell, of Castle Caldwell, on Lough Erne. One anecdote will
give some idea of his character.

The Marquis of Lansdowne, then Earl of Shelburne, being in Ireland, and
intending to call on Sir James, he, with an hospitality truly Irish,
thought of nothing night or day but how to devise some amusement to
entertain his noble guest, and came home to breakfast one morning with
prodigious eagerness to communicate a new idea to Lady Caldwell. This
was to summon together the hundred labourers he employed, and choose
fifty that, would best represent New Zealand savages, in order that he
might form two fleets of boats on the Lough, one to represent Captain
Cook and his men, the other a New Zealand chief at the head of his party
in canoes, and consulted her how it would be possible to get them
dressed in an appropriate manner in time for Lord Shelburne’s arrival.
Lady C., who had much more prudence than Sir James, reminded him that he
had 200 acres of hay down, and the preparations he mentioned would
occupy so much time that the whole would now stand a chance of being
spoiled. All remonstrances were in vain. Tailors were pressed into his
service from the surrounding country to vamp up, as well as time would
permit, the crews of men and fleets. The prediction was fulfilled: the
hay was spoiled, and what hurt Sir James much more, he received a letter
from Lord S. to put off his coming till his return from Kilkenny, and
that uncertain. To add to the mortification, after some weeks, Sir James
being on business at Dublin, Lord S. arrived without giving notice, and
Lady C., not presuming to exhibit the intended battle, but wishing to
amuse his Lordship as well as the place would afford, told him at
breakfast that the morning should be spent in fishing. Lord S. replied,
‘My dear Lady C., you look upon a fine lake out of your windows; but I
have often remarked—from the ocean to the pond—that where at the first
blush you have reason to expect most fish you are sure to find least.’
This made Lady C. exert herself—boats, nets, and all were collected, and
they caught such an immensity as really proved a most gratifying
spectacle to his Lordship, who confessed that his maxim failed him for
once. His stay was too short for Sir James’s return.

At Lord Longford’s I met a person of some celebrity at the time for
adventures not worth reciting, Mr. Medlicott. Lord L. and he gave me an
account of a gentleman of a good estate in that neighbourhood, but then
dead, whose real life, manners and conversation far exceeded anything to
be met with in ‘Castle Rackrent.’ His hospitality was unbounded, and it
never for a moment came into his head to make any provision for feeding
the people he brought into his house. While credit was to be had, his
butler or housekeeper did this for him; his own attention was given
solely to the cellar that wine might not be wanted. If claret was
secured, with a dead ox or sheep hanging in the slaughter-house ready
for steaks or cutlets, he thought all was well. He was never easy
without company in the house, and with a large party in it would invite
another of twice the number. One day the cook came into the breakfast
parlour before all the company: ‘Sir, there’s no coals.’ ‘Then burn
turf.’ ‘Sir, there’s no turf.’ ‘Then cut down a tree.’ This was a
forlorn hope, for in all probability he must have gone three miles to
find one, all round the house being long ago safely swept away. They
dispatched a number of cars to borrow turf. Candles were equally
deficient, for unfortunately he was fond of dogs all half starved, so
that a gentleman walking to what was called his bed-chamber, after
making two or three turnings, met a hungry greyhound, who, jumping up,
took the candle out of the candlestick, and devoured it in a trice, and
left him in the dark. To advance or return was equally a matter of
chance, therefore groping his way, he soon found himself in the midst of
a parcel of giggling maidservants. By what means he at last found his
way to his ‘shakedown’ is unknown. A ‘shakedown’ when I was in Ireland
meant some clean straw spread upon the floor, with blankets and sheets,
in what was called the barrack room, one containing several beds for
single men.

At Mr. Richard Aldworth’s, in the county of Cork, I met with an
instance, both in that gentleman and lady, of elegant manners and
cultivated minds. He had made the grand tour, and she had been educated
in that style which may be imagined in a person nearly related to a Lord
Chief Justice and an Archbishop. But it was evident that patriotic
motives alone made them residents in Ireland. A sigh would often escape
when circumstances of English manners were named, and they felt the
dismal vacuity of living in a country where people of equal ideas were
scarce. Mrs. Aldworth had in her possession one original manuscript
letter of Dean Swift, entrusted to her under a solemn promise that she
would permit no copy to be taken, nor ever read it twice to the same
people. It was without exception the wittiest and severest satire upon
Ireland that probably ever was written, and it was easy to perceive by
the manner in which it was read that the sentiments were not a little in
unison with those of the reader. This letter was equally hostile to the
nobility, the gentry, the people, the country, nay the very rivers and
mountains; for it declared the Shannon itself to be little better than a
series of marshes, that carried to the ocean less water than flows
through one of the arches of London Bridge.

From various other instances, as well as from this, I was inclined to
think that that degree of a polished and cultivated education, which
suits well enough for London or Paris, or a country residence in a good
neighbourhood of England, was ill-framed for a province in Ireland.
Persons of equal attainments may now and then come across them, but they
are compelled to associate with so many who are the very reverse that a
more certain provision of misery can scarcely be laid.

The preceding observation is in a measure applicable to Mr. and Mrs.
Jefferys and Mr. and Mrs. Trant, who lived in the vicinity of Cork. The
two former when I was there were actually embarking for France, after
great speculations in building a town and establishing manufactures,
which probably had proved too expensive. They were well informed and
cultivated, and spoke most modern languages. Mr. Trant was an instance
of a singularly retentive memory. It was never necessary for him to
consult the same book twice. All that he ever read in a variety of
languages was at his tongue’s end, and he applied these uncommon stores
with great judgment and propriety. The most beautiful description of
Kilkenny was written by him. It gave me pleasure to hear not long
afterwards that Mr. and Mrs. Jefferys were at Paris but a few days, and
then returned to England. The motive of the journey was reported to be
to get rid of a much too numerous establishment of servants, as they
started again on a much more moderate and comfortable plan.

As a feature of Irish manners, I may mention another circumstance which
astonished me. When upon my tour I spent a day or two with the Right
Hon. Silver Oliver, who had at that time much company in his house. The
table was well appointed, and everything wore an air of splendour and
affluence. Afterwards when I resided at Mitchelstown—Mr. Oliver was
either dead or absent, and everything in the house was advertised to be
sold by auction—I went over to that auction, which gave me an
opportunity of examining the whole house. I desired to be shown into the
kitchen, as I could not find it of myself. When pointed out I was in
utter amazement. There never was such a hole. I insisted upon it that it
could not be the kitchen, as I had myself partook of dinners which could
never have been dressed in such a pig-stye; but they assured me there
was no other. It was about eight feet wide and ten long. Scarcely any
light, and the walls black as the inside of the chimney. The furniture
was no better than the fitting up; dressers, tables, and shelves seemed
to have been laid aside as superfluous luxuries. It must have been an
effort of uncommon ingenuity to cook at a turf hearth, in such a cave as
this, the ample dinners I had seen in this house, and Etna or Vesuvius
might as soon have been found in England as such a kitchen. Its
existence for a single instant in the house of a man of fortune would be
a moral impossibility. No English farmer would submit to it for a week.
This strongly shows the manners of the people.

A family with whom I resided for some time, while waiting for the
Waterford packet, was that of Mr. Bolton, in a beautiful situation,
commanding the finest views. Mr. Bolton, the elder, was a respectable
man; but his son, the present proprietor of the estate, then in
Parliament, was a man of singular and genuine patriotism, and of so mild
and pleasing a temper that I much regretted I had him not for a
neighbour at Bradfield. I had the pleasure of sending him from Suffolk
many implements &c. for assisting him in his improved husbandry; and he
has proved to the present day one of the most enlightened friends that
Ireland has to boast, making an equal figure in my tour, and in the very
able work of Mr. Wakefield[58] published within an interval of thirty
years.

Among the persons who received me in the most agreeable and hospitable
manner I may be permitted to name the following: Earl of Harcourt (Lord
Lieutenant), Earl of Charlemont, Lord Chief Baron Forster, his Grace the
Lord Primate, the Archbishop of Tuam, Sir James Caldwell, &c.

1777.—This was the first favourable turn that promised anything after
ten years’ anxiety and misery, yet how little did I deserve from that
Providence I had so long neglected. The year was a remarkable one in the
events of my life.

Mr. Danby, of whom mention has already been inserted, was this spring in
London, and as Lord Kingsborough, son of the Earl of Kingston, was
intimately acquainted with Mr. D., and at that time there also, his
Lordship often complained of the sad state of neglect in which his
property remained in the hands of an Irish agent, who never saw an acre
of the estate but merely on a rapid journey once, or at most twice, a
year to receive the rents. For this purpose a clerk resided at
Mitchelstown, having a summer house in the Castle garden for his office,
and here the tenants came to pay their rents in a constant succession of
driblets the whole year round. His Lordship observed that it would be of
much importance to him to have a respectable resident agent who
understood agriculture, and might greatly contribute to the improvement
of the property. Mr. Danby entirely coincided in this opinion, and told
his Lordship that he knew a gentleman who possessed the unquestionable
knowledge and management of estates, and as he had known me for several
years he had every reason to believe in my integrity. He then named me.
Lord K. begged him to make the application to me immediately, which Mr.
Danby did, and invited me to meet Lord and Lady K. to dinner. I had a
good deal of conversation with Lord K., and the next day Mr. Danby made
an agreement with his Lordship for me to become his agent at an annual
salary of 500l., with an eligible house for my residence, rent free, and
a retaining fee, to be paid immediately, of 500l. more.

In consequence of this arrangement, to which I readily agreed, I
disposed of the lease of my farm in Hertfordshire, and sent my books and
other effects which I might want to Cork by sea, going myself to Dublin,
where I resided some time in a constant round of Dublin dinners, till I
was informed by Lord Kingsborough that the house at Mitchelstown was
ready in which I was to reside, whilst a new one was building on a plan
and in a situation approved of myself. In September I left Dublin for
Mitchelstown—130 miles off—making a detour through those counties which
I had not sufficiently seen the preceding year. And here I cannot avoid
inserting the following excellent advice from my ever affectionate
mother: ‘My memory begins to fail me, but no wonder at 72. That is not
the cause of yours doing so, but the multiplicity of business you are
engaged in. I attribute it also to being overburthened with your
affairs. I can get neither ploughman nor footman to go over to Ireland,
so you must see what you can do when you come yourself, which, I am
sorry to hear, is not till (next) September. God only knows if I shall
live so long as to see you once more. However, to hear you are well and
happy is a great comfort to me, and the only one I have left, for it is
my lot to be deprived of all those who to me are dearest. I hate now to
do anything but sit by the fire and write to you.... But the happiness
of this world, Arthur, is but of a short duration; I therefore wish you
would bestow some thoughts on that happiness which will have eternal
duration.[59]

1778.—The opening of this year found me at Mitchelstown, where Mrs.
Young joined me. On my arrival I busied myself incessantly in examining
and valuing the farms which came out of lease, and was so occupied
several months. I was most anxious to persuade Lord K. into the
propriety of letting his lands to the occupying cottar as tenant, and
dismissing the whole race of middlemen. I adhered steadily to this, and
had the satisfaction to find that Lord K. was well inclined to the plan.
But a distant relation of Lady K.’s, who had one farm upon the estate as
middleman, Major Thornhill, feeling the sweets of a profit rent upon
that one farm, was exceedingly anxious to procure from Lord K. the
profits of others upon the same terms, and in this respect I was placed
in an awkward situation. It was impossible for me, consistently with the
interest of Lord K., in any measure whatever to promote the success of
designs which struck at the very root of all my plans, as the Major had
his eye upon several of the most considerable farms. Lady K. had a high
opinion of the Major, who was a lively, pleasant, handsome man, and an
ignorant open-hearted duellist; she had of course favoured his plans,
and I as carefully avoided ever saying anything in favour of them. Thus
from the beginning it was not difficult to see an underground plot to
frustrate schemes commencing very early, but things in the meantime
carried a fair outward appearance. I dined very often at the Castle, and
generally played at chess with Lady Kingsborough for an hour or more
after dinner, and I learned by report that her Ladyship was highly
pleased with me, saying that I was one of the most lively, agreeable
fellows. Lord Kingsborough was of a character not so easily ascertained,
for at many different periods of his life he seemed to possess qualities
very much in contradiction to each other. His manner and carriage were
remarkably easy, agreeable, and polite, having the finish of a perfect
gentleman; he wanted, however, steadiness and perseverance even in his
best designs, and was easily wrought upon by persons of inferior
abilities. Mrs. Thornhill, the wife of the Major, was an artful
designing woman, ever on the watch to injure those who stood in her
husband’s way, and never forgetting her private interest for a moment. I
saw a fixed plan in her mind for dispossessing me of the agency and
procuring it for the Major, and I conceive it was by her
misrepresentations that a decisive use was made of an opportunity which
soon after offered for effecting her plan.

Lady K. had a Catholic governess, a Miss Crosby, relative to whom Mrs.
T. had inspired Lady K. with sentiments of jealousy, insomuch that she
was discharged, and I was employed to draw up an engagement to grant her
an annuity of 50_l._ per annum. This transaction and others connected
with it occasioned me to be much at the Castle, and in situations which
were converted by Mrs. Thornhill into proofs that I was in league with
Miss C. for securing the affections of Lord Kingsborough at the expense
of his wife, and, at the same time, it was carefully impressed into his
Lordship’s mind that I was in love with Lady K. Thus by a train of
artful intrigues and deceptions the ladies brought Lord K. to the
determination of parting with me, after which nothing remained but to
settle our accounts. This was done, and a balance being due to me of
about 600_l._ or 700_l._, I informed his Lordship that I waited only to
be paid in order to set off for England. Here was a demur, and Major
Thornhill came to inform me that his Lordship had not the money to pay
me; several days passed in which I was in a very awkward state of
uncertainty. It occurred to me as I saw no sign of payment to propose
that he should give me an annuity for life, which he at once agreed to.
What that annuity should be I was perfectly ignorant, but there was an
advertisement in a London paper offering terms, which I sent to his
Lordship, with a note, informing him that if he would give me an annuity
on the terms there specified I would agree to it and free him for the
present from all payment. This his Lordship at once acceded to, and
signed a bond granting me an annuity for life of 72_l._,[60] according
to the terms specified in the advertisement. This business being settled
to the satisfaction of both parties, and my books packed up and sent to
Cork, I stepped into my post-chaise, and, with a pair of Irish nags, set
off on a journey to Waterford on a visit to my excellent friend,
Cornelius Bolton, Junr. Esqr. M.P., where I waited for the packet to
sail for Milford Haven long enough to have gone round by Dublin and have
reached Rome or Naples. I had a miserable passage of three days and
nights, a storm blowing us almost to Arklow, but through the providence
of God we escaped the threatened dangers and landed safely in the
desired haven. I travelled post to London, and thus ended one of the
greatest speculations of my life, and I remember observing that in all
probability the providence of God was exerted to remove me from a
kingdom in which no unconnected motives could induce me to remain. The
transaction was not absolutely free from circumstances in a measure
favourable to my future ease and repose. I had received 500_l._, which
took me out of some difficulties, and had the addition of 72_l._ per
annum to my income, which was to me an object of some consideration. It
also removed me entirely from the farm in Hertfordshire, a most
unprofitable one, and, what was better, from a winter residence in
London. It also took me back to Bradfield to my aged mother, whose
health was daily declining, and whose memory, being much impaired,
subjected her to imposition by tenants and servants.

                             _To his Wife_

                                           ‘Haverford West: Oct. 23.

‘My Dearest,—It pleases God that I am once more to embrace you and my
children—a passage that is common in eight hours was from Sunday morn
eight o’clock till one o’clock this morning Wednesday, thirty-six hours
of which, a raging storm; we talk of them at land, but those who have
not seen them at sea know not what the very elements are. Pent up in the
Irish Channel, the ship ran adrift, wearing[61] to keep free from rocks
and sands—the wind did not blow, it was like volleys of artillery; part
of the sails were torn into fritters; the waves were mountains high,
while the ship was perfectly tossed on end of them; the cabin window
burst open, and deluged everything afloat; the horses kicked and
groaned, the dogs howled; six passengers praying, shrieking, and
vomiting; every soul sick but myself; the sailors swearing and storming;
and the whole—such a scene! The Captain, who has been many voyages, and
the pilot thirty-six years, never saw such a storm—to last so long.

‘It has worried and starved the horses so that I know not what I am to
do—shall go with them as far as I can, and if they knock up must leave
them and take some fly to be by you thirty-first; of which send
immediate notice to B.

‘I know not if Bath be my nearest way, so let me have a letter at
Nicoll’s in case I am not in Town, to the same purport as that to Bath,
to inform me what I am to do and when to go.

                                          ‘Adieu,
                                                 ‘Most truly yours,
                                                              ‘A. Y.

‘Thank God for me. Peter would not come over with me. My passage has
cost me between 7_l._ and 8_l._, which is the very devil, so that I
shall come home without a shilling, and the thoughts of coming full
swing upon poverty again make me miserable. Two ships were lost in the
storm.’

                                -------

_Note in memorandum-book._—‘Note of my being thirty-eight, and poetry in
my head.’

-----

Footnote 54:

  Appears to have been brother to the Hon. Robert Arbuthnot, third son
  of John, Viscount Arbuthnot, whose death is recorded in the _Annual
  Register_ of 1801.

Footnote 55:

  First Marquis of Lansdowne; took part in Lord Chatham’s Ministry.

Footnote 56:

  This use of the word as respectworthy is noticeable.

Footnote 57:

  Whisky: a light carriage built for rapid motion.—_Webster._

Footnote 58:

  Edward Wakefield, _An Account of Ireland: Political and Stastical_.
  1812.

Footnote 59:

  Entries in memorandum-book ‘the year’s receipts, 1,145_l_. Wrote
  _Alcon and Flavia_, a poem.’

Footnote 60:

  This curious arrangement seems to have been faithfully kept, as will
  be seen later on.

Footnote 61:

  Wear: sea-term, to bring a ship on.—_Bailey’s Dictionary._

-----




                               CHAPTER V

                   FARMING AND EXPERIMENTS, 1779-1782

Corn bounties—A grievance—Reading—Hugh Boyd—Bishop Watson—Howlett on
    population—Irish Linen Board Experiments—Correspondence.


1779.—Quitting Ireland and coming again to Bradfield occasioned a great
pause and break in my life and pursuits, and had I made a proper use of
it might have fixed a quiet destiny, so far as a heart not renewed could
be happy and content; but I wanted religion, and that want includes all
others. I arrived at Bradfield on the first of January, and had then
full time to reflect upon what should be the future pursuit of my life,
and upon what plan I could devise for that fresh establishment of
myself, which should, at the same time, prevent any relapse into those
odious dependencies upon uncertainties, which from 1771 to 1778 had been
the perpetual torment of my life. While I was hesitating what plan to
follow, an emigration to America arose in my mind and much occupied my
thoughts. But the advanced period of my mother’s life and her
persuasions against any scheme of that sort prevailed, and with some
reluctance I relinquished it. I had also to consider, how far it would
be prudent to yield to her earnest entreaties to return to farming at
Bradfield and live with her. To stock a farm of any size would have been
to me a matter of difficulty, but, at the same time, to get free from
all London engagements, and to secure the tranquillity of a retired life
after all the stormy perplexities through which I had passed, was an
object full of attraction, and it prevailed. A small farm contiguous to
the old family mansion was to be vacant at Michaelmas, and notice was
accordingly given to the tenant to quit. Thus was I once more engaged in
husbandry, with a prospect of gradually increasing my business according
as my capital should enable me. Relative to my farm, it may here be
proper once for all to observe, that as the leases of the estate fell
vacant I gradually enlarged my occupation, till I had between three and
four hundred acres in hand, most amply stocked, and conducted with such
an expense of labour as enabled me to support the credit of my
husbandry. I remained at Bradfield the whole year, and the only literary
pursuit I engaged in was a correspondence with Mr. Wight upon some
points in the Scotch system of farming; it was published in his ‘Present
State of the Husbandry of Scotland.’[62] I had reason to believe that
his letters were written under the eye of Lord Kames,[63] the author of
the well-known work called, ‘The Gentleman Farmer,’ and much better
known book, ‘Elements of Criticism.’

About this period I was elected a member of the Imperial Œconomical
Society of Petersburg.

The first event of the year 1780 was the publication of my Irish Tour in
one volume quarto. It was so successful and popular in both kingdoms
that it is unnecessary to expatiate upon it; thus much, however, I trust
I may say without vanity, that it has stood the test of examination, and
received from the best judges the highest commendation. But there is one
circumstance which appears never to have been sufficiently understood,
or at least the _effect_ properly attributed to this work. Perhaps the
most novel, instructing, and decisively useful part of the publication
was the attack made upon the bounty paid on the land carriage of corn to
Dublin.[64] I therein proved beyond the possibility of doubt the gross
absurdity of the measure. The whole kingdom, however, without exception,
considered this bounty as the great palladium of their national
agriculture, and in conversation upon that subject with the most able
men then living there, I found them so strongly prejudiced in its favour
that they were not very willing to hear anything spoken against it. But
it appeared to me so manifestly absurd that I exerted my industry to
examine the measure on its very foundation. When I was a complete master
of the subject and stated the result in conversation to the warmest
friends of the measure, I had the satisfaction to find that the
documents thus produced were utterly unknown to all, and they were
fairly beat[65] out of their prejudices in favour of the measure; at
least their _argument_ entirely failed on the occasion. But the event
proved that the conviction was real. For in the very first session after
the publication of my book the bounty was reduced by half, as appears by
Mr. Henry Cavendish’s publication on the revenue and national expenses
of Ireland. It was afterwards gradually reduced, and at last gave up
entirely. The saving to the nation occasioned palpably by this
publication amounted to 40,000_l._ per annum immediately, and as the
expense of the bounty had been constantly increasing, the saving was of
course in reality much greater. Long after, in conversation with Lord
Loughborough, he told me that he had read that part of my work relative
to the bounty, &c., with particular attention, and that he thought the
arguments most unanswerable, adding, ‘Ireland ought to have rewarded you
for that.’ When the whole was given up it was a saving of 80,000_l._ a
year to the nation. This was much for one individual to effect; and some
reward for such services would not have been much for the nation to
grant.

I cannot on such an occasion name Ireland without remarking that though
the Irish are certainly a generous people, and liberal sometimes almost
to excess, yet not a ray of that spirit was by any public body shed on
my labours.

After I had left the kingdom and published the tour, I received the
following letter:—

                                            ‘Dublin: Sept. 16, 1780.

  ‘Sir,—With great pleasure I take up the pen in obedience to the
  commands of the Dublin Society, to communicate to you their thanks for
  the late publication of your tour in Ireland, a treatise which, in
  doing justice to this country, puts us in a most respectable view; for
  which reason we consider you to have great merit. But what
  particularly gained the attention of the Society were your just and
  excellent observations and reasoning, in the second part of that work,
  relative to the agriculture, manufactures, trade, and police of the
  kingdom. And gentlemen thought the publication of that part,
  particularly so as to fall into the hands of the generality of the
  people of this country, might be of great benefit and use; and we wish
  you would let us know your sentiments relative to the preparing a
  publication of that kind, and in what mode you would think it most
  proper, and would answer best, and what you would judge a reasonable
  amends for all this trouble, that we may lay the same before the
  Society at our next meeting, the beginning of November. There are a
  great many useful observations and hints interspersed in many parts of
  your tour which may be of great use to throw into the hands of the
  public.

                          ‘I am, Sir,
                                   ‘Your most obedient servant,
                                                      ‘RED. MORRES.’

In answer to this letter, I returned sincere thanks for the honour of
the vote; and assured them that I should be ready either to publish any
part of the work separately, or to make an abridgment of the whole,
reduced in such a manner as to be diffused at a small expense over all
the kingdom. In a few posts I received, under the Dublin post-mark, an
envelope, enclosing an anonymous essay, cut out of a newspaper, which
referred to the transactions of the Society relative to me, and
condemning pretty heavily my whole publication; and in this unhandsome
manner the business ended.

In a Society which disposed of 10,000_l._ a year of public money,
granted by Parliament chiefly with a view, as the Act expresses, to
encourage agriculture, but which patronised manufacturers far more,
there will necessarily be an agricultural party and a manufacturing one.
According as one or the other happens to prevail, such contradictions
will arise. All that is to be said of my case now is, that it was not so
bad as that of poor Whyman Baker, who settled in Ireland as their
experimenter in agriculture—lived there in poverty ten or twelve
years—and broke his heart on account of the treatment which he met with.
But while their Societies acted thus, the Parliament of the kingdom paid
my book a much greater compliment than any Society could do; for they
passed more than one Act almost directly, to alter and vary the police
of corn, which I had proved was vicious, but which till then had been
universally esteemed as the chief pillar of their national prosperity,
and I had thus the satisfaction to see the Legislature of the kingdom
improving the policy of it from the known and confessed suggestions of a
work that, in other respects, had proved to the author a mere barren
blank. I have, however, since heard from many most respectable gentlemen
of that nation, as well as from the correspondence of others, that the
book is even now esteemed of some value to Ireland, and that the
agriculture of the kingdom has been advanced in consequence. But it is
time to dismiss a subject upon which I have dilated too much, and spoken
perhaps with an unguarded vanity and self-love which would ill become
me.

I was the chief part of this year at Bradfield, but I had bought at
London a pair of roan mares for drawing a post-chaise, and having the
small farm in hand, I made myself by practice no bad ploughman, and
could finish the stetches[66] neatly, and execute everything except the
rivalling the Suffolk ploughman in drawing straight furrows to a mark
set for that purpose; yet I overcame this difficulty in a manner that
would have been commended in any other county.

The Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce
voted me their Honorary Medal for some experiments I had communicated to
them on the culture of potatoes.

According to custom, part of my time was occupied in reading, and among
other works was highly entertained with Gray’s letters, and particularly
with the following passage, which displays so much knowledge of the
human mind, and, at the same time, much sterling sense: ‘To find oneself
business I am persuaded is the great art of life, and I am never so
angry as when I hear my acquaintance wishing they had been bred to some
poking profession, or employed in some office of drudgery, as if it were
pleasanter to be at the command of other people than at one’s own, and
as if they could not go unless they were wound up. Yet I know and feel
what they mean by this complaint; it proves that some spirit, something
of genius (more than common) is required to teach a man how to employ
himself—I say a man, for women, commonly speaking, never feel this
distemper, they have always something to do. Time hangs not on their
hands (unless they be fine ladies), a variety of small inventions and
occupations fill up the void, and their eyes are never open in vain’
(vol. ii.)

Thank heaven, I have so much of the woman in me as to possess this
faculty of employing myself. The day is never too long, for I think time
spent in reading is always well employed, unless a man reads like an
idiot, that is, equally removed from instruction and entertainment. Now
the general occupation of my life—agriculture—has the happy circumstance
of giving much employment, and with it exercise, at the same time that
it naturally leads into a course of reading, to which it gives the air
and turn of a study, and consequently renders it more interesting, an
advantage I shall be solicitous to preserve, by persisting, at all
events, to be much interested in farming, even though I should not
continue an actual farmer. Gray felt the advantage of country pursuits.
‘Happy they that can create a rose tree or erect a honeysuckle, that can
watch the brood of a hen, or see a fleet of their own ducklings launch
into the water; it is with a sentiment of envy I speak it, who never
shall have even a thatched roof of my own, nor gather a strawberry but
in Covent Garden.’

I read also Roberts’ ‘Map of Commerce,’[67] and find the following
extract about the spot where should be the ruin of Troy: ‘Anno Domini,
1620.—I hardly saw the relics of this mighty fabric (Troy), though I
traced it for many miles, and gave ear to all the ridiculous fables of
those poor Grecians that inhabit thereabouts in many villages within the
compass of her ancient walls, from Mount Ida to the River Scamander, now
only a brook not two feet deep, so that what Ovid said of old I found by
experience verified, “jam seges est ubi Troja fuit.”’ There is a
melancholy which attends such reflections that with me makes a deep
impression; the idea that what was once the seat of power, arts,
literature and elegance is now in the most miserable situation which
Turkish oppression and Mahometan superstition can inflict, that not a
trace of a once mighty city is now to be found, is depressing to the
human mind. In an equal series of time what will become of the cities
which are now the pride of Europe? what obscure farmer of futurity shall
plough the ground whereon that House of Common stands in which a
Hampden, a Bolingbroke, a Pitt, and a Mansfield have delighted the most
celebrated assembly now in the world?[68]

My visit to London was, part of it, very agreeable, my whole intercourse
with Arbuthnot entirely so. At Dr. Burney’s, while it lasted, the same;
the opera, parties, the Royal Society, with some of the attendance on
Parliament, add to this being in the world and on the spot for whatever
happened, were all so many opportunities for pleasure and amusement,
which, however, I did not make the most of. Against these I must now
rank ease in my circumstances. Let it fly, and the change has been a bad
one, indeed. But I think I have resolution enough to take special care
of the greatest of all man’s chances. I do not remember when my
acquaintance with Mr. Hugh Boyd[69] began, but I was acquainted with him
in London, met him in many companies in Dublin, and travelled with him
from thence to London. It has been supposed that he was the author of
‘Junius,’ and I must give it as my opinion that there was much
probability in the supposition. I have been many times at his house, at
breakfasts, morning calls and dinners, and never without seeing the
_Public Advertiser_ and remarking that they were blanks, that is to say,
without being stamped. All writers in newspapers are allowed a copy
gratis, and these are never stamped. His company was so much sought
after in Dublin that I was scarcely at a great dinner without his being
present. A very striking circumstance in his character was a memory in
some points beyond example; he would multiply nine figures by eight
entirely in his head, and would give the result with the most perfect
accuracy. When it is considered that such an operation demands the
recollection not merely of the figures, but of their position in order
for the final addition, it must be admitted to be a stupendous one. He
was on all occasions and in every circumstance a most pleasing,
agreeable companion. His wife was a woman of very good understanding,
and appeared to be sensible of her husband’s extraordinary talents. One
morning at breakfast Mr. Burke’s son came in, and as his father had made
a very celebrated speech the day before in the House of Commons which he
intended to publish, but had, in the conclusion, departed from his notes
in a very fine strain of eloquence, knowing the great memory of Boyd, he
sent his son to request some hints for that conclusion. We set to work
to recollect as much as possible his own words, and furnished young
Burke much to his satisfaction. Mr. Boyd’s letters, of which I have
preserved several, are written in a most pleasing, lively style.

                                   ‘Norfolk Street: August 16, 1780.

  ‘My dear Sir,—You have an excellent physician, but I should be glad to
  know what right the patient has to become his own apothecary? The
  doctor’s prescription consists of such rare ingredients as require no
  common skill to discover and use, _Cuivis in suâ arte_. If it had been
  your inferior fate to wield the pestle instead of the ploughshare and
  the pen, I should subscribe to the judgment of the apothecary as fully
  as I do to the author’s genius and the farmer’s knowledge. “A friend
  who can enliven the dulness of the country.” Well said, doctor.
  Macbeth himself might take your advice, for there is little difference
  between a dull mind and “a mind diseased;” but my good friend has
  neither. His mistake, therefore, in making up your prescription, and
  shaking me up as the aforesaid ingredient, is of little consequence.
  To convince him, however, that he is mistaken—for I love to set your
  clever men right—I shall make my appearance, first in the county of
  Cambridge, and next in the county of Suffolk—or ere the amorous Phœbus
  shall have twice resorted to his evening assignation to take an oyster
  with Miss Thetis. By the bye, we have had very good [entertainment] in
  town for some days—though as to days I can only answer for one and a
  half; being no longer returned from a Western Tour, which I have had
  the pleasure and trouble of making—for everything is mixed, you know,
  pleasure and pain—rose and thorns—man and wife; I ask Mrs. Young ten
  thousand pardons.

  ‘I have had hopes sometimes of tempting Mrs. B. to a country
  excursion, and she has almost agreed to make it with me to Cambridge,
  where I wish to call for half a day, and perhaps longer, soon; the
  hopes of seeing her friends at Bradfield Hall are a strong inducement.

                                      ‘Believe me,
                                             ‘Very sincerely yours,
                                                          ‘H. BOYD.’

                                                   ‘August 17, 1780.

  ‘My good friend will be at least just in this instance, when he is in
  every other so partial to his friends; and you’ll believe that it is
  no small disappointment to me _quod_ inclination, though the cause
  will probably be very advantageous, _businessly_ speaking, that I am
  obliged to postpone my Suffolk trip. Observe I establish a credit by
  the term postpone, and I sincerely hope it will not be a long term. I
  have at present only another half minute to say fifty things. But not
  being able to think, speak, or write the fiftieth part as quick as
  certain persons of my acquaintance (my love to Mrs. Young), I must
  confine myself to one subject—which I have too much at heart to
  omit—the assuring you and her of my being very sincerely yours,

                                                          ‘H. BOYD.’

                                                 ‘September 2, 1780.

  ‘My dear Friends,—You’ll excuse coarse paper, and coarse writing in
  every sense, I’m afraid, “in matter, form, and style,” according to
  Milton’s divisions, when you know that I sit down to this delectable
  epistle in a City coffee-house, in the midst of Bob-wigs and worsted
  stocking knaves, Turks, Jews, and brokers, infidels, and merchants.
  _Nunquam, si quid mihi credis, amavi Hos homines._ O dialect of Babel!
  "Who calls for coffee?"—"This policy, sir"—"Strong convoy, a very good
  thing"—"Pen, ink, and wafer"—"I’sh would be rejoished to _do_ for you,
  shur"—"Was Mr. Shylock here this morning?"—“Yesh, just gone to
  Jerusalem.” O blessed race! I wish you were all there, with all your
  adopted brethren of Jewish Christians from this holy land.

  ‘I have continued in much disappointment—at least, suspense—since I
  wrote to you last, when I hinted the sudden occurrence of some
  business preventing the pleasure of my proposed trip. Depending on the
  pleasures not only of some three or four different persons, but of
  great ones, too, who think themselves _personages_, you will not
  wonder that the said business has been like Sisyphus’s Stone, or
  Ixion’s Cloud, or Tantalus’s Apple, or anything else that’s infernally
  troublesome. But it may, and, notwithstanding their greatness,
  probably it will, be very consequential. In the meantime I must deny
  myself both Suffolk and Cambridge. The former, indeed, is the
  self-denial; for Cam. I had more at head than at heart. Besides,
  wishing to establish my Mastery of Arts by a little residence near
  them, I had a little reading and writing also in contemplation, near
  the walks locally—_perlongo intervallo_ in every other sense—of old
  Erasmus.

  ‘I should have been happy in being at Bradfield Hall; I long to hear
  my friend refute himself, to complain with good spirits, and to
  demonstrate, with much wit, that he was extremely dull. But I dare say
  you have too much genuine vivacity, as well as good taste, to enter
  much into the bastard sort of alacrity—the intoxicated bustle that
  rages in empty heads and full pockets, by Royal proclamation. I should
  not object if the _cui bono_? could be answered. But in the present
  desperate size of power and depopulation of spirit, so much and so
  expensive pains seem little better than a curious folly. If a man’s
  brains must be blown out, why need he gild his pocket pistol, much
  less purchase a great gun—unless it be a _Scotch canonade_, which, it
  must be confessed, will do the business, _con amore_, for England or
  Ireland?

                                                   ‘Yours ever,
                                                          ‘H. BOYD.’

I continued farming at Bradfield, and also reading and writing with much
attention, as about this time I had formed the intention of delivering
lectures on agriculture, and had prepared several. The original hint
came from Mr. Wedderburn,[70] who persuaded me to persevere in this
plan; but the lectures never took place. I was highly honoured by the
commendation and partiality of a friend, Dr. Watson,[71] the celebrated
Professor at Cambridge, afterwards Bishop of Llandaff, who wrote thus:
‘We owe to the agricultural societies, and to the patriotic exertions of
one deserving citizen (Arthur Young, Esq.), the present flourishing
condition of our husbandry’ (‘Chemical Mag.’ vol. 4).

I find from an application of my friend, Arbuthnot, that the Bishop of
Chester was at this time collecting materials for a work on population
by the Rev. Mr. Howlett,[72] and had desired Arbuthnot to apply to me
for assistance. I was myself meditating such a work, but complied with
the request, and transmitted the collections I had made to the Bishop,
who wrote me a most obliging letter.

  ‘Your facts are clear and decisive, and the conclusions you draw from
  them, unanswerable. The only difficulty I am apprehensive of is that
  as his work is now pretty far advanced, and is already larger than I
  could wish he will not be able to take in the whole of your papers,
  especially as I observe that he has in some part of his pamphlet
  fallen into the same train of reasoning as yourself. If, therefore,
  you would allow him to take only your two general tables of baptism
  before and after the Revolution, and the two more recent periods of
  thirty years each, which is the very method he has himself adopted,
  subjoining such of your observations as are the most important and are
  not in some measure anticipated by him, he will be most exceedingly
  obliged to you, and will, I am sure, be very ready to acknowledge in
  proper terms the sense he has of your goodness to him.’

I had also a sad letter from my friend Arbuthnot on his return from
France, but it was written in so melancholy a strain on his own
situation and that of his wife and family, that it has often made my
heart ache to read it. By Lord Loughborough’s interest he got an
appointment in Ireland under the Linen Board,[73] which carried him to
that country, where he lived but a few years. I lost in him by far the
most agreeable friend I was ever connected with.

At this time I was much engaged in making a variety of experiments in
expelling gaseous fluids from specimens of soils, the results of which
were afterwards published in ‘The Annals of Agriculture.’ As I met with
some difficulties I wrote to Dr. Priestley, stating them, and begging
information. He very liberally and politely answered all my enquiries,
encouraging me to proceed with my trials, and I received several
interesting letters from him.

                                         ‘Birmingham: Dec. 12, 1781.

  ‘Dear Sir,—If I had any remarks or hints respecting the subject of
  your experiments, I should certainly with much pleasure have
  communicated them long ago. I meant, indeed, to have made a few more
  experiments on the growth of plants in the course of the last summer,
  but the weather was so bad, and the sun shone so little, that I
  dropped the scheme. All I can do, therefore, in return for your
  _facts_, is to mention one that I have lately observed. I readily
  convert _pure water_ into _permanent air_, by first combining it with
  quicklime, and then exposing it to a strong heat. The weight of the
  air is equal to the weight of water, and no part of the water is
  turned into _steam_ in the process. During the whole of it, a glass
  velum, interposed between the retort and the recipient for the air,
  remains quite cool and dry. The air I procure in this manner is in
  part _fixed air_, but the bulk of it is such as a candle would hardly
  burn in it, but is such as I should imagine would be the best for
  plants, which would purify it and render it fit for respiration. And
  as this kind of air would be yielded in great abundance by volcanoes,
  from calcareous matter in the earth; such was perhaps the original
  atmosphere of this earth, which according to the Mosaick account
  (which you must allow me to respect) had plants before there were any
  land animals.

  ‘This letter I fear is hardly worth sending you; your objects and mine
  are so very different, though now and then coinciding; but mine have
  seldom any practical uses, at least no immediate ones, whereas yours
  are highly and immediately beneficial. Wishing you the greatest
  success, and wishing you and all philosophers joy of the near prospect
  of peace,

                                             ‘I am, yours sincerely,

                     ‘J. PRIESTLEY.’


This year’s memoranda: ‘Wrote “Emigration,” an ode.’


In the autumn of this year I spent a month at Lowestoft, where the sea
air and bathing agreed so well with me that I do not recollect in my
life ever having spent a month with so continued a flow of high spirits,
which received no slight addition by the society of a very handsome and
most agreeable girl, whose name I have forgotten.[74]

In a letter from Dr. Burney (of this year) he rallied me with much wit
on my culture of the earth instead of the Muses. This friend of mine had
a happy talent of rendering his letters lively and agreeable, indeed
they were a picture of the man, for I never met with any person who had
more decided talents for conversation, eminently seasoned with wit and
humour, and these talents were so at command that he could exert them at
will. He was remarkable for some sprightly story or witty _bon mot_ just
when he quitted a company, which seemed as much as to say, ‘There now, I
have given you a dose which you may work upon in my absence.’ His
society was greatly sought after by all classes, from the first nobility
to the mere _homme de lettres_. He dressed expensively, always kept his
carriage, and yet died worth about 15,000_l._, leaving a most capital
library of curious books. His second wife was my wife’s sister, the
handsome widow of a Mr. Allen, of Lynn, who in a short life in commerce
made above 40,000_l._, leaving her a handsome fortune and her two
daughters equally provided for.

This year I had a controversy in the ‘Bury St. Edmunds News’ with Capel
Lofft, Esq.,[75] on the proposal which originated with the Earl of
Bristol,[76] for building a 74-gun ship and presenting it to the public.
I wrote a paper in favour of this scheme, which so pleased Lord Bristol
that he complimented me on my eloquent, spirited language, and he caused
a numerous edition of it to be printed and given away. Lofft attacked
the scheme as unconstitutional, I retorted, and a paper war ensued which
lasted for some time, and was afterwards published. The Earl of
Shelburne, at that time Minister, wrote several letters to Lord Bristol
in which he appeared highly gratified by this plan. Capel Lofft at the
conclusion of our controversy wrote to me a very polite letter,
expressing his satisfaction that our names should be united in the same
publication. These papers were read with much avidity, and established
the Bury paper in which they were written, to the great emolument of the
proprietor.

Prince Potemkin, the Russian Prime Minister, sent this year to England
three young men consigned to the care of M. Smirnove, chaplain to the
Russian Embassy, who requested that I would fix them in my immediate
vicinity, in order that I might pay some attention to their progress and
acquisitions. This I readily did, and took every means to have them well
instructed in the English mode of cultivating land.[77]

1782.—This year Mrs. Cousmaker, sister to my mother, died in her house
at Bradfield. She was a maiden lady who never would marry, though she
had several advantageous offers. She left me her house and two farms,
and a long annuity in the funds of 150_l._ a year, which expired about
fifteen years afterwards. She had 300_l._ per annum of three annuities,
the whole of which had once been left to me, but being much offended
with my wife she gave half of it to another person. She also left me her
carriage and horses. She was a very religious character; the bequest in
her will by which she left the farms to me was not expressed exactly
according to her mind, and she therefore altered it with her own hand
after executing the will. This vitiated the legacy, on consulting Lord
Loughborough, and he had doubts upon the question; but upon taking the
opinion of several great lawyers, they declared the legacy null, and
that the estates lapsed to the heir of law. This was John Cousmaker,
Esq., of Hackney, who very generously declared that he would not take
advantage of the error, and desired that Joshua Sharpe, a celebrated
solicitor, might draw up a deed, by which he might make good the
intention, which was accordingly done. Such an instance of uncommon
liberality deserves to be recorded for the credit of mankind.

This year the Episcopal Earl of Bristol lived at Ickworth both summer
and winter, and having very early called upon me after coming to the
title and estate, a great intimacy took place between us; and Lord B.
desired me to dine with him every Thursday, which I did through the
whole year. Mr. Symonds, Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, Sir
John Cullum,[78] author of the ‘History of Hawstead,’ a very learned
antiquary, and the Rev. George Ashby, Rector of Barrow,[79] another
antiquary, and a man of universal knowledge, who for many years wrote a
multitude of papers in the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine,’ being constantly of
the party. It was a trait in this nobleman’s character, which deserved
something more than admiration, to select men distinguished for
knowledge and ability as his companions.

Lord Bristol was one of the most extraordinary men I ever met with. He
was a perfect original—dressed in classical adorning; he had lived much
abroad, spoke all modern languages fluently, and had an uncommon vein of
pleasantry and wit, which he greatly exerted, and without reserve, when
in the company of a few select friends. When abroad, and for many years
afterwards, he lived in a manner that was not very episcopal. He had
been so long absent from Ireland that the Primate wrote him three
letters of remonstrance, and the answer he sent him was to do up and
send in three blue peas in a blue bladder. The old proverb symptomatic
of contempt, ‘Oh! that is but three blue peas,’ &c., is well known. The
Bishop removing, he could not be forced back, and remained where he was.
In my life I never passed more agreeable days than these weekly dinners
at Ickworth. The conversation was equally instructive and agreeable.
This eccentric man built in Ireland a large and very expensive round
house, on a plan as singular as himself; and, what was more
extraordinary, a repetition of it at Ickworth. The shell of the body was
finished and covered in; the wings scarcely begun, and nothing done
towards completing the centre. Above 40,000_l._ was expended, and it
would require much more than forty more to finish it on the original
plan, after which it would be nearly uninhabitable. Lady Bristol used to
call it a stupendous monument of folly; but the most extraordinary
circumstance in relation to it was, that he began it while he disliked
the spot, from the wetness of the soil, and would often tell me that he
should never be such a fool as to build in so wet a situation. It was
then generally imagined that as he must inherit Rushbrooke he would wait
till that period, and if he built at all, would do it there. It was
begun and carried on till the time of his death without his ever having
seen it; and he often declared in letters that he never would set his
foot in England till it was finished and furnished with all the _vertu_
that he had collected in Italy. He never did set his foot in England
again, for the shell of this fantastic building, and that of its still
more extraordinary possessor, were finished at the same time, and my
Lord left the whole, as if by design, a burthen to his son and
successor, with whom he had been on the worst terms, and from whom he
gave away by will the very furniture of the old habitable house at
Ickworth. At the Thursday dinners I, of course, met all who were
visitors to the family, among whom Lord B.’s uncle, General Hervey, was
sometimes present. This was another uncommon character in some respects,
but had not half the originality of his brother. He, too, was a most
determined infidel, but had so far an expectation, not only of a future
state, but also a kind of instinctive belief of the possibility of
rewards and punishments, that acting happily for others, poor man, if
not for himself, this half-faced belief made him one of the most
charitable men living. His morning rides were generally amongst the poor
of the neighbouring parishes, amongst whom he distributed clothing,
food, and bedding, with money to take them out of difficulties, in a
spirit of liberality rarely equalled, and gave away during a long course
of years more in charity than thousands who had ten times his fortune.
This instance may excite a reflection upon the weakness of judging a
man’s religion only by his works; for surely it would be a strange
absurdity to take the measure of piety in the heart by any circumstance
of the conduct which would be emulated or surpassed by an infidel. But
what is charity when the right motive is wanting?

In my library[80] is a complete edition of Rousseau’s works, given me by
the Earl of Bristol.

About this time my friend, the Rev. Mr. Valpy,[81] who had for some time
been Usher at the Grammar School of Bury St. Edmunds, was elected master
of that at Reading, and a correspondence commenced which lasted many
years. He was a most learned, ingenious and agreeable man, in so much
that I greatly regretted his departure, feeling most sensibly the loss
of his society. I have been occasionally connected with him since, and
shall always hold him in great estimation for his learning, his talents,
and sincerity of friendship. My son was under his tuition for some
years. In the following letter my brother describes the state of this
nation, which he thinks miserably bad:—

                                       ‘Eton College: Oct. 31, 1782.

  ‘Dear Arthur,—I wrote to you three days ago, and yesterday I received
  yours, complaining that I write no politicks. If you can, I cannot
  think of them with any degree of patience. We are a ruined people,
  tearing ourselves to pieces, everyone thinking of his party and
  himself, and no one caring for the publick, and that is the truth
  whatever you may hear or read. There is not a blockhead in England,
  who can only read and write and some who can only sign their names, of
  whom I could give you instances, who does not think himself qualified
  to new model the constitution. All true regard for liberty, and law,
  and a free government is gone, and there seems to be a general
  resolution not to be governed at all, which must end in despotism. We
  have no Ministry, nor do I see how we can have any. The whole summer
  has been spent in enlisting recruits against the winter. The friends
  of the old Ministry give out that Lord North has the decisive votes,
  which I think may be true. He was very lately unengaged, and, I am
  glad to hear, has declared positively against all innovations. For I
  am sure there is neither honesty, nor knowledge, nor abilities in this
  generation, to be trusted with altering our constitution. There are
  but two modes of governing—by power, or by influence. I desire to be
  governed by influence, but not that the influence may be so great as
  to be equivalent to power. I think that the Bill,[82] taking away the
  votes of the Revenue officers, will have great effect if ever
  executed, and am against proceeding further till I see the
  consequences of that Bill. I would annihilate the enormous plates in
  the Exchequer, but that would not much affect the influence of the
  Crown. As to increasing the Navy—what do you mean? Can you possibly
  increase your Navy without increasing the number of your seamen? And
  can you increase them without increasing your trade? You have already
  more ships than you can man. When your silly Suffolk scheme of
  building a ship was first mentioned to Lord Keppel, he said: If they
  could find him seamen he should be obliged to them, for he had ten
  more ships ready if he had seamen to put into them. We have got into
  one of those stupid wars which the Tories have always clamoured for, a
  naval war with France, without any land war in which our men might die
  in German ditches; we pay no subsidies to German princes for defending
  themselves, and you see how it has succeeded. The French having no
  diversion of their wealth to a land war are superior at sea, as any
  man of common sense might have foreseen. If your Suffolk gentry would
  take care of their own duty and suppress the smuggling on their coast,
  it would be well. The Parliament will supply Government with money,
  levied equally on the subject, to build ships as they are wanted; and
  Government is by common law armed with power to avail itself of every
  seaman in the country; and that is the only just and equitable way of
  providing a Navy.

  ‘I shall be in town next month, and will call on our Aunt Ingoldsby. I
  am sorry to hear that my mother’s memory fails so fast; it frightens
  me out of my wits every time I forget anything.

                                     ‘Yours very affectionately,
                                                         ‘J. YOUNG.’

-----

Footnote 62:

  In memorandum-book occurs this note: ‘Correspondence with Wight
  printed in his reports.’ This seems to be Alexander Wight, author of
  ‘An Enquiry into the Rise and Progress of Parliament, chiefly in
  Scotland.’

Footnote 63:

  Henry Home, a Scotch judge, better known by the title of Lord Kames,
  author of several legal and other works, among them ‘Introduction to
  the Art of Thinking.’ Died 1782.

Footnote 64:

  Corn bounty in Ireland, 1780. This was granted by the Irish
  Parliament. The Lord Lieutenant, in his speech at the close of the
  session, said: ‘Ample bounties on the export of your corn, your linen,
  and your sail-cloth have been granted.’ See _Annual Register_, 1780,
  p. 338.

Footnote 65:

  Beat: participial adjective.—_Webster._

Footnote 66:

  Stetch: as much land as lies between one farm and another.—_Prov.
  Eng., Halliwell._

Footnote 67:

  Lewis Roberts, _The Merchant’s Map of Commerce_, London, 1638. ‘The
  first systematic writer upon trade in the English language’ (Lowndes).

Footnote 68:

  Had this sentence appeared in print anterior to Macaulay’s famous
  passage, the latter might have been deemed a plagiarism.

Footnote 69:

  Hugh Boyd, a writer whose real name was Macaulay, author of two
  political tracts now forgotten. Died at Madras in 1791, having
  dissipated his wife’s fortune and his own.

Footnote 70:

  Alex. Wedderburn, Earl of Rosslyn, Baron Loughborough. In 1778
  Attorney-General; in 1793 succeeded Lord Thurlow to the
  Chancellorship. Died 1805.

Footnote 71:

  Richard Watson, a celebrated prelate. In 1796 he published an answer
  to Paine’s _Age of Reason_. He was left an estate worth 24,000_l._ by
  a Mr. Luther, an entire stranger to him, author of many theological
  works and memoirs of himself. Died 1816.

Footnote 72:

  Died in 1804. There is a notice of this writer in Watts’ _Bibliotheca
  Britannica_.

Footnote 73:

  Irish Linen Board, established 1711; the Board abolished 1828. We do
  not learn upon what business Mr. Arbuthnot had gone to France.

Footnote 74:

  That Arthur Young’s society was equally agreeable to the other sex
  Fanny Burney tells us. In the gossipy, ecstatic journal of her
  girlhood she writes: ‘Last night, whilst Hetty, Susey, and myself were
  at tea, that lively, charming, spirited Mr. Young entered the room.
  Oh, how glad we were to see him!’

Footnote 75:

  A Suffolk squire, ardent Whig, and of considerable literary
  attainments. At his expense was published Bloomfield’s _Farmer’s Boy_.

Footnote 76:

  Frederick Hervey, Episcopal Earl of Bristol. The _Annual Register_ for
  1803 has the following: ‘His love of art and science was only
  surpassed by love of his country and generosity to the unfortunate of
  every country. He was a great traveller, and there is not a country of
  Europe in which the distressed have not obtained his succour. He was
  among the leaders of Irish patriots during the American War, and a
  member of the Convention of Volunteer Delegates in 1782. He was on
  this occasion escorted from Derry to Dublin by volunteer cavalry,
  receiving military honours at every town. He died at Albano, Rome,
  surrounded by artists whose talents his judgment had directed and
  whose wants his liberality had supplied.’

Footnote 77:

  By an irony of fate, Arthur Young, who had found farm after farm in
  his own hands a disaster, was now by general acceptance the first
  European authority on agriculture.

Footnote 78:

  _The History and Antiquities of Hawstead and Hardwicke, in Suffolk_.
  The second edition appeared in 1813, with notes by Sir T. Gery-Cullum.

Footnote 79:

  Author of many antiquarian treatises.

Footnote 80:

  Sold by auction in December 1896.

Footnote 81:

  Richard Valpy, D.D., 1754-1836, distinguished scholar, voluminous
  writer on educational works, and author of the famous Greek and Latin
  grammars.

Footnote 82:

  This Bill to disable Revenue officers from voting in Parliamentary
  elections was introduced April 16, 1782, and read a third time on the
  25th; read a third time in the House of Lords by 34 Contents to 18
  Non-contents. _See._ Hansard.

-----




                               CHAPTER VI

                   FIRST GLIMPSE OF FRANCE, 1783-1785

Birth of Bobbin—Ice baths—‘The Annals of Agriculture’—A group of
    friends—Lazowski—First glimpse of France—Death of my mother—The
    Bishop of Derry—Fishing parties—Rainham.


On May 5 of this year my dear Bobbin was born.[83] I passed the year at
Bradfield, and was much in the society of many neighbouring gentlemen.
At this time I was a desperate bather, going into the water every
morning at four o’clock each winter, and with or without the obstruction
of a thick coat of ice, having often to break it before I could bathe.
All my friends much condemned the practice, and assured me that I should
kill myself, but it became so habitual that their prophecies were vain.
As soon as I was out of bed I continued my favourite practice, walking
about two hundred yards to a bath I had constructed, and plunging in,
notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather.

I had this year a severe fever, which occasioned several of my friends,
with all the acrimony that a departure from the usual modes of life
occasions, strongly to dissuade me from persisting in my scheme. I
myself was firmly persuaded that it was not, as they declared, the cause
of my illness, and therefore when I was perfectly recovered resumed the
practice, which I continued for many years; and I once at Petworth, at
Lord Egremont’s, went into the bath at four in the morning, when the
thermometer was below zero. Upon coming out, walked into the shrubbery,
and rolled myself in the snow as an experiment to see the effect on my
body; it had none, except that of increasing strength and activity, and
was not at all disagreeable.

In January commenced one of the greatest speculations in my life—the
publication of ‘The Annals of Agriculture.’ I had long meditated such a
work, and corresponded upon it with Mr. Whyman Baker, of Ireland, who
had promised communications. The plan which first suggested itself was
peculiar, and to the exclusion of all private profit—with a constant
publication of the printing and publishing accounts—but the booksellers
applied to, rejected the idea, and the work appeared monthly, with very
indifferent success, for about a twelvemonth. The correspondence being
highly respectable, and no papers inserted without the name and place of
abode of the writer, it rose gradually to the support of itself, and
after a time enabled me to insert a great number of plates. It would
have proved a very profitable publication but for the many numbers which
were obliged to be reprinted. Printing only 500 afterwards occasioned
reprinting another 500, still a third 500. This created so large an
expense that it swallowed up everything that wore the resemblance of
profit, and many years afterwards I continued reprinting various numbers
for the sole object of completing sets; this formed a back current;
which carried away what would have been profit. It may be added that
many of those papers written by myself, forming perhaps a third or
fourth of the whole work, may be reckoned among my most valuable
productions, and have received the sanction of approbation, by being
translated into several foreign languages. It is an anecdote which
cannot be generally known, that two very able letters, which came under
the name of Robinson, the King’s shepherd at Windsor, were really the
production of his Majesty’s own pen, describing what he had long been
intimately acquainted with, the husbandry of Mr. Ducket. The King took
in two sets of the work, one of which he regularly sent to that farmer;
and in the interview which I had with his Majesty upon the terrace of
Windsor, the first word the King said to me was: ‘Mr. Y., I consider
myself as more obliged to you than to any other man in my dominions,’
and the Queen told me that they never travelled without my ‘Annals’ in
the carriage. Lord Fife informed me that he himself always had the
‘Annals’ sent him the moment they were published, but still he always
found that the King was beforehand with him, for upon the first of the
month, while the number was unopened upon his table, riding out and
meeting his Majesty, he at once spoke to him on a paper of his own (Lord
Fife’s) in that number, showing that he had read the whole before it had
met the eye of the author.

Among the letters I received this year the following may be particularly
noted:—

                                  _l._

                                        ‘Londonderry: April 23,1783.

  ‘A thousand thanks to you, my dear friend, for your recollection of me
  at so many miles’ distance, and for your summary Gazette of the
  present miscellaneous state of our neighbours, but no thanks at all to
  you for wishing me back to the foggy, fenny atmosphere of Ickworth, in
  preference to the exhilarating and invigorating air, or rather ether,
  of the Downhill. When you are _vapid_, if ever those _pétillant_
  spirits of yours are so, come and imbibe some fixed or unfixed air at
  the Downhill, where a tree is no longer a _rarity_, since above
  200,000 have this winter been planted in the glens round my house;
  come and enjoy the rapidity and the success with which I have
  converted sixty acres of moor, by the medium of two hundred spades,
  into a _green_ carpet, sprinkled with white clover. Am I not an adept
  in national dialect? Come and enjoy some mountain converted into
  arable, and grouse metamorphosed without a miracle, into men; come and
  teach a willing disciple and an affectionate friend how to finish a
  work he is barely able to begin.

  ‘In all my leases to the tenants of the See, I have providently, and
  with a long forecast, made a reservation to myself of all the bog and
  mountain lands deemed unprofitable. Well, these I am enabled by
  statute to grant in trust for myself during sixty-one years. Now is
  the moment to execute this great purpose; the _reserved_ acres amount
  to several thousands, and upon one mountain only I have received
  proposals for building 200 cabbins (cabins); the limestone is at the
  bottom of the hill, and the turf at the top. What gold may not this
  chemistry produce, and who do you think would himself submit to
  vegetate at Ickworth whilst he can direct such a laboratory at the
  Downhill?

  ‘Can Ashby crawl—_Quantum mutatus ab illo?_ I shall next expect to
  hear of Arthur’s creeping. Mure I knew always to be a prince in his
  ideas; I am glad to hear he is able to be so in his works. Cullum can
  dignify any subject, and interest his reader in the most
  insignificant, so I conclude we all read even his Hawstead Antiquities
  with pleasure and instruction. But what is Symonds[84] about? not six
  yards round I hope like Falstaff—_l._[85] Pray ramble once more to
  Ireland either by the proxy of a letter or in person. You will ever be
  welcome to your affectionate friend,

                                                          ‘BRISTOL.’

This year Arthur Young, an American prisoner, wrote to me asking
charity; it deserves to be mentioned that in a book called ‘England’s
Black Tribunal’[86] there is a list of emigrants to America in the
seventeenth century, at the head of whom stands the name of Arthur
Young. The following letters are from James Barry,[87] the celebrated
painter. This was a very singular character. I sat to him for the
portrait which he inserted in his famous painting for the decoration of
the Society’s room.[88] I met him often at Dr. Burney’s, and always
found him to abound with original observations, which marked a character
peculiarly his own. He always seemed to me to be proud of his poverty.

                                               ‘Adelphi: April 1783.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I am very much obliged to you for your kind letter, and
  hope your goodness will make every allowance for my not having
  answered it sooner, but of all things I hate writing at any time, more
  particularly at present, when I had resolved to allow myself some
  days’ Sabbath, to the utter exclusion of all manner of labour, even of
  that which was most agreeable to me. I shall be sincerely obliged to
  you for your corrected copy of my account of the pictures,[89] and the
  freer and the more extensive your strictures are the more thankful I
  shall be; whatever is for use shall be adopted, and I will further
  promise you that whatever may not be to the purpose shall be thrown
  aside with as little reluctance as if I had written it myself. I
  expect to find you on a wrong scent in what you call _my violence_,
  which you may think _has been carried too far_, and I shall have a
  pleasure in setting you right as to that matter the first time we
  meet. You will find nothing has arisen from resentment, nothing from a
  desire of retaliating, nothing from paltry, interested views; such
  motives, though I might be inclined to make allowance for them in
  others, I should reprobate in myself. It appeared to me a bounden duty
  to point out for the common good whatever I could discover of those
  quicksands, shoals, and rocks that obstruct and endanger our
  _viaggiatori_ in the _belle arti_, and I am confident that the arts
  and the reputation of the country will receive essential service,
  whenever this chart (of which I have made but a rude sketch) shall be
  perfected by some man of more information and better abilities (though
  perhaps not of more love for truth, for the public and for science)
  and of penetration, energy, vivacity and perspicuity, to treat this
  matter as it deserves.

  ‘Though I don’t wish to hurry you, yet I hope your copy will come
  soon; I accept your terms, or rather I insist upon them, but do not
  content yourself with what you may have written in the margin, in
  which, upon this occasion, I am sorry to believe you must be
  straitened for want of room; however, you can stick papers between the
  leaves, and in charity spare not the rod, as it may save the child. I
  have on all hands got more praise than I well know what to do with,
  and something else may now be more profitable to me.

  ‘In what you say of yourself I feel for the country—the loss is
  theirs, not yours. God Almighty has so ordered matters in this world
  that it is praiseworthy and honourable when genius and abilities will
  struggle to exert themselves for the service of others; it was for
  this end they were given, and with the consciousness of these honest
  and dutiful endeavours such men must be contented, and, indeed, ought
  to be happy, as no more can depend upon themselves. Others are to be
  accountable, and to receive glory or infamy for what is done on their
  part in the assistance or the obstruction they may have flung in the
  way. Farewell!

                                       ‘Yours most affectionately,
                                                         ‘J. BARRY.’

                                                ‘Adelphi: July 1783.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I am delighted with your account of Ireland, ’tis wise,
  candid, bold, exceedingly humane, and just what the nature of the case
  required. I have long been sick at heart of the timid, trimming,
  mistakingly prudent, and palliating conduct of those writers who have
  been hitherto quacking and dabbling with the sores and miseries of
  that country, and was without the least hope of ever seeing this
  matter undertaken by any man of such sufficient courage, philanthropy,
  or charity (which are indeed but different points of view of the same
  virtue), as might obtain for us a fair, open and entire exposition of
  this unexampled and very melancholy case. Judge, then, what a pleasure
  I am receiving in the perusal of your book. You have, I find, probed
  the evil to the bottom, and left me without a wish. The men of Ireland
  are surely much indebted to you, and will, I trust, one day
  acknowledge it, but for the present you must have patience and ought
  to bear with them, as the illiberality or meanness you may justly
  complain of may fairly be ascribed to an unhappy combination of
  circumstances, owing principally to the tyrannical monopolising
  disposition and rascally interference of your own forefathers, who had
  with the most abominable and diabolical policy employed their whole
  skill and power utterly to erase from the minds of Irishmen all those
  noble and generous feelings which were incompatible with a servile and
  enslaved condition, and which ultimately estranged them from the
  exercise of even the ordinary vulgar virtues.

  ‘In situations where men are divided into large bodies of tyrants and
  slaves, little good is to be expected. Their vices may differ, but
  they are all equally remote from virtue, truth, justice, gratitude,
  the love of excellence, or any other of those qualities which
  constitute the real dignity of human nature. Those who are attached to
  no country or description of men, but for the ends and furtherance of
  humanity, by equal justice and happiness, will with me rejoice and
  give Almighty God thanks for the dissolution of whatever has hitherto
  obstructed the growth and spreading of virtue, and for that just sense
  of the human dignity which is now diffusing itself so extensively in
  Ireland, and gives fair prospect of a plentiful harvest (in due
  season) of those other virtues which, though but thinly scattered in
  England, are at present, I fear, in vain to be sought for anywhere
  else.

                                      ‘Yours most affectionately,
                                                      ‘JAMES BARRY.’

At this period commenced a most agreeable acquaintance with a French
gentleman who came to Bury, and I must dilate a little on the origin of
his journey. The Duke of Liancourt[90] was Colonel of a French regiment,
the quarters of which were at Pont à Mousson, in Lorraine, to which he
went every year, according to the regulations of the French army. At
that place he accidentally met Monsieur de Lazowski,[91] son of a Pole,
who came to Lorraine with King Stanislas. The Duke was so struck with
his manner and conversation that he resolved to cultivate his
acquaintance. About that time he was in want of a tutor for his two
sons—not for the common purposes of education, but to travel with them.
He accordingly engaged Lazowski to make the tour of France with these
lads, the Count de la Rochefoucault and the Count Alexander de la
Rochefoucault. The Duke thought it an important part of education to
become well acquainted with their own country. During two years they
travelled over the greatest part of the kingdom on horseback. The Duke
was so well pleased with the conduct of Lazowski on this journey that,
having determined to send his sons to England in order to acquire the
language of that country, and, generally, in compliance with the
Anglomania which then reigned in France, he continued Lazowski in his
situation and sent them all three to England. Among other objects in
France, Lazowski had given some attention to agriculture, particularly
in its connection with political economy. On his arrival in London he
made enquiry who could most probably give him information relative to
agriculture, manufactures, commerce and other national objects. Among
others I was named to him by some person who was so partial in his
representations that he at once determined to fix at Bury for a short
time, which he understood was the nearest town to my country residence.
He and the two young men went to the Angel Inn, from thence hired
convenient apartments, and enquired where I resided. At that time I was
absent, and Mr. Symonds, understanding that two young men of fashion
from France were at Bury, introduced himself and showed them various
civilities, and when I returned brought them over to Bradfield. From
that time a friendship between me and Lazowski commenced, and lasted
till the death of the latter. He was about forty years of age, and in
every respect a most agreeable companion. He soon made rapid progress in
the English language, which he spoke not only with fluency, but often
with extreme wittiness. There was not in his mind any strong predominant
cast; but the grace and facility of his manner, with suavity of temper,
made him a great favourite, and being also highly elegant and refined,
he often produced impressions which were not easily effaced. From his
general conversation in mixed society it was not readily concluded that
he could or would attend with great industry and perseverance to objects
of importance. But this would have been erroneous, for he exerted the
greatest industry in making himself a master of all those circumstances
which mark the basis of national prosperity, and he formed in his own
mind a very correct comparison of the resources both of Britain and
France. He often expressed to me much surprise at what he thought on
this subject in England, and declared that the ignorance of the French
relative to their great rival was most profound. The Duke of Liancourt
was highly gratified by his correspondence, and after he had resided
some time, first at Bury and afterwards with Mr. Symonds, he was
directed to take the young men a tour through England and Scotland,
which he did. The Duke himself came over on a visit to Symonds while his
sons and their tutor were in the house. Soon after his arrival in
England, hearing that there were such carriages at Bury as were called
buggies, and desiring to make use of all sorts, he ordered one to be
hired to convey him and Lazowski to Bradfield. On its coming to the
door, Lazowski perceiving that, though it was drawn by one horse only,
it ran upon the quarter,[92] he would have persuaded the Duke not to
attempt driving, as it would be 20 to 1 that he would overthrow it; but
the Duke, full of presumption, held such prudential advice in contempt,
and, whipping away, had not gone half a mile in a cross road before he
overturned the carriage, and in the fall dislocated his shoulder. The
Duke was conveyed to Symonds. Lazowski instantly rode off to inform me
of the accident, and the Duke expressed no more desire to drive
carriages he had never seen. Lazowski’s connection with the Duke was not
put an end to when the education of his sons was finished; he was so
useful that he continued his salary and an apartment in the Hôtel de la
Rochefoucauld, Paris, and I often admired the independent spirit with
which he lived in the family. A dinner did not often pass without an
argument between him and the Duke, which was carried on with a great
deal of heat on both sides. On such occasions Lazowski never gave up the
shadow of an opinion, and being gifted with more natural fluency than
the Duke, he had usually the better of the argument. This was equally to
the credit of both. His employment was chiefly drawing up memorials upon
political subjects for the Duke’s information, who was a vain man, and,
without doubt, figured in conversation by this subsidiary assistance.
His vanity appeared in one circumstance in which he attempted much more
than he could perform. While he was in the bath, or dressing by his
_valet de chambre_, he had three secretaries, to whom he pretended to
dictate at the same time. One of them told Lazowski that it was scarcely
credible how they were fatigued by his incessant blunders. Yet in
France, perhaps, this very attempt gave a sort of reputation. It was
suspected that he merely attempted this in imitation of Cæsar, who did
the same thing, but in a very different manner, it is presumed, from the
D. de Liancourt. With a view similar to that of retaining Lazowski, he
gave an apartment to Jarré, an officer who had long been in the Russian
service, and afterwards became famous for burning the suburbs of
Courtray. He was well known in England as General Jarré, and placed at
the head of the Military Asylum at Wycombe. While I was in France, M.
Jarré published an octavo volume under the title of ‘Crédit National,’ a
whimsical work, in which the arguments were very ill supported. Lazowski
always showed me great friendliness, and I returned it with great
constancy and truth. Among all the men I met with in France, attached to
the higher classes or constituting them, all were infidels, and poor
Lazowski of the number. He never lost himself so completely as when he
entered into an argument upon the truth of Christianity with the Bishop
of Llandaff, for, though civilly done, the Bishop ground him to powder.
The latter, of course, thought him nothing but a frothy Frenchman, like
most of his countrymen, with Voltaire in his head and the devil in his
heart, all of whom would have talked the same language had they had the
same opportunity. Before Lazowski and his pupils had learnt English,
Symonds took them to Cambridge, and introduced them to the Bishop, who,
understanding that the young men were of high rank in France, and
knowing that he spoke French himself with difficulty, put on his
canonicals to receive his foreign guests, and, entering the room with a
most stately air, addressed them all in Latin, hinting to Symonds the
propriety, as Latin was the language of that learned University, and,
therefore, in using it he was classically right. The Frenchmen, of
course, replied with plenty of bows and grimaces to every learned
sentence rolled out in most majestic tone from the Bishop’s mouth, but
giving no other answer. The Bishop was at last compelled to address them
in his broken French: ‘Latin, gentlemen, is our language here, but
perhaps you had rather I should speak in bad French than not use that
language at all!’ and then relaxing his episcopal dignity, he conversed
with them at ease and quieted their ruffled spirits.

1784.—This year I took a journey with my son for farming intelligence
into Essex and Kent, &c., and, being at Dover, we went over to Calais
just to enable us to say that we had been in France. But I had another
motive, which was to see M. Mouron, and the capital improvements that
gentleman had made near Calais. We lived three or four days at Dessein’s
celebrated inn. M. Mouron not only showed me his great farm, but
explained to me every circumstance of the improvements, which I printed
in the ‘Annals.’ Some years before the Empress Catherine had sent over
seven or eight young men to learn practical agriculture, two or three of
whom were fixed with my friend Arbuthnot, and others in different parts
of the Kingdom. They were under the superintendence of the Rev. Mr.
Sambosky, who wrote to me at Bradfield earnestly requesting that I would
go to London and examine all the young men, that he might take or send
them to St. Petersburg. This I accordingly did, and examined them very
closely, except one, who refused to answer any questions from a
conviction of his absolute ignorance. I gave a certificate of the
others’ examination, and I asked Sambosky what would become of the
obstinate fool who would not answer. He replied that without doubt he
would be sent to Siberia for life, but I never heard whether this
happened. One of them, by much the ablest, remained in England, and
became in time Chaplain to the Russian Embassy, in which situation he is
at the present time, and held in general esteem. The intended
establishment of an Imperial farm never took place, and after at least
an expenditure of 10,000_l._, the men on their arrival were turned
loose, some to starve, some driven into the army, and others retained by
Russian noblemen. In this wretched and ridiculous manner did the whole
scheme end, which, under a proper arrangement, might have been attended
with very important effects. Prince Potemkin, one of the first noblemen
in the Russian Empire, must have been animated with truly liberal and
enlarged ideas, or he would not now have sent three young men to learn
practical agriculture. It gave me the greatest pleasure to be able to
promote their enquiries during a part of their residence here.

1785.—This year I wrote a note in the ‘Annals’ relative to a great work
I had long been engaged in, which it may not be here amiss to insert,
viz.: to collect, under regular heads, all the well-ascertained facts
that are scattered through books of agriculture, and, _inter alia_, in
other works, with those to be deduced from the common practice of
various countries; to interweave experiments made purposely to ascertain
the doubtful points; and to combine the whole into regular elements of
the Science is the great desideratum at present. It is a work more
proper for an Academy on a Royal foundation than for any individual. But
as no such Academy is to be looked for, and as all private societies pay
their attention to desultory objects, as often to those already
ascertained as to points in which we want information the most, I
undertook the work myself more than ten years ago.[93]

[Illustration: BRADFIELD HALL AS IN ARTHUR YOUNG’S TIME.]

I had this year the misfortune to lose my mother, to whom I was most
tenderly attached, and with the greatest reason, as her kindness and
affection for me had never failed during the course of her whole life.
She had been educated in the most religious manner by her father, Mr. de
Cousmaker, of whom mention has already been made as a character
eminently pious, but it was not till the loss of my sister, Mrs.
Tomlinson, that deep affliction recalled in her heart those sentiments
of religion which had been so assiduously cultivated in her youth. She
was always extremely fond of me, and ever eager to do what could
contribute to my satisfaction, both as to worldly views, but especially
as to my eternal interests.

The tranquil bosom of my good mother’s hermitage—my native
Bradfield—once more opened its arms to receive us, little more than to
come to close the eye and receive the last signs of that beloved parent.
Blessed spirit!—may my hitherto restless days finish as thine did, who
didst meet death with the tranquillity of a healthy life, and mightst
have said with as much justice as an Addison, ‘See with what peace a
Christian can die.’

Upon her death this patch of landed property[94] devolved to me by a
previous agreement with my elder brother, and by my mother’s will,
written at his desire with his own hand. But that agreement before it
terminated cost me a mortgage of 1,200_l._ The transaction does my
brother’s memory too much honour not to mention it. He was entitled to
2,000_l._, but knowing the smallness of the property, and humanely
considering that I had a family unprovided for, that he had an ample
income and no family at all, he generously demanded and took no more
than 1,200_l._ Whether such things happen among relations or strangers,
they should be mentioned for the credit of the human heart.

My correspondence this year was, upon the whole, interesting, as a few
of the letters will show. From the Earl of Bristol, a panegyric on
agriculture; another from the same, an animated defence of the
Presbyterians.

                                ‘Downhill, Coleraine: Jan. 15, 1785.

  ‘My dear Arthur,—I am mortified, and should really be ashamed to see
  your entertaining letter so long unanswered, but that the
  multiplicity, as well as variety of my occupations, bereave me
  sometimes of the most pleasing ones; from sunrise to long after sunset
  I am not a moment idle, either in mind or person, and I can venture to
  assure you that agriculture, being the basis of all public and private
  virtues, as it banishes laziness, fortifies the body, leads to fair
  and honest procreation, provides sustenance and multiplies the
  tenderest and most endearing ties in nature, has no little share both
  of my time and attention. Let one hundred and fifty men daily employed
  verify my assertion; let the rocks which disappear and the grass which
  succeeds to them corroborate that evidence. But, then, what have I to
  do with the English plough? Neither our soil, nor our climate, nor our
  labourers are the same; we are poor and you are rich; when industry
  has approximated a little of our wealth to yours perhaps we may be
  tempted to adopt your luxury in agriculture, unless before that you
  shall have discovered your errors and so saved us the trouble of
  retracting what we have not had time to adopt.

  ‘As to my Presbyterians, I am glad you are modest enough not to
  censure those, whom you are honest enough to confess you do not know;
  all the harm which I find in them is that they love the rights of
  mankind, and if in pursuing them for themselves they refuse to
  participate with their fellow citizens, I would join in your
  execrations, and set them a better example than hitherto they have
  received from our church. Adieu! let me hear from you sometimes when
  you have nothing better to do, and tell Symonds, with my affectionate
  compliments, that I have recovered my lost map of the Pontine marshes,
  and will send it by the first opportunity. If you ever see the learned
  and good-humoured Rector (Reverend George Ashby) don’t let him forget

                                        ‘Your affectionate friend,
                                                          ‘BRISTOL.’

                                ‘Downhill, Coleraine: March 9, 1785.

  ‘Dear Arthur,—I have but just received yours of the 19th, and though I
  do not think my letters worth paying for, yet since you do, and I have
  a leisure half hour, have at you. And in this duel of our pens, who
  would expect a Bishop of the Established Church to be an advocate for
  the anti-Episcopal Schismatics, called Presbyterians, whilst a man
  whose religion lies in his plough and his garden, that is, with the
  Goddess of the one and with the God of the other, to be so zealous an
  opponent? My defence rests principally on this point, that they have
  as good a right to differ from me as my ancestors from our joint
  ancestors, or the Church established above twelve hundred years
  before.

  ‘As to their political principles, I think them, from their system of
  parity, and from their practice in most parts of Europe, infinitely
  more favourable to political liberty than ours.

  ‘Witness Germany and Switzerland and the short reign of _Old Nol._

  ‘You say, “But their political principles never became powerfully
  active without involving their country in a civil war.” And are there
  not two words to that bargain, and does not the _pot_ call the
  _kettle_, &c. &c.?[95] You might as well object the same to all good
  citizens when oppressed by bad ones; you may as well object the same
  to the first Brutus and to the second; you may as well object it to
  Luther and Melanchthon. Did the Presbyterians ask anything
  unreasonable when they desired to have _their_ nonsense tolerated as
  well as other nonsense? for if it be nonsense ’tis paying _it_ too
  great a compliment, and ourselves too bad a one, to persecute it; and
  if it be good sense, surely, for one’s own sake, as well as that of
  our neighbours, it deserves a better reception than persecution.

  ‘When I see Switzerland and Germany pacified for above 150 years,
  after throat-cutting for 140, by the single means of a reciprocal
  toleration, and by the Pacta Conventa of 1648,[96] which allowed them
  to share those loaves and fishes alternately monopolised by each
  party, I must confess, if I were Frederick the First of Oceana, or of
  Atlantis, I should not hesitate to begin my reign with that system
  with which most sovereigns are compelled to close theirs! The rights
  of humanity, dear Arthur, the rights of humanity form a great article
  in my creed, and that religion, or sect of religion, which can teach
  otherwise may come from below, but surely did not descend from above.

  ‘Believe me, our whirlwind is not past, perhaps ’tis only just
  beginning; yet three hundred labourers with their spades fill my
  mind’s eye with as pleasing and as satisfactory ideas as the whole
  Coleraine Battalion with their muskets before my door. If in this
  whirlwind _I_ can direct the storm, so much the better for humanity,
  but not for the lank-haired Divinity, nor the frizzle-topped Divinity,
  nor the hocus-pocus Divinity.

  ‘I love agriculture because it makes good citizens, good husbands,
  good fathers, good children; because it does not leave a man time to
  plunder his neighbour, and because by its plenty it bereaves him of
  the temptation; and I hate an aristocratical Government because it
  plunders these honest fellows; because it is idle; it is insolent; it
  values itself on the merits of it, and because, like an overbearing
  torrent, the farther it is removed from its fountain head, and the
  less it partakes of its original purity, the more desolation it
  carries with it; and because, like a stinking, stagnated pool, it
  inflicts those very disorders which it was the chief merit of its
  spring and fountain head to heal and remove.

                                      ‘Adieu.
                                          ‘Ever affectionately,
                                                          ‘BRISTOL.’

My brother, the Rev. Dr. Young, Fellow of Eton College, in this letter
informs me that the King reads my ‘Annals’ and is much pleased with
them, and highly approves of my arguments to show that we are far enough
from being in a ruined state.

                                         ‘Eton College: May 1, 1785.

  ‘Dear Arthur,—I have two of your letters to answer; the latter
  directed to Worcester, why, I know not, for I never intended to be
  there till the beginning of next month. I see no reason for your being
  at the expense you allude to for the public, and think you ought to be
  indemnified; you cannot afford these journeys to London, and so I
  would plainly tell the Ministers.

  ‘Yesterday se’nnight as I returned from the chase the King spoke to me
  of you in very handsome terms; I find that he reads your publications.

  ‘He commended particularly your recent periodical work as being very
  useful, and was much pleased with your argument to prove that we are
  not a ruined people, but have great resources. I told him that you had
  been sent for by Mr. Rose,[97] which he did know.

  ‘You wrote to me some time ago that you were of the same opinion with
  Lord Sheffield, but now you write that the commercial part of their
  measure[98] is very good, but the political part is very bad. How do
  you reconcile this, for Lord S. is against the commercial part?

  ‘I wish you would explain this, for I am against both parts, though, I
  confess, no judge.

  ‘You ask whether I continue my new trade of hunting. If you think it
  is a profitable one you are much mistaken; so far indeed it is, that I
  hope to take this year twenty pounds out of my apothecary’s bill; I
  have not been for some winters so well as I have been since I took to
  hunting, and I hope to continue the trade next year. I was yesterday
  seven hours and a half on horseback, and rode certainly fifty-five
  miles, besides fifteen more home from Henley in a post-chaise, which
  is pretty well at fifty-seven years old.

  ‘I have two very fine horses; the King, who is generally but
  moderately mounted, will tell you the two best in the hunt.

  ‘Why would you not call on me when you were in town?

                                    ‘Adieu, dear Arthur.
                                            ‘Yours affectionately,
                                                       ‘JOHN YOUNG.’

From Dr. Valpy, who corrected a poem I sent him, and, to my surprise,
approves of my poetry:—

  ‘My dear Friend,—I beg your pardon again and again for keeping your
  poem so long. Unhappily I had mislaid it, and chance only recovered
  it. There runs a vein of fancy through your poetry which stamps a high
  character upon it, and would your genius but stoop to the minutiæ of
  correctness would raise you to an exalted rank in that line. Whether
  you will approve my alterations or not I cannot tell, but it would be
  difficult to point out more inaccuracies in the poem. You obliged me
  much by your introductory number. I had sent for one before, with a
  view to lend it to my friends and to engage them to become purchasers
  of the work. It is very correctly written, except that sometimes you
  use _shook_ as a participle.

  ‘Everybody here is Pitt mad. Addresses upon addresses crowd the avenue
  to St. James’s. It has even been proposed to offer Mr. Pitt a seat in
  Parliament for this town if Mr. Neville can be engaged to put up for
  the county. Our county meeting was no bad an epitome of the House of
  Commons. We had some excellent speeches. I had occasion to be at the
  Oxfordshire meeting—a most shabby wrangle and scene of illiberal
  confusion. I admire Mr. Pitt—and do not like Fox; but ought not a
  dissolution to have taken place, or the people have instructed their
  representatives rather than suffer the House of Commons to be so
  degraded? What are your sentiments on this unhappy dissension? Sorry,
  very sorry I am that you would not come down to Reading. I am certain
  you must have met with an opportunity. It was my intention last
  Christmas to have paid you a visit, but I had some friends with me.
  Next Christmas, however, I mean to see Suffolk, if possible. Cullum is
  still here.

  ‘The present state of my school is this: six-and-thirty boarders and
  three parlour boarders, besides day scholars. I have two ushers. I
  sometimes hear of your brother, but I have not met with him. I am told
  he has a mortal aversion to everything that comes from Oxford.

  ‘_l._—I hope your family and the materfamilias are in a prosperous
  way. Pray give my best respects to Mrs. Young, and remember me to the
  young ladies and my old scholar. Something I have heard of another
  child. One of the greatest luxuries that I sigh for in life is that
  you lived near me. But inconveniences of absence do not seem likely to
  be prevented by your endeavour to come after me. Let me, however, hear
  from you as often as you can.

                                                     ‘Adieu.
                                                         ‘R. VALPY.’

I find by memoranda that I was busied in the imagination of new
fish-ponds,[99] taking lively interest in and examining how much of the
low meadow at Bradfield could be laid under water. What led me to this
folly is not easy to conceive, because I could have afforded to attempt
the making of an ocean as much as of a pond; but how often is the
register of a life the register of human folly?

I was (this year) elected an honorary member of the Royal Society of
Agriculture of Paris.[100] About this time I went on a farming journey
to the Bakewells,[101] in Leicestershire; it was a very instructive
journey and in which I gained a great deal of valuable information. I
also spent several days about this time with Lord Townshend[102] at
Rainham and his uncommonly agreeable young wife, equally elegant and
beautiful. During my visit I had an ample opportunity of admiring the
noble picture of Belisarius by Salvator Rosa, a performance which can
never be too highly commended. With the agreeableness of this noble
family, and especially of Lady Townshend, I rendered my visit extremely
pleasing.

The noble Lord, to whose liberal attention I owe much information, came
to his estate in so high a degree of cultivation, owing to the
unrivalled exertions of his grandfather, that little was left for him to
perform; a life of great activity and service, had the situation of his
property been different, would not have allowed a minute’s attention.
These notes will, however, show that Lord Townshend has not been idle at
Rainham.

On my arrival there I was anxious to view that part of the estate
chiefly near the house, which was improved by a man who quitted all the
power and lustre of a Court for the amusements of agriculture.

Charles, Lord Viscount Townshend, who was Ambassador Extraordinary to
the States General in 1709, a Lord of the Regency on the death of Queen
Anne, Knight of the Garter, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, twice Secretary
of State, and Lord President of the Council, resigned the seals in May
1730, and, as he died in 1738, it is probable that this period of eight
years was that of his improvements round Rainham.

The Irish propositions[103] which were at this time under the
consideration of Government meeting with many unforeseen difficulties, I
had a letter from Mr. Rose requesting information relative to the
comparative circumstances of the two kingdoms, and Mr. Pitt thought the
information so much to the purpose that he desired Mr. Rose to write to
me requesting my attendance in town. I accordingly went, and gave Mr.
Pitt the information he wished, at the same time answering an abundance
of collateral enquiries, for which I received a formal letter of thanks.
My correspondence with Mr. Rose recurred several times after these
interviews. In his third letter he requested to be informed of the
amount of a labourer’s consumption of taxed commodities, in order to
ascertain what excises and other taxes such consumption supports. ‘I
conceive,’ he wrote, ‘that the articles consumed by that description of
people are leather, candles, soap, beer, probably some spirits, and
perhaps a small quantity of starch. I wish also very much to know what
their chief diet is, and the price of the articles in the different
parts of the country.’[104]

-----

Footnote 83:

  ‘My lovely Bobbin’—christened Martha Ann—the adored child whose loss
  at the age of fourteen was the great sorrow of Arthur Young’s life.
  The pet name of ‘Bobbin’ originated in that of ‘Robin,’ which the
  child gave herself but could not pronounce.

Footnote 84:

  Dr. J. Symonds, Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, was LL.D.,
  and wrote a book, _Hints and Observations on Scripture_.

Footnote 85:

  The Bishop misquotes from memory. The quotation is from Horace, _Ep._
  Bk. I. iii. 21; _agis_ should be _audes_.

Footnote 86:

  Published 1703, giving an account of the trial of Charles I., of
  Montrose, &c.

Footnote 87:

    Died in great poverty, 1808, and was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral.

Footnote 88:

    The society of Arts, Adelphi.

Footnote 89:

    This apparently refers to Barry’s report of the Royal Academy.

Footnote 90:

  The friend of Louis XVI., who summoned courage to announce the fall of
  the Bastille. ‘It is a revolt?’ said the King. ‘Sire,’ replied the
  Duke, ‘it is a revolution.’ This amiable and well-intentioned man
  leaned towards a constitutional monarchy; finding this hopeless, he
  emigrated, returning after exile to Liancourt (Seine and Oise), ending
  his days among a community he had raised morally and materially. Died
  1827.

Footnote 91:

  His brother must not be wholly judged from Madame Roland’s portrait,
  penned in prison. The ‘Queen of the Gironde’ no more than her
  fellow-partisans was free from political animus. It is true that
  Lazowski threw himself into the very heart of _Sans-culottisme_, and
  that his funeral oration (1792) was pronounced by Robespierre. His
  alleged share in the September massacres requires stronger evidence
  than that of his bitterest enemies at bay.

Footnote 92:

  ‘That part of a horse’s foot between the toe and heel, being the side
  of the coffin.’—_Farrier’s Dict._

Footnote 93:

  This project developed into one much more formidable than the writer
  at this period conceived, namely, that monumental history—or, rather,
  encyclopædia—of agriculture never destined to see the light. For
  three-quarters of a century the ten folio volumes of manuscript
  garnished the library of Bradfield Hall, perhaps once in twenty years
  to be taken down by some curious guest. What was to have been Arthur
  Young’s crowning achievement and legacy to future ages is,
  fortunately, not wholly lost to posterity. The ten volumes are now
  housed in the MS. department of the British Museum.

Footnote 94:

  Bradfield Hall was sold on the death of Arthur Young’s last
  descendant, the late Arthur Young, Esq., in 1896.

Footnote 95:

    Proverb, ‘The pot calls the kettle black.’—_Bailey’s Dict._

Footnote 96:

    The Peace of Westphalia.

Footnote 97:

    George Rose, President of the Board of Trade. Died 1818.

Footnote 98:

    This measure is referred to on page 137.

Footnote 99:

  Arthur Young’s fishing parties are described in Fanny Burney’s
  _Camilla_.

Footnote 100:

  Founded 1785.

Footnote 101:

  Robert Bakewell, died 1795, a celebrated grazier. It was wittily
  remarked that ‘his animals were too dear for anyone to buy, and too
  fat for anyone to eat.’

Footnote 102:

  ‘Turnip Townshend,’ ancestor of the Lord Townshend here named, was
  celebrated in the famous lines—

           ‘Why of two brothers, rich and restless, one
           Ploughs, burns, manures, and toils from sun to sun;
           The other slights for women, sports, and wines,
           All Townshend’s turnips and all Grosvenor’s mines.’
                          _Pope’s 6th translation of Horace._

Footnote 103:

  This seems to refer to Mr. Pitt’s resolutions upon the commercial
  intercourse between England and Ireland. The debate thereon began
  February 22, 1785. _See._ Hansard.

Footnote 104:

  How different would be the list of a labouring man’s ‘necessaries’ in
  these days!

-----




                              CHAPTER VII

                    FIRST FRENCH JOURNEY, 1786-1787

Death of my brother—Anecdotes of his character—Dr. Burney on
    farming—Greenwich _versus_ Eton—Blenheim—Correspondence with Dr.
    Priestley—County toasts—French projects—First French journey.


This year my brother died. He was in the habit of hunting with the King,
and having heard of a very fine hunter to be sold in Herefordshire, he
sent his servant to purchase him. It was the end of the season, but the
King appointing one day more for the sport, Dr. Young determined to try
his new horse, and he went in company with another gentleman to the
field. His friend observed to him that his horse tripped in an odd
manner, to which Dr. Y. replied: ‘It is the last day of hunting, and I
shall see how he performs.’ ‘Take care,’ said the other, ‘that it is not
the last day of your life.’ He persisted in the trial, and was for a
time much pleased with his horse in several leaps; in taking another it
struck its own legs against an obstruction, threw his rider, whose neck
was instantly broken. He was taken up dead and carried home. Thus died
my nearest relative, who was a man of very peculiar talents and of most
singular originality of character. He had a great deal of eccentric wit,
and was extremely beloved by many intimate friends, amongst whom were
several of the Townshends, Cornwallises, and the Duke of Grafton, with
whom he was on the most intimate terms, and was a great favourite of the
Duchess. Cornwallis, Archbishop of Canterbury, valued him so much for
his rectitude of conduct in this that he determined to promote him to
the best preferment that should fall in his gift, and I have several
letters from him repeating this intention. Thus ended a life that
promised so many advantages, for he was high in favour with the King,
who was pleased not only frequently to converse with him, but to ask his
opinion respecting many sermons which were at that time published. Thus
high in expectation of further promotion, to lose his life in so
unexpected and sudden a manner was indeed singularly awful and
unfortunate. It was a dreadful blow also to all my son’s hopes, for as
he was educating at Eton for the Church, my brother, who had his turn as
Fellow of Eton and Prebendary of Worcester in about seventy pieces of
preferment, and had passed all by that came to give away, stood high in
the lists purposely with a view of promoting Arthur.[105] There was in
Dr. Young a steady rectitude of principle, an absolute abhorrence of
every mean and unworthy action, great natural parts, and as he had been
Captain (I think), or very near it, of Eton School, he went to King’s at
Cambridge a capital scholar.

The following anecdote relative to my brother I copy from a letter to my
wife, written by my old friend Professor Symonds:—

  ‘I assure you, Madam, that I was really at a loss to conjecture
  whether you were in earnest or not when you desired an answer to your
  letter; but in case you were in earnest (which I can now hardly think,
  since the question might be answered better in conversation), you must
  be surprised and offended by my neglect; but I defy you to have been
  more surprised than you will be at my charging your husband with this
  letter. I concealed from him the purport of it, but judged it
  necessary to inform him that there was not the shadow of an intrigue
  between us.

  ‘So far the prologue; now for the anecdote, which is just as
  interesting as thousands are which are daily propagated. It was about
  two years before the divorce of the Duchess of Grafton that her Grace
  and Lord March played at “brag” for two or three hours one evening at
  Euston; the others—viz. the Duke and Mr. Vary and Jack Young—looked
  over without playing at all. Lord M. had been very forward in
  “bragging,” but threw up his cards afterwards when he had three
  knaves, whether he had a presentiment that the Duchess had three aces
  or whether he had artfully seen her hand. This cowardice struck Jack
  Young so sensibly that he fixed his eyes very sternly on Lord M., and
  addressed him thus: "Why! March, thou art the most dunghill Scots’
  peer that I ever met with." His Lordship instantly arose from his
  chair, filled with indignation, and whilst he was wavering whether he
  should use a poker or some other instrument, the Duke said to him: “I
  find, Lord March, that my friend Jack Young treats you as he
  constantly treats my wife and me.” This prudent and good-natured
  interference disarmed Lord M., and they all passed the evening
  pleasantly. You may depend upon the truth of this story, as I had it
  from Mr. Vary.

                               ‘I remain, dear Madam
                                                 ‘Yours, &c. &c.,
                                                       ‘J. SYMONDS.’

The next anecdote was considered at the time by all who heard it to
redound to the credit of my brother. In one of his visits to Euston he
arrived unexpectedly and late in the afternoon, and immediately went to
the room always appropriated to him to dress for dinner, and thence
proceeded directly into the dining-room, when, to his astonishment, he
perceived sitting at the head of the table the notorious Nancy Parsons
instead of the Duchess. He instantly drew back, at the same moment
extending his arms to mark his astonishment. The Duke went up to him
with a conciliatory air, took his arm and said: ‘Come, come, Jack, these
things are always done in a hurry without consideration. I had no time
to make alterations or inform you. I will explain afterwards.’ But he
only answered with a shake of his head, and, shrugging up his huge
shoulders, retired, mounted his horse, and reached Bradfield the same
night, a distance of nearly fifteen miles.

It should be remembered at this time the Duke was Prime Minister and the
Doctor looking up to him for further preferment. By this he lost a
bishopric.

I was at Bradfield, and received an express[106] from Dr. Roberts,
Provost of Eton, to inform me of the accident, which called me thither
at once. I resided there some time on account of my brother’s affairs,
dining every day with the Provost and Fellows. On the same account I was
obliged to go to Worcester, where he was a Prebendary and Rector of St.
John’s in that city. Dr. Y. died without a will, as he had often told me
he would do. When all his affairs were settled I returned to Bradfield.
So sudden and dreadful an accident affected me deeply; there is
something in such deaths that strikes every feeling of the soul. In the
midst of the rapid movements of that animated amusement, in one moment
to be hurried into another world without one thought of preparation has
something tremendously formidable in it; yet every one is liable to
deaths equally sudden, and the suggestion ought to be universal:
‘Prepare to meet thy God.’ The misery is that thousands sitting in their
chairs and with ample time for preparation are apt to think of any
subject rather than this most important of all.

                                  _l._

                    [No date, but evidently written at this period.]

  ‘As I should be sorry to keep from you anything that must give you
  pleasure in your welfare of your children, I shall report a
  conversation with Dr. Langford, the under-master, who my brother got
  the Prebendary of Worcester for by speaking to Lord Sidney.

  ‘On his calling on me I lamented the loss—in which he joined
  warmly—spoke highly of my brother as his friend. I said that my bosom
  had all the feelings of affection for him, but that the loss to my
  poor boy was nothing short of ruin. He had no friend left. “No,”
  replied he, "don’t say that, for give me leave to say that, feeling as
  I do the obligations I have been under to Dr. Young, I must be allowed
  to call myself his friend. If I succeed in life I will be a friend to
  him, and I hope his progress in his learning will permit me to be so."
  He said more to the same purpose, and as he is a rising man in a
  situation that gives him power to act according to his feelings, I
  hope he will remember it. But the account Mr. Heath gives me is by no
  means satisfactory, and sorry I am to say that Arthur seems determined
  to do little for himself. He is now at a crisis, and sinks or swims. I
  gave Mr. Heath three guineas that he might encourage him with a crown
  now and then (as from himself) when he did well, but don’t write of
  that to him, and desired him to write me when he was negligent. My
  brother’s affairs turn out very badly; bills to the amount of 360_l._
  now lie unpaid before me here, besides Worcester, and I can see no
  more than 260_l._ to pay it. I hear a bad account of the Rectory at
  Worcester, but suspend all judgment till the whole is before me.

                                                             ‘A. Y.’

Two honours were this year added to my name, by being elected into the
Patriotic Society of Milan and that of the Geographical Society of
Florence. I had also a visit from a Polish nobleman, Count Kalaskowski,
who spent some time with me at Bradfield. The letters I received this
year were numerous, and many of them very interesting. From the number I
have selected the following:—


From Dr. Burney, on reading my ‘Annals’ and a character of Handel. This
was after he had been at Bradfield.

                                                    ‘August 1, 1786.

  ‘What have I without an inch of land to do with farming? Is it the
  subject or manner of treating it, or both that fascinated me, when you
  first were so kind, my dear friend, as to send me some of your "Annals
  of Agriculture"? I was in the midst of my winter’s hurricane and
  immersed in other pursuits, but now, having conversed with some of
  your correspondents, seen your farm, and rubbed up my old rusticity,
  all my love for country matters returns, and I sincerely wish myself a
  villager. You seem to have worked yourself up to a true pitch of
  patriotism, and I think, besides the instructions the essays convey,
  that your knowledge on the subject, and animated reasoning, and
  admonitions, must have a national effect. Your book fastened on me so
  much on the road that I hardly looked on anything else. Mr. Symonds’
  essays on “Italian Husbandry”[107] are extremely curious, and furnish
  a species of information totally different from what can be acquired
  from the perusal of any other author. Many of the communications in
  the three first volumes, of which I have almost read every word, seem
  to me instructive, amusing, and masterly. My countryman, Mr. Harris,
  of Hanwood, in Shropshire (the birthplace of my father and
  grandfather), seems a notable planter. As editor and chief of the
  _Agricola_ family, I think you merit the thanks of every Englishman,
  not only who loves his country, but who loves his _belly_, for if your
  discoveries, improvements, and instructions are followed, we may
  certainly always find upon our own island _de quoi manger_.

  ‘Now I would not have you, my dear Arthur, put contempt upon my
  praises, as coming from a Londoner, whom you may regard as a mere
  Cock-neigh immersed in the vanities, follies, and dissipation of the
  Capital, for then I’d have you to know that I reckon myself a
  countryman born and bred as much as yourself. I never was within the
  smell of sweet London till I was eighteen, and then, you know, I lived
  during nine of the best years of my life in Norfolk among the best
  farmers in Europe. Indeed, if I were ten or a dozen years younger than
  I am, I believe I should take your white house and all the land about
  it you could spare, and enter myself for your scholar, and run for the
  give and take plate; you know that I have been _giving_ lessons all my
  life; it is now high time I should take some. As to London, if it were
  not for a few friends whom I sincerely love, and for its vicinity to
  several branches of my family, I would take half a crown never to see
  its sights or hear its sounds again.

  ‘My friend, honest Arthur, who is a very ingenious, good-natured lad,
  will deliver to you a copy of my account of the “Commemoration of
  Handel;” it is not so good a one as I wish to send, though the best in
  my possession. I beg when you have nothing better to do that you will
  read it without too strong prejudices against Old Handel; for though
  he is called a Goth by fine travelled gentlemen, accustomed to more
  modern music and to posthumous refinements, yet candour and true
  knowledge must allow that he was the greatest man of his time, and
  that he had a force and majesty that suited our national character,
  and when you look at the list of his works you will allow that his
  resources were wonderful. His own performance on the organ was perhaps
  more superior than that of any inhabitant of this country, even than
  his compositions. Upon the whole, though I am far from wishing to put
  an extinguisher upon every other candidate for musical fame, yet it
  would be the height of injustice not to allow that this country was
  much obliged to his genius and talent, and that the late performances
  of his productions do honour to the cultivation of musick in this
  kingdom, as well as to our national gratitude.

  ‘I beg you will present my affectionate compliments to Mrs. Young, and
  best thanks for the hospitality and kindness with which she treated us
  at Bradfield; and pray give our hearty love to the gentle, sweet, and
  amiable Miss Bessy.

  ‘And believe me to be, with very sincere regard,

                                        ‘Your affectionate
                                                   ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

From John Symonds, Esq., on the examination of the boys at Greenwich
School for speaking Latin. Gold medal &c. given to master and boys. [A
curious letter.]

                                  ‘St. Edmund’s Hill: December 1786.

  ‘My dearest Friend,—I returned hither yesterday, and shall go to
  Euston on Thursday to pass five or six days there. The Bishop of
  Peterborough will return with me, but whether on Wednesday or Thursday
  se’nnight I know not, but I will send you a line soon after I get
  there, and I hope you will keep yourself free from engagements those
  two days. You may possibly have seen or heard of a remarkable
  circumstance that does equal honour to the Society of Arts and to
  Greenwich School.

  ‘The Society decreed a gold medal to that schoolmaster who should
  teach his boys to speak the best Latin. This was claimed last week by
  the schoolmaster of Greenwich.[108] Sir William Fordyce and my friend
  Professor Martin were appointed Examiners. More, the Secretary,
  requested Bishop Watson to attend, who excused himself, as he was
  obliged shortly to leave London. Five boys attended with their master.
  The Examiners had prepared a great number of questions such as boys
  maybe supposed to understand. These were put in Latin and answered in
  Latin without hesitation. The boys were then ordered to withdraw into
  a private room together, and to make an original composition in Latin
  without the help of a dictionary. This they all performed in half an
  hour. Then the Examiners asked numberless questions in English, which
  were answered immediately in Latin. The gold medal was given to the
  schoolmaster, and five silver ones of equal value to the five boys,
  who were pretty much upon an equality, and what is surprising is that
  not one of the five had learned Latin longer than two years and a
  half, and the eldest of them was not above thirteen years. You may be
  certain that this is true, as I saw it in a letter from Martin to his
  brother-in-law, the Vice-Chancellor, and he concludes it by saying
  “that they all spoke Latin with fluency, propriety, and elegance.”
  Were I possessed but of a small portion of the fire with which you are
  animated, I should cry out with a generous indignation, “Blush, ye
  proud seminaries of Eton and Westminster,” &c. &c. &c.

  ‘My compliments _aux Polonais_.

  ‘I am now set down in earnest to renew acquaintance with my Italian
  _agricoltori_.

                                     ‘Ever affectionately,
                                                     ‘JOHN SYMONDS.’

In a Westerly Tour I made this year, amongst numerous other places I
visited Blenheim, and made the following memorandum:—

  ‘Viewed the pleasure ground at Blenheim, the enclosed part of which
  consists of 200 acres, with the water near 300. It can scarcely be too
  much admired; the whole environ of the water is fine, various in its
  feature, with the character of magnificence everywhere impressed. The
  cascade scenery, viewed independently of the new improvements, is
  extremely pleasing, and indeed wants nothing but a deeper and more
  umbrageous shade for an accompaniment. The new walks, caves,
  fountains, and statues do not, however, seem entirely calculated to
  add to the beauty of the scenery. The most splendid view is from the
  walk leading from the cascade to the house. There are two points
  nearly similar, where are benches; the water fills the bottom of the
  vale in the style of a very noble river; few, indeed, in the kingdom
  exceed it. We may conjecture that if Brown, in the exultation of his
  heart, really said that the Thames would never pardon his superb
  imitation for exceeding the original, it was the view from one of
  these benches that inspired the sentiment. The proud waves that roll
  at your feet; the declivity steep enough to make the water and every
  contiguous scene more interesting to the eye; the opposite shore, a
  hill spread with wood that hangs with forest boldness to the water;
  the whole is formed to make an impression on the mind. No ill-judged
  decoration weakens by dividing the effect; no intruding objects hurt
  the simplicity of the scene. I know not any artificial scene that is
  finer. The concluding one where the water expands is great, but I
  think inferior to this. But to return——

                                 [_l._]

It appears this year[109] that I was engaged in a pursuit entirely new
to me, that of making many new and pneumatic experiments on expelling
gas from soils, manures, and various other substances, in order to
ascertain whether there was any connection between the quantity and
species of such gas (from _Geist_, German for ghost, spirit. Authority,
B. of Llandaff, _see_ Newman’s ‘Trans. of Boerhave’s Chemistry’) and the
fertility of the soils from which my specimens were selected. It seems
that I prosecuted this enquiry with diligence; and as it was my
commencement in chemistry, I corresponded upon the subject with Dr.
Priestley, and went to Cambridge for the conversation of Mr. Milner,
then Professor of Chemistry in that University. The result of my
experiments was very remarkable, for I decided, after a very careful
deduction from the result of all my trials, that there existed a very
intimate, and almost unbroken, connection between the fertility of land
and the gas to be expelled from it. This was an entirely new discovery
belonging to me only, and it has been quoted by many celebrated chemists
in a manner which showed that they considered me as the origin of it. I
sent a detail of my trials to the Royal Society, through the hands of
Mr. Magellan,[110] as my paper contained some eudiometrical experiments
made with the eudiometer invented by that philosopher. Mentioning to a
friend what I had done, ‘You have been very foolish,’ observed the
friend, ‘for depend upon it your paper will never get into the
“Philosophical Transactions.”’ Expressing my surprise, I demanded the
reason. ‘Why, know you not,’ he replied, ‘that there is a most
inveterate hostility between Sir J. Banks and Magellan, from a violent
quarrel, and Sir J. is not a man to permit anything to be printed that
comes through hands offensive to him, especially as the paper is to the
credit of Magellan’s instrument?’ The event proved the truth of this
prediction, but this did not prevent my labours being duly appreciated
by those who were the most competent judges. In the pursuit of these
trials I gradually established and furnished a laboratory, sufficient
for my own enquiries, at about 150_l._ expense.

                                  _l._

                                         ‘Birmingham: Jan. 27, 1783.

  ‘Dear Sir,—There is no person I should serve with more pleasure than
  you, because there is no person whose pursuits are more eminently
  useful to the world. You alone have certainly done more to promote
  agriculture, and especially to render it reputable, in this country
  than all that have gone before you. But the little I might do to aid
  your investigations will be reduced to a small matter indeed by my
  distance from you.

  ‘All that I should be able to do with water would be to expel by heat
  all the air it contains, and then examine, by nitrous air, how much
  phlogiston that air contains, but it is very possible that the fitness
  of water for irrigating meadows may depend upon something besides the
  phlogiston it contains. Experiment alone can determine these things. I
  never heard before of the inference, you say, has been drawn from my
  doctrine with respect to the use of light in vegetation. I know of no
  use that light is of to the _soil_. The whole effect is on the _living
  plant_, enabling it to convert the impure air it meets with in water
  or in the atmosphere into pure air. When that end is effected that
  water is of no further use to it. Plants will not thrive unless both
  their leaves and roots be exposed to air in some degrees impure. This
  I have fully ascertained, but I am afraid that the doctrine is not
  capable of much practical application.

  ‘I know of no method of conveying phlogiston to the roots of plants
  but as combined with water, and this seems to be done in the best way
  by a mixture of putrid matter. Water will not imbibe much inflammable
  air. I find volatile alkali to contain much phlogiston. It is indeed
  almost another modification of the same thing.

  ‘Since my last, I have hit upon various methods of converting water
  into permanent air. It is sufficient to give it something more than a
  boiling heat. If I only put an ounce of water into a porous earthen
  retort, I get a hundred ounce measures of air from it, and when I
  have, in this manner, got near an ounce weight of air from the same
  retort, it has not weighed one grain less than it did.

  ‘I shall be glad to hear the result of your experiments, and am truly
  sorry that I can do so little for you.

                                                     ‘J. PRIESTLEY.’

                                        ‘Birmingham: March 31, 1783.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I received from Mr. More[111] two bottles of water, one
  marked Ｘ, which Mr. Boswell informed him was from the spring mentioned
  in his “Treatise on Watering Meadows,” and another without any mark
  from a spring arising in a bed of sand, and I examined them
  immediately. I found the former to contain air much purer than that of
  the atmosphere; but the latter air was much worse, that is,
  phlogisticated; a candle could hardly have burned in it. This last I
  should think to be the better spring for the watering of meadows, or
  perhaps it might have been better corked; for on the 19th, though I
  put the corks in again immediately, but without any cement, I found
  the air in both very pure, more so than the purest before, and hardly
  to be distinguished, and they were so this day when I examined them
  again. They should be examined on the spot. The air in the spring from
  the sand was much warmer than that in my pump water, or than that of
  water in general. But water exposed to the open air soon loses the
  phlogiston it contains.

  ‘Perhaps much of the effect of water on meadows is that, at this time
  of the year, it comes out of the earth considerably warmer than the
  roots of the grass. What think you of this?

  ‘I expect to set out for London this day three weeks, and shall stay
  there about a fortnight. I should be glad to meet you there, when we
  shall find an hour’s conversation better than all our correspondence.
  Wishing you success in all your laudable pursuits.

                                    ‘I am, dear Sir,
                                              ‘Yours &c. &c.
                                                     ‘J. PRIESTLEY.’

At Chadacre, six miles from Bury, resided John Plampin, Esq.[112] who
had three daughters, all, at this time, unmarried and at home. I was
intimately acquainted with them. Two of these ladies were much
distinguished by their beauty, and reigned as toasts throughout the
county: Sophia married afterwards to the Rev. Mr. Macklin, and Betsy
married in 1794 to Orbell Ray Oakes, Esq. of Bury. I introduced my
friend Lazowski to these ladies, and he was much at Chadacre, admiring
not a little the youngest of them. They persuaded their father to give a
ball, at which the Duke of Liancourt, his two sons, Lazowski and myself
were present, and the evening passed with uncommon hilarity till the
rising sun sent us home. Mr. Symonds afterwards gave a weekly ball when
the Frenchmen were with him, and these parties were uncommonly
agreeable.

Early in the spring of 1787 I received a letter from a friend at Paris,
Mons. Lazowski (who had resided two years at Bury, much to my amusement
and satisfaction, with the two sons of the Duke of Liancourt), to inform
me that he was going with the Count de la Rochefoucault to the Pyrenees,
and proposed my being of the party.[113]

                                          ‘Liancourt: April 9, 1787.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I was at Liancourt when I heard from you the last time, so
  that I was very uneasy upon the bill which you had drawn upon M. de
  Vergennes, who could not be informed by me about it, but very happily
  my letter to him went at a proper time, and it has been paid. Nothing
  wants now but to have turnips, as your English wit whispers it. But we
  have another matter to settle together, if you are not now incumbered.
  I told you by the last that it could be, but I would travel this
  summer. The case is that the Count is, for the sake of his health,
  obliged to go to Bagnères-de-Luchon, in the Pyrénées, to drink those
  waters; he asked from me to be his companion, and his relations seemed
  to be glad of it. I did therefore comply with his demand, and we are
  going about the middle of May, which is the time just of your coming
  over to France. Now will you come with us? Such proposition is not a
  foolish one. We will pass by a part of France in going, and come back
  by another part, so that you will see almost the two-thirds of this
  kingdom. You will learn the French; with us everything will be
  explained to you; in short, I will be with you, and that is enough, I
  hope. That part by which you will pass through is not an uninteresting
  one. Look upon a map. You will pass through the Limousin and Toulouse
  in going, and in coming back by Bordeaux, &c.; the Pyrénées are very
  worth to be seen, and, besides, if nothing very extraordinary prevents
  it, we intend to go to Barcelona in Spain, in order to see the
  Catalogne,[114] the finest province after that travel. I must not tell
  you that I shall be another Arthur here for you, not that I presume to
  say that you will find in me an Encyclopædia living as I did in you,
  but your friend, and therefore to your commands in Paris and
  everywhere. Our manner of travelling is very convenient to you also;
  we go with our own horses, you will have one, my servants will be
  yours, nothing therefore shall be too much expensive. Have you your
  horse? Is it possible to come over with him at a proper time? If not,
  do write to me a word, and the Count and I will do our utmost to get
  one cheap enough, between fifteen and twenty pounds. If you cannot be
  ready here for the 15th of May, we will expect five or six days, but
  you see that it is impossible to expect more, since the Count must
  drink the waters; in two words, you seemed to wish to see this
  kingdom, never you will have such an opportunity; if I am obliged to
  stay at Bagnères, nothing will prevent you to make some excursions in
  the environs, and you will speak French very well. The whole depends
  of your family business. If you cannot now, then you will wait till
  September, and we will be at Paris; but you must give greatest of
  attention to it, and as soon as your mind will be fixed upon anything
  pray do write to me. What devil are you doing about the notables?
  (_l._) I suppose you know my mind about the whole by my letter.[115]
  M. de Calonne is exiled, so is M. Necker. What will be the result I do
  not know, but the notables have missed the way, and they know nothing
  of the matter; but public business must give way to what I make a
  proposal to you, it is question of nothing else but to travel together
  a thousand miles, without more expense but that you would spend
  anywhere, &c. &c. so you may go to the devil if you don’t speak well
  of me and my prospect. My best compliments to M. Symonds &c. &c.
  chiefly Lady Gage and Sir Thomas.

                                                    ‘Yours for ever,
                                                               ‘LY.

  ‘Do not forget to write and to speak about your horse, whether you
  will bring yours, or if we must get one for you.’

This was touching a string tremulous to vibrate. I had so long
wished for an opportunity to examine France. In the survey of
agriculture which I had taken in England and Ireland, of about 7,000
miles, I had calculated, from facts, the rent produce and resources
of those Kingdoms, and I had often reflected on the importance of
knowing the real situation of France; the effect of Government; the
state of the farmers, of the poor—the state and extent of their
manufactures with a hundred other enquiries certainly of political
importance; yet strange as it may seem not to be found in any French
book written from actual observation, all that I was before able to
learn having been composed in some great city without travelling
beyond the walls. I should accept a very unsatisfactory work upon
sheep, written by Mons. Cartier, employed and paid by Government. I
had but little time given me to consider of the proposal, but I
wrote to learn if they travelled post, because I previously
determined in that case not to go. And, further, I requested to know
if I were to travel at any other expense than that of myself and
horse. The answer was that they travelled with their own horses, and
did not propose making more than twenty or twenty-five miles a day;
that my expense would be merely what I stated, and mostly in a cheap
part of the kingdom. This most agreeable plan I instantaneously
acceded to, and soon set out for France on horseback. At Dover,
being detained, I copy the following note on that expedition:—

‘_l._—Had the packet sailed this morn as I expected I should not
have scaled, as I never did before, Shakespeare’s Cliff. By the way
it is by no means so formidable as I expected from it. I think the
look down from its perpendicular position very striking, and when I
reflected how much more it must be from the summit, the reflection,
perhaps, injured the principal effect (_l._). This is a proof that
we ought never, when a powerful impression is wished, to advance to
the principal point gradually. It should come upon us at once; nor
should I have seen Mr. Harris’s drill plough,[116] which I liked
much better from seeing it than from the print. But I principally
should have wanted time to run over my accounts, to review the debts
and credits of several loose memoranda, and find from the result
that I had not acted imprudently or unguardedly in omitting the
necessary preparations to such a journey. My dear child, my lovely
Bobbin, I left in perfect health, the rest of my family well and
provided for in every respect as they themselves had chalked out,
the ‘Annals’ lodged in the hands of a man on whose friendship and
abilities I could entirely confide. Revolving these circumstances in
my mind gave me pleasure, so that I could hardly regret in the
evening the day which in the morning I had pronounced lost. At night
I went into a bye boat[117] and had a villainous passage of fourteen
hours. Nine hours rolling at anchor had so fatigued my mare that I
thought it necessary for her to rest one day, but next morning I
left Calais.

‘_l._—Wait at Desseins three days for a wind, Dover, London,
Bradfield, and have more pleasure in giving my little girl a French
doll than in viewing Versailles.’[118]

The journey to France cost me 118_l._ 15_s._ 2_d._ Things bought,
20_l._ 17_s._; books, 8_l._ 16_s._ 6_d._

This year I had a long visit at Bradfield from M. Bukaty, nephew to
the Polish Ambassador, a heavy, dull man with a Tartar countenance.
His intention was to learn agriculture, but he made a poor progress.
My correspondence this year contained much variety, and I have
reperused many of the letters with much pleasure. In the number were
the following:—

From Sir J. Sinclair[119] on clothing for sheep, which he sent and
desired me to buy. I did so, and the rest of the flock took them I
suppose for beasts of prey, and fled in all directions, till the
clothed sheep jumping hedges and ditches soon derobed themselves.

                                         ‘Whitehall: April 11, 1787.

  ‘Sir,—I went yesterday to Knightsbridge, and have ordered the
  canvas for covering the sheep, which will be ready next week, and
  I shall be glad to know how it can be best forwarded.

  ‘My idea is to put the coverings on immediately after the sheep
  are shorn, when I imagine it would be comfortable instead of
  distressing to the animal. That the experiment may have full
  justice done I send you three covers of oil skin, three of pretty
  strong unoiled canvas, and two done over with Lord Dundonald’s
  tar. If lambs are apt to die of cold, would it not be of use to
  them?

                               ‘I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
                                                    ‘JOHN SINCLAIR.’

From Mr. Symonds, an account of his tour in the West &c., of the
King and Queen’s visit to Whitbread’s Brew House; duties to the
Crown, 52,000_l._ per annum for the brewery alone.

                                       ‘Sunning Hill: July 12, 1787.

  ‘My dear Sir,—I wrote to you from Cornwall, and hope you received
  the letter which was directed to Creil. I am returning from a tour
  through Devonshire, where I visited Mount Edgecombe, Dartmouth,
  Teignmouth, Torbay, Dawlish and Exmouth. At Exeter I passed ten
  days with my old friend the Bishop, Dr. Ross, and however I may
  have lost my time in other things I certainly was not deficient in
  my religious duties, for during the ten days I attended divine
  service nineteen times, taking in his Lordship’s private chapel
  and the cathedral.

  ‘After visiting most of the fine seats in Somersetshire &c.
  including Lord Radnor’s famous triangular house, I came to
  Salisbury, where I met several old acquaintances, and among the
  rest Mr. Windham, who published Doddington’s Diary, and who
  permitted me to look over the vast collection of Doddington’s
  private correspondence, and to copy what I pleased.

  ‘From Salisbury I came hither, having made nearly a thousand miles
  in my gig, without suffering the least inconvenience, either from
  weather or accident. Could I do better than to end, as it were, my
  tour with a visit to the "Monarch’s and the Muses’ Seats"?

  ‘The only public news that you can now think of abroad is whether
  we are to have peace or war; but I have heard here from very good
  authority that Thurlow, Lord Stafford, and Mr. Pitt are for peace,
  and that ’tis thought the latter will resign if things take a
  different turn.

  ‘Whitbread expended not less than 15,000_l._ in entertaining the
  King and Queen at his brewery. They left off working it three days
  before—new clothes—the floor carpeted, and three or four sets of
  china made on purpose at Worcester after the most beautiful models
  of Sèvres, that the Royal Family might be entertained separately,
  though in the same rooms. The King asked Whitbread what he paid
  for duties to the Crown, and his Majesty was not a little
  surprised to hear that he paid 52,000_l._ for the Brewery alone.
  You will say all that is kind for me to the Count and Lazowski.
  Madame de Polignac[120] &c., together with the French Ambassador,
  have been at the Terrace, where they were received by the King and
  Queen. At Bath the French ladies broke the standing rules by all
  going to the ball much too late, and on foot, which is not common,
  and one danced in coloured gloves.

  ‘You and I shall agree about the Liancourt Plough as well as most
  other things. The Duke’s ideas of farming resemble those of Mons.
  Baron, whose self-conceit is exceeded only by his ignorance, and
  who must inevitably starve, if he had to gain his bread by
  farming, and practised for himself.

                                  ‘Adieu. Ever faithfully yours,
                                                       ‘J. SYMONDS.’

-----

Footnote 105:

  Arthur Young’s only son, born 1769.

Footnote 106:

  Express, _n._, a messenger sent on a special errand.—_Webster._

Footnote 107:

    Published in the _Annals_.

Footnote 108:

  Dr. Egan, Royal Park Academy.

Footnote 109:

  The writer’s memory is at fault here. His correspondence with Dr.
  Priestley is dated 1783. The letters, however, are given here, as
  otherwise they would not be intelligible.

Footnote 110:

  Mr. Magellan. This gentleman, often mentioned in A. Y.’s
  correspondence as descendant of the great Portuguese discoverer, seems
  to have attained some proficiency—even eminence—in science.

Footnote 111:

    Secretary to the Society of Arts.

Footnote 112:

  An old Suffolk family. Captain Plampin, mentioned in the French
  travels, is noticed in the new _Dictionary of National Biography_.

Footnote 113:

  M. Lazowski’s broken English is given as we find it.

Footnote 114:

  Catalonia.

Footnote 115:

  It has been found impossible to include this letter from want of
  space.

Footnote 116:

  A sort of plough for sowing grain in drills.

Footnote 117:

  A chance or passing boat.

Footnote 118:

  As Arthur Young’s letters, with trifling excisions, are
  incorporated into the famous travels, I do not give them here. His
  anxiety about Bobbin is ever apparent. ‘Give Bobbin a kiss for me.
  God send her well,’ he writes to his eldest daughter Mary; and, in
  another letter, ‘Remember me to your mother, and tell Bobbin I
  never forget her.’ ‘The Robin,’ or Bobbin, was now five years old.

Footnote 119:

  Statist, political and agricultural writer; born 1754, died 1835.
  Sat in Parliament for several constituencies, and took an active
  part in political and scientific movements; was also a voluminous
  writer.

Footnote 120:

  The Prince and Princess de Polignac, after receiving countless
  honours, privileges, and substantial favours from Louis XVI. and
  the Queen, were among the first to desert them. The present head
  of this ancient house married a daughter of Mr. Singer, inventor
  of the sewing-machine.

-----




                              CHAPTER VIII

            TRAVEL AND INTERNATIONAL FRIENDSHIPS, 1788-89-90

The Wool Bill—Sheridan’s speech—Count Berchtold—Experiments—Second
    French journey—Potato-fed sheep—Cost of
    housekeeping—Chicory—Burnt in effigy—Correspondence—Third French
    journey—With Italian agriculturists—Bishop Watson and Mr.
    Luther—Correspondence—Literary work—Illness—The state of France.


Early in the spring I was deputed by the wool growers of Suffolk to
support a petition against the Wool Bill[121] which at that time
made much noise in the agricultural world; and in which I united
with Sir Joseph Banks,[122] who was deputed by the county of Lincoln
for the same purpose. I was most strenuous in the cause. By this
Bill the growers of wool were laid under most insufferable
restraints by its patrons the manufacturers, under the false
pretence which had upon so many occasions been listened to by the
Legislature, that immense quantities of wool were smuggled to
France; on the gross fallacy of which they made good use, in taking
those measures which answered their only design, that of sinking the
price.

I applied to many of the leading members of both Houses of
Parliament, but to very little effect. Those who deputed me were
very desirous that I should see Mr. Fox on the subject; and Sir
Peter Burrell, who was also greatly hostile to the Bill, and acted
at that time as Lord Great Chamberlain of England at the trial of
Mr. Hastings, recommended me to take an opportunity of the managers
for the Commons, waiting at that trial to desire to speak with Mr.
Fox in the manager’s box; and with this view gave me a pass ticket
for the whole trial, by means of which I could be at the bar ready
to serve such an opportunity when it offered. These tickets were
sold at twenty guineas each; and this afforded me many opportunities
of much entertainment. I accordingly saw Mr. Fox, and found him by
no means inclined to patronise any opposition to the Bill. All that
could be done was to make him a master of certain important facts of
which he was ignorant, and which did seem to have some little weight
with him. It may here be observed that as I was walking one day in
Fleet Street with my pass ticket and a 20_l._ note in my pocket
book, I was hustled unskilfully by a knot of rascals, who picked the
book out of my pocket, but I missing it instantly, luckily observed
it on the pavement near my foot, and seized on it immediately, and
the rascals went off at once. By means of this ticket I was present
when Mr. Sheridan made the speech that rendered his eloquence so
celebrated.[123] I was examined at the Bar of the Houses of Lords
and Commons, and published two pamphlets on the subject of the Wool
Bill.

But notwithstanding all the opposition that was made to the measure,
after moderating some of the most hostile clauses the Bill passed;
but the manufacturers experienced so determined and vigorous an
opposition that they would hardly engage again in any similar attack
upon the landed interest. In the course of this business I
experienced a strange instance of roguery in an Ipswich attorney
named Kirby. This man was appointed secretary and receiver of the
Suffolk subscriptions for supporting the expense of opposing the
Bill. He paid the reckoning twice at the ‘Crown and Anchor’ when a
few persons dined there; and after that, under various pretences,
when money was to be paid; and on a moderate computation put more
than 100_l._ into his own pocket. I was unwilling to believe it, but
upon his death a few years after it was found that he was one of the
greatest knaves the devil ever created.

My deputation by the county of Suffolk to represent it, in opposing
the Bill at the bar of the two Houses of Parliament, in the same
manner as Sir Joseph Banks, a highly eminent character for influence
and affluence, was deputed by the county of Lincoln, did me much
honour, and shows that a prophet may sometimes be esteemed, even in
his own country. The reader who is desirous of becoming acquainted
with this portion of the history of wool in England may consult my
Question of Wool—my speech that might have been spoken—my Reasons
against the Bill, and various other papers by myself, inserted in
the ‘Annals.’

The opposition certainly would have been successful if Mr. Pitt had
not found what so many ministers have experienced before—that the
trading interest at large is a hundred times more active than the
landed interest; for very few counties exerted themselves on this
occasion. Had half of them acted like Suffolk the Bill would have
been inevitably lost, and had I not been a resident in Suffolk that
county would have slept with the rest. It may not be amiss to
observe that a pamphlet was published, entitled a ‘Letter to Arthur
Young, Esq., on the Wool Bill, by Thomas Day,[124] Esq.,’ from which
the following is an extract:—

  ‘If we are delivered from the present danger, I know no one who
  has so great a claim to the public gratitude as yourself. As soon
  as the storm began to gather, your active eye remarked the curling
  of the waters and the blackening of the horizon, while all our
  other Palinuruses were quietly slumbering around. Distinguished,
  therefore, as you long have been for literary talents, you have
  now added a nobler wreath, and a sublimer praise to all you
  merited before.’ Mr. Day in this letter calls my opposition to the
  Bill ‘A noble stand in defence of the common liberties.’

‘_April 22._—I was examined on the Wool Bill in the House of
Commons. It was a most hard-fought battle between the manufacturers
and the landed interest; the Bill laid heavy shackles on every
movement of wool near the sea coast, and was opposed with great
resolution, both by Sir Joseph Banks and myself.

‘We opposed it both in the Commons and the Lords, both being
examined at the Bar of the two Houses; the manufacturers on this
occasion were so hotly opposed that Sir Joseph thought they would be
quiet in future. I was of a different opinion, being convinced that
they never would omit any opportunity of imposing their shackle on
that insensible, torpid, and stupid body “the landlords of
Britain.”’

About this time Count Leopold Berchtold[125] visited me at
Bradfield. But part of the time which he spent in Suffolk (I being
absent) was at the ‘Angel’ at Bury, where he lived an extraordinary
life of retirement and economy. He daily went out, and employed the
whole day in writing and reading. Such temperance has scarcely been
known. He drank neither wine nor beer, and would dine upon a potato
or an egg.

He told the landlord of that inn that he could not live in the
manner of other travellers, but that he might charge what he pleased
for his apartments. He was a most extraordinary personage. His
father had a considerable estate in Bohemia, and one reason for the
son’s travelling over a great part of the world was the extreme
disgust he took at the measures of the Emperor Joseph II., which
were oppressive and ruinous to the nobility &c., constantly changing
his ill-formed political schemes. He had lived in the principal
countries of Europe long enough to become a master of their
languages, in every one of which he printed a work which he
conceived might be useful to the inhabitants. When at Bradfield he
was working hard to learn Arabic, as he proposed passing from
England to Morocco, thence to Egypt and Arabia. This journey
afterwards he executed, and returned home to Bohemia through the
greatest part of the Turkish Empire; and, after escaping a thousand
dangers, as he was going to Vienna was murdered by banditti.

He was very tall and graceful in his person, of a handsome,
expressive countenance, and as elegant as if he had passed his whole
life in a Court. Though invested with the Order of St. Stephano by
the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Leopold, he never wore it in England, as
his father being alive made it necessary for him to live
economically. His conversation was intelligent and pleasing, his
knowledge almost universal. He travelled much on foot; and once
through France or Germany—I forget which—when he was beset by three
or four robbers; but he assumed so much firmness in his manner, with
so resolute and determined an air, and with so threatening an
attitude of defence, that, after a pause, the robbers retired,
thinking it best to let him alone. He had a sabre or some other
weapon, and said that they might have had the worst of it if they
had made the attack, as he had before been set on in the same way
more than once.

His first business in every country was to study unremittingly till
he had perfectly learnt the language, as without this he considered
men and women but as cows and sheep. He then applied himself with
singular assiduity to understand those branches of human industry or
political economy for which the country was most celebrated, and for
this purpose applied to those who were most able to satisfy his
inquiries. He was introduced to me by Anthony Souga, the Imperial
Consul at London, who gave him the highest possible character. When
he had registered these inquiries and printed a book in the
language, he left the country for some other.

The grand object of Ct. B.’s investigations and inquiries seemed to
be not so much the good of the countries he visited, as to possess
himself of a great mass of that sort of knowledge which might be
most useful in adding to the welfare and happiness of the
inhabitants of that estate to which he was born, and which was a
very extensive property. He spent some time with me in Suffolk
gleaning agricultural information, intending to apply it to the
farmers and peasants of his paternal estate and of his own favourite
Bohemia, from which he often lamented that he was driven by the
folly and tyranny of Joseph II. It was with great concern that I
heard of his very unfortunate and untimely death about ten years
after leaving England. He was about thirty-six years of age when in
Suffolk, was possessed of various and uncommon powers, built
mentally and bodily on a great scale, talked English like a native,
walked like a giant, and was of all the multitude of foreigners who
frequented my house the most persevering and the most intelligent.

This year I made some experiments on the distemper in wheat called
the smut, which were amongst the most satisfactory and decisive that
I ever found, and in which I corrected some errors of Mr. de
Tillet,[126] and proved, too clearly to be doubted, the proximate
cause and prevention of that disease.

It is almost intolerable, after experiments so decisive, that so
many men, through ignorance of what I had done, should for a long
time have been bewildering themselves upon the same subject, and
continuing to do so to the present day, publishing, too, the
greatest errors. These experiments are inserted in the ‘Annals.’

This year I set out on my second journey to France in the month of
July. I made this alone, my cloak-bag behind me; and I did not
travel thus an[127] hundred miles before my mare fell blind. I have
heard and read much of the pleasure of travelling; how it may be
with posting—_avant-couriers_ preparing apartments and repasts—I
know not. Let those who enjoy such comfort pity me, who made 3,700
miles on a blind mare! and brought her (humanity would not allow me
to sell her) safe back to Bradfield. I claim but one merit—that of
practising in the midst of all this folly the severest economy in
travelling.

In the winter Mr. Macro took a seat in my postchaise on a farming
tour across Essex and into Sussex, where we spent a day or two with
Lord Sheffield.

In this tour I learned that General Murray had 4,000 South Down
sheep, and that he fed them with potatoes. This was sufficient. To
come into the country on the search for sheep and potato
intelligence, and not to see such a man, would not be to make a very
wise figure when we returned home. But I had not the honour to be
known to the General. No matter; 4,000 sheep fed on potatoes were an
object before which form must give way. I wrote a card, stating our
pursuit, and wishes to have it gratified, desiring leave to view his
flock. Those who know the General’s liberality and passion for
agriculture will not want to be told what the answer was. We spent
five days in his house, and found it the residence of hospitality
and good sense.

Mrs. Murray had resided nine years in the island of Majorca, being
the daughter of the English consul. She gave me many particulars
relating to that island, and, among others, that the climate was by
far the finest she had ever experienced. She never was for a single
hour either too hot or too cold, nor ever saw a fog; but the people
were unpleasant, ignorant and bigoted.

I was always very regular in keeping accounts, but do not often
mention them in this detail; I may, however, just observe that I
seemed to have been no bad economist, as the total expense of house,
garden, stable, servants, and keeping a postchaise with not a little
company, cost in four months 97_l._ 2_s._ 3_d._, or at the rate of
291_l._ 6_s._ 9_d._ per annum; how it was done I forget. If such an
expense be compared with the present times[128] it will show the
enormous difference, arising principally from the desperate increase
of taxation, which has crippled so many classes of the kingdom; but
I had a large farm in my hands. On being at London, some time after,
I went to Esher and spent a day with Mr. Ducket, examining his farm
with great attention; he dined with me at the ‘Tun,’ and I had a
very interesting conversation with him to a late hour, upon all the
points of his husbandry.

In this year I first introduced the cultivation of Cichorium
Intybus[129] at Bradfield, and registered it in the ‘Annals of
Agriculture;’ it was at first upon a small scale, but sufficient to
convince me of the vast importance of the plant. I brought the seed
from Lyons in France, and gradually extended the culture till I had
above one hundred acres of it; the utter stupidity of the farming
world was never more apparent than in their neglect of this plant,
so repeatedly recommended in the ‘Annals.’ The Duke of Bedford kept
ten large sheep per acre on a field of it.

The following letters were among others received this year:—

From B. H. Latrobe, Esq., on my being burnt in effigy at Norwich by
the manufacturers (_in re_ Wool Bill), a very lively letter.

                        ‘Stamp Office, Somerset Place: May 22, 1788.

  ‘Dear Sir,—We have been waiting for your arrival in town
  _patiently_ for the week past, and I am afraid we must now make up
  our minds to wait _patiently_ a great deal longer, as the passing
  of the Wool Bill has not been able to bring you to town. By the
  word _We_ I mean my brother, our friend the lord of slaves,[130]
  myself, and I dare say it includes fifty other people whom I have
  not the honour of knowing. We have been three days past laying our
  heads together to find out some method of _doing you honour in
  effigy_ in order to make up to you in some measure the disgrace
  you have undergone (as is creditably reported about town) of being
  burnt in effigy by the wool manufacturers at Bury. My brother is
  for procuring your effigy, and after having crowned it with a
  wreath composed of turnip roots, cabbage leaves, potato-apples,
  wheat-ears, oats, straws, &c., and tied with a band of wool,
  thinks it ought to be placed upon its pedestal (being the volume
  of Virgil’s “Georgics”) to be worshipped by the real patriots; Mr.
  Huthhausen thinks a plain ribbon a sufficient honour for a man
  whose ideas can admit of the belief of slavery in Silesia; and, as
  for myself, I am of opinion that a man whose life has been devoted
  without fee or reward to the service of the public has so great a
  reward arising from the consciousness of having done good, and so
  just a claim to honour, that I shall not trouble my head about
  methods to _increase it_. But I must beg your pardon for this
  lady-like chat, though your having been burnt in effigy is enough
  to make any pen run wild.... I could wish that a favour I have to
  beg of you were not inconvenient.’

[The writer requests that some remarks of his own on the book named
above may be inserted in the ‘Annals.’]

From Edmund Burke, Esq., on an application I made to him relative to
the Wool Bill. [_Unfortunately no copy can be found of this
letter._]

Sir Joseph Banks gives me joy of being burned in effigy at Norwich
(Bury?) on account of my opposition to the Wool Bill:—

                                         ‘Soho Square: May 13, 1788.

  ‘Dear Sir,—With this you will receive the “Instructions given to
  the Council against the Wool Bill.”[131]

  ‘I have corrected the whole, but I fear you will find it miserably
  deficient in point of composition, but as I am not ambitious on
  that head I mean to be satisfied if I am intelligible.

  ‘I give you joy sincerely at having arrived at the glory of being
  burned in effigy; nothing is so conclusive a proof of your
  possessing the best of the argument. No one was ever burned if he
  was wrong—the business in that case is to expose his blunders—but
  when argument is precluded firebrands are ready substitutes.

                                ‘Believe me, dear Sir,
                                              ‘Yours faithfully,
                                                         ‘J. BANKS.’

1789.—I had yet work to do in France; the survey of that kingdom was
not completed in the journeys of the two preceding years. I did not
hesitate therefore, but as soon as business at home would permit me
to be absent I set out on my third expedition, June 2, and went to
Paris in the diligence. As the carrying specimens of remarkable
soils and of manufactures, wool, &c. was so inconvenient, I made
this journey in a chaise. Through the kindness of the Duchess
d’Estissac (de Rochefoucauld) I was most agreeably received at the
Hôtel de la Rochefoucauld, and as the States General were assembling
I went thither to the Duke’s apartment, where I met many persons of
note, such as the Duke of Orleans, the Abbé Sieyès, Rabaut St.
Étienne,[132] &c. and was present at an interesting debate in the
National Assembly. I spent some time at Paris, which I quitted on my
third journey on June 28. I felt much regret on taking leave of my
excellent friend Monsieur Lazowski, whose anxiety for the fate of
his country[133] made me respect his character as much as I had
reason to love it for the thousand attentions I was in the daily
habit of receiving from him. My kind protectress the Duchess
d’Estissac had the goodness to make me promise that I would again
return to her hospitable hotel when I had finished the journey.

At Toulon I sold my horse and chaise, as I had been informed that I
could not thus travel with safety in Italy. I embarked at Toulon to
save one or two stages, which gave me an opportunity of viewing the
fine harbours of that port. On leaving Nice I went by a _vetturino_
to Turin, and was fortunate in making the acquaintance of some of
the gentlemen that accompanied me. At that capital I was introduced
to various lovers of the plough, and received much valuable
information. From this place I went to Milan, where through the kind
attentions of the Abate[134] Amorette, a true lover of agriculture
and a friend of its professors, I was introduced to a variety of
persons who afforded me much intelligence and accompanied me to the
seat of the Count di Castiglioni, sixteen miles north of the city,
with whom I passed sufficient time to give me an opportunity of
remarking the country life of an Italian nobleman of high
consideration.

From Milan I went to Lodi through one of the finest scenes of
irrigation in the world. At the latter place I assisted in the whole
operation of making a Lodesan, called Parmesan cheese in England,
and thereby learnt a few circumstances in that manufacture, which I
afterwards applied with success in making cheese in Suffolk. At Lodi
I attended the opera, where the Archduke and Archduchess with the
most splendid company were present, and it gave me particular
pleasure to find such a house so filled in a little town quite
dependent on cows, butter and cheese.

At Bergamo I was electrified by the fine eyes of an Italian fair,
and just as I was making a nearer approach, impeded in it by the
sudden appearance of her husband.

At Verona I viewed its celebrated amphitheatre and gained some
agricultural intelligence, then on to Vicenza and Padua, where I
stayed some days, having introductions to several professors, then
by the canal to Venice, where I employed several days in viewing
that singular place and numberless curiosities to be found in it. It
fully answered my expectations.

At Bologna I was so fortunate as to meet Mr. Taylor, of Bifrons, in
Kent, with his very agreeable family. By him I was introduced to
such of the nobility of the place as had a taste for farming, which,
with some excursions in the vicinity, enabled me to understand the
agriculture of the district.

Thence I travelled to Florence, where my time was divided between
agriculture and the Tribuna, that is, between Farmers and Venuses.

I was here introduced to many celebrated characters and to others
able to give me valuable agricultural information. At home we had a
very pleasant party, and abroad our eyes were feasted with all that
Art or Science could produce.

Quitting Turin [on the return journey] I joined company with Mr.
Grundy, a considerable merchant, from Birmingham. We crossed over
Mont Cenis on our route to Lyons.[135]

During the winter of this year I met Dr. Watson several times at my
friend Symonds’, and shall here copy a private note I made on that
celebrated character.

I was well acquainted with him for some years before he was made a
Bishop as well as long after. Nor is it strange that I should be
assiduous in cultivating a connection with a man of such
extraordinary powers, who had a most peculiar felicity in bringing
all the stores of a richly furnished mind to bear as occasion
required in conversation. His memory was wonderfully retentive, and
he had the art of speaking upon subjects with which he was not well
acquainted without betraying any ignorance. He had a clear, logical
head, great promptness of application, and the utmost fluency of
expression, but sometimes with an affectation of enunciation in a
delicate manner which did not at all become the native sturdiness of
his disposition. He had a mathematical calculating head, which
enabled him readily to apply scientific researches to the ordinary
purposes of life. His style was always uncommonly perspicuous. The
King once said to him, ‘I know not how it is, my Lord, but when I
read any of your publications I am never for one moment at a loss
for your meaning, whereas in reading the works of other very able
men their want of clearness often makes me doubtful.’ ‘Sir,’ replied
the Bishop, ‘we are very assiduous at Cambridge to study Euclid and
Locke.’ Almost from being made a Bishop he became a disgusted man,
because he never could procure a translation, and it was supposed
that the Queen was influenced against him by Bishop Porteus, who had
not so high an opinion of him as many others. He was once speaking
to Porteus in praise of Locke’s ‘Reasonableness of Christianity,’
and said in the course of conversation, ‘I presume, my Lord, you are
of the same opinion.’ But Porteus, who had not been able to get in a
word for some time, with a firmness not perhaps common with him when
conversing with such a man as Watson, said, ‘Indeed, my Lord, I am
quite of a different opinion’—then left the room abruptly.

Watson disapproved of his daughter learning Latin, but was very
assiduous to procure her translations of the Classics. Upon coming
to the University, or not long after, he found himself very
deficient in Classical learning, and applied to recover lost time
with indefatigable attention. He was tutor to Mr. Luther, of Essex,
at Cambridge, and was useful to him in the great contested election
for that county. Soon after, Luther, as was supposed from motives of
economy, went to France, and, in his absence, some malignant reports
were spread to his disadvantage. Watson saw the great importance of
trampling upon them immediately; not trusting to any correspondence,
he went to Paris, and represented to him the necessity of instantly
returning and showing himself in every company that was possible.
Luther felt the propriety of the advice, and directly returned with
the Doctor, whose conduct upon this and many other occasions made
such an impression on his mind that he left him a good estate in the
very heart of the Earl of Egremont’s at Petworth, so that part of it
joined not only the park, but the garden. To purchase this estate
was a very great object to Lord E., and the Bishop, not liking to
ask too high a price in the years’ purchase for the land, made a
valuation of a great quantity of young timber on what would be the
future value of the trees, and by this means contrived to have a
very great price for the estate. It was too great an object to Lord
E. to be refused; but the Bishop did not escape without censure.

Count Leopold Berchtold published this year his ‘Hints to Patriotic
Travellers,’ which in a very handsome manner he dedicated to me. My
correspondence was somewhat numerous. I could give a long list, but
shall only mention the following:—

From Count Bukaty, Polish Ambassador, invitation from the King of
Poland.[136]

                                       ‘Holles Street: May 27, 1789.

  ‘Sir,—I acquit myself of my old debt of gratitude which I owe you
  in returning my sincere thanks for all the kindness which my
  nephew has experienced from you and your family during his
  residence at Bradfield Hall. I left him in Poland to spread your
  name and superior merit, which is already so well known and justly
  admired all over Europe. Your well-deserved fame reaching his
  Majesty the King of Poland, and his brother, the Prince Primate,
  makes them wish to see you once in that country, whose natural
  riches consisting in agriculture might be essentially improved by
  your transcendent knowledge therein. It was already their
  intention to establish there a Society of Agriculture, had it not
  been for the present political circumstances, which necessarily
  take up all their time and attention. I would be exceedingly
  happy, Sir, when you will be present in Town in order to have some
  conversation with you on the subject. In the meantime, I take the
  liberty to ask your favour in informing me where I could get the
  machine for separating corn from chaff, whereof the drawing was
  brought to Poland by my nephew?

  ‘I have the honour to be, with the greatest respect,

            ‘Sir, your most obedient, &c.,
                            ‘F. BUKATY,
                                    ‘Envoy Extraordinary of Poland.’

                         _From Dr. Burney_

                                    ‘Chelsea College: Oct. 20, 1789.

  ‘My dear Friend,—I have begged a corner of this sheet from your
  daughter Bessy to congratulate you on your safe arrival on
  Classic ground after the perils and dangers of Gothic ground.
  How insipid will the history of the present times in this last
  country render all other history! And what weight will it not
  give to what has been long called the history of Fabulous times!
  The Poissardes are but the Amazons of the present day, and the
  leaders at the attack of the Bastille the Hercules and Theseus.
  The fetching the King, Queen, and Royal Family from Versailles,
  and the total demolition of the ancient government of the
  Kingdom, have no type in history or fable, ancient or modern.
  The nobles and clergy indiscriminately stripped of their honours
  and property, not to give it to others of the same rank and
  class, but to the mob, who are helping themselves to whatever
  they like, and destroying whom and what is not honoured with
  their approbation in a more successful and effectual way than
  our Wat Tyler or Jack Straw ever intended, and which would have
  astonished even J. J. Rousseau had he been living, in spite of
  his ideas of an _égalité de condition_. But whether a totally
  levelling scheme can be rendered permanent in a great Empire or
  no, time, not experience, can show. I used to think _la loi des
  plus forts_ only existed among savages, and that in Society
  there were tall minds as well as tall bodies, but none such have
  as yet appeared in France. But let us talk of Italy, where I
  found no want of tall minds, even in these degenerate days. I am
  glad you seem to like the farming of the Milanese. I was
  particularly struck with it all through Lombardy, and think you
  will find even among the peasantry shrewdness, industry, and
  ingenuity. In all the great cities I found philosophers,
  mathematicians, and scholars, as well as musicians; these last,
  indeed, make more _noise_ in the world, and, being travellers,
  spread their own fame into remote countries, while the drone and
  scientific part of a nation are seldom heard of out of the walls
  of their colleges or towns till after their decease. Indeed,
  almost all those I knew personally nineteen years ago in Italy
  are now no more! Padre Boccaria at Turin, Padre Boscovich at
  Milan, and Padre Sacchi. This last, I believe, is still living.
  But Count Firmian is dead, to whom I and every English traveller
  was much obliged by his hospitality and kindness. You probably
  owe the same obligation to his successor, with whose name even I
  am unacquainted. If you go to Padua you will probably stop at
  Verona, where there are always men of learning and science. But
  you must not judge of the present state of musick in any part of
  Italy unless you remain there during the Carnival. At other
  times (except at the great fairs) the principal theatres are
  shut, and the others supplied with such riff-raff as our
  Sadler’s Wells during summer. If Guadagni had been living, you
  would have him at Padua, and if I had not engaged him to the
  Pantheon, Pachierotti, whom we expect here in a few days. Pray
  go to the church of Sant’ Antonio on a festival; there Tartini
  used to lead and Guadagni sing. If Padre Valetti is living, the
  Maestro di Capella, pray present my compliments to him and
  enquire after the sequel of his Treatise. I have as yet only
  seen the first part. I likewise beg to be remembered to Signor
  Marsili, the Professor of Botany, and Padre Columbo, the
  Professor of Mathematics: the first was some time in England and
  speaks our language; the second was the great friend of Tartini,
  and left in possession of all his manuscript papers. Enquire
  what is become of them, and try to get intelligence of the
  disposal of Padre Martini’s papers, books, and sequel of his
  ‘History of Musick’ at Bologna. Enquire likewise when you meet
  with intelligent musical people what are the defects of the
  newest and best of the great Italian theatres. No plan is, I
  believe, as yet adopted for rebuilding ours. Le Texier has a
  model made with many conveniences and more magnificence than our
  former theatre could boast, but whether it will be adopted, or
  whether it is to be wished that a Frenchman should ever have the
  management of an Italian opera, I know not. However partial he
  or his countrymen may seem to German and Italian musick, I know
  by long observation that they are totally ignorant of, and
  enemies to, _good singing_, without which what are the two or
  three acts of an opera but intermezzi or act tunes to the
  ballets? I perceive, however, that, amidst all the horrors of
  Paris, they suffer Italian operas to be performed in Italian and
  by Italians, which were never allowed before, except at
  Versailles; but these are only burlettas; serious operas so
  performed might have some effect on the national taste in
  singing. But les Dames des Halles, their excellencies _Mesdames
  les Poissardes_, furnish them with “other fish to fry” at
  present; so I shall say no more of France, but that I pity most
  sincerely every honest man who has the misfortune to be resident
  in that distracted kingdom.

  ‘God bless you, my dear Sir, and give you health and spirits to
  enjoy your rational and useful enquiries.

                                                   ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

[The following extracts from Arthur Young’s letters home, and letter
to his darling Bobbin, then aged five, are worth giving. With very
slight excisions all letters to his daughter Mary are incorporated
in the ‘French Travels.’]

  ‘_Lyons, Dec. 28, 1789._—Symonds says Arthur has set off very well
  at Cambridge, which I am very glad to hear. God send him
  understanding enough to know the value of these four years there,
  which are either lost absolutely or applied to the amelioration of
  all his life after. French and Italian or German after four years
  at Cambridge may qualify it for anything.’

From another letter to the same:—

  ‘I found here your Mother’s two letters, of which I can hardly
  make head or tail; according to custom they are so cross written
  and so crammed and topsy-turvy, that, like the oracles of old,
  they may be made to speak whatever is in the reader’s head, alley
  croaker (sic) or “Paradise Lost” are all one.’

From a third letter, dated Florence, November 18, 1789:—

  ‘I received here a letter from you, and two from your Mother;
  yours is dated October 17, one of hers the 30th, the other no
  date, and not a word of Bobbin in it. What a way of writing, and
  this to a man 1,400 miles from home. I am greatly concerned for
  Mr. Arbuthnot, though his silence made him dead to us from the
  time he went to Ireland. I never knew a family which was the
  centre of every mild and agreeable virtue so shattered into
  nothing by a man’s failure. I have long and often regretted that
  period.... I took 100l. with me, and it lasts exactly six months,
  buying books included.... Good night. Thank God, Bobbin is well;
  give her a kiss.’

            _To his youngest Daughter, Martha (Bobbin)_

                                           ‘Moulins: August 7, 1789.

  ‘My dear Bobbin,—I fully expected to have heard from Mary here,
  and to have known how my dear little girl does, but I was much
  disappointed and found no letter from England.

  ‘I think it high time to enquire of you how you pass your
  time—what you do—how Mr. Mag (the pony) does, and the four
  kittens; I hope you have taken care of them and remembered your
  Papa wants cats. Do the flowers grow well in your garden? Are you
  a better gardener than you used to be? The Marq. de Guerchy’s
  little girls have a little house on a little hill, and on one side
  a little flower garden, and on the other side a little kitchen
  garden, which they manage themselves and keep very clean from
  weeds—Bobbin would like much to see it.

  ‘I have passed through perils and dangers, for a part of the
  country is infested by 800 plunderers in arms, yet have burnt in
  only one district near Mâcon twelve chateaus; but I am now passed
  the worst and hope to escape at last with whole bones. I have a
  passport, and am carried to the Bourgeois guard at all the towns.

  ‘Pray, my little girl, take care, and keep clear from weeds the
  row of grass I sowed in the round garden, on right hand about ten
  yards long, but don’t take up anything like grass. And if the two
  willows which I brought last year 1,000 miles from France are
  alive yet, give them some water; one is by the hole, and the other
  by Arthur’s garden—I made little mounds around them. You do not
  know, my little Bobbin, how much I long to have a walk with you at
  Bradfield. It is a sad thing I have no letter here; I shall have
  none till Clermont. I desire a particular account of my farm to be
  sent here.

  ‘I have been ill from heat and fatigue, and had a sore throat, but
  by care and an antiseptic diet I am now, thank God, quite well.

  ‘What do you think of the French at such a moment as this with a
  free press? yet in this capital of a great province there is not
  (publickly) one newspaper to be seen; at a coffee house, where
  twenty tables for company, not one. What blessed ignorance. The
  Paris m—— have done the whole, and are the only enlightened part
  of the K——.

               ‘Adieu, my dear B.
                             ‘I am, yours affectionately,
                                                     ‘A. Y.’

[In a note A. Y. writes:]

  ‘I found Madame la Comtesse de Guerchy a very pleasant, agreeable
  woman, and among other trifles which occurred at their house was
  an expedition into the kitchen to teach me to make an omelette,
  the operation attending which occasioned no little merriment both
  in the kitchen and parlour. I succeeded pretty well.’[137]

1790.—All this summer I was employed in preparing my [French]
Travels for the press. In October I had a violent fever, which
brought me to the brink of the grave. I made a minute of that
illness in the following words: ‘From almost the bed of death, it
pleased the Divine Goodness to raise me up, and I remember it was in
perfect hardness of heart and free from all true or grateful
feelings. I was in a state of blindness and insensibility, on which
I reflect with horror and amazement.’[138]

I cannot speak of the ingratitude of my heart to God at this period
but in the strongest terms, as it amounted to a degree of
insensibility quite unaccountable. I fear that not one thought of
God ever occurred to me at that time, and I doubt whether [it was
so], while one evening I had resumed the habit of prayer, that is,
of those formal prayers which an unconverted person may repeat
without any real devotion; and yet during my delirium the physician
afterwards told me that I one day broke forth into one of the most
eloquent and sublime prayers he ever heard, to his utter
astonishment.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

[Illustration: [Transcription]]

During my recovery I wrote that melancholy review of my past life,
which is printed in the ‘Annals.’

-----

Footnote 121:

  A Bill prohibiting the exportation of wool passed the House of
  Commons, May 15, 1788.

Footnote 122:

  President of the Royal Society, and supporter of the cause of
  agriculture and science; died 1810.

Footnote 123:

  ‘Then came the Oude case, that lasted no less than twenty-one
  days, and ended by a speech from Sheridan on which great labour
  and pains had been bestowed. This speech had been looked forward
  to as rivalling the great Begum speech of the same orator’
  (Knight). Is not A. Y. here thinking of the great Begum speech of
  an earlier session?

Footnote 124:

  The author of _Sandford and Merton_ died 1789 from the kick of a
  colt, which he had refused to have broken in on account of the
  cruelty usually involved in the process.

Footnote 125:

  Died 1809. One of the most active members of the Royal Humane
  Society; fell a victim to his devotion in attending the sick and
  wounded Austrian soldiers on the field of Wagram.

Footnote 126:

  See vol. x. of the _Annals of Agriculture_.

Footnote 127:

  _Sic._

Footnote 128:

  Written about 1816.

Footnote 129:

  Wild chicory or succory, used by the French as a winter salad, and
  in the adulteration of coffee.

Footnote 130:

  Refers (see below) to a work by Baron Huthhausen on the servitude
  of the Silesian peasantry.

Footnote 131:

  For this article see _Annals of Agriculture_, vol. ix. p. 479.

Footnote 132:

  Son of a Protestant pastor of Nîmes, member of the Constituent
  Assembly; guillotined 1784. See _Letters of Helen Maria Williams_.

Footnote 133:

  His country by adoption; Lazowski was a Pole.

Footnote 134:

  Abbot.

Footnote 135:

  ‘January 30, 1790. To Bradfield, and here terminate, I hope, my
  travels.’—_Travels in France_, Bohn’s Library.

Footnote 136:

  This letter is interesting as written by the last representative
  of that unhappy country in England. We read in Knight’s _History
  of England_, vol. v., that, on the reassembling of Parliament
  after the partition of Poland no allusion whatever was made in the
  House of Commons to that event. The final partition treaty was
  signed in 1795 by Russia, Prussia, and Austria.

Footnote 137:

  The passage occurs in the small memorandum-book from which I have
  occasionally quoted particulars of yearly expenses, &c.

Footnote 138:

  Vol. xv. 1791, _My Own Memoirs_.

-----




                               CHAPTER IX

                      PATRIOTIC PROPOSALS—1791-92

Illness—Correspondence with Washington—The King’s gift of a
    ram—Anecdotes—Revising MSS.—Patriotic proposals—Death of the
    Earl of Orford—Agricultural schemes—Correspondence.


The year opened with a continuation of that severe illness which had
confined me for some months. The following notes are from a journal
I kept at that time:—

This year my daughter Elizabeth married the Rev. Samuel Hoole, son
of the celebrated John Hoole, translator of Tasso and Ariosto. He is
a very sensible, moral man of strict integrity, and always behaved
to my daughter with much tenderness.

This same year my correspondence[139] opened with General
Washington. Having been applied to to procure some implements for
his husbandry, I wrote to him offering to procure any article in
that line which he might have occasion for, and accordingly
afterwards sent him many, amongst others the plan of a barn, which
he executed, and is represented by a plate in the ‘Annals of
Agriculture.’

This year his Majesty had the goodness to make me a present of a
Spanish Merino ram, a portrait of which I inserted in the ‘Annals.’

How many millions of men are there that would smile if I were to
mention the Sovereign of a great Empire giving a ram to a farmer as
an event that merited the attention of mankind! The world is full of
those who consider military glory as the proper object of the
ambition of monarchs; who measure regal merit by the millions that
are slaughtered; by the public robbery and plunder that are
dignified by the titles of dignity and conquest, and who look down
on every exertion of peace and tranquillity as unbecoming those who
aim at the epithet _great_, and unworthy the aim of men that are
born the masters of the globe.

My ideas are cast in a very different mould, and I believe the
period is advancing with accelerated pace that shall exhibit
characters in a light totally new, and shall rather brand than exalt
the virtues hitherto admired; that shall place in full blaze of
meridian lustre actions lost on the mass of mankind; that shall pay
more homage to the memory of a Prince that gave a ram to a farmer
than for wielding the sceptre obeyed alike on the Ganges and on the
Thames.

I shall presume to offer but one other general observation. When we
see his Majesty practising husbandry with that warmth that marks a
favourite pursuit, and taking such steps to diffuse a foreign breed
of sheep well calculated to improve those of his kingdoms; when we
see the Royal pursuits take such a direction, we may safely conclude
that the public measures which, in certain instances, have been so
hostile to the agriculture of this country, have nothing in common
with the opinions of our gracious Sovereign; such measures are the
work of men, who never felt for husbandry; who never practised it;
who never loved it; it is not such men that give rams to farmers.

_October 21._—A letter to-day from General Washington—Gracious! from
the representative of the Majesty of America, all written with his
own hand. Also one from the Marquis de la Fayette desiring my
assistance to get him a bailiff that understands English ornamental
gardening; for both he gives fifty louis[140] a year—this is a
French idea to unite what never was united, and, when gained, reward
it with wages little better than a common labourer.

_October 24._—Dined yesterday at Sir Thomas Gage’s to meet the Miss
Fergus’s and Dr. and Mrs. Onslow. This Dr. was the youngest son of
the late General Onslow, brother of my godfather, the Speaker, in
whose family my dear mother was for many years upon the most
intimate footing of private friendship.

When a boy I was frequently at his house, and well remember having
this Arthur, a child, on my knee. Mrs. Onslow mentioned how much she
had heard Mr. Boswell talk of my works. I fancy Boswell, from some
things I heard of him, and it seems confirmed by various passages in
his ‘Life of Johnson,’ has a sort of rage for knowing all sorts of
public men, good, bad, and indifferent, all one if a man renders
himself known he likes to be acquainted with him. Mrs. Onslow
reported to me the following conversation which took place at the
Prince’s table:—

The Prince of Wales, with a large company dining with him, said,
‘The three greatest coxcombs in England are in this room. Here is my
friend Hanger,[141] the Duke of Queensberry must come in for the
second;’ he made a pause, enough for the company to stare for the
third, and added, ‘for the third, it is certainly myself.’

When Sir W. Courtenay asked Lord Bute for a peerage, he carried his
pedigree with him. Lord Bute examined and pretended to be a good
judge of those things. He told Mr. Symonds that nothing could be
clearer or more unquestionable than his descent lineally from Louis
le Gros of France, the relationship with the House of Bourbon which
occasions the mourning of a day in the Court of France for the death
of a Courtenay.[142] Lord Bute told him his demand of a barony was
too modest, and that he should be a Viscount, which he was
accordingly.

_October 26._—In preparing my Travels [in France] for the press, I
experience strongly the importance of an author’s having composed so
much more than he means to print as to be able to strike out
largely.

My agreement with Richardson was to have six shillings a volume for
all sold of one guinea quarto volumes, but when Rackham’s compositor
came to cast off the MS. he found enough for two large quarto
volumes, since which discovery I had to strike out just half of what
I had written; and the advantage will be very great to the work. I
read the books as they are wanted for the press again and again,
reducing the quantity every time till I get it tolerably to my mind,
but yet not to the amount of half. The work is certainly improved by
this means, and I am strongly of opinion if nine-tenths of other
writers were to do the same thing their performances would be so
much the better; for one reads very few quartos that would not be
improved by reducing to octavo volumes.

_November 23._—I was five days last week at the Duke of Grafton’s,
Admiral, Mrs., and two Miss Pigots were there—she [Mrs. P.] is
sister to the Duchess, the Admiral is a very worthy man—Mr.
Stonehewer there also, and old Vary. I spent two days in taking the
level of the Duke’s river for four miles, in order to see how much
land he might water, and the improvement his estate is capable of is
very great indeed. The character of this Duke is original; he is
uncommonly sensible, there is no stuff in him; he is cold, silent,
reserved, and even at times sullen, and he is removed from all that
ease and suavity which render people agreeable; yet there is such a
solid understanding, and so much learning and knowledge on certain
topics, that one must value him in spite of our feelings.

Very little of the conversation interesting enough to be worth
recording. I was also at a new club which Ruggles[143] has
instituted at Melford, which might have been an agreeable thing had
there been half a dozen only.

The following are [among] the letters preserved this year:—

From Dr. Burney, congratulations, pleasant anecdotes, and an account
of a large auction of books, &c.:—

                                     ‘Chelsea College: Jan. 7, 1791.

  ‘My dear Arthur,—The precipice on which you have so long been
  scrambling for life seems to be more dangerous than any one of
  those which I had to encounter from Sarzana to Genoa or Genoa to
  Final. In the first of these scrambles during three days and three
  nights on a mule without bridle (except that of Jack Ketch) or
  saddle, I had a torrent called the Magra roaring in my ears at a
  perpendicular distance of eight hundred or a thousand feet, and,
  in the second, the Mediterranean, during a storm which no vessel
  could weather. In the darkest night I ever _saw_, with the
  artificial lights of our lanterns extinguished by the violence of
  the wind, at every twenty or thirty yards the _pedino_ (a man on
  foot to guide the mule) cried out, “Alla montagna! alla montagna,
  Signore!” which was an admonition to alight and crawl on all fours
  over broken roads on the ridge of a precipice.

  ‘Now let _me_ play the _pedino’s_ part to your worship, and
  admonish you to be very careful how you travel in the perilous way
  to health which you have still to pass, after your escape from the
  great precipice; for which escape, as an Italian would say, “_io
  me ne congratulo non meno con me medesimo che con voi_.”

  ‘But besides congratulating you on your amendment, I have for some
  time wished to tell you that in the Paitoni catalogue of Italian
  books now selling by auction at Robson’s room, there are many on
  Natural History and Agriculture. Now as you have dipped into
  Italian literature and farming, it struck me on seeing the
  catalogue that there may be several works that you would wish to
  purchase, particularly as the Italian books of Science have
  hitherto sold at this auction for almost nothing. I purchased
  nearly fifty volumes of poetry and miscellanies, and my bill did
  not amount to five pounds. The books are in exceeding good
  condition, and most of them such as have never appeared before in
  the Osburn, Payne, or Robson catalogues. I am inclined to think
  that this sale will enrich future catalogues in our country for
  many years to come. Indeed I was so tired of eternally meeting
  with the same book over and over again that I had no longer
  patience to read them.

  ‘If you see any you wish I will get them purchased, but as neither
  your Bibliomania nor mine has ever raged to such a degree as to
  wish to buy in at any price, it will be necessary to say that we
  mean not to vie with those who being more curious in _books_ than
  _authors_ procure them at any price to look at and not to read. A
  rich acquaintance of mine, and a customer of old Tom Payne, has
  often bought books in languages of which he knew not a single
  word, merely because they were beautifully bound or very scarce.’

From another letter:—

  ‘I have not time nor space to lengthen my letter, or I should tell
  you of a long conversation I had last Sunday at Lady Lucan’s
  blue-stocking conversazione with Lord Macartney about you. He has
  just come from Ireland and wanted to know whether you were
  recovered—whether you come to London this winter, as he wished to
  communicate some memorandums he made in perusing your “Irish Tour”
  while he was in Ireland. He is a charming man, to my mind.

  ‘Poor Fanny[144] has been very ill indeed, and we have been in
  expectation of her coming to nurse, but she will risk the dying at
  her Majesty’s feet to show her zeal before she can be spared, I
  suppose.

  ‘I have had the great Haydn here, and think him as _good_ a
  creature as _great_ Musician. As to operas, the Pantheon
  advertises to open as a theatre; it is the most elegant in Europe,
  Pacchierotti says, but it has great enemies. The Haymarket folks
  have not yet obtained a licence, at which they affect surprise,
  though they were told so before their building was a foot high.
  Old Mingotti is come over with her scholar Madame Lobo, the
  intended first woman of the Haymarket. It will be a busy and
  memorable season in the history of tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee
  quarrels.

                ‘Adieu!
                      ‘Believe me,
                             ‘Yours very affectionately,
                                           ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

                                   ‘Chelsea College: Sept. 21, 1791.

  ‘My dear Friend,—I am quite ashamed of not answering your kind and
  hearty letter of invitation sooner. But a listless and irresolute
  disposition has made my mind for some time past as flimsy as a
  dish-clout, and I must _confess_ that I have invariably "left
  undone those things which I _ought_ to have done"—“for there was
  no health in me,” indeed, not enough to enable me “to do many
  things which I _ought not_ to have done.” Original sin and
  depravity just enabled me to _read_ when I should have _written_,
  and to lie in bed when I should have got up, &c. I wished to
  commit other _guess_ crimes than those, to have rambled over a
  great part of the kingdom and revelled with distant friends. But
  prudence, in the shape of rheumatism, and in many other hideous
  shapes, prevented me. Yet, in spite of all these admonitions, I
  had a month’s mind to accept of your hospitable offer. But we have
  guests at our apartments now, my two aged sisters, and, when they
  depart, winter will begin to show his sour face and chain me to my
  chimney corner till after Christmas, when I shall be unfettered,
  merely to be dragged into the hurry and din of London, which are
  every year more and more insupportable. I have long ceased to like
  the country, except in long days and fine weather, and, in winter,
  prefer London with all its horrors and fatigues to rural
  amusements. Indeed, autumn with all its golden glow and variegated
  charms for landscape painters is to me a constant _memento mori_,
  with its withered leaves tumbling about my ears; and all my most
  severe attacks of rheumatism have been during the equinoctial
  winds and rains; so that I am afraid of trusting myself far from
  home at this season of the year, as one can be sick and cross
  nowhere so _comfortably_ as at home.

  ‘Having scribbled my apology, I must now hasten to congratulate
  you and Mrs. Young on the marriage of our dear and worthy girl
  Bessy.[145] The match, indeed, is not splendid for either in point
  of circumstances; but they are quite as likely to scramble happily
  through life, with good hearts and wishes limited to their means,
  as the richest peers and peeresses in the land, who generally
  outlive their income, be it what it will, and have mortifications
  incident to pride and disappointed ambition which little folk know
  nothing about. They (I mean our young couple) have my hearty
  benediction and good wishes. A man without family attachments is
  an awkward and insulated being, but a woman without a mate is
  still more insignificant and helpless; and, having become
  adventurers in the matrimonial lottery, I sincerely hope they will
  gain a prize in the fortuitous distribution of such happiness as
  reasonable mortals have a right to expect.

  ‘I dare not venture on French politics. What a marvellous period
  in the history of that nation! I think the clergy and many worthy
  people of the lower class of nobility have been cruelly used, and
  that the mob is at present too powerful and insolent. Too much has
  been promised them, and nothing short of an agrarian law will
  satisfy them. The word tax, _taille_, impost, are carefully
  avoided in the National Chart. But they must be levied under some
  denomination or other, and, I fancy, “contribution” will be as
  detestable a term in France, ere long, as “free-gift” was in
  England during the last century. I wish the worthy people of
  France may enjoy the rational liberty which seems now in their
  power, but I question whether the inhabitants of that kingdom in
  general will deserve the ample liberty which is offered them, or
  know how to use it. I think them so fickle and frivolous that I
  should not be surprised if in a few years they were as tired of
  their new Government as the English at the death of Oliver
  Cromwell. In the meantime what has happened in America and France
  will shake every sovereignty upon earth. The French Guards laying
  down their arms when ordered to fire on the mob will make mobs
  formidable things in every country, for whenever a similar
  defection happens a revolution must be the consequence.

  ‘I am sorry not to be able to give your friend, Mr. Capel Lofft,
  an account of any Lyre in modern times having been in use that has
  been constructed, strung, and tuned on the principles of the
  antients. Innumerable volumes have been written on their division
  of the scale and genera. Kircher, indeed, calls a Vielle a
  hurdy-gurdy, Lyra mendicorum. And a Viol da Gamba, with additional
  strings and new tuning, was in the last century called a
  Lyra-Viol. Mace,[146] Playford,[147] Simpson,[148] I believe, and
  others describe this instrument. But though many modern
  instruments have had the honour of being called Lyres, yet none of
  them resemble the antient in their form or in the manner of
  playing them. The Mandoline is the only modern instrument played
  with anything like a plectrum. Vicenzio Galileo, the father of
  Galileo, in his tract, “Della Musica antica e moderna,” published
  at Florence 1602, speaks much of the similarity of the antient
  Lyre and Cythara, but gives more proof from antient authors of
  their _difference_ than _identity_. He tells us, however, that
  “the modern Harp, which is nothing but the antient Cythara with
  many strings, was brought into Italy from Ireland.” Now the Irish
  harp is a single instrument of few strings, partly brass and
  partly steel, and of such small compass as to admit no bass, being
  confined to mere melody. Carolan, the celebrated modern Irish
  Bard, played only the treble part of tunes. And it seems to me as
  if this simple instrument resembled the antient Lyre and Cythara
  more than any other modern instrument with which I am acquainted.
  Pray tell Mr. Lofft that I have examined Bonanni’s description of
  all the musical instruments that are known, with engravings of
  them all, but found nothing satisfactory about a modern Lyre. This
  book was published at Rome 1722. I have likewise looked into
  Ceruti’s new edition with corrections, 1776, without success.

           ‘I am, my dear friend,
                            ‘Yours affectionately,
                                           ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

From Dr. John Symonds on the political state of the country—an
account of a conference between Mr. Pitt and the Duke of Grafton:—

                             ‘Bates’ Hotel, Adelphi: April 19, 1791.

  ‘My dear Young,—Hope you will not expect to hear me talking on
  Agriculture; of that you will have a sufficient taste from seeing
  the wonderful knowledge exhibited by all the House of Commons in
  the Corn Bill. You will look for something on politics, though the
  newspapers themselves sufficiently show the straits to which Mr.
  Pitt is driven; for his majority is such as will ruin any Minister
  if a war be unpopular; and had the American war been so at first,
  it is not probable that Lord North would have dared to pursue it,
  though he was so strongly supported in Parliament.

  ‘The truth is, some of Mr. Pitt’s bosom friends absolutely refuse
  to vote with him on this occasion. Among these are Wilberforce and
  Banks. The Duke of Grafton desired his son-in-law, Mr. Smith, to
  tell Mr. Pitt he wished to have some conversation with him; Mr.
  Pitt very politely came and staid half-an-hour, and the Duke used
  every argument he could think of to convince him, both of the
  impolicy and injustice of the war, "that the augmentation of taxes
  coming upon the neck of the cessed ones, and malt tax, which made
  a great noise, would occasion universal discontent, if not worse
  effects; that we ought to lay no stress upon the promises of a
  Turkish Ministry and advantages in the Turkey trade, which must
  chiefly accrue to France from her situation, and other causes;
  that what we could do in the Baltic was merely to burn a few
  villages and distress individuals, as the Russian fleet would lie
  securely among rocks, that Russia appeared to act with moderation
  in desiring to retain Ockzakow only; and that to plunge this
  nation into a vast expense, merely to serve the King of Prussia’s
  views, when we could obtain no benefit from it, would expose the
  Ministry to very great censure, more especially as we entered into
  it as volunteers, not being obliged to it by the terms of the
  Treaty." Other things which his Grace said I omit, as every
  argument has been used in the House of Commons. The conference
  ended as conferences of this sort generally do—each of them kept
  to his opinion.

  ‘You observe probably in the papers, that on Baker’s motion, Pole
  Carew moved the previous question and contended “that the
  interests of all are closely connected even in respect to things
  not stipulated by treaty.” This judicious doctrine was first
  advanced by the Chancellor, and Mr. Pitt defended in his speech on
  Baker’s motion. According to this doctrine, there is no difference
  between defensive and offensive treaties; all the writer’s _de
  jure gentium_ should be burnt, and, indeed, most of the European
  treaties also; and it is certain that under such circumstances
  England ought never to make an alliance on the Continent unless a
  Continental war were actually broken out; otherwise she could not
  foresee the consequences to which she would be exposed.

  ‘Charles Fox said in his speech on Baker’s motion “that Mr. Pitt
  dared not to enter into the war, and that he kept a majority
  together at present by his assurance that there would not be one.”

  ‘This is, perhaps, the case; but however it may be, it is certain
  that Faukner, Clerk of the Council, is sent to Berlin, and most
  persons think with a view of showing the King of Prussia the
  impossibility of persuading this country to enter into a Russian
  war. Had Mr. Pitt felt the pulse of the Parliament and people
  before he delivered the King’s message, he would have saved his
  credit, though he might have been blamed; but he has now run into
  the horns of a dilemma, as the logicians call it. If he prosecute
  the war, he will infallibly be ex-Minister, and bad consequences
  are to be apprehended in a country oppressed by taxes and heated
  by political pamphlets; if he give it ‘up, he will lose all his
  influence in the eyes of Europe, and teach foreign Courts that no
  confidence is to be placed in an English Minister. His friends
  lament very much this last circumstance.

                                               ‘Adieu!
                                                      JOHN SYMONDS.’

A circumstance in the exploits of my public career which made,
perhaps, a more general impression than any other event of my life,
was the proposal in 1792 for arming the property of the Kingdom in a
sort of horse militia. My first suggestion of this idea was in May
(of that year). Should any have claimed it, or should any hereafter
form such a claim, it ought in truth and strict candour to be
absolutely rejected. The proposal was more formally made in August
of the same year in the ‘Annals,’ vol. xviii. p. 495, under the
title of French events.[149] In the end of 1792 and the beginning of
1793 these papers were collected and much enlarged in a pamphlet
entitled, ‘The Example of France,’ &c. which ran speedily through
four numerous editions, and excited a very general attention. The
author was publicly thanked in resolutions of associated assemblies,
and my great plea of a horse militia produced almost immediately
three volunteer corps of cavalry, which multiplied rapidly through
the Kingdom. It is not known that any persons or any bodies of men
ever laid claim to a priority in this idea; accordingly my health
was the first toast given for being the origin of those corps,
which, when assembled, had this opportunity of publicly declaring
their opinion. The scheme took with astonishing celerity, and became
the parent of a measure of a very different complexion, which was
putting arms into the hands of thousands without property, and upon
whose allegiance and constitutional principle but little reliance
could be placed. Government received demands for arms to the amount
of above 700,000 men. The Ministers were alarmed, and saw too late
the consequence of their own blindness and incapacity. They refused
their consent, in many cases without properly discriminating between
men with and without property, and felt themselves in so awkward a
position that it is no wonder their conduct continued void of any
steady adherence to the principle of the original proposition. Had
my plan not only been adopted but carried into execution, strictly
upon the principles I had explained, we might from that moment to
the present have had a horse militia, absolutely under the command
of Government, numbering from 100,000 to 200,000 men, which might,
by progressive improvements, have been matured into a force
efficient for every purpose. It is very seldom that so private an
individual can by a happy thought become the origin of a system
which, had my principles been steadily adhered to, would have been
attended with inconceivable benefit, and none of those evils, real
or imaginary, afterwards attributed to volunteers in general.

The pamphlet rendered the author exceedingly popular among all the
friends of government and order, and as unpopular among the whole
race of reformers and Jacobins. I was not content with the mere
theoretical idea, but in my own person put it into practice, and
enrolled myself in the ranks of a corps raised at my recommendation,
in the vicinity of Bury [St. Edmunds], and commanded by the present
Marquis of Cornwallis, then Lord Broome, having with this intention
learnt the sword exercise at London of a sergeant, who was eminently
skilled in it. My example was followed by gentlemen of fortune,
several of whom were also in the ranks and refused to be officers.
This was a part of the plan of particular importance, for had
gentlemen accepted only the situation of officers, the spirit of
entering the corps among yeomen, farmers &c. would have been much
cooler; but when they saw their landlords, and men of high
consideration in the neighbourhood, in the same situation, their
vanity was flattered, and they enrolled themselves with great
readiness, and the great object of property of such importance in
case of revolutionary disturbance was thus secured.

Some years afterwards, being at the Duke of Bedford’s at Woburn, I
sat at dinner by a gentleman of great property, captain of a troop
of yeomanry, who told me that whenever his troop met he always drank
my health after the King’s, for being the undisputed origin of all
the yeomanry corps in the kingdom, possibly arising from extracts
from my writings on the subject having been much circulated in the
newspapers.

This year my valuable and very sincere friend, the Earl of Orford,
died. The public papers that have announced the death of this noble
lord have recorded the ancestry from which he was descended, the
heirs of his honours, and the inheritors of his wealth, and have
dwelt upon the titles that are extinct or devolved, together with
all the posts and employments that are vacant. To me be the
melancholy duty of noting what is of much more moment than the
descent of a peerage or the transfer of an estate—the loss of an
animated improver; of one who gave importance to cultivation by a
thorough knowledge of political economy, and bent all his endeavours
towards making mankind happy by seconding the pursuits of the farmer
and the enquiries of the experimentalist. I leave the lieutenancy of
a county, the rangership of a park, and the honours of the
bedchamber to those in whose eyes such baubles are respectable. I
would rather dwell on the merit of the first importer of Southdown
sheep into Norfolk; on the merit of sending to the most distant
regions for breeds of animals, represented as useful, not indeed
always with success, but never without liberality in the motive; on
the patron and friend of the common farmer, not the lord of a little
circle of tenants, but the general and diffusive encourager of every
species of agricultural improvement. Nor did he associate with the
useful men because he was not qualified for the company of higher
classes, for his mind was fraught with a great extent of knowledge;
it was decorated by no trivial stores of classical learning, which
exercised and set off the powers of a brilliant imagination, and
thus qualified, alike for a Court or an Academy of Science, he felt
no degradation in attending to THE PLOUGH. By the death of this
noble personage the ‘Annals’ have lost a valuable correspondent, and
their editor a warm friend. Notwithstanding the immense list of
Peers, seven or eight only have become correspondents in this work.
The insects of a drawing-room, the patrons of faro, the luminaries
of Newmarket, are spared; while the hand of death deprives the
farmer of a friend, Norfolk of a protector, and England of a real
patriot.

Lord Loughborough was the Judge at the Summer Assizes this year at
Bury, and I being on the Grand Jury, he sent a note to inform me
that he was alone at his lodgings, and desired me to come and chat
with him. This I did, of course, and in our conversation he
mentioned that there was an estate of 4,400 acres of land in
Yorkshire on the moors, in the vicinity of Paitley Bridge, to be
sold for 4,000_l._, that it was chiefly freehold, and enclosed with
a ring fence, also that there was a neat shooting-box on it built by
the Duke of Devonshire, who hired the grouse. I assured his Lordship
that he must be mistaken, for it was impossible that such a tract of
land under several circumstances which he named could be on sale for
half an hour without being purchased. He answered that nobody would
buy it, as the land was all moor or peat, and covered with ling, but
that some neighbouring farmers gave, he believed, 100l. per annum
for the whole as a walk for mountain sheep. I told him that it
seemed so extraordinary to me that I would go immediately to view
it. He said the proper persons to apply to to view it were Sir Cecil
Wray, Dr. Kilvington, and another gentleman. I accordingly went
immediately to Yorkshire, and, taking up my quarters at Paitley
Bridge, enquired till I found a person who knew the whole estate
perfectly well, and engaged him early the next morning in order to
make the tour of the whole property. It appeared to me to be
wonderfully improvable, and that very considerable tracts to the
amount of some hundred acres were palpably capable of irrigation and
improvement, evidently applicable from the case of a small
watercourse for conducting the water to an old smelting mill, but
long neglected. This course had overflowed and converted the ling,
over about fifteen acres, to grass. I asked my conductor what this
grass would let for with a small cottage and stable for cows; he
said, ‘Certainly fifteen shillings an acre.’ It was sufficiently
evident that improvements might be wrought at a very small expense,
and that building was remarkably cheap, from every material except
timber being found on the spot, and lime at a small distance. There
was a small farm in cultivation to produce oats, and the appearance
not unfavourable. As I knew that a land surveyor well acquainted
with all this country resided at Leeds, I determined to go thither
to bring him over to view, and give his opinion as to the value of
the property. This I did, brought him over in a postchaise, and rode
with him over the principal part of the estate. His opinion
confirmed my own, nor must I forget to mention that this estate was
to be purchased without money as it was offered on its own security
in mortgage.

In the enclosure of this immense waste, called forest, there were
two allotments purchased by the proprietors, one of 1,638 acres, and
another of 1,113, in all 2,751 acres, which were a copyhold tenure,
at a small fine certain. In addition to which they hired, at the
same time, on a long lease, 1,614 acres more, being an allotment to
the King, at a rent of 50_l._ in money, and 50_l._ to be laid out on
improvements. The whole, situated half-way between Knaresboro’ and
Skipton, I found walled in; three farm-houses built, with barns and
offices of various sorts, and lands annexed, and partly subdivided,
to the amount of about 400 acres; the remaining 4,000 in one vast
waste. These farms produced the rent of 44_l._ 5_s._ The game was
let at 30_l._ with the use of a handsome shooting-box, sufficient
for the residence of a small family. Peat dug from the bogs produced
from 6_l._ to 8_l._ a year; and the great waste was let at 100_l._ a
year, which, for 4,000 acres, is at the rate of sixpence per acre.
The annual rental was therefore about 181_l._ per annum. From these
circumstances it appeared clear to me that the purchase could not
well be an unfavourable speculation. 2,750 acres (throwing the
leasehold entirely out of the question) for 4,400_l._ is exactly
32_l._ an acre fee simple for land that paid a mere trifle in poor
rates and land tax,[150] and tithe free; it did not seem therefore
to be necessary that the produce should amount to three shillings,
for if the rent was reckoned only at one shilling it was but
thirty-two years’ purchase. I determined, therefore, to make it, and
concluded the transaction as soon as possible.

My plan was, to let my farm in Suffolk, of about 300 acres, and
transfer the capital, with some additions, to the gradual
improvement of this large tract; and, in doing this, I should have
begun with one farm on the Southern extremity, near the turnpike
road, of three or four hundred acres, let separately for 20_l._ a
year, but all a waste, and, in addition to this, have run a watering
canal from one of the streams, till from 100 to 200 acres were below
the level, walling such tract in. Thus prepared, I found myself at
last in a situation to realise the speculations I had so long been
busy in—when a new scene of a very different kind opened upon me—but
of that hereafter.

The following are the letters of this year reserved. From J.
Symonds, Esq., an account of the Duke of Grafton’s illness:—

                                             ‘Euston: Jan. 30, 1792.

  ‘So you tell me that I know not how to stay at home! but this is a
  visit of pure friendship, for the duke likes very well to chat
  with me, though he is so nervous as hardly to bear with strangers.
  Yesterday Lord Clermont, who is very intimate with him, came
  hither, but he was too much for the duke, and had he not gone away
  this morning, the duchess would have hinted it gently to him. What
  would you do with such nerves?

  ‘Last night, instead of reading a sermon or charge, I read to the
  whole company (by the duke’s desire) your essays on the place of
  corn and capital employed in the French husbandry, with which he
  had been so pleased. Lord Clermont, who has lived much in France,
  and though a man of pleasure, had inquired much into the state of
  that country, was not more delighted than surprised with them.
  “Well, then,” said the duke, “as you like them so much and intend
  to buy the book, recommend it as much as possible to your friends
  in the great world.” This he engaged to do. His Lordship gave a
  pressing invitation for you and I to pass two or three days with
  him; he fixed upon the month of May, which will suit me, and, I
  hope, you.

  ‘As an inducement I was to tell you that he has marled four
  hundred and fifty acres with a hundred and twenty loads an
  acre—this is an object.

                                                        ‘J SYMONDS.’

J. W. Coke, Esq., M.P., proposing some laws for the benefit of the
poor in their present distress:—

                                            ‘Holkham: Oct. 23, 1792.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I have no better motive to urge for addressing myself
  to you upon the subject of this letter than that I know of no man
  so well qualified as yourself to give me the information I stand
  in need of, should my plan be thought practicable and useful by
  you, otherwise I should take shame to myself to intrude for a
  moment on your time, which I esteem so precious, as it is always
  most usefully employed in the most laudable pursuits.

  ‘Having turned my thoughts much of late to the most probable
  causes of the discontent among the lower classes of people in this
  country, I find that the high price of provisions, especially of
  bread, has been invariably the motive assigned by them whenever
  they have assembled in a tumultuous manner. And this is not
  surprising, as the existence of a poor man’s family must depend
  upon that last-mentioned necessary article, most truly his staff
  of life. It is surely, then, the interest, as well as the duty, of
  the landed proprietors to endeavour by every means that can be
  devised that the poor may never suffer in this respect. Now, it
  has occurred to me that perhaps a Bill might be framed to fix an
  assize on flour according to the average price of wheat.

  ‘That millers should be obliged to grind for all persons at a
  certain sum per bushel instead of toll; persons being at liberty
  to inspect their corn whilst grinding, and that allowance should
  be made to millers for any alleged deficiency in grinding. All
  complaints to be heard in a summary way before a Justice of the
  Peace, and the complaint to be made within six days. The average
  price of wheat to be taken from the nearest market at the
  discretion of the Justice. Penal clauses should also be enacted
  against millers adulterating wheat and mixing water with the meal
  to increase its weight.

  ‘These loose hints I submit to your superior judgment and better
  information; but, from my own observation, I do suspect the poor
  suffer greatly from the shameful practices and combinations of the
  millers, which I should be proud to check by bringing a Bill into
  Parliament as one of the representatives of the great arable
  county, should you approve the idea and would have the goodness to
  lend me your assistance in framing the Bill.

  ‘I must also mention another cruel grievance to the poor, that
  there is no legal restraint on shopkeepers in villages respecting
  their weights and measures.

  ‘Could no means be devised to protect the buyer from the artifices
  of the seller without injury to the latter in their honest gains?
  Why might not magistrates have the power of punishing for short
  weights and measures, complaint to be made within six days?

                          ‘I remain, dear Sir.
                                       ‘Yours very sincerely,
                                                       ‘J. W. COKE.’

From Dr. Burney on my ‘Travels’ and his own engagements:—

                                    ‘Chelsea College: July 17, 1792.

  ‘My dear Friend,—Your very kind and hearty invitation to Bradfield
  came at a time when I was utterly unable to answer it. I was just
  emerged from the sick room into daily hurry and business, for
  which I was but little fit, and am still detained here by an
  unusual number of engagements for this time of year, the end of
  which I am not able to see. If my _patients_ had walked off as
  early as I wished them, or if, like other _doctors_, I could have
  them put to their long home by a dash of my pen, I really believe
  I should not have been able to resist the lure you threw out; but
  now, if I am able to travel, or fit for any house but my own, I
  have two positive engagements on my hands of long standing: the
  first to Mickleham, to my daughter, Phillips, where I promised, as
  soon as I could pronounce myself a convalescent, to go and
  complete my cure; the other is to Crewe Hall, in Cheshire, whither
  I have been going more than twice seven years; and at which place
  I was so sure of arriving last August, that my correspondents, at
  my request, addressed their letters to me there. This year the
  claims upon me and Fanny have been so powerfully renewed by Mrs.
  Crewe that nothing but increased indisposition can resist them.
  She has promised to carry us down by slow journeys, and, if it
  should be necessary for me to go to Buxton for my confounded
  rheumatism (which, though less painful, still deprives me of all
  use of my left paw), she will even accompany me thither. My poor
  wife is also in sad health, and we are neither of us fit for
  anything but to _con ailments_ with those who are as old and
  infirm as ourselves. But we send you a splinter[151] from us,
  before we were quite broke up and unfit for service. It is not
  sufficient to improve your fire of a wet day, but may perhaps be
  of some little use in the way of kindling.

  ‘I thank you heartily for your very interesting book of “Travels.”
  It is in public perusal of an evening, and has fastened on us. The
  parts of France which you have traversed were to me almost
  unknown. I never saw the Loire or the Garonne. No one can accuse
  you of drowsiness, like old Homer and such folks; you are always
  awake, and keep your readers so. We are now in the midst of that
  most astonishing of all events, the French Revolution, and like
  your narrative extremely. Though an enemy to the old tyranny, you
  neither reason about the rights of man like Wat Tyler or even Tom
  Payne. You saw coming on all the evils which anarchy has
  occasioned. You have long seen the futility of theory without
  practice among French agriculturists, and the political
  philosophers who think themselves wiser than the experiences of
  all antiquity, and not content with anything already done, must
  needs set about inventing an entire new government, and you see
  what a fine mess they have made of it.

                                      ‘Yours ever,
                                                   ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

From Miss Burney, afterwards Mdme. d’Arblay, writing on some traits
of my character, &c.:—

                                    ‘Chelsea College: July 17, 1792.

  ‘Nay, if you talk of your difficulties in fabricating an epistle
  to me, please to consider how much greater are mine in attempting
  to answer it. You! a country farmer, the acknowledged head of “the
  _only art worth cultivating_,” as you tell us,—the contemner of
  every other pursuit, the scorner of all old customs, the defier of
  all musty authorities, the derider of all fogrum superiors,—in one
  word a Jacobin. You afraid? and of whom? a Chelsea pensioner? One
  who, maimed in the royal service, ignobly forbears, spurning royal
  reparation? One who, though flying a court, degenerately refrains
  from hating or even reviling kings, queens, and princesses? One
  who presumes to wish as well to manufactures for her outside, as
  to agriculture for her inside? One who has the ignorance to
  reverence commerce, and who cannot think of a single objection to
  the Wool Bill? One, in short, and to say all that is abominable at
  once, one who in theory is an aristocrat, and in practice a
  _ci-devant_ courtier?

  ‘And shall a creature of this description, the willing advocate of
  every opinion, every feeling you excommunicate from “your business
  and bosom,” _dare_ to write to _you_? Impossible!

  ‘Whether I shall come and see you all or not is another matter. If
  I can I will.


  ‘P.S. Will Honeycomb says if you would know anything of a lady’s
  meaning (always providing she has any) when she writes to you,
  look at her postscript. Now pray, dear sir, how came you ever to
  imagine what you are pleased to blazon to the world with all the
  confidence of self-belief, that you think farming the only thing
  worth manly attention? You, who, if taste rather than circumstance
  had been your guide, might have found wreaths and flowers almost
  any way you had turned, as fragrant as those of Ceres.’

My reply:—

  ‘You, “the willing advocate of every feeling I excommunicate from
  my bosom,” knew you had thrown so bitter a potion into your letter
  that you could not (kind creature!) help a little sweetening in
  the postscript; but must there in your sweets be some alloy? Could
  you not conclude without falling foul of poor Ceres?

  ‘Your letter, or rather your profession of faith, is one of the
  worst political creeds I remember to have read; you see no merit
  but beneath a diadem. In government a professed aristocrat, in
  political economy a monopolist, who commends manufactures, not as
  a market for the farmer, but for the much nobler purpose of
  contributing to adorn your _outside_; and who can attain not one
  better idea of the immortal plough than that of giving some
  sustenance to your _inside_. But, by the way, is not that inside
  of yours an equivoque? Do you mean your real or your metaphorical
  inside, your ribs or your feelings? If you allude to your brains,
  they are by your own account a _wool_-gathering. Do you mean your
  heart, and that the philosophical contemplation of so pure an
  engine as the plough is the sustenance of your best emotions? How
  will that agree with the panegyrist of a court and the satirist of
  a farm? Or is it that this inside of yours is a mere bread and
  cheese cupboard, which, certes, the plough can furnish? Or is it a
  magic lanthorn full of gay delusions, lighted by tallow from the
  belly of a sheep? Till you have settled these doubts, I know not
  which you prefer, manufactures for improving your complection, or
  agriculture for farming your heart. Nor must you wonder at such
  questions arising while you use terms that leave one in doubt
  whether you mean your head or your tail. I know something of the
  one; the other is a metaphor. Though there is high treason against
  the plough in almost every line of your letter, yet the words _If
  I can I will_ are not in the spirit that contains the Eleusinian
  mysteries; they bring balm to my wounded feelings.’

-----

Footnote 139:

  These letters were sold by Sotheby, Wilkinson & Co., London,
  December 1896.

Footnote 140:

  Louis d’or at this time worth 24 francs.—_Littré._

Footnote 141:

  The well-known Colonel George Hanger, afterwards fourth Lord
  Coleraine. ‘He served in the Army during the American War, and was
  afterwards a distinguished character in high society. Wrote his
  _Life, Adventures, and Opinions_.’—_Annual Register_, 1824.

Footnote 142:

  See on this subject Gibbon’s _Rome_, vol. xi. ch. lxi.

Footnote 143:

    Th. Ruggles, author of a _History of the Poor_, reprinted
    afterwards from the _Annals of Agriculture_. Many passages were
    omitted, in accordance with the wishes of Pitt.—_Lowndes._

Footnote 144:

  Dr. Burney’s daughter, Madame d’Arblay.

Footnote 145:

  Arthur Young’s daughter Elizabeth, the first wife of Rev. Samuel
  Hoole.

Footnote 146:

  Th. Mace, author of _Music’s Monument_.

Footnote 147:

  T. Playford, author of _Music’s Delight, &c._, 1668, 1676.

Footnote 148:

  C. Simpson, author of _The Division Viol_, 1687.

Footnote 149:

  See the _Travels in France_, Bohn’s Library, p. 335 _et seq._, for
  the views therein set forth.

Footnote 150:

  All the public charges on 4,000 acres amounted only to 14_l._

Footnote 151:

  His daughter Sarah, the writer of several ingenious and
  interesting works.—A. Y.

-----




                               CHAPTER X
                     THE BOARD OF AGRICULTURE, 1793

The Board of Agriculture—Secretaryship—Residence in
    London—Twenty-five dinners a month—The King’s bull—The
    Marquis de Castries—‘The Example of France’—Encomiums
    thereof—Correspondence.


The most remarkable event of this year was the establishment of the
Board of Agriculture.[152] I found that Mr. Pitt had determined that
I should be secretary, and Mr. Le Blanc, of Caversham, informed me
that this new board was established with a view of rewarding me for
my ‘Example of France.’ In a conversation with Lord Loughborough on
the attendance required, he remarked, ‘You may do what suits
yourself best, I conceive, for we all consider ourselves so much
obliged to you that you cannot be rewarded in a manner too
agreeably.’ If the appointment of secretary be considered, as it has
been by many, a reward for what I had effected, it was not a
magnificent one; the salary, 400_l._ per annum, would have been
desirable had it left me more time in Suffolk, but when I found a
very strict attendance attached to it, with no house to assemble in
except Sir John Sinclair’s, and in a room common to the clerks and
all comers, I was much disposed to throw it up and go back in
disgust to my farm; but the advice of others and the apprehension of
family reproaches kept me to the annoyance of a situation not
ameliorated till Sir John was turned out of the Presidentship by Mr.
Pitt, and the Board procured a house for itself.

My letter to Mr. Pitt, asking for the secretaryship of the new Board
of Agriculture:—

                                      ‘Bradfield Hall: May 20, 1793.

  ‘Sir,—I am informed by Lord Sheffield and Sir John Sinclair that
  the establishment of a Board of Agriculture is determined.

  ‘It has been the employment of the last thirty years of my life
  to make myself as much a master of the practice and the
  political encouragement of agriculture as my talents would
  allow. I have examined every part of the kingdom, and have
  farming correspondents in all the counties.

  ‘It is impossible I should know what is your intention in relation
  to the office of the secretary; but the same wisdom that
  established the Board will, without doubt, give such an
  appointment to that office as may fill it in a manner the best
  adapted to the business.

  ‘Should I be happy enough to appear in your eyes qualified for
  such a post, and you would have the goodness to name me to it, it
  might lessen the anxieties of a life that has been passed in the
  service of the national agriculture; and I should feel with
  unvarying gratitude the obligation of the favour.

  ‘I have the honour to be, sir, with the greatest respect,

                    ‘Your most humble and obedient servant,
                                                     ‘ARTHUR YOUNG.’

My reply to George Rose, Esq., on his communicating to me Mr. Pitt’s
approbation of my appointment:—

                                      ‘Bradfield Hall: May 30, 1793.

  ‘Sir,—It is with pleasure that I acknowledge the receipt of your
  letter, as it shows that, whatever may be the result of the
  present business, my exertions have met with the approbation of
  Government, whose public-spirited and laudable views I have long
  been solicitous to second.

  ‘The salary you mention is, I confess, less than I imagined would
  be assigned to the office, but its being adequate or not depends
  entirely on the circumstances of attendance, duty, residence, &c.
  If these be arranged on a footing any way liberal, the sum is
  equal to my desires; and I shall in that case accept the office
  with pleasure. If, on the contrary, these points be so fixed as to
  overturn my present pursuits in life, they would render a larger
  salary less valuable to me than the sum you mention.

  ‘From the nature of the Board, intended to consist, as I
  understand, of members of the two Houses, with the objects in
  view, I take it for granted that the points above mentioned may,
  without the least impediment to the business, be easily arranged.
  ‘Trusting in this entirely to Mr. Pitt and yourself, I beg your
  good offices that, if I should have improperly expressed my
  meaning, you will do me the justice to rely on the integrity of my
  views, and not imagine me eager in making a bargain for profit
  with a great and liberal benefactor.

                             ‘I have the honour to remain &c.
                                                     ‘ARTHUR YOUNG.’

What a change in the destination of a man’s life! Instead of
becoming the solitary lord of four thousand acres, in the keen
atmosphere of lofty rocks, and mountain torrents, with a little
creation rising gradually around me, making the black desert smile
with cultivation, and grouse give way to industrious population,
active and energetic, though remote and tranquil, and, every instant
of my existence, making _two blades of grass to grow_ where not one
was found before—behold me at a desk in the smoke, the fog, the din
of Whitehall. ‘Society has charms’—true; and so has solitude to a
mind employed. But the die is cast, and my steps may still be said,
metaphorically, to be in the furrow. My pleasures are of another
sort; I see daily a noble activity of zeal in the service of the
national husbandry in the President—of that happy effort of royal
patriotism, commendable and exemplary; and I see in so many great
and distinguished characters such a disinterested attention to the
public good, and such liberality of spirit in promoting it, that the
view is cheering, whether in a capital or a desert.

The two situations were incompatible with each other. I therefore
advertised the estate for sale; and nothing proves to me how very
ill understood waste lands are in this kingdom than the
advertisement being repeated near a twelvemonth before I could sell
it with much less profit than I had reason to expect. So large a
contiguous tract, in many respects so eligible for improvement, I
thought would have been a favourite object with numbers; as to the
ignorance of those who _viewed_ and _rejected_ it, I can only pity
them.

The attention I received from individuals was, however, very
flattering, for I find, by an old memorandum book, that I dined out
from twenty-five to thirty days in the month, and had, in that time,
forty invitations from people of the highest rank and consequence.
Here I copy a memorandum made at the time: August 21, ‘I feel an
advancement of a certain kind since the publication of my Travels,
well calculated to add agreeably to a new sphere in life by means of
this new Board; but how it will turn out is not easy to conjecture,
and my “Example of France: a Warning to Great Britain”[153] is
applauded in a manner of which I had not the slightest conception.
The Ministry commend it most highly, and express themselves in [a
way] truly gratifying to my feelings. The last time I was in town,
the Chancellor dwelt on the idea of how much they were all obliged
to me, and treated me as a man that _must_ be gratified when I was
explaining my wish to reside but little in London. And Rose’s report
from Mr. Pitt was equal; his own expression was that I had beat all
rivalship and produced the most useful work printed on the occasion,
&c. Thus I come with all the advantages I could wish—and I could see
in every eye and hear from every tongue of numbers to whom Sir John
Banks introduced me on the Terrace at Windsor that I was considered
as one to whom the nation was obliged. The King spoke to me, but not
so graciously as some years before; and this brought to my mind a
visit which Mr. Majendie and his brother, the Canon of Windsor, paid
me at Bradfield, when the latter asked me in a very significant
manner whether I had not said something against the King’s bull, as
it was commonly reported that I had fallen foul of his Majesty’s
dairy; so I suppose the man who showed me the cattle reported to the
King every word I had said of them, and possibly with additions. Who
is it that says one should be careful in a court not to offend even
a dog? However, Sir J. Sinclair reported to me some days afterwards
that his Majesty had expressed to him great satisfaction at my
appointment to the secretaryship of the Board.’

About this time I met Sir John Macpherson, from Bengal, but now from
Italy. He came by the Rhine; had a conversation with the King of
Prussia on my ‘Travels,’ which his Majesty was reading, and
commended greatly. He saw also the Marshal de Castries,[154] who was
likewise reading them, and praised me in the highest terms. Sir John
Macpherson told him that he had found my accounts of Lombardy so
uncommonly just and accurate that he intended seeing the author as
soon as he arrived in England. ‘Tell him, then,’ said the marshal,
‘that I did not know France till I read his admirable work, which
astonishes me for its truth, and extent and justness of
observation;’ and the next day he wrote to him pointing out an error
of mine in the passage relating to his opening the French West
Indies to foreign navigation. No man can speak in higher terms of a
book than Sir John does of this. He says it is the best that ever
was published. It is something whimsical that the ladies should tell
me it is as entertaining as a romance, and that statesmen should
praise it for its information. Faith! I had need be flattered to be
kept in good humour—losing my time doing nothing in London in
August.

_September 9._—Dined at Pinherring’s, the American ambassador; he is
a gentleman-like man; but for his company, though this was a great
entertainment, there was such a motley group as would be difficult
to find; they were so indelicate as to call for a war with England.

I preserved the following among letters of this year:—

                   _From the Countess of Bristol_

                                                   ‘January 4, 1793.

  ‘Dear Sir,—In spite of a bad cold, which makes me very heavy and
  ill qualified to write to _un homme d’esprit_, I must say a word
  or two in answer to your letter, and also assure you that the one
  you enclosed for Lord Bristol was forwarded by the same post to
  his agent in town.

  ‘Do I recollect reading your "Travels"? Yes, certainly, and the
  great pleasure and instruction I received from them; but the
  approbation, I assure you, came from a better quarter, or I should
  not have presumed on its being worth your acceptance. However that
  may be, I am much pleased with the effect, and fairly confess that
  I did wish to set your pen a-going, because you had _experience_
  and _facts_ to write upon, and that I knew your warm colouring
  would suit the picture—in short, I saw you were a convert. I
  wished you to make others, and if I have been the least
  instrumental by awakening the spark in you, I shall feel that I am
  not wholly useless to the community where providence has placed
  me. I think everybody with talents is called upon, particularly at
  this time, to use them for the good of their once happy country,
  and I know of no one better qualified than yourself to employ your
  eloquence usefully.

  ‘The pamphlet you mention, of _an earnest address to farmers_, was
  brought to me amongst others, and I immediately said it was
  yours—but pray rescue it from its mangled state and print it again
  as it was written. I flatter myself that you intend to send me the
  “Example of France: A Warning to Britain,” for which, I assure
  you, I am very impatient.

  ‘I write from Lord Abercorn’s, and wish I could hear anything, but
  upon every subject there is at this moment an awful pause. It is
  hoped that the Alien Bill may be passed to-morrow, it is so much
  wanted, and that the wretched state of the French armies and their
  dissentions at home may make it unnecessary for us to declare war.
  Three Prussian officers of rank have been arrested for treasonable
  correspondence with Dumouriez, which, they say, is to explain the
  Duke of Brunswick’s retreat; and now it is supposed that Custine’s
  army cannot escape him.

  ‘I saw two gentlemen who were in Paris a fortnight ago, and who
  told me that the treasury would hold out very little longer, that
  bread was scarce, commerce destroyed, and the people either in
  fury or despair, the whole town affording a melancholy scene of
  poverty, distrust and disorder—houses shut up, public buildings
  destroyed, churches turned into warehouses, &c. &c.

  ‘For want of better materials I send you a print which I think is
  not a bad one, considering the double part Mr. Fox has acted. I
  thank you for enquiring after my daughters. Lady Erne is not yet
  returned from Hampshire, Lady Elizabeth is with the Duchess of
  Devonshire at Florence, and Lady Louisa is here, and desires her
  compliments.

                                   ‘I am, sincerely yours,
                                                       ‘E. BRISTOL.’

                          _From the same_

                                     ‘Bruton Street: March 20, 1793.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I have just seen in the _True Briton_ of this morning
  that the thanks of the association at the “Crown and Anchor” were
  voted to you for your last publication, which, I assure you, gives
  me great pleasure; at the same time it reminds me that I have too
  long deferred mine, but which I now beg you will accept. I like it
  very much, and think it is admirably well written, and calculated
  to inform the ignorant and deluded of their real danger. I should
  have told you so long ago, but waited to hear the opinions of
  those from which I thought you would receive more satisfaction;
  and I can now assure you that your pamphlet is much liked by Lord
  Orford and several others of good judgment. And I think you may,
  without flattery, consider yourself as one of the means which has
  rescued this glorious country from the destruction which was
  preparing for it.

  ‘There are great events impending just now. I pray God to direct
  them for our good.

                      ‘I am, dear sir,
                                    ‘Your sincere humble servant,
                                                       ‘E. BRISTOL.’

From Lord Bristol (Bishop of Derry), objections to my proposal for
selling all lambs at Harrington Fair.

                                           ‘Ratisbon: Jan. 17, 1793.

  ‘My dear Arthur,—Why will you make me a request with which I
  cannot in prudence comply? And why must I say _No_ to a man whom I
  wish only to answer with _Yes_? You are as great a quack in
  farming as I once was in politics, and therefore, knowing the
  force of the term, I must be on my guard against you.

  ‘_No_ reform, dear Arthur, at this time of day. Ipswich has an old
  prescriptive right to our lambs—we have sold them well at that
  market; buyers are accustomed to it; have their connections there
  of every kind; may very possibly not come to Horningheath for many
  years. Let the buyers advertise that they wish to change the
  market, and I, though a great heretic against most establishments,
  will be none against them. Adieu! magnanimous Arthur. Reserve your
  prowess for a greater object than distressing poor Ipswich by
  bereaving it of its ancient patrimony.

  ‘We have a sheep fair here, too, at Ratisbon, but of old horned
  rams, and not of young Suffolk lambs.

                                   ‘Yours cordially,
                                                          ‘BRISTOL.’

From Thomas Law, Esq., who resided long in Bengal, on the
application of the Corn Laws.

                                     ‘Weymouth Street: Jan. 5, 1793.

  ‘Sir,—I have fortunately obtained the perusal of your “Travels,”
  and the sentiments conveyed therein so totally coincide with my
  observations of eighteen years upon the extensive continent of
  Asia, that, upon your arrival in town, I shall be happy to convey
  to you any information in my power respecting the agriculture of
  Bengal, Behar, and Benares.

  ‘When a member of a grain committee during a drought, I pursued
  your system, which coincides with that of Adam Smith, viz.: All
  our object was to prevent impediments to the free transport of
  corn, being convinced that it would be removed from an abundant
  province to one which was less productive, and, like water, find
  its level, and that the interest of merchants would convey it from
  cheap places to dear ones, and thus promote the general good. I
  could impart to you many fatal instances of the intervention of
  powers by fixing the price and by forcing corn to market.

  ‘I can show you the thanks of a resident who presided in the
  capital of an extensive district threatened with a famine, and who
  wrote to me asking my opinion upon the following propositions:
  First, “Shall I raise subscriptions to supply the poor with rice
  at this crisis?” _Answer_, “You will thereby not only encourage a
  concourse to your city of persons whose expectations will be
  deceived, as their numbers will exceed the amount of your
  gratuities, and you will thereby destroy many; but you will
  enhance the price in the city.” Secondly, “Shall I compel the
  granaries to be opened, and fix a moderate price?” _Answer_, “By
  no means. You will thereby deter the merchants from bringing grain
  to market, and will thereby starve your inhabitants. Your power
  can only extend to a certain limit, and within that the merchant
  will not enter. If supplies are coming to you, those who have
  grain for sale will have advice of it, and hurry their grain to
  market; but if you compel them, you will stop all imports by such
  forcible interference. Have you calculated at what price the
  merchant buys at a distance, at what expense he brings it, &c.? In
  short, you have the choice of the alternative—whether for a day or
  two you will submit to want, and then be relieved by the exertions
  of those who always hasten to a good market; or whether you will
  gain popularity for a day or two by a compulsory expenditure of
  the quantity within your grasp, and then fall a martyr to an
  exasperated starving people.” He adopted the first, and thanked me
  in the strongest terms.

  ‘About that time, when Government intended to purchase grain to
  supply certain places, I protested against it, because those
  places would entirely rely upon Government management; for no
  merchant would convey to places where Government by a sudden
  import might overflow the market—if London were to be supplied
  with every want by a contract or monopoly, the effect is easily
  foreseen.

  ‘In respect to a fixed land tax, I can show you some very
  satisfactory papers upon the subject; as I had to contend against
  some very able advocates for periodical equalisation, and at
  length have obtained a fixed land tax for ever. In Asia we have
  metayers, as in France; we have surveyors of the crop. In short,
  to a gentleman of your philosophic and agricultural turn I may
  prove a welcome referee. To the many pertinent questions you will
  put, you will, no doubt, find many deficient replies, for I am
  conscious of having omitted much. Unluckily I had never seen your
  able productions, and had too often to find the truth by the
  experience of error.

  ‘Many serious evils may be prevented if a person of your influence
  could have conveyed to Asia your sentiments upon _taxation_, _the
  corn_, _trade_, &c., for the perusal of the several servants
  entrusted with the charge of vast districts with numerous
  industrious subjects. If Necker committed such palpable mistakes
  after so much experience, must not young men in the company’s
  service be subject to fatal errors where the instruction of books
  is not always to be attained, or the advice of the well-informed,
  as in Europe?

               ‘I remain, with respect, sir,
                                ‘Your most obedient humble servant,
                                                       ‘THOMAS LAW.’

From the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, highly praising the ‘Example of
France’:—

   Mr. Burke thanks Mr. Young for his most able, useful and
  reasonable pamphlet. He has not seen anything written in this
  controversy which stands better bottomed upon practical principle,
  or is more likely to produce an effect on the popular mind. It is,
  indeed, incomparably well done. We are all very much obliged to
  Mr. Young, and think the Committee ought to circulate his book.

  ‘Duke Street, St. James’s: March 5, 1793.’

From Dr. Burney, on my ‘Example of France,’ &c.:—

                                     ‘Chelsea College: May 12, 1793.

  ‘My dear Friend,—I cannot let Mrs. Young return without sending
  you my best thanks for the second edition of your excellent
  pamphlet. Indeed, if I were singular in approbation of it, you
  might think me a cleverer fellow than I shall seem among the crowd
  of your admirers. What is a single name in a list fifty yards
  long? And if I were to tell you what numbers of first-rate judges
  have spoke well of your performance, I should want more room than
  Mr. Sheridan’s friends at Glasgow. I shall only just specify those
  who would be at the head of a complete list, if I had time to make
  one: Mr. Burke, Lord Orford, who, on my asking him if he had seen
  your pamphlet, pointed to it, “There it is; I read nothing else;”
  Mrs. Montagu the same; a large party of bluestockings at Lady
  Hesketh’s all agreed that your book and Hannah More’s “Chip”[155]
  were the best on the subject. When I made Mrs. Crewe read the
  first edition, she wrote me word that she had perused it with
  great attention, and that she found it contained stubborn facts,
  to each of which she should say with the grave-digger, “Answer me
  that and unyoke.” Last week, in a note she sent me from Hampstead,
  she says: "Mr. Arthur Young’s pamphlet makes a great noise, and, I
  think, I never knew any book take more; it is reprinted, you know,
  with additions." In the communication of the latter information
  she got the start of me; the second edition could not have been
  out three days but you are meditating a third. I like your
  additions to the second much, particularly what concerns the
  reform of Parliament.

  ‘I wish you could overhaul Grey’s speech as well as Charles Fox’s
  on that subject, and in an appendix expose the weakness and
  inconsistence of both. Only observe how both confess that there
  _was_ danger to our constitution “from opinions favourable to the
  principles and measures of France,” after so stubbornly and
  pertinaciously denying in Parliament the existence of any such
  danger; challenging Government to prove it, and saying that “the
  Proclamation, call of Parliament, Alien and Traitorous
  Correspondence Bills, were mere Ministerial juggles” to increase
  influence, diminish liberty, and encourage excess of loyalty.
  “But,” says Mr. G. “that _danger_ must now be much lessened, as
  all approbation of those principles, or imitation of that example,
  is now improbable, totally discredited, and removed from all
  political speculation and practice.” What, then, is all the
  defence of France and Frenchmen by the Opposition? And why is
  every measure condemned in Parliament that tends to put an end to
  their anarchy and ambition? Why is war against them so censured?
  Why is it always called the war of kings and despots? Why is the
  Minister so importuned to make peace with regicides and assassins,
  determined to force, if possible, every nation upon earth to adopt
  their measures? Mr. Grey repeats in his speech, “All dread of the
  example is completely removed, and that none could suppose him, or
  any other party in this country, favourable to that example.” What
  is this but open falsehood? Mr. Fox allows that “there _was_ a
  party whose wild theories certainly aimed at an impracticable
  perfection, that could only have been pursued by means subversive
  of every part of our constitution.” Yet there never was any
  danger! Mr. G. says, in express terms, “that his motion extended
  to an alteration in the present government of the country.” But he
  had no specific plan ready of his own, or that he chose to father.
  But as all the petitions he and Mr. Sheridan brought in for a
  reform _demanded_ nothing less than universal suffrage, and as
  these gentlemen either drew up or approved the contents of these
  petitions, we may easily judge what was the general plan of our
  Jacobins, if they could have had the tinkering of the
  constitution.

  ‘Grey seems to me a silly fellow, with a greater wish than
  abilities to do mischief. Charles Fox’s speech is more a panegyric
  on the constitution than on his friend’s motion. When every man is
  left to himself to reform an old constitution or make a new one,
  no two will be found of a mind on the subject. Sherry’s speech was
  nothing to the purpose. There was no attempt of the phalanx which
  I so much dreaded, as the doubling our _tiers état_. Thank God,
  their great gun has flashed in the pan! The mountain has laboured
  in vain. You know I hope that the gang in Parliament, like
  Egalité’s creatures in the “Convention,” is called the _Mountain_.
  And it has been called by a punster of the party _Mount Sigh-on_.
  I fear the war will be long and bloody; and how it will end who
  can tell? Nothing but a vigorous prosecution of the war can save
  the whole civilised globe from destruction. After disdaining in
  the House the principles which they had suggested and encouraged
  out of it, I should not wonder if the Scotch and English
  petitioners for reform on the basis of _universal suffrage_ should
  mob and _September_ their friends the demagogues whenever they can
  catch them. I don’t love mischief, but I do cordially wish
  something of that kind were to happen.

                        ‘Adieu.
                                  ‘Ever yours sincerely,
                                                   ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

From Dr. Symonds, high encomiums of my ‘Example,’ &c.

                       ‘Prince of Wales Coffee House: April 8, 1793.

  ‘Traveller Coxe[156] desired me to tell you how charmed he was
  with your pamphlet; nay, he had begun to write five or six lines
  to you, but thought afterwards it was taking too great a liberty.
  One thing, however, he wishes you to expunge in your next edition,
  viz.: a reflection on Sunday schools as not being founded on
  truth. You must not be surprised at this, for he is a zealous
  patron of them, and has explained the Catechism in print for that
  purpose. Wherever I go I hear your “Example of France” spoken of
  in the highest terms as to the matter.

  ‘Everyone agrees that no political writer whatever has set the
  representation of property in so clear and just a light. Bishop
  Douglas, who has written many good pamphlets, and is therefore the
  best judge, makes no scruple to declare frequently that you
  deserve from Government a most ample reward; but we both wish, as
  well as others, for your sake, that the second edition may be
  printed more correctly.

  ‘You should come to town and be presented, or, at least, take an
  opportunity to walk on the Terrace at Windsor, where you would not
  fail of being marked out. Bishop Watson’s appendix has rendered
  him _rectus in curia_. A few days ago he was at Court, talking
  with Lord Dartmouth, who mentioned the word philosophy, which the
  King overhearing, came to the bishop, and said, “I have read the
  best sort of philosophy, my lord, in your sermon and appendix,
  which has wonderfully pleased me.” The bishop, of course, made his
  bow, and then the King went on, “You write so concisely and so
  forcibly, that everyone must be convinced by your arguments;” on
  which the bishop replied, “I like, Sir, to step forward in a
  moment of danger.” The King rejoined, “You have shown a good
  spirit, and it could not be done in a better manner.” Should the
  last volume of "Clarendon’s Letters" come in your way, I would
  advise you to read the famous one from Sir John Colepeper to
  Secretary Nicholas; which is always esteemed as a wonderful
  instance of political sagacity, as it foretold that the
  Restoration would be accomplished by Monk! But I think there is
  another part of this letter which shows equal sagacity, viz.: his
  desiring that Charles would not send over any foreign troops into
  England, as this measure would not fail of uniting the English
  against him; whereas, if they were left to themselves, he would
  always have a strong party, and must sooner or later be restored.
  I am fully convinced of the truth of this reasoning; and of what
  use is history unless it be considered as a school for modern
  politicians?

  ‘Why did you not let me know whether your second edition had gone
  to the press or not? Before I left Cambridge I saw a gentleman who
  told me that Sir William Scott had mentioned in a letter to one of
  his friends there that it was by far the most convincing and best
  pamphlet that had been published.

  ‘All I could wish is that you had not stigmatised all reformers
  with the name of enemies to the state; or, at least, you intimated
  it. I was always myself an enemy to reform in Parliament, and
  continue to be so; yet I know some warm advocates for it, who mean
  as well to the benefit of this country as you can possibly do.

  ‘Dr. Hardy and Sir Henry Moncrief (a Scotch clergyman) are come to
  solicit a Bill for the enlarging of the stipends of the Scotch
  clergy. They do not apprehend much difficulty in carrying it
  through the Houses, though the addition must be supplied out of
  the tithes in the hands of lay proprietors. Hardy is Professor of
  Ecclesiastical History at Edinburgh—a most sensible man, with
  great liberality of mind. Sir Henry is a polished man, and
  likewise a man of business. I hope to see them both at St.
  Edmund’s Hill, and you must meet them. You should get Hardy’s
  pamphlet, the “Patriot,” published in Scotland on the present
  emergency; there are in it many excellent things.

  ‘You seem in your letter to be still apprehensive of some plots
  and insurrections.

  ‘Plot! Plots! was the catch-word in King Charles II.’s time. Sir
  H. Moncrief and Dr. Hardy laughed at Dundas’s account of the
  political riots in Scotland. They absolutely denied the existence
  of them—considered them as political; and when you read Hardy’s
  pamphlet, you will see that he would not have failed setting them
  forth if they had deserved any consideration.

  ‘Adieu! I should not have come to London had it not been on
  account of my ecclesiastical foundling.

                                                     ‘JOHN SYMONDS.’

                         _From Dr. Symonds_

                                                 ‘September 1, 1793.

  ‘My dear Sir,—I do not wonder that you smiled at the affected
  secrecy of Macpherson concerning the Censomento. The book to which
  he alludes cannot be the “Bilancio dello stato,” &c., which was
  written to please Count Firmian. I knew well the gentleman who
  wrote it and gave it to me, as I often met him at dinner at the
  count’s.

  ‘Sometimes he was too decisive. One day he said at the count’s
  table that the Bresciano contained 800,000 inhabitants now. As
  Count F. knew that I had just come from Brescia, and had not lost
  my time there, he asked me what number there was; on which I told
  him that there were 376,000 according to a census taken a few
  years before. The count smiled, and looked very attentively on
  Carpani (for that was the author’s name), who never liked me so
  well after that day, nor had Count Firmian so high an opinion of
  him. You possibly may not know the history of Sir John Macpherson.
  He offered the Duke of Grafton, when he was at the head of the
  Treasury, a vast collection of jewels, by order of the Nabob of
  Arcot, which the duke absolutely refused, and Bradshaw, his
  secretary, also. Sir John, thinking that the nabob would not
  believe that he had offered the present, published for his own
  vindication the answers of the duke and Bradshaw, for which he was
  turned out of the company’s service, as he was pursuing an
  interest then opposite to its interests.

  ‘Scotch influence not long after restored him. You will find the
  letters in Lind’s appendix to the defence of Lord Pigot. You are
  now, of course, so much of a politician as not to be surprised
  (shall I say disgusted?) at Macpherson’s conduct. The opinion of
  the King of Prussia as to your book I value not a straw; but that
  of the Marshal de Castries certainly carries with it great weight.

  ‘He is one of the few who adhered to Necker from gratitude, when
  the latter was turned out of his post about ten years ago; and I
  heard a very good character of the maréchal when I was last in
  France. St. Paul, as you and the duke are pleased to call him, is
  finished, and the preface is on the stocks.[157]

  ‘Why do you wish Clarke had commented on the Epistle to the
  Romans? Locke and Taylor have done it admirably; and easy as you
  may think the Gospels are, they have been rendered much more so by
  Clarke.

  ‘What do you mean by saying that the Gospels want no explanation?
  St. John is extremely difficult in some parts, notwithstanding
  Clarke’s paraphrase; and I think, with Markland, that he is as yet
  very far from being perfectly understood. Adieu!

                         ‘I remain,
                                ‘Ever your sincere friend,
                                                     ‘JOHN SYMONDS.’

-----

Footnote 152:

  By Act of Parliament, 1793.

Footnote 153:

  This recantation of Arthur Young’s former democratic utterances
  was published in June 1793.

Footnote 154:

  Marquis de Castries and Maréchal of France. Joined the _émigrés_
  on the Revolution, and served in Condé’s army.

Footnote 155:

    _Village Politics_, by Will Chip, 1793; price 2_d._

Footnote 156:

    William Coxe, 1747-1828, author of _Travels into Poland, Russia,
    Sweden, and Denmark_, &c. &c.

Footnote 157:

  Evidently an allusion to some work of the writer.

-----




                               CHAPTER XI

                     THE SECRETARYSHIP, 1794-95-96

The Secretaryship and its drawbacks—Social compensations—Illness and
    death of Elizabeth Hoole—Letters of Jeremy Bentham and others—A
    visit to Burke—Home travels—Enclosures.


The Board of Agriculture, meeting in February, arranged the
President’s plan for the attendance of their officers. By these laws
all the officers of the Board were bound to attend, with no other
exception than the months of August, September and October, with one
month at Christmas and three weeks at Easter. These laws, ready cut
and dried when the Board met, were adopted with no other alterations
than such as the President himself had made in them, previously to
their being presented at the meeting. Lord Hawke had examined the
rules and orders of many societies, and found that in all letters
communications were addressed to the Secretaries, and answers given
by them. Sir John Sinclair struck this out, and directed all such
communications to be to the President (himself), and for him also to
sign all letters. This at once converted the Secretary into nothing
more than a first clerk. I saw not at first the tendency of the
alterations; but I soon felt their effect. All letters were dictated
by the Secretary and written in a book; this book was altered and
corrected at the will of the President, and such alterations made as
in respect of agriculture were absurd enough; the whole done in such
a manner as not to be very pleasing.

In addition to this, Sir John Sinclair gave the Board the use of his
house, which ensured another circumstance hostile to my feelings.
There was only one room for transacting the business, by the
Secretary, under-Secretary, two clerks, to which Sir J. after added
the constant attendance of an attorney, for assisting in the
business of a general Enclosing Act, about which the President
busied himself some years in vain. As I was determined to pass all
the vacations at my farm in Suffolk, six journeys of myself and
servants became necessary, and caused a considerable expense. I also
was compelled to hire lodgings at the expense of two or two guineas
and a half per week, and when I experienced the full career[158] of
all these circumstances, I deliberated repeatedly and carefully with
myself, whether it would not be cheaper to me to throw up the
employment. Long after, upon review of the whole, I was amazed that
I had not done it, more especially as my plan for settling on the
moors in Yorkshire was offered to my choice. I was infinitely
disgusted with the inconsiderate manner in which Sir John Sinclair
appointed the persons who drew up the original reports, men being
employed who scarcely knew the right end of a plough; and the
President one day desired I would accompany him with one of these
men, a half-pay officer out of employment, to call on Lord Moira to
request his assistance in the Leicestershire Report, when this
person told his Lordship that he was out of employment and should
like a summer’s excursion. To do him justice, he did not know
anything of the matter. Still, however, he was appointed, and amused
himself with his excursion to Leicester. But the most curious
circumstance of effrontery was, that the greater number of the
reporters were appointed, and actually travelled upon the business
before the first meeting of the Board took place, under the most
preposterous of all ideas—that of surveying the whole Kingdom and
printing the Reports in a single year; by which manœuvre Sir John
thought he should establish a great reputation for himself.
Consequently by his sole authority, who could not possibly know
whether the members of the Board would approve or not such a plan. I
was a capital idiot not to absent myself sufficiently to bring the
matter to a question, and leave them to turn me out if they pleased.
Mr. Pitt would probably have interfered and effected the object I
wanted, and, if not, would have provided for me in a better way.
However, I made use of the opportunities that offered to frequent
the company of those that were agreeable to me; for a part of the
time was pretty regularly passed at the conversaziones of Mrs.
Matthew Montagu and the Countess of Bristol, where I met an
assemblage of persons remarkable for every characteristic of the
_bas-bleu_ mixed with great numbers of the highest rank. [I was]
also at many similar parties upon a smaller scale at Mr. Charles
Coles’, the intimate friend of Soame Jenyns, and to whom he left the
property of his works. The _petits soupers_ at Mrs. Matthew
Montagu’s, and to which she asked a selection of eight or nine
persons, were very pleasant, the conversations interesting, and this
select number more agreeable than I ever found full rooms. On my
first coming to town in the spring of 1794, I enquired of several
members of the Board whether there was not a farmers’ club in
London, and was surprised that there never had been any institution
of the kind. I determined to endeavour at establishing one, and
spoke to the Duke of Bedford and the Earls of Egremont and
Winchilsea, who much approved the idea, and applying also to a few
more, I directed cards to be sent them from the Thatched House
Tavern,[159] in order to establish a club. This meeting was fully
attended, and a book being called for, the club was instituted, and
several rules entered, and the meetings appointed once a fortnight
during the sittings of Parliament. This club became very
fashionable, and applications to be elected were very numerous, from
the members of both Houses of Parliament; and it subsists to this
day, but has for some time been very ill attended. This was
occasioned by too free an election of all who offered. While the
club was limited to fifty members it was well attended, but
afterwards such numbers were received, and with so much facility, as
greatly to injure the establishment. I have one remark to make upon
clubs; the life and soul of them is limitation to a selected few,
and to blackball the great mass of applicants, selecting merely such
as will form a very valuable addition to the society, which probably
may not amount to more than one in twenty. The annual subscription
was two guineas: one to the house, one to form a fund at the
disposition of the club. The latter gradually accumulated till it
amounted to 700_l._ or 800_l._ Both Sir John Sinclair and I were
strenuous that this might be applied to some useful purpose, and
with difficulty we got an appropriation of fifty guineas as a reward
for the best plough that could be produced; but the money assigned
to advertisements being much too small, the offer was unknown, and
no plough produced.

A member once proposed that the 800_l._ might be given to charitable
institutions; but this was negatived in an instant, and the sum is
still left (1812) unemployed in the funds.

While the club flourished the members who most generally attended
were the Dukes of Bedford, Buccleugh, Montrose, the Earls of
Egremont, Winchester and Darnley, the Lords of Wentworth,
Somerville, de Dunstanville, Sheffield, &c. &c.

I often dined at Charles Coles’, where I met repeatedly Jacob
Bryant,[160] Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. York, Mrs. Garrick, Hannah More,
Mrs. Orde and Soame Jenyns. The conversation at these parties on the
publications of the day, anecdotes of the time, with the conduct of
many of the great men of the age, was usually very interesting.
Alas! alas! how few of these persons are now left. I was very eager
in listening to every word that fell from Hannah More, though not
nearly so much so as I should have been many years after.

I had an incessant round of dinners and many evening parties, and
generally with people of the highest rank and consequence, but I was
not pleased, being discontented with my employment, and disgusted
with the frivolous business of the Board, which seemed to me engaged
in nothing that could possibly produce the least credit with the
public. After five months’ residence at London, I went to the Duke
of Bedford’s at Woburn on my way to Bradfield, spending some days
very agreeably in company that could not fail of being interesting.

This year my second daughter Elizabeth, who, as I have mentioned
before, was married to the Rev. John Hoole, died of consumption. She
was of a most amiable, gentle temper, and in a resigned frame of
mind, which gave me much satisfaction. The last visit I paid her at
Abinger, in Surrey, she was very weak, yet not suspected to be so
near her end. But at the last parting with me, she did it in so
feeling and affectionate a manner as seemed to imply that she
thought she should see me no more. It made me, for a time, extremely
melancholy, which was shaken off with great difficulty. I took a
tour into Hampshire, where I passed several days with Mr. Poulett at
Sombourne, taking an account of the agriculture of that district,
the result of which examination was printed as an appendix to the
original Hampshire Report.

On the meeting of the Board in 1793, Sir John Sinclair had
particularly requested me to draw up a Report for the County of
Suffolk, to effect which I took several journeys into different
parts of the county at some expense, and formed the Report which was
printed in 1794. I never executed any work more commended in Suffolk
than this. I had no remuneration.

Letters received this year:—

From Jeremy Bentham, Esq., enquiries into the landed property of
Great Britain and into the rental and value of houses:—

                                     ‘Hendon, Middlesex: Sept. 1794.

  ‘Dear Sir,—Permit my ignorance to draw upon your science on an
  occasion that happens just now to be a very material one to me. I
  have a sort of floating recollection of a calculation, so
  circumstanced, either in point of authority or argument, as to
  carry weight with it, in which the total value of the landed
  property in this country (Scotland, I believe, included) was
  reckoned at a thousand millions, and that of the movable property
  at either a thousand millions or twelve hundred millions. Public
  debt did not come, I think, at least, it ought not to come, into
  the account; it being only so much owned by one part of the
  proprietors of the two thousand or the two thousand two hundred
  millions to another.

  ‘Upon searching your book on France, which was the source from
  whence I thought I had taken the idea, I can find no calculation
  of the value of the movable property, nor even of the immovable in
  an explicit form; on the contrary, in the instance of the
  immovable, I find suppositions with which any such estimate
  appears to be incompatible. The land tax at four shillings, I
  find, you suppose, were it to be equal all over the country, would
  be equivalent to as much as three shillings, on which supposition
  the rental (the tax of four shillings producing no more than two
  thousand millions) would amount to no more than 13,000,000_l._ nor
  consequently the value, at so many years’ purchase, say
  twenty-eight, to more than three hundred and sixty-four millions;
  or at thirty, to three hundred and ninety millions; to which, in
  order to complete the calculation of the landed property of Great
  Britain, that of Scotland would have to be added.

  ‘The population of the three kingdoms you reckon in two places at
  eleven millions; but in another place at fifteen. Is the latter a
  slip of the pen? or, in the two former places, was only two
  kingdoms (England and Scotland) in your view, though three are
  mentioned? A circumstance that seems to favour the latter
  supposition is, that the population of Ireland is well known (if I
  do not much misrecollect) from recent and authentic sources to be
  a little more than four millions; and as Scotland turns out to
  contain a million and a half, this would leave nine and a half
  millions for England, which, I should suppose, would quadrate in
  round numbers with Mr. Howlett’s calculations, to which we refer;
  a book which, from forgetfulness, I have never made myself master
  of, and to which, being in the country, I have no speedy means of
  recurring.

  ‘Now what I wish for is as follows: (1) a calculation (or, I
  should rather say, the result) of the value of the landed property
  of Great Britain reckoned at [so many] years’ purchase, two
  prices—a peace price and a war price—could they be respectively of
  sufficient permanence to be ascertained, would be of use.

  ‘(2) A calculation of the value of the personal, _i.e._ immovable
  property of Great Britain.

  ‘(3) The amount of the population of Great Britain.

  ‘What I am a petitioner for is the benefit of your judgment and
  authority upon the three several subjects; by reference, if there
  be any other person’s calculation that you are satisfied with;
  otherwise from your own notes; and, in either case, a word or two
  just to indicate the sources from which they are taken would be an
  additional help and satisfaction.

  ‘The occasion of the trouble I am attempting to give you I
  expressly forbear mentioning; not only for want of space and time,
  but more particularly that it may be impossible, and might, upon
  occasion, be known to be impossible, that the response of the
  Oracle should have received any bias from the consideration of the
  purpose for which it was consulted.

  ‘I am, dear sir, with never failing esteem and regard,

                                             ‘Yours ever,
                                                   ‘JEREMY BENTHAM.’

                                            ‘Q.I.P.: Sept. 30, 1794.

  ‘Dear Sir,—A thousand thanks for your kind letter—sorry you should
  fancy you have been bathing[161] for health—hope it was not
  true—only idleness—we can’t afford to have you otherwise than
  well.

  ‘Must prefer[162] you once more, “Rental of England twenty-four
  millions.” Good! but houses, such as those in town, and others
  that have a separate rent, are included? I suppose not; since for
  them you would have given a separate and different price in number
  of years’ purchase.

  ‘In one of your tours you guess this article at five millions. Do
  you abide by that guess? I think the number must have increased
  since then considerably; that was, I believe, about twenty years
  ago. London and the environs must since then have increased, I
  should think, at least a quarter of a million. How many years’
  purchase would you reckon houses at, upon an average, old and
  young together? Shall we say sixteen? I should think, at the
  outside.

                                ‘I am, dear Sir,
                                            ‘Your much obliged,
                                                    ‘JEREMY BENTHAM.

  ‘A. Young, Esq.’

The two following letters are from Mrs. Hoole, Dr. Burney’s
favourite, Miss Bessy, to her father:—

                      _To Arthur Young, Esq._

                                           ‘Sidmouth: Feb. 22, 1794.

  ‘Dear Sir,—We came hither from Lynn near three weeks since, as Mr.
  Hoole informed you. We are in very warm and comfortable lodgings,
  and the woman of the house is very attentive and obliging. The air
  of this place is very mild and very moist, but they tell us the
  healthiest of any upon the coast. Mr. Hoole has been on to
  Exmouth, which, upon the whole, he does not like so well. We do
  not find that Devonshire is cheaper the further you go, but the
  contrary, at least on the coast.

  ‘With regard to myself, I do not find I am any better for this
  journey, indeed I have had more fever and cough since I came here
  than ever I had. I am at present better, but I know that is owing
  to a very strict regimen which I have lately taken to. The weather
  has been very unfavourable, for though it has not been cold we
  have had almost constantly either rain or wind. We have been
  absent from home near nine weeks, and Mr. H. must very soon return
  to his curacy; he will either take me with him or leave me here,
  and we wish very much to know what you advise, considering _all
  circumstances_.

  ‘This place is certainly warmer than Surrey, but we have heard
  here, as at Lynn, that it sometimes proves unfavourable in
  consumptive cases. I do not think Abinger at all in fault; I have
  been well or _better_ there than anywhere. But I am not unwilling
  to be left here, if it should still be thought advisable. Will you
  have the goodness to write as soon as you can, as we shall not
  determine till we hear? Mr. Hoole has had but one letter from you
  about a month ago. This I mention lest you should have sent any
  which may have miscarried.

                  ‘Believe me, dear Sir,
                                  ‘Your affectionate Daughter,
                                                   ‘ELIZABETH HOOLE.

  ‘Perhaps you may like to know something of the price of
  provisions: Meat 4½d. per lb.; poultry is reasonable; chickens
  from 2_s._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ a couple; milk 2_d._ a quart; butter
  10_d._ per lb.’

                    _Postscript from Mr. Hoole_

  ‘I fear this journey will be of no avail. I do not think our dear
  Bessy is in any immediate danger, but I much fear this cruel
  disease is gradually preying on her strength.

                                                             ‘S. H.’

                                          ‘Sidmouth: March 18, 1794.

  ‘My dear Sir,—I was very sorry to find from your letter that what
  I had written had made you uneasy; I am certain you think me worse
  than I am; indeed it is very foolish to write my symptoms to my
  friends, as they give way perhaps, or some of them, in a short
  time, as is my case. I am now quite free from pain, and can sleep
  on one side as well as the other; I think the last blister was of
  use. I have been twice in the warm bath since Mr. Hoole went. My
  cough must have its course.

  ‘I had a very kind letter from Agnes yesterday; she offers, if she
  can get permission, to come and stay with me until Mr. Hoole
  returns, and adds, if she cannot, Mrs. Forbes says she is at
  liberty, and would willingly come; but I would not bring them down
  upon any account, as I am more comfortably settled than anybody
  would suppose, and I am sure Mr. Hoole will be back in a short
  time.

  ‘Sidmouth is certainly very mild; we have had no cold winds, but
  this clear weather suits me better than that warm moist weather we
  had in February. But I cannot walk by the seaside; there is always
  wind, and it seems colder than anywhere else.

  ‘I would not blame Mrs. F. in the least; I might have been the
  same or worse anywhere; if anything in the air disagreed with me,
  it was the moisture. We have no post from hence, either Monday or
  Tuesday. I wrote to Mr. Hoole last Sunday, or would have answered
  yours sooner. The quickness, or rather rapidity, with which our
  letters arrive from town, seems surprising—a letter put in one
  night we have the next. It is not the custom indeed to deliver
  them at night, as the post comes in so late as nine, but if you
  send they will give you them. At Lynn, which is about the same
  distance from town, they deliver them at six in the evening, but
  we have here a cross-post to send for them nine miles.

  ‘I beg you will not think me worse than I am, and believe me,

                            ‘Your affectionate Daughter,
                                                  ‘ELIZABETH HOOLE.’

                      _From J. Symonds, Esq._

                                         ‘Cambridge: March 27, 1795.

  ‘My dear Sir,—I am to thank you for two letters, which should not
  have lain unanswered if a retirement like mine would have
  furnished me with any materials. However, I must take notice of
  your way of arguing. You say “the people in France _are_ starved,
  and assignats _are_ destroyed,” with significant dashes. You told
  me just the same in 1793 and 1794, and venture it once more.
  Assuredly you seem to reason like the old wizard Tiresias in
  Horace, “Quicquid dicam aut erit aut non.” Whether your
  predictions be verified or not, you assume, like Tiresias, to
  speak the truth.

  ‘I always thought with you, that Mr. Pitt would receive no real
  benefit from his new friends; but I have heard the Duke of Grafton
  say that he would not have entered on the war if he had not been
  able to detach some from the Opposition. If this be so, there is
  great reason to lament that he could detach them.

  ‘We have received here the Bishop of Llandaff’s speech on the Duke
  of Bedford’s motion, published by Debrett. It amazed me to find
  that the Bishop of Durham ventured to speak after him. A gentleman
  who heard them both says that Watson’s was rich, clouted cream,
  and Barrington’s thin, meagre, blue skim milk, frothed up with an
  egg, but with so weak a froth that it rose only to fall instantly.
  We are told that after Æschines was banished, in consequence of
  Demosthenes’ speech _de coronâ_, one of Æschines’ friends carried
  to him in his banishment a copy of Demosthenes’ speech; on which
  the former said, “But what if you had heard it?”

  ‘Two fellows of this college, who heard Watson, bear the same
  ample testimony to the excellent manner in which he delivered it.

  ‘You tell me “that our situation is prosperous beyond all
  example;” I should think so too if it were unnecessary to multiply
  loans. The complaints of the dearness of the necessaries of life
  seem to pervade the whole island, and I fear they must still be
  dearer. If we be forced to persist in this war (and how are we to
  get out of it, it is difficult to see) the middle class of the
  people, of which you and I form a part, must be driven down to the
  lower. They hold it is a principle not to tax the lower, but to
  tax luxuries, so that the middle class will be forced to abandon
  everything but necessaries, and then the upper class must pay all.
  This, to use your words, “_must render us prosperous beyond all
  example_.” I rather accede to Charles Coles’ declaration in his
  last letter to me: “Alas! our glory is gone to decay.” A day or
  two ago I was looking into the famous pamphlet of my old friend,
  Israel Mauduit,[163] on the German war, in which I stumbled on the
  following sentence, very applicable to our entering into this
  _just_ war to save the Dutch: “Is Britain to make itself the
  general knight errant of Europe, to rescue oppressed States, and
  exhaust itself in order to save men in spite of themselves, who
  will not do anything towards their own deliverance?” Adieu!

                                          ‘Yours sincerely,
                                                       ‘J. SYMONDS.’

1796.—In the spring of this year I waited on Mr. Pitt, by his
appointment, in order to answer some enquiries of his relative to
the propriety of any regulations by Parliament of the price of
labour.

I answered all his enquiries, and could not but admire the wonderful
quickness of his apprehension of all those collateral difficulties
which I started, and of which he seemed in a moment to comprehend
the full extent. I found him hostile to the idea.

_March._—Among various dinners [was] at Mr. Burke’s and at Mrs.
Barrington’s parties. In May dinners at Duke of Bedford’s, Duke of
Buccleugh’s, and Mr. Jenkinson and Lady Louisa’s; her manner is not
the most agreeable, [but] she has ease and elegance. I have long
known her at Ickworth.

_May 1._—For some time past the following advertisement has appeared
in many of the London papers: ‘Speedily will be published a letter
from the Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Arthur Young, Esq., Secretary to
the Board of Agriculture, on some projects talked of in Parliament,
for regulating the price of labour.’ The appearance of this
advertisement induced Sir John Sinclair to write to Mr. Burke to
propose to him that he should undertake to draw up for the Board the
chapter of a general Report which was intended to treat on the
subject of labour and provisions.

The question in the House of Commons was decided before the
publication could appear, and it was supposed that Mr. Burke had, in
consequence, abandoned the intention of publishing his ideas. But
Sir John, not having received any answer, or, at least, any that was
satisfactory to him, requested me to take his chariot and go to
Gregory’s, in order that I might discover whether that celebrated
character continued his intention of throwing his thoughts upon
paper.

I reached Mr. Burke’s before breakfast, and had every reason to be
pleased with my reception.

‘Why, Mr. Young, it is many years since I saw you, and, to the best
of my recollection, you have not suffered the smallest change; you
look as young as you did sixteen years ago. You must be very strong;
you have no belly; your form shows lightness; you have an elastic
mind.’

I wished to myself that I could have returned anything like the
compliment, but I was shocked to see him so broken, so low, and with
such expressions of melancholy. I almost thought that I was come to
see the greatest genius of the age in ruin.

And I had every reason to think, from all that passed on this visit,
that the powers of his mind had suffered considerably.

He introduced me to his brother, Mr. W. Burke, to Mrs. B., and to
the Count de la Tour du Pin, an emigrant philosopher and naturalist.

After breakfast he took me a sauntering walk for five hours over his
farm, and to a cottage where a scrap of land had been stolen from
the waste. I was glad to find his farm in good order, and doubly so
to hear him remark that it was his only amusement, except the
attention which he paid to a school in the vicinity for sixty
children of noble emigrants. His conversation was remarkably
desultory, a broken mixture of agricultural observations, French
madness, price of provisions, the death of his son, the absurdity of
regulating labour, the mischief of our Poor-laws, and the difficulty
of cottagers keeping cows. An argumentative discussion of any
opinion seemed to distress him, and I, therefore, avoided it. And
his discourse was so scattered and interrupted by varying ideas,
that I could bring away but few of his remarks that were clearly
defined.

Speaking on public affairs he said that he never looked at a
newspaper; ‘but if anything happens to occur which they think will
please me, I am told of it.’ I observed there was strength of mind
in this resolution. ‘Oh, no!’ he replied, ‘it is mere weakness of
mind.’ It appeared evident that he would not publish upon the
subject which brought me to Gregory’s; but he declared himself to be
absolutely inimical to any regulation whatever by law; that all such
interference was not only unnecessary but would be mischievous. He
observed that the supposed scarcity was extremely ill understood,
and that the consumption of the people was a clear proof of it;
this, in his neighbourhood, was not lessened in the material
articles of bread, meat, and beer, which he learnt by a very careful
examination of many bakers, butchers, and excisemen; nor had the
poor been distressed further than what resulted immediately from
that improvidence which was occasioned by the Poor-laws.

Mr. Burke had not read Lord Sheffield’s Memoirs of Gibbon. On my
observing that Mr. Gibbon declares himself of the same opinion with
him on the French Revolution, he said that Gibbon was an old friend
of his, and he knew well that before he (Mr. G.) died, that he
heartily repented of the anti-religious part of his work for
contributing to free mankind from all restraint on their vices and
profligacy, and thereby aiding so much the spirit which produced the
horrors that blackened the most detestable of all revolutions.

Upon my mentioning Monsieur de Mounier and Lally Tollendal, he
exclaimed, ‘_I wish they were both hanged!_’

He seemed to bear hard upon the Duke de Liancourt, and to allude
indistinctly to some report of my having opened an hospitable door
to that nobleman, and having received a bad return. I defended the
duke, and had not the conversation been interrupted I should have
discovered what he meant by the remark. The same observation has met
my ear on other occasions, but was never explained.

Mrs. Crewe arrived just before dinner, and though she exerted
herself with that brilliancy of imagination which renders her
conversation so interesting, it was not sufficient to raise the
drooping spirits of Mr. Burke; it hurt me to see the languid manner
in which he lounged rather than sat at table, his dress entirely
neglected, and his manner quite dejected; yet he tried once or twice
to rally, and once even to pun. Mrs. Crewe, observing that Thelwel
was to stand for Norwich, said it would be horrid for Mr. Wyndham to
be turned out by such a man. ‘Aye,’ he replied, ‘that would not
_tell well_.’

She laughed at him in the style of condemning a bad pun. Somebody
said it was a fair one, he said _it was neither very bad nor good_.

He gave more attention to her account of Charles Fox than to any
other part of her conversation. She spoke slightingly of him, and
gave us some account of his life at Mrs. Armstead’s. She says he
lives very little in the world, or in any general society, for years
past; that his pleasure is to be at the head of a little society of
ten or twelve toad eaters, and seems to contract his mind to such a
situation.

The conversation would have become more interesting had not Mrs.
Crewe been so full of a plan for Ladies’ Subscriptions for the
Emigrants, and consulting him so much on the means of securing the
money from the fangs of the Bishop of St. Pol de Léon, whose part,
however, Mr. Burke took steadily. This business was so discussed as
to preclude much other conversation. Mr. Burke has been at Gregory’s
twenty-nine years; and I was pleased to remark that he lived on the
same moderate plan of life which I witnessed here five-and-twenty
years ago.

_Mem._ ‘To search for that visit.’[164]

My visit on the whole was interesting. I am glad once more to have
seen and conversed with the man who I hold to possess the greatest
and most brilliant parts of any person of the age in which he lived.
Whose conversation has often fascinated me; whose eloquence has
charmed; whose writings have delighted and instructed the world; and
whose name will without question descend to the latest posterity.
But to behold so great a genius so depressed with melancholy,
stooping with infirmity of body, feeling the anguish of a lacerated
mind, and sinking to the grave under accumulated misery; to see all
this in a character I venerate, and apparently without resource or
comfort, wounded every feeling of my soul, and I left him the next
day almost as low-spirited as himself.

In May the Duke of Buccleugh carried me to see Mr. Secretary
Dundas’s farm at Wimbledon, where I was to give my opinion of the
mode of draining it. I found his people throwing money away like
fools. They know nothing of the matter. This duke is another
determined farmer, and seems to like conversing on no other subject.

This year I undertook a journey through the western counties,
through Devon into Cornwall, returning by Somersetshire, and
published the register of it in the ‘Annals of Agriculture.’ I
happened to be at Exeter at the time of the quarter sessions, and
dined with thirty magistrates, Mr. Leigh, clerk of the House of
Commons, being chairman. I did not know him personally, and joined
more warmly in a conversation on the Enclosure Bill,[165] than I
should have done had I known that I was speaking to a person so much
interested against it. Mr. Leigh was very decided in his opposition
to the measure, asserting that there was no protection for property
in any other mode of proceeding, which had been so long the
established custom. I very eagerly refuted this observation till
some gentleman present spoke to Mr. Leigh, alluding to his official
character. This was one proof of what I had often heard, that the
officers of the two Houses of Parliament were of all others the most
determined opposers of that measure. The reason is obvious; they
have very considerable fees on the passing of every private
Act,[166] and the clerks of the House have a further benefit which
might not be compensated in any equivalent that might be given them;
because they solicit many of the bills. Still, as there is so plain
a precedent which has existed for many years in the case of the
Speaker of the House, who has 6,000_l._ per annum instead of all
fees, it seems no difficult matter to give an equal equivalent to
the clerks for all their profits, including what they might make as
solicitors.

-----

Footnote 158:

  Career, general course of action or procedure.—_Webster._

Footnote 159:

  This appears to have been the place lately known as the Thatched
  House Club, St. James’s Street, Piccadilly.

Footnote 160:

  1715-1804. Author of numerous works on speculative history, in one
  of which he denied the existence of Troy.

Footnote 161:

    Probably an allusion to A. Y.’s habit of air baths.

Footnote 162:

  Prefer, to set forth, propose.—_Webster._

Footnote 163:

  Israel Mauduit, son of a Dissenting minister; at first the same,
  afterwards merchant; published _Considerations on the German War_,
  1760, &c. &c. See _Chalmers’ Biog. Dict._

Footnote 164:

  No note is to be found among papers concerning this visit.

Footnote 165:

  Enclosure Bill. ‘At the Revolution of 1688 more than half the
  kingdom was believed to consist of moorland, forest, and fen, and
  vast commons and wastes covered the greater part of England north
  of the Humber. But the numerous Enclosure Bills which began with
  the reign of George II., and especially marked that of his
  successor, changed the whole face of the country. Ten thousand
  square miles of untilled land have been [? had been] added, under
  their operation, to the area of cultivation.’—Green’s _History of
  the English People_.

Footnote 166:

  Abolished (saving the rights of the then holders of office) in
  1812. 52 Geo. III. c. xi.

-----




                              CHAPTER XII

                   ILLNESS AND DEATH OF BOBBIN, 1797

Illness of Bobbin—Letters of Bobbin and her father’s replies—Dress
    minutes at the opera—Hoping against hope—Bobbin’s death—Seeking
    for consolation—Retrospection—Beginning of diary—Correspondence.


This year, so fatal to every worldly hope, which overturned every
prospect I had in life, and changed me almost as much as a new
creation, opened in the common manner by my going to London to
attend the meeting of the Board [of Agriculture]. I brought my dear
angelic child[167] with me, who went to school in January, in good
health but never in good spirits, for she abhorred school. Oh! what
infatuation ever to send her to one. In the country she had health,
spirits, and strength, as if there were not enough with what she
might have learned at home, instead of going to that region of
constraint and death, Camden House.

The rules for health are detestable, no air but in a measured,
formal walk, and all running and quick motion prohibited.
Preposterous! She slept with a girl who could hear only with one
ear, and so ever laid on one side; and my dear child could do no
otherwise afterwards without pain; because the vile beds are so
small that they must both lie the same way. The school discipline of
all sorts, the food, &c. &c., all contributed. She never had a
bellyful at breakfast. Detestable this at the expense of 80_l._ a
year. Oh! how I regret ever putting her there, or to any other, for
they are all theatres of knavery, illiberality, and infamy.[168]
Upon her being ill in March I took her to my lodgings in Jermyn
Street, where Dr. Turton attended her till April 12, when I carried
her to Bradfield. He certainly mistook her case entirely, not
believing in a consumption, and by physic brought her so low that
she declined hourly; he stuffed her with medicine at a time when
sending her at once to Bristol or even to Bradfield she went little
more than skin and bone, with prescriptions for more physicking
under a stupid fellow at Bury, who purged her till she was a
spectre. On June 13 she went to Smiths’ (Bradfield neighbours), and
there complained ‘that such a young girl as I who came for air and
exercise should be _thus crammed with physic_.’ Poor thing! her
instinct told her it was wrong, but she submitted.

[Illustration:

  BOBBIN’ (MARTHA YOUNG).
  _From a miniature by Plymer._
]

                    _From Bobbin to her Father_

  ‘My dear Papa,—I received your letter this morning. Thank you for
  it. My strength is much the same as when I saw you; my appetite is
  getting better a good deal. Mr. Smith saw me yesterday, and said
  it was a running pulse, but that he thought me better. I think if
  anything I am better than when I saw you. Thank you for the wine,
  which I have not yet received, but suppose it is at Bury. As for
  the bad news, I am tired of it. I want, and should very much like,
  a nice writing-box to hold pens, ink, paper, all my letters, &c.,
  in short everything exact; this is just the thing for a birthday
  present. As for sweet things, I do not wish for them particularly;
  any little thing that you think wholesome I should be glad of. The
  weather [is] as yet so bad that I cannot stir out. Remember me to
  the party, and thank Mr. Kedington for waking me at six o’clock on
  the Monday morning.

                             ‘Believe me, dear Papa,
                                             ‘Your dutiful Daughter,
                                                        ‘M. YOUNG.’

                            _His Reply_

  ‘My dear Bobbin,—I am much obliged to you for the description you
  gave me of your health, but I beg you will repeat it directly, and
  do not forget appetite, pulse, sleep, pains, swelled legs, fever,
  exercise on change of weather, thirst, &c., for I am extremely
  anxious to know how you go on. I have looked at a great many
  writing-boxes, but find none yet under 1_l._ 5_s._ and 1_l._
  11_s._ 6_d._, but I hear there are good ones to be had at 15_s._
  The moment I can find one I will buy and send it packed full of
  seals, or something else.

  ‘Politics are melancholy, for the fleet is satisfied, the army is
  not, and the same spirit [there] would be dreadful. To-day, it is
  said, the Duke of York has declared the intention of raising the
  pay of Infantry, which is wise, but it may not be done to satisfy
  them, and in a moment they might be masters of the Tower, Bank,
  Parliament, &c.; however, let us hope that measures will be taken
  to prepare for the worst. The French will make no peace with us,
  but bring all their force to the coast and ruin us, if they can,
  by invasion expense.

  ‘I cannot read half your mother’s letter; but enough to see that
  she is very angry, for I know not what. I am not paid, and have
  nothing to send.

                                    ‘Dear Bobbin,
                                           ‘Yours affectionately,
                                                             ‘A. Y.’

                       _Bobbin to her Father_

  ‘My dear Papa,—I received your letter this morning, for which I
  thank you. My appetite is a great deal better, pulse rather too
  quick, sleep _very well_, no pains, no swelled legs, no fever. We
  have had Sunday, Monday, and yesterday fine, and only those since
  you went. I walked in the Stone Walk. Pray send my writing-box as
  soon as you can, and, as you see by this, I want writing paper to
  write to you and Griffiths; I hope you will put some into it. I
  think one under a guinea will not be of any use to me. I saw Mr.
  and Mrs. O. Oakes[169] in Bury yesterday, they have made but a
  short stay in town. I am much obliged to you for the wine and
  porter, which I have received safe. Remember me to the party,
  write soon, and believe me, dear papa,

                                         ‘Your dutiful Daughter,
                                                          ‘M. YOUNG.

  ‘_N.B._—By the time Mr. Kedington comes his strawberries will be
  ripe; ask him if he would give me a few if I send for them. Pray
  remember a patent lock, so it will be a guinea besides that.’

                              _Reply_

  ‘I was very glad to receive my dear Bobbin’s letter, for it gives
  the best account I have yet received of your health. As you wish a
  guinea box you shall have one, though I can very ill afford it at
  present. As to your mother’s ideas of my being paid, nothing can
  be said to it, if she knows better than I do. Her intelligence
  that I have sold the Exchequer annuity is like all the rest; if it
  is of longer duration than I supposed, so much the better for
  those who have bought it of me, and the worse for me.

  ‘Lady Hawkesbury, Lady Hervey and Lady Erne[170] have given the
  Macklins and me some opera tickets several times—last night for
  the benefit of the sailors’ widows and orphans, under Lord Jarvis;
  but sailors are not in fashion; the pit was not more than
  two-thirds full. They go out of town on Sunday or Monday. The
  weather has been very hot. Yesterday I could scarcely get from the
  Board home, for coaches and crowds along all the streets near St.
  James’s, &c. The King is low-spirited at the thought of parting
  from his daughter. The Duchy of Wurtemburg is in the very jaws of
  France, and the prospect not favourable. Every person that comes
  from France asserts the same, that their whole force will be
  brought against this country. I have been sent for, and had an
  interview with a cabinet minister on arming the landed interest;
  but I fear nothing will be done effectually, though they seemed
  determined that _something_ shall. Don’t mention this out of the
  family. I will put paper in your box, changing the lock will take
  some time, but you shall have it, I hope, on Monday. Continue to
  write me. Tell your M. [mother] I have no money; therefore, why
  worry me? She might as well ask blood from a post.

                                   ‘Dear Bobbin,
                                           ‘Yours affectionately,
                                                             ‘A. Y.’

                    _From Bobbin to her Father_

  ‘My dear Papa,—I received your letter this morning and am
  extremely obliged to you for your attention about the writing-box,
  but if it be not purchased, I have seen one at Rackham’s which
  suits me exactly in every respect, therefore, if you will send a
  patent lock, I can have it put on. The price of Rackham’s is a
  guinea, but if you have bought it I shall like it as well. My
  chief complaints are weakness, and a very bad cough, nothing else
  that I mind. I dare say you were entertained at the opera.

  ‘I have just got six of the most beautiful little rabbits you ever
  saw, they skip about so prettily, you can’t think, and I shall
  have some more in a few weeks. Having had so much physic I am
  right down tired of it. I take it still twice a day; my appetite
  is better. What can you mind politics so for? I don’t think about
  them. Well, good bye, and believe me, dear papa,

                                           ‘Your dutiful Daughter,
                                                          ‘M. YOUNG.

  ‘Saturday.’

                            _His Reply_

                                                            ‘Monday.

  ‘My dear Bobbin,—I received your letter this morning, and am sorry
  it did not come in time to stop my buying this box, which is
  twenty-five shillings besides carriage; but I hope you will like
  it; the lock is good and not common. I cannot afford a patent one,
  which is fifteen shillings alone.

  ‘I am sorry to hear you have a bad cough and are weak. God send
  this fine weather may make you well soon. Continue to let me know
  how you do, particularly your cough. You do not say if you are
  upon the whole better, nor whether you have got on horseback yet,
  which I must have you do, at all events, or you will not get well
  at all. Be more particular—what physic do you take?

  ‘You are right not to trouble yourself about politics. Mr. and
  Mrs. M. went out of town this morning.

  ‘The Directory of France has ordered all my works on Agriculture
  to be translated in twenty volumes, and their friends here would
  guillotine the author. The “Travels” sell greatly there in French,
  the third edition coming.

                                          ‘Adieu.
                                              ‘Yours affectionately.

  ‘I have just time to send this [writing-box]. I intended it by
  coach, but as I am sure the seals would be ground all to powder, I
  think it best by waggon, which will explain the reason of your not
  having it so soon as I hoped and promised, and I think you would
  be vexed to have your collection spoiled. It goes by Bury waggon.
  Your pincushion box won’t come in it.’

            _Note from A. Y. to Bonnet_ (_Farm Bailiff_)

  ‘Miss Patty is to ride out in the chaise or whisky, or on double
  horse, whenever Bonnet is not obliged to be absent from the farm.
  If he is at market when the days are long and Miss Patty rises
  early, she can have a ride before breakfast.

  ‘Bonnet to pay Miss Patty a shilling a week.’

                    _To Bobbin from her Father_

  ‘My dear Bobbin,—I know your understanding, and therefore shall
  not write to you, young as you are, as a child. Mrs. Oakes writes
  me from Smith that Dr. T. ordered you physic which you have not
  taken, at the same time that he does not at all like your case.
  Now this is a very serious business for your health, and
  consequently it makes me very uneasy. You are extremely weak by
  your own account, and steel is to strengthen. I gave it with my
  own hand to my father for a year, and with great effect; why you
  should doubt the efficacy of anything prescribed by so great a
  physician is more than I can understand; as to ill tastes, it is
  beneath common sense to listen to anything of the sort.

  ‘But, my dear Bobbin, you ought to bring some circumstances to
  your recollection; the expense I have been at is more than I can
  afford, and I am now paying your school the same as if present. It
  is surely incumbent on you to consider, that when a father is
  doing everything upon earth for your good, yet you ought from
  feelings of gratitude and generosity to do all you can for
  yourself. I ask nothing but what another would positively insist
  on, and would order violent means of securing obedience; I, on the
  contrary, rely on your own feelings and your good sense, and so
  relying, I do beg that you will take everything ordered without
  murmur or hesitation, for I assure you it is with astonishment I
  hear that you have omitted this some time. Call your understanding
  to your aid, and ask yourself what you can think must be my
  surprise at hearing that while all around you are anxious for your
  health, that you alone will be careless of it. It is a much worse
  thing than ill health, for I had rather hear you were worse in
  body than that you had a malady in your heart or head. Think
  seriously of such conduct, and I am confident it will cease, for I
  know your disposition, and that makes me the more surprised, for
  knowing your good temper so well as I do it is perfectly
  astonishing. I am sure I shall hear, and it will be with great
  pleasure, that you are acting worthy of yourself; and having so
  much patience in your illness, you will show it in this, as in so
  many other things. (The first cheap lobsters I shall send you
  three by mail, the weather being hot.) I think you are not strong
  enough to ride a dicky alone. Surely double-horse would be better,
  but if you have tried you must be able to judge. Pray continue to
  write me constantly, for you must know how anxious I am to hear
  exactly your case.

  ‘God bless you, my dear girl. I talk of your physician and your
  physic, but God forbid you trusted to either without asking His
  blessing regularly. You tell me that you always say your prayers;
  you cannot deceive God, and I hope you have a reliance on His
  blessing, which you cannot have if you do not ask it, and gain the
  habit of asking it.’

                    _From Bobbin to her Father_

  ‘My dear Papa,—I received your letter yesterday. Thank you for
  your advice; I had taken the _steel_ and _draughts_ long before I
  received it, besides which I take some more stuff[171] ... and ask
  him [the doctor] likewise how long the steel, &c., must be taken
  before you feel any effect from it, for one might take physic for
  ever without receiving any benefit. Let not my giving you my
  opinion make you think that I do not take mine regularly; I assure
  you I do. My dear papa, how can you imagine that I should ever
  neglect my prayers? No! believe me, I know my duty too well for
  that. I believe _once_, the last time I was at the cottage, when I
  was too weak to say them out of bed, I then said them when Betty
  brought the asses’ milk. One morning I fell asleep and forgot
  them; I thought of it at night, and told her to remind me of them,
  which she did—this she can tell you. I thank you for some fine cod
  and lobsters, which came very fresh and good.

  ‘I am much the same as when I wrote last, my cough very
  troublesome still. I called on Mrs. Belgrave, she was gone to
  town. Adieu, my dear papa. Believe me

                         ‘Your dutiful and affectionate Daughter,
                                                         ‘M. YOUNG.’

                            _His Reply_

                                                          ‘Saturday.

  ‘My dearest Bobbin,—The moment your letter came I went to Dr.
  Turton, but he was, as I feared he would be, out. However, I shall
  call on him this evening and send you his answer by to-morrow
  night’s mail, if he is not gone to Kent, which I hope he will not
  be. If so, I cannot see him till Tuesday, as I shall be Sunday and
  Monday at the Duke of Bedford’s.... I am of opinion you should
  leave off steel till you have my answer.... It is to give you
  strength.... You are a very good girl for having taken it, and
  equally for saying your prayers. Always preserve the habit of
  doing so. God protect and bless you!

  ‘Two 64’s and fifteen merchantmen have left the mutineers under a
  heavy fine, and it is expected the rest will do the same very
  soon, and then Admiral Parker and Co. will swing. Great
  expectations of a peace. Tell Mary, St. Paul’s would come to B. as
  soon as Dr. T., but her thought was a good one.

  ‘Write me again soon.

                                     ‘Yours very affectionately,
                                                             ‘A. Y.’

                    _To Bobbin from her Father_

                                             ‘Jermyn Street: Friday.

  ‘My dear Bobbin,—As I desired you to write to me twice a week I
  expected a letter yesterday, but hope when I go by and by to the
  [Board] that I shall find one from you, for I am very anxious to
  hear how you do, and what Dr. Turton has ordered Smith to do for
  you. I had a very disagreeable journey to town, and did not sleep
  a minute, but, thank God, did not take cold; went to bed next
  night at nine o’clock and recovered the fatigue. The Macklins and
  Kedington were in a good deal of rain. They have been at two
  plays; I go to none. K. lives with us, and I am to charge him what
  he costs. They will go somewhere every night. I order everything
  just as usual before I go to the Board, and though I am to pay no
  more than my common expenses when alone, yet, as I necessarily
  live much better, I think it but fair to be quite economical, and
  we have a great deal of pleasant laugh at my pinching them, and
  not permitting their being extravagant. I allow no scrap of a
  supper which they make a rout about, for they come hungry as
  hounds from the play, and drink porter when they can get it; the
  wine I lock up, and have been twice in bed when they return. If
  you saw them devour at breakfast you would laugh; K., who is to be
  with the Oakes’ when they come (we have hired Merlin’s for them),
  threatens that he will give us nothing but potatoes.

  ‘The news you see. It is said that there will be mutinies in the
  army as soon as the camps are formed; if so, and no immense army
  of property to awe them, the very worst of consequences may be
  expected. Ireland is in a dreadful state of alarm and
  apprehension—in a word, everything wears a threatening appearance,
  and nothing but the greatest wisdom and prudence can save us.

  ‘I hope you have got rid of your lameness, and use your legs much
  more than you did when I was with you. Pray, my dear Bobbin, exert
  yourself, and take much air and exercise on the Stone Walk, which
  will do in all weathers except rain. I have not seen anybody yet
  except Lord Egremont.

  ‘Tell Arthur to write to the Lewes bookseller that the Board buys
  two hundred copies and finds the plates, that is the copper, so
  that it must be to him not a hazardous speculation. Adieu, my dear
  girl.

                                          ‘Yours affectionately,
                                                             ‘A. Y.’

                          _Bobbin’s Reply_

  ‘My dear Papa,—I received your letter this morning. I am sorry you
  had not a pleasant journey. Every day since you went we have had
  nothing but rain all day (most part of the night) long, so I have
  not been able to stir out, only in the chaise. I am much the same
  as when I saw you, but hope that when we have fine weather I shall
  get better. My leg _is_ a great deal better. Mr. Smith advises
  porter, the beer is so new.... If you like to send a quarter cask
  my mother will pay the carriage; she has no opinion of Bury
  porter. If you send it by the Diss waggon let me know when it
  comes; if you don’t like this, order Bonnet to get me some at
  Bury. What terrible news you write me in your letter. I really
  have nothing more to tell you; write soon, and believe me

                                             ‘Your dutiful Daughter,
                                             ‘M. YOUNG.

  ‘N.B.—Papa, you said you would send me some red wine, as there is
  none drank here; he speaks very much against my drinking so much
  water without red wine in it, because my ankles swell so much.’

The following were memoranda noted at the time:—

The 11th of June I went to the Duke of Bedford’s sheep-shearing, and
got back (to London) on the 16th. The next day I had a letter that
terrified me so much that on the 19th I set off for Suffolk, and
went directly to Troston Hall (the seat of Capel Lofft, Esq.), where
the dear dear child had been carried some days before for change of
air. Good God! what a situation I found her in, worse than I had
conceived possible in so short a time, so helpless and immovable as
to be carried from a chair to her bed, evidently in one of those
cruel consumptive cases which flatter by some favourable symptoms,
yet with fatal ones that almost deprive hope.

Good Heaven! what have I to look forward to if I lose my child? For
her own sake I know not what to hope; the world is so full of
wickedness and misery, and she must be so innocent and free from
crimes, that her lot hereafter, I hope and have confidence in the
mercies of God, will be blessed. Ought I then, but from selfishness,
to wish her here? Yet a fond father’s feelings will be predominant.
Oh, save her, save her, is my prayer to God Almighty!

Dr. Wollaston, the eminent physician at Bury, has been consulted; he
gives little hopes, but advises a milk and vegetable diet, and said
that sea air and a humid mild climate would be good. I next wrote to
Dr. Thornton, who recommended an egg and meat diet; and Mr. Martyn,
in a letter, desired me to try the inhaling of ether; in fact, all
has been done that the urgency of the case required, but, alas! she
is past the assistance of all human power. After remaining a week at
Troston I wrote into Lincolnshire for a house at Boston, with a view
to be near the sea, in case she should be able to support a short
voyage; and the air of that low place is reckoned preferable to the
keen air of Bradfield. We travelled with slow and short journeys on
July 5 to Bradon—still more exhausted; on the 6th to Wisbeach—no
alteration yet from the change of air; on the 7th only to Long
Sutton—worse, greatly fatigued, and a very bad night. Oh! the
lacerated feelings of my wounded heart! To see the child of my
tenderest affection in such a state! growing hourly weaker and more
emaciated, during the last week being even unable to stand. It is
beyond my power to describe what is struggling within me! My sorrow
has softened me and wrings my very heart strings! How hard does it
appear submissively to bow to that text—‘He that loveth son or
daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me.’ I have but one
consolation, which prevents my utter depression and despair. I trust
in the goodness of her Almighty Creator and in the merits of her
blessed Redeemer, that They will, in the mercy of omnipotence,
pardon what slight offences she may have been guilty of, and receive
her into that heavenly mansion which I humbly hope her innocence may
expect. I pray fervently for Their mercy, and only wish that I was
worthy of being heard. May my future life be such as to make an
hereafter the great view, aim, and end of my remaining life! The 8th
we reached Spalding, too much fatigued to go on, thinking that an
air so different from what she had left might have given some ease.
Vain hope! No effort of the kind appears. The 11th we arrived at
Boston, and she bore the journey well. Alas! it was her final stage
in this world!

The next day she was still worse, but even now gave one of those
traits which displayed her delicacy, for upon finding that her
mother was detaining Dr. Wilson with questions, she reminded her of
it by saying, ‘Mamma, you forget there are other ladies wanting the
doctor.’ On the 13th the crisis of her sufferings was approaching;
she whispered to me as I sat by her bedside, ‘I hope you pray for
me.’ At about eleven o’clock she asked her sister Mary to read a
prayer as usual, and attended with apparent fervour, putting her
hands together in the attitude of devotion.

My poor dear child breathed her last at twelve minutes past one
o’clock on Friday morning, the 14th. I was on my knees at her
bedside in great agony of mind. She looked at me and said, ‘_Pray
for me_.’ I assured her that I did. She replied, ‘_Do it now,
papa_,’ on which I poured forth aloud ejaculations to the Almighty,
that He would have compassion and heal the affliction of my child.
She clasped her hands together in the attitude of praying, and when
I had done said, ‘Amen’—her last words.

Thank God of His infinite mercy she expired without a groan, or her
face being the least agitated; her inspirations were gradually
changed from being very distressing, till they became lost in
gentleness, and at the last she went off like a bird.

Thus fled one of the sweetest tempers and, for her years, one of the
best understandings that I ever met with. She was a companion for
mature years, for there was in her none of the childish stuff of
most girls. And there fled the first hope of my life, the child on
whom I wished to rest in the affliction of my age, should I reach
such a period. But the Almighty’s will be done, and may I turn the
event to the benefit of my soul, and in such a manner as to trust
through the mediation of my Redeemer to become worthy to join her in
a better world. Her disposition was most affectionate, gentle, and
humane; to her inferiors, full of humility, and always ready to
perform acts of beneficence, thus attaching the poor by her charity,
whilst she was equally courted by those above her for that
fascination of manners possessing the attraction of the loadstone.
Her countenance in health beamed with animation, and her dimpled
cheeks smiled with the beauty of a Hebe. Dear interesting creature!
Endowed, too, with a sensibility that shrunk from the gaze, her
appearance in society produced [_here the sentence breaks off_].

What a scene have I described for a fond father to witness!

On the 15th the Rev. S. Partridge and his wife came to give us what
comfort they could, and took us in a most kind and friendly manner
to their house. I determined that her remains should be carried to
Bradfield, having a warm hope of being animated to a more fervent
devotion by the idea of her ashes being deposited in our own village
church. To the departed spirit it is less than nothing—to me it may
do good, and I have need of working out my salvation with fear and
trembling. I feel that a wretched and depressed state of mind leads
me to more Christian thoughts and more favourable to religious
impressions than prosperity, or ease, or happiness, as it is called,
and therefore hope I am justified in doing it; and if my family
think the same, they also will derive benefit.

After a day passed in deep sorrow, Mr. Partridge read one of his
sermons on the intermediate state of departed souls, and which I
afterwards found was one of Jortin’s.[172] From many passages of
Scripture it was made clear that they are conscious, and if good in
this life, happy.

On Monday, the 17th, I arrived at Bradfield, where every object is
full of the dear deceased.

On going into the library the window looks into the little garden in
which I have so many times seen her happy. O gracious and merciful
God! pardon me for allowing any earthly object thus to engross my
feelings and overpower my whole soul! But what were they not on
seeing and weeping over the roses, variegated sage, and other plants
she had set there and cultivated with her dear hands. But every
room, every spot is full of her, and it sinks my very heart to see
them. Tuesday evening, the 18th, her remains arrived, and at
midnight her brother read the service over her in a most impressive
manner. I buried her in my pew, fixing the coffin so that when I
kneel it will be between her head and her dear heart. This I did as
a means of preserving the grief I feel, and hope to feel while
breath is in my body. It turns all my views to an hereafter, and
fills my mind with earnest wishes, that when the great Author of my
existence may please to take me I may join my child in a better
world.

O merciful Saviour, that took on Thee our nature and feelings, grant
me Thy Holy Spirit to confirm and strengthen these sentiments; to
repent of all my sins and errors, and enable me for the rest of my
days to look steadily towards that better world where, I trust, the
innocence of my child, united with her piety, have given her a
place. Sure, sure, I shall pray with a more fervent and sincere
devotion over the remains of her whom I so much wish, when it
pleases Heaven, that I may join. This was my motive.

The 19th I went into a little chamber which I had neatly fitted up
about three years ago. My dear child had decorated it with some
drawings and placed her books on the shelves, and left it in that
order and regularity which followed all her actions. I burst into
tears while viewing it, and felt such a depression at my heart that
I thought I should have sunk on the floor. It shall never be
altered, but everything continued as she left it.

_20th._—Again looked at her garden, and a new one she had marked out
and planted under a weeping willow. No day arrives but some new
object is presented to move all the springs of affection and regret;
and what day can pass in which these melancholy feelings will not
predominate? In the meantime I read the Scriptures, and Jortin and
other sermons, with an attention I never paid before; and may God of
His mercy confirm this disposition, and enable me thus to turn this
heavy misfortune to the benefit of my soul. Dispositions which
company, travelling, and other pursuits would have tended to banish,
I wish to cherish; a melancholy has produced in me a more earnest
desire to be reconciled to God than any other event of my life, and
proves that of all the medicines of the soul, sorrow is perhaps the
most powerful.

Business, pleasure, and the world, tend only to stifle this
seriousness of thought, and to prevent the mind from looking into
itself and examining the foundation of all its future hopes. For
these three days I have continued perusing no books but the New
Testament and sermons, of which I have read many.

_21st._—Hoed part of my dear child’s garden under the window, and
carried her bonnet and cap to her chamber. They produced many tears,
for I yet continue weak as a babe. Read the whole Gospel of St.
John, two sermons of Tillotson on the state of the blessed, and two
of Dr. Horne’s on the purification of the mind by troubles and the
government of the thoughts. I had before in this week read all the
Epistles, the Hebrews, and the Acts of the Apostles, and also
Bryant’s ‘Authenticity of the Scriptures.’ Such studies are my only
consolation. I give full attention, and hope for the blessing of
God’s Holy Spirit, that I may not let it be vain, or ever suffer the
world to wipe out this taste for the things that concern another
world. I attempt the regulation of my thoughts, and to contemplate
the goodness and mercy of the Deity; but my misery for the
irreparable loss I have suffered yet weighs me down.

_22nd._—Hoed the rest of her garden. Symonds and Carter spent the
day at the Hall. I wish they had not come together, I wanted
conversation with them separately on the question I had read a good
deal of, the sleep of the soul after death till the resurrection.

Symonds will not admit that we can draw any satisfactory conclusion
for or against it, but Carter allows Dr. Jortin’s reasoning in his
sermon on that subject. In the evening I read what Dr. H. More[173]
says upon the subject, who is strenuously against it. A state of
insensibility is a dreadful idea, and I find consolation in the
conviction that my dear girl is now happy.

_23rd._—Sunday; passed it, I hope, like a Christian. At church
sitting over the remains of my child! Oh! what a train of feelings
absorbed my soul. In the evening read St. Luke’s Gospel and took a
most heart-sinking melancholy walk. I cannot yet bring my mind to
sufficient tranquillity to throw into one little memoir these and
other particulars.

Examined the willows she planted on the island. Oh! that they were
thriving oaks that promised a longer duration, but they may last as
long as anybody that will care for the planter. Continue to read
Scripture, and some of Secker’s[174] and Ogden’s[175] sermons, and
again began ‘Bryant on Christianity.’ I pray to God with all the
fervency I feel to give me the grace of His Holy Spirit, that I may
turn this loss to the benefit of my soul. Dr. Jortin, in his
seventeenth sermon, most truly says, ‘It is adversity which seizes
upon the future as prosperity dwells upon the present.’ On the 25th
I read Littleton’s[176] ‘Conversion and Apostleship of St. Paul.’ I
had brought down from London a new political pamphlet of Howlett’s
on a subject that was once interesting, but I can attend to nothing
except inquiries which in some degree connect with that habit of
mind which flows from my recent loss.

Mrs. —— called to persuade me into company for regaining
cheerfulness. Alas! it will come, I fear, much too soon, and what is
it good for? Sorrow is the best physician to heal a soul that has
been too careless in its duty to God.

Will the world, and pleasure, and society contribute like grief to
secure me a probability of joining in another world the spirit of
her I mourn?

_26th._—I read part of Dr. Clarke’s[177] ‘Demonstration of the Being
and Attributes of God,’ as much as I could understand without too
intense an application, and then part of ‘Butler’s Analogy.’ Prayed
to the Almighty in the middle of the day. The morning is the proper
time, but when we are tired and sleepy, the evening I think an
improper period to offer either thanksgiving or petitions to the
Divine goodness.

Why, oh! why must we have misfortune and sorrow to make us sensible
of our duty to our heavenly Father and our Saviour and Redeemer? How
difficult to instil a right attention into young people.

I am, however, thankful that my dear child was naturally serious
and, I believe, well disposed in this respect; with what joy I now
read the following passage in a letter I received from her while she
was ill at Bradfield before I came down: ‘My dear papa, how can you
imagine that I should ever neglect my prayers? No! believe me, I
know my duty too well for that.’

What now would be the idea of any improvement or accomplishment
compared with the least trait like this?

_27th._—Called for a few minutes on some neighbours. They all want
me to dine with them, but such society to a mind diseased yields no
food for reflection, and is, therefore, not fit for me. I could
associate with nobody with comfort, but those whose religious
acquirements could tend to strengthen my present habits.

I continue to read Butler, also two sermons by Conybeare[178] on
angels; looked at the miniature which my wife has of the dear girl,
a most striking likeness by Plymer;[179] wept over it with feelings
easier imagined than described. I will have a copy of it; ’twill
serve, at least, as a melancholy remembrance, and, I hope, recall my
mind should it ever wander from the lamented original.

_28th._—Finished Butler’s ‘Analogy.’ It does not quite answer the
idea I had formed of him, though a powerful work; but he demands a
second perusal, but does not even then promise to be perfectly
clear. Read also Mr. Locke’s ‘Reasonableness of Christianity,’ which
is a luminous convincing work, and must have done great good.
Watered dear Bobbin’s garden and read over her letters. She had, for
her early years, a most uncommon understanding and a penetration
into character wonderful for the age of fourteen. On reviewing her
last illness I am filled with nothing but the most poignant regret
and self-condemnation for putting so much reliance in the medical
tribe, for she had the personal attendance or correspondence of five
physicians and none agreed. I did for the best and spared nothing,
but had she been a pauper in a village she would, I verily think,
have been alive and hearty. Such are the blessings of money; it has
cost me 100_l._ to destroy my child, for I do not think one shilling
was bestowed which did not in one way or other do mischief.

Whilst I was in much anxiety about my child’s health I bought Mr.
Wilberforce on Christianity.[180] I read it coldly at first, but
advanced with more attention. It brought me to a better sense of my
dangerous state; but I was much involved in hesitation and doubt,
and was very far from understanding the doctrinal part of the book.
This was well, for it induced me to read it again and again, and it
made so much impression upon me that I scarcely knew how to lay it
aside. It excited a very insufficient degree of repentance, and a
still more insufficient view of my interest in the Great Physician
of souls.

It is rather singular that a trifling circumstance at this time
first brought me acquainted with Mr. Wilberforce, whose book I had
been again perusing for the fourth time with increased pleasure, and
to whom I had more than once thought of writing for his opinion on
the intermediate state and original sin. On arriving at Boston, what
was my surprise on receiving a letter from him relative to
Parkinson’s subscription to some book on agriculture, and
apologising for the application to a stranger. I seized the pen with
eagerness to reply, writing largely about his own book, praising it
greatly, and telling him of my wish to apply to him. Should this (I
thought) be productive of a connection that might confirm my pious
resolution, I might, perhaps, be justified in attributing it to the
interposition of God.

I hope that the thought is not presumptuous. Is it the spirit of my
sweet girl that is thus friendly to me? How pleasing an idea!

_July 29._—Having excused myself from dining out with the Balgraves,
a note from her this morning. But it will not do. Company and the
world will only draw off my mind from those religious contemplations
and that course of reading which is favourable to prayer,
repentance, and reformation. I wish not to lessen my grief or banish
my feelings of that sorrow which turns my heart at present to seek
God. I dread it will come but too soon; and were it not for this
apprehension I should go on my journey to Lincolnshire for the Board
directly, but I wish to confirm these feelings and earnestly pray
for the Divine grace to preserve them to the extirpation from my
heart of love for the world or any of its follies.

[_Note added by A. Y. in 1817._]

Throughout many of the succeeding notes, several expressions occur
not all consistent with true evangelical religion; but I would not
afterwards alter them, because I wished to ascertain, on the
re-perusal of these papers, what was at the moment of my affliction
the state of my mind and of my faith; and when I consider what were
the books which I read and admired, I cannot be surprised at any
such remarks falling from my pen.

I have often reflected on the great mercy and goodness of God in not
permitting my religious opinions to be permanently injured by some
of the works which it will be found I so eagerly perused at a period
when I could not have one moment’s conversation with any truly pious
character. Two circumstances probably contributed to this effect:
first, the incessant attention which I gave to reading the New
Testament; and secondly, my ardent study of Mr. Wilberforce’s
‘Practical Christianity,’ though without thoroughly understanding
it.

The solitary life I condemned myself to, or, to speak with more
propriety, which alone I relished, while reading sixteen or
seventeen hours a day, and in which I consequently rather devoured
books than read them, was, I think, very advantageous, and possibly
more so in the final result than if my authors had been more truly
sound.

I have since perused many works which, had they fallen into my hands
at that time, would probably have made me quit my retirement and
rush into the society of men who would have conducted me, in my then
state of mind, to the utmost lengths of enthusiasm.

The writers I consulted were well calculated to lay a certain
solidity of foundation in the great leading truths of Christianity,
which formed a basis whereon it was easy afterwards to raise a more
evangelical edifice.

In all this business I cannot but admire the goodness of the
Almighty in protecting me from many evils to which I might easily
have been led by my troubled feelings.

[_Diary continued._]

Read Dr. Isaac Barrow’s sermon on submission to the Divine will. He
seems a powerful writer, but his language is debased by expressions
void of all dignity. Read a good deal in Barrow on the pre-existence
of human souls. Very singular; the texts on which he builds support
him very faintly, yet there is a degree of probability in the system
consonant to reason.

_30th._—Prayed to God over the remains of my dear child, and the
circumstance fills my mind with that melancholy that is not
unsuitable to religious feelings. I do not wonder at the custom of
the primitive Christians praying at the tombs of the departed, it is
an obvious and natural prejudice.

Finished Barrow, and wrote to my friend Mr. Cole to desire he would
apply to his neighbour, the learned Bryant, to know his opinion of
that question. Began Dr. More on the ‘Immortality of the Soul.’
Capel Lofft spent the day with us; his conversation is ready on any
subject, and mine led to serious ones, which he seems to like. We
had much that was metaphysical on the soul (pre-existence), a future
state, &c. He is of opinion that heaven is not so very different
from our ideas of what this world might be, as are commonly
entertained; and rightly observes, that if death, evil, anxiety, and
disease, with corporeal passions, were banished, this earth would be
a heaven; and that the knowledge of one another hereafter is not at
all inconsistent with our Saviour’s expression, ‘_in My Father’s
house are many mansions_.’

_31st._—Read Littleton’s sermon on the necessity of well husbanding
our time. It is excellent, he has thoughts and modes of expanding
his observations that are beyond the common run. Laid aside Dr. More
on the ‘Immortality of the Soul;’ he gets so high in the region of
fancy, and is so full of jargon and supposition, under the formula
of demonstrations, that I am disgusted with his farrago; and [there
is] so much on witches, apparitions, &c., as to be mere rubbish.

Read Sherlock’s sixth sermon on the ‘Immortality of the Soul,’ which
is an admirable one. I see plainly from what I feel upon occasion of
the severe, dreadfully severe misfortune that I have met with, that
under great afflictions there can be no real consolation but in
religion. I have mused and meditated much on what philosophy, as it
is called, could afford in such an exigency, but the amount would be
no more than the employment of the mind, and preventing its dwelling
without interruption on the loss sustained, the comfort to be drawn
from it would be weak and vain; but the Gospel offers considerations
which bear immediately on the source of the evil; affords matter of
consolation in the certainty of another life, and in those promises
which meet the yearnings of the distempered soul; diffuses a calm
and quiet resignation to the Divine will, under the pleasing hope of
seeing those again in the next world whom we have loved tenderly in
this. To me it seems that when this wish is founded on a virtuous
object here as that of a parent and a child, the very hope is an
argument in its favour, because it is perfectly consistent with
infinite benevolence to grant it—and the desire must be universal in
every human mind.

_August 1._—Read about half of Sherlock on ‘Immortality,’ but my
patience was then quite exhausted; the verbiage is such that it
sickens one, though I approve the doctrine entirely and agree
with him in everything. What a loss! that excellent books for
matter should be so written, or rather spun into such endless
circumlocutions that time is wasted for want of compression.
Read three or four sermons of Littleton—clear, lucid, and
impressive.

At night a Dane came, recommended by Sir J. Sinclair. Unfortunate to
all my feelings. I refuse dining with all my friends, and to be
tormented with a trifler who can speak neither French nor English.

My mind is in a state that cannot bear interruption. I love to mope
alone, and reflect on my misery.

_August 2._—Began Scott’s[181] ‘Christian Life,’ but Smythies having
sent me the sixth volume of Bishop Newton’s[182] works, containing a
dissertation on the ‘Intermediate State,’ I read it with equal
eagerness and satisfaction. It exceeds on that subject all I have
yet met with. He is of opinion, in which all agree, that good
spirits will know each other; and probably, from the parable of
Lazarus, have some knowledge of what passes on earth. But that is of
little consequence in comparison with the most consoling and
comfortable idea contained in the first opinion. And what a call is
it to strive with earnestness and ardour to arrive at a situation
that will recompense us in so great a degree for every evil and
sorrow we can meet with in this world. Can I then hope, by
dedicating the rest of my life here to God, to join my dear child
hereafter, my mother, my other daughter, and my sister; and should
it so please the Almighty in His mercy, my father and brother? Of
the females I can have little doubt, or rather none. I know too
little of the lives of the others to venture to pronounce. Read also
Bishop Newton’s dissertation on the Resurrection, general judgment,
and final state of man. They are all excellent, and I rather
devoured than read them. These books I must buy to read again with
more attention.

_3rd._—The Dane is gone, and therefore I am left to my favourite
contemplations. Newton’s dissertations are consoling, for they leave
me no doubts about that hideous doctrine, the sleep of the soul,
which, however it might have been suited for the dead, is dreadful
to those they leave behind. For the rest of my life to know that my
dear child is in a state of conscious existence, and consequently
happy, is the first of comforts; but to feel the enlivening warmth
and light of the sun, thinking that she felt nothing, but slept in
the cold grave, would have almost sunk me into it. No! she lives,
and as there is reason to believe, the departed spirits have some
knowledge of what passes here. What a call is it to conduct myself
so as to give no pain to her! Let me imagine myself for ever seen by
the spirits of my mother and my child. Let me have a keen feeling of
the pain any unworthy action or impure thought would give to them,
and of the pleasure they would reap from seeing the reverse; that I
was so living as gave them a hope of my joining them hereafter. Let
me, if possible, entertain this persuasion till I am convinced of
it. I cannot have the thought without being the better man. Oh!
guard me against relapsing into evil negligence, the two certain
fruits of pleasure and prosperity.

What are the friendships of the world! What consolation, what
comfort!

When most wanted it is sure to fail. One has business, another
pleasure; one, a family, another a husband, all have something to
render them broken reeds to such as are in want; and whether the
boon be comfort or money, they prove the same to the touchstone. Who
have been my friends? Symonds and Carter are good men, but I have
seen them [of late] only once. Who must I name but Ogden, Sherlock,
Jortin, Bishop Newton, Butler, Locke, and Clarke? These have told me
how to make a friend not like to fail in the time of need, my God
and my Saviour. May I strengthen and confirm that friendship and
turn it to be a habit of my life! And thou, most gentle spirit of my
departed child, if it is allowed thee to look down on earth, be my
guardian angel and lead me to everlasting life, to join thee to part
no more!

_4th._—Read three of Bishop Sherlock’s sermons and one of Dr.
Clarke’s, also some passages in his ‘Demonstration of the Truth of
Revealed Religion.’

_5th._—Read a very good sermon of Bishop Sherlock on Redemption, the
third in fourth volume. Bishop Butler on human ignorance, excellent.
This subject, in the books I have yet read, has not been
sufficiently treated, it might be made to refute all the infidels,
and draw mankind to a more religious life.

My dear girl’s books are come, her unfinished work, her letters, &c.
Melancholy employment to unpack and arrange them in her room. If any
difference I think of her with more, rather than with less regret;
yet I hope and trust, not without resignation to the Almighty will
of the great and good Being whose providence has deprived me of her.
I think I feel that this deep regret, this calm sorrow will last my
life, and that no events can happen that will ever banish her from
my mind. Ranby called and I conversed with him about her till tears
would, had I continued it, stopped my speaking. I hate and pity
those who avoid talking to the afflicted upon the subject which
causes their affliction, it argues a little trifling mind in one
party or the other.

Read Bishop Sherlock’s ‘Dissertation respecting the Sense of the
Ancients on the Fall of Man,’ which seems to me (who am, however, no
judge) a very clear and satisfactory work. He appears to have a
singular talent in reconciling seeming difficulties in knotty texts
of Scripture, and opens every subject with great clearness and an
acute spirit of discrimination.

I suppose there must be some commonplace book of divinity, but I
know not whose; a collection of luminous passages from such an
immensity of writings as there are on this most important of all
subjects would be very useful; yet every man should make his own,
selecting such topics and observations as come home to his own case
and bosom.

Were I not going now a most uninteresting journey, I would do this
for myself. This tour hangs on my mind; nothing would suit my
feelings so well as to stay here in my present melancholy gloom,
reading divinity, and endeavouring so steadily to fix my mind on
eternity and the hope of joining my dear child, as to work a change
in my habits, my life, my conversation, and pursuits; and to do all
that human frailty will permit to reconcile myself to the Almighty.
These thoughts, however, I shall try to preserve in spite of a
journey. I will take the New Testament and Wilberforce with me, and
read a portion every day, and spend the Sundays in a manner I have
never done yet in travelling.

_August 7._—To Ely. Called for a moment on Carter, who thinks so
highly of Bishop Newton that he intends to buy his works.

At Ely quite alone, and no resource but in my own melancholy ideas.
My first thought was to send to a Mr. Hall, who has hired
Tattersall’s farm, or Mr. Metcalfe, a minor canon, who has written
in the ‘Annals of Agriculture’—but I rejected the scheme and kept to
solitude. As soon as I finished dinner I began Mr. Wilberforce for
the fourth time, reading with renewed attention. I hear many
objections to him, of his being a Presbyterian engrafted on a
Methodist, but it is arrant nonsense. My mind goes with him in every
word. View the Minster and Trinity chapel, and venerate the piety of
former ages that raised such noble edifices in honour of God the
Almighty giver and governor of all things. I once thought such
buildings the efforts of superstition, perhaps folly! How different
are my present sentiments! for what can be more rational than to
raise temples of a character that shall impress some idea, however
weak, of the sublimity of that infinite Being who made and pervades
all that exists, except His own great creative self!

_8th._—Rise at five, write to my friends Dr. Valpy and C. Cole. To
Peterborough. Much time for reflection, and it is singular that even
while I am depressed with deep melancholy at the loss I have
sustained, yet unholy ideas and imaginations will intrude. Is this
the devil and his powers of darkness which buffet and beset us? Is
not depravity and sin so inherent in our natures that we are ever
liable to these wanderings which so disgrace our nature at better
moments? But the conclusion, whatever it be owing to, is clear, that
the government of the thoughts is an essential part of our duty, as
Johnson has well explained in an admirable ‘Rambler.’ Such thoughts,
unresisted, seize and take possession of the mind, and they cannot
do that without leading to action and all the guilt that may follow.
Repel the first germinating principle of the idea, and the
difficulty is not great; but indulge the pleasing dream and the
heart is vitiated, for the imagination is impure.

[_The remainder of the diary, in the same strain, is much too long
for insertion. Here are a few closing sentences._]

_September 2_ [in Yorkshire].—To what is it that I shall return? My
child no more! To what at London? Solitary in my lodgings, where am
I to send for her whose cheerfulness gilded every scene, and little
pleasing ways lent such a charm to render her presence such a
comfort to me? All gone—gone for ever! Of that description of
feelings what remains? A blank!—a desert!... Cried over the hair of
my sweet departed Bobbin! Never more in this world to see thee
again!

_October 15._—I have torn my heart to pieces with looking at my dear
child’s hair! Melancholy remains, but how precious when their owner
is no more! I am to see her no more in this world. Gone for ever!

_London, November 13._—This day se’nnight I came to town with Mrs.
Y. and Mary. I knew it would be a very uncomfortable plan; but to do
as I would be done by made it proper.

_November 26._—I have been a week at Petworth, an interesting,
splendid, gay and cheerful week, and, as too often the case, a vain,
frivolous, and impious one. Sir John Sinclair would have me on the
Sunday go to Goodwood. Never a serious word, never a soul to church
from that house to thank God for the numerous blessings showered
down upon it, and the means of good which 60,000_l._ a year confers.
Yet Lord Egremont does all that could be wished as far as humanity,
charity, and doing moral benefits can—but no religion. In the
chapel, no worship, no hats off but my own—dreadful example to a
great family and to his children and to 2,500 people in the town. I
talked to Arthur, and strongly recommended to him to attend
constantly and to keep himself clear from such a want of piety. He
disapproves of it much; and I pray to God that yet he may not be
corrupted by such evil examples, but imbibe a dislike to such want
of gratitude. I watched for opportunities of serious remark, but
none of effect offered except one observation on Lady Webster’s
infidelity in religion, when I threw in a word or two. The very
virtues of such people do mischief by recommending their irreligious
example.


The following letters are selected from those received this year:—

                         _From Dr. Burney_

                                   ‘Chelsea College: March 16, 1797.

  ‘My dear Sir,—You have applied to a very incompetent person for
  political consolation in addressing me, an old notorious alarmist
  who has long seen evils approaching even worse than those which
  have already arrived. I wish anything had happened to convince me
  that my mental eyes had been as short-sighted as those in my head.
  But, alas! things are going on everywhere from bad to worse. My
  foolish countrymen, nay, worse, the wicked and incurable democrats
  who inhabit the same island, so far from being cured by the savage
  cruelties and universal misery brought about in France by the
  Revolution and the treatment of other countries which she has
  conquered and even fraternised with, still long for a revolution
  here, without even wishing to avert any of the evils which have
  happened elsewhere, from the diabolical character and principles
  of her inhabitants! I have seen that a wish to break the Bank has
  long been formed, and I even have been advised to get all the cash
  I could for my notes if I had any; and the person who advised this
  measure, who had never been at the Bank before in his life, and
  was forced to inquire his way thither, had been bullying the
  harassed clerks to give him cash for a forty-pound note, for no
  other purpose than to lock it up. Seven millions of guineas were
  issued for notes in one week! Of this sum 300,000_l._, it is said,
  were for notes presented by the English Santerre. A banker from
  Norwich had collected notes to the amount of 400,000_l._, with
  which he came post to London in the same seraphic hope of breaking
  the Bank; but unluckily for his benevolent plan, the further
  issuing of cash had been stopped the night before his arrival. The
  favourite Jacobin plan at present is to make this nation and all
  Europe believe that we are really in a state of bankruptcy, and
  that the notes now in circulation will be soon of as little value
  as French assignats, reporting every day that they are at a very
  considerable discount, which God forbid should ever happen. For my
  own part, I would starve myself to death sooner than buy, even
  food, by the parting with a bank note for a farthing less value
  than it has hitherto had. But the poor Duke of Bedford, Mr. Cooke,
  the dissenting manufacturers, &c., are so distressed for want of
  cash to pay their workmen, that they are _obliged_ to dismiss
  them. And this, to be sure, is not done with an intention of
  throwing all the blame upon Government and making furious rebels
  of all the persons discharged. Everything is seen and represented
  in the blackest colours—the French always right and the
  Administration wrong. For if opposition should ever be obliged to
  allow the present ministry to be right, why change it? And down
  they must pull every person and thing above them, even if, like
  Samson, they are crushed in the ruins, which I have not the least
  doubt will be the case if ever the revolution they seem so
  determined to bring about should happen.

  ‘The ballot has fallen upon me to furnish a man and a horse to the
  Provisional Cavalry,[183] which has occasioned me much trouble and
  vexation. The expense, had it been double, I would have paid with
  alacrity, for the defence of everything dear to honest men, during
  such a war and with such enemies; but the business of recruiting,
  clothing, accoutring, &c., is so new to men of peace, that they
  know not how to go to work. Three substitutes that I had engaged
  have disappointed me, and the horse I have purchased I am not sure
  will pass muster. Had Government levied a tax of five or ten
  guineas upon each horse that was kept for pleasure, either in or
  out of harness, and done the business of raising a certain number
  of cavalry themselves, it would have been better done, and ladies
  and superannuated gentlemen (like my worship) would have escaped
  infinite plague and vexation.

  ‘I am exceedingly sorry that your dear and charming little
  daughter is not well.

                   ‘I am, with sincere regard,
                                    ‘My dear Sir,
                                          ‘Your affectionate Friend,
                                                 ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

From Edmund Burke, Esq., alluding to the projects in Parliament
before named for regulating the price of labour.

                                                ‘Bath: May 23, 1797.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I am on the point of leaving Bath, having no further
  hope of benefit from these waters; and as soon as I get home (if I
  should live to get home) should I find the papers transmitted me
  by your Board I shall send them faithfully to you; though, to say
  the truth, I do not think them of very great importance.

  ‘My constant opinion was, and is, that all matters relative to
  labour ought to be left to the conversations of the parties. That
  the great danger is in Government intermeddling too much. What I
  should have taken the liberty of addressing to you, had I
  possessed strength to go through it, would be to illustrate or
  enforce that principle.

  ‘I am extremely sorry that any one in the House of Commons should
  be found so ignorant and unadvised as to wish to revive the
  senseless, barbarous, and, in fact, wicked regulations made
  against free trade in matters of provision which the good sense of
  late Parliaments had removed. I am the more concerned at the
  measure, as I was myself the person who moved the repeal of the
  absurd code of statutes against the most useful of all trades,
  under the invidious names of forestalling and regrating. But,
  however, I console myself on this point by considering that it is
  not the only breach by which barbarism is entering upon us. It is,
  indeed, but a poor consolation, and one taken merely from the
  balance of misfortunes.

  ‘You have titles enough of your own to pass your name to
  posterity, and I am pleased that you have got spirit enough to
  hope that there will be such a thing as a civilised posterity to
  attend to things of this kind.

                      ‘I have the honour to be,
                           ‘With very high respect and esteem,
                                ‘Your most obedient, humble servant,
                                                    ‘EDMUND BURKE.’

Mr. Burke died July 7 [_note by A. Y._].

From John Symonds, Esq., on public affairs, very gloomy, with much
condemnation of Mr. Pitt.

                                   ‘St. Edmund’s Hill: June 8, 1797.

  ‘At the time, my dear sir, that I received your letter I was
  travelling over Italy, in order to figure in your “Annals of
  Agriculture;” but the state of that country has been so much
  _bouleversé_, that my head has been turned in reflecting upon it,
  as is most probably the case with the greater part of its
  inhabitants.

  ‘You ask me what plan I could propose to save the country. Arm,
  undoubtedly, as you say; but how to do it most effectually I
  pretend not to determine. You justly reprobate volunteering
  infantry.

  ‘Charles Cole tells me you have something in the press upon this
  subject. To fill the army or navy with defenders or volunteers, is
  the way to pave the way to our ruin. But I should begin with
  proposing a scheme which would probably be heard with disdain, and
  which has been rejected by the King: recall Lord Camden; appoint
  Lord Moira, Lord Lieutenant, with full powers to emancipate the
  Roman Catholics. He is much respected in Ireland as well as in
  England, for the opinion formed of him from his civil and military
  knowledge and moral character. I have heard Lord Bishop Douglas,
  who is no mean estimator of mankind, often say, that he wished he
  could see Lord Moira one of the Secretaries of State.

  ‘Were the Catholics satisfied, Ireland might bid defiance to the
  French, and, perhaps, some regular infantry might thence be sent
  to England, which, the Duke of Grafton said lately in the House of
  Lords, was much wanted here. But it is in vain to speak or write
  about Ireland.

  We govern there by a faction—the Beresfords, Fitzgibbons, and
  Fosters—whose emoluments, including their relations and
  dependents, fall not short of 100,000_l._ per annum; some think
  much more. Now the Polignacs under the old government had not more
  than 50,000_l._ per annum, including a bishopric. This the Duchess
  of Liancourt one day made out to me upon paper, yet she was
  willing enough to exaggerate the profits of that family;
  especially as the old duchess just before had been cast in a
  lawsuit with one of them.

  ‘Your idea of applying to Bonaparte pleases me much. He would
  probably do more towards effecting a peace than a hundred
  Malmesburys and St. Helens. It will be curious to see what terms
  Pitt will propose. There seems to be no doubt but that the French
  will insist on having all the places taken from them; and probably
  a restitution of twelve or fourteen ships of the line, and perhaps
  a sum of money by way of _indemnification_, for this word was
  always in the mouth of our Premier. After this, an ample
  recompense to the Dutch and Spaniards, whose interests the French
  will consider as their own. A fine peace indeed, after so many
  absurd and haughty declarations of our ministry! A peace there
  must be or an insurrection, if considerable taxes be proposed to
  continue the war. Not that these would be of any avail; for were
  the French merely to line their coasts from Ostend to Calais with
  troops, and do nothing else, their point would be carried. At the
  very time that a separate peace was made by the Emperor with the
  French, Mr. Pitt, in the House of Commons, called him “our great
  and good ally.” It was but two days after that the news came of
  his defection, which every thinking man naturally expected.

  ‘Mr. P. seems determined to do dirty jobs to the last; whilst our
  enemies are almost at our gates, the subscribers to the loyalty
  loan must forsooth be rewarded because many of them are his
  Parliamentary friends. Should you hear your knight open himself on
  this subject, remind him that a million or a million and a half
  are wanted to pay the arrears of the Civil List; that professors,
  whose stipends are fixed by Acts of Parliament, are in danger of
  losing the profits of a couple of years from an abominable clause
  in Burke’s Bill. Remind him of a remarkable circumstance in
  Sully’s memoirs. When Henry IV. was in great distress for money it
  was proposed to him to decline paying any stipends to the
  professors in the University of Paris. “No,” said he, with an
  honest indignation, “I will never consent to that; retrench the
  expense of my table instead of touching their emoluments.” Such an
  answer, and such conduct in conformity to it, reflected peculiar
  honour on a prince who had never been trained up in the study of
  polite letters

  ‘Carnot[184] cannot be too much commended for ordering your
  agricultural works to be translated and published. It was giving
  his countrymen a mass of knowledge, founded on experiment not to
  be procured in their own writers. He showed very good sense in
  sacrificing party prejudices. Would Pitt have acted thus in his
  situation?

  ‘I have not read Wilberforce’s “Practical View of Christianity,”
  nor am I indeed much solicitous about it, for my faith is not
  built upon establishments but on the New Testament, which I have
  considered with as much attention as most of our divines. W. is a
  strict Calvinist, and is therefore orthodox, for he is supported
  by our Articles of Religion. I who think that the Articles on this
  head are not founded on Scripture, am a heretic, as I take you to
  be also. It is very observable that the young theologians of
  Geneva are at this day instructed much more in Ostervald’s[185]
  Catechism than in Calvin’s books. The death of that worthy man and
  excellent master of Italian, Isola, is an exceedingly great loss
  to me, for he has managed all my little concerns at Cambridge for
  twenty years. He can have left nothing for his family but his good
  example. So respected was he by every one, that when a long
  illness and his wife’s death prevented him from making his usual
  earnings, and he was unavoidably loaded with heavy debts, they not
  only raised for him 180_l._ by private subscriptions in the
  Colleges, but in the following year the University gave him
  100_l._ out of the public chest. I shall be very careful in
  recommending his successor, for Isola always told me that most of
  the Italians in England were rascals, and he therefore had no
  communication with them when they came to Cambridge. I allowed him
  twenty guineas a year, as few learn Italian. The profits from
  teaching it are hardly sufficient to maintain one who has a
  family; for parents in general are so foolish as not to require of
  their sons the learning of that language, though their intention
  is to send them into Italy.

  ‘Adieu! You will repent provoking me to write.

                                                       ‘J. SYMONDS.’

            From Jeremy Bentham, Esq., on the poor, &c.

                          ‘Queen Square, Westminster: Sept. 8, 1797.

  ‘Dear Sir,—It was but the other day that I became master of a
  complete series of your “Annals of Agriculture;” accept my
  confession and record my penitence. Having on my return from my
  long peregrination on the Continent lent to a friend—who had lent
  to another friend, whom we neither of us could recollect—the
  twenty-five or thirty numbers which I had taken in before that
  period, I postponed from time to time the completion of the series
  in hopes of recovering the commencement of it. When at last shame
  and necessity got the better of procrastination, what a treasure
  of information burst upon me. No—so long as power without ——— and
  without ——— shall have left an annual guinea in my pocket (blanks
  are better here than words) not a number of the “Annals” shall
  ever be wanting to my shelves. Hold—don’t take me for a Jacobin
  now, nor even for a croaker. What I allude to is not any _common_
  burden, such as you land-owners and land-holders grunt under, but
  my own ten thousand pound tax—my privilegium—a thing as new to
  English language as it is to English practice—sole and peculiar
  fruit of the very particular notice with which I have been
  honoured by ———.

  ‘This waits upon you with a proof of a blank pauper population
  table, framed for the purpose of collecting an account of them in
  as many parishes as I can. Knowing so well your zeal for all
  zeal-worthy objects, and mindful of your often experienced
  kindness, I cannot on this occasion harbour a doubt of your
  assistance. Is it worth while to give the table the indiscriminate
  circulation of your "Annals"? At any rate your editorial Majesty
  will, I hope, be pleased graciously to grant unto me your royal
  letters, _patent_ or _close_, or both, addressed to _all_, and
  if need be, _singular_, your loving subjects my fellow
  correspondents; charging and exhorting them, each in his
  parish—and as many other parishes as may be—to fill my tables and
  send in their contributions.

  ‘Along with the table you will find a MS. paper, exhibiting the
  importance of the information I am thus labouring to collect; you
  will print it or suppress it as you think best. I also send in MS.
  a table of cases calling for relief; a general map of _pauper
  land_ with all the _roads_ to it. Few, if any, of the projects I
  have seen but what have appeared (the arch-project not excepted)
  to bear an exclusive—at least a predilective—reference to some of
  these cases, overlooking or slighting the rest. I send it in the
  state in which I propose printing it for my own book; but, in the
  meantime, if it be worthy the honour of a place in the “Annals,”
  it is altogether at your service. This preparatory insertion will
  turn to the advantage of the work itself, if any of your
  correspondents (not forgetting their editor) would have the
  goodness to contribute their remarks to the emendation of it. You
  will not easily conceive—few heads, at least, but yours are
  qualified to conceive—the labour it has cost me to bring the two
  tables to this state. As to the work at large, it will occupy two
  independent, though connected volumes. Pauper systems compared;
  pauper management improved—the last the romance, the Utopia, to
  which I had once occasion to allude. Romance? How could it be
  anything _less_? I mean to an author’s partial eye. In proportion
  as a thing is excellent, when established, is it anything but
  _romance_, and theory, and speculation, till the touch of the
  _seal_ or the _sceptre_ has converted it into practice. Distress,
  at least, distress, the very life and soul of romance, cannot be
  denied to mine; for in this short and close-packed specimen
  already you behold it in all its shapes. Magnanimous president!
  accomplished secretary! ye, too, have your romance. Heaven send
  you a happy catastrophe and a _fettered land_ “a happy
  deliverance.” Patience! patience! ye too, before you are
  comforted, must bear to be tormented.

  ‘Apropos of presidents. The high priest of Ceres, having divined
  or not divined my recent occupations, has been pleased to send me
  a mandate in form, summoning me to devote myself to this branch of
  his goddess’s service, that the fruit of my labours may be
  consecrated in her temple at Whitehall; so that whatever other
  requisites may fail me, I shall be in no want of auspices.

  ‘I fear you will say to yourself that the Observations[186] I have
  sent you are a sad farrago, but your miscellany, how superior
  soever to others in subject-matter and contents, has this in
  common with them, that half-formed ideas, so they have but matter
  in them, are not prohibited from presenting themselves. It is part
  of the character of your correspondents to have more of
  _substance_ about them than of _form_; and of the many
  recommendations which join in drawing so much good company to your
  _conversazione_, one, nor that the least, is the convenience of
  being admitted to it in boots. Mine (you will say) have hobnails
  in them; for, somehow or other, the very idea of the person to
  whom I am addressing myself has insensibly betrayed me into that
  sort of playful confidence—that _épanchement_, as I think the
  French call it—which I have always felt in his company.

                 ‘Believe me, with the most serious respect,
                                               ‘Ever yours,
                                                   ‘JEREMY BENTHAM.’

-----

Footnote 167:

  Now fourteen years old.

Footnote 168:

  This passage has been crossed out with a pencil, but is given as
  showing the _régime_ of young ladies’ schools a hundred years ago.
  In another note occurs the sentence, ‘Brought my dear little girl
  from Camden House to London.’ Presumably Camden Town is meant, at
  that time being less than suburban.

Footnote 169:

  The county belle, Betsey Plampin, married some years before to Mr.
  Orbell Oakes.

Footnote 170:

  Lady Mary Hervey, the beautiful daughter of the Earl of Bristol,
  Bishop of Derry. Her portrait, by Gainsborough, was on show at
  Agnew’s in 1896.

Footnote 171:

  Some medical questions the child wishes put to her London doctor
  are here omitted.

Footnote 172:

  John Jortin, D.D., born 1696, died 1770. His numerous theological
  and historical works have been frequently reprinted.

Footnote 173:

  Henry More, D.D., born 1614, died 1687. In 1640 published
  _Psycho-Zoia; or, the Life of the Soul_. His philosophical and
  theological works have been reprinted.

Footnote 174:

  Th. Secker, Archbishop of Canterbury, born 1693, died 1768.

Footnote 175:

  Samuel Ogden, D.D., born 1716, died 1778.

Footnote 176:

  Adam Littleton, D.D., born 1627, died 1674.

Footnote 177:

  Samuel Clarke, D.D., born 1675, died 1729. The piece alluded to
  was the first Boyle Lecture. Of his works Dr. Johnson remarked, ‘I
  should recommend Dr. Clarke’s works were he orthodox.’

Footnote 178:

  John Conybeare, D.D., born 1691, died 1755. ‘A great champion of
  revelation.’

Footnote 179:

  Plymer; in Redgrave’s _Dictionary of Artists_ written ‘Plimer.’
  Two brothers therein mentioned, Andrew and Nathaniel, both
  miniature painters and exhibitors at the R.A.; born 1763, died
  1837; born 1767, died 1822.

Footnote 180:

  _Practical View of the Prevailing System of Professed Christians
  in the Higher and Middle Ranks in this Country, Contrasted with
  Real Christianity._ Published 1797, and frequently reprinted.

Footnote 181:

  Th. Scott—the friend of Cowper—born 1747, died 1821, chaplain to
  the Lock Hospital.

Footnote 182:

  Th. Newton, born 1704, died 1782; edited _Paradise Lost_.

Footnote 183:

    Alluding to the movement suggested by A. Y., and ultimately
    carried out, of forming regiments of volunteer cavalry, in view
    of the menacing attitude of France.

Footnote 184:

  Carnot, the ‘organiser of victory,’ grandfather of the late
  lamented President of the French Republic. Almost alone of the
  Senate, Carnot refused to sanction the _coup d’état_ of Napoleon,
  1799.

Footnote 185:

  J. F. Ostervald, Swiss Protestant divine, born 1683, died 1747.
  All his works have been translated into English.

Footnote 186:

  These ‘Observations,’ above referred to, are inserted in vol. xxix
  _Annals of Agriculture_.

-----




                              CHAPTER XIII

               DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE, 1798, 1799, 1800

Assessed taxes—Society—Mr. Pitt and the Board of Agriculture—A
    foolish joke—Dinners to poor children—Interview with the
    King—Royal farming—Correspondence—Bradfield—Incidents of home
    travel—Portrait of a great lady—Correspondence.


_January 9, 1798._—At Petworth. This is the way in which I keep a
journal; had I the abilities of Johnson it might be an excuse, but I
am as idle as he without the talents that enabled him to think to
good purpose.

London has passed away till the vacation without much to note, yet
always something; for I met many at Mrs. M. Montagu’s parties twice
a week, whose conversation was interesting. Very few dinners, for
the town was empty. Attended divine service at Mr. Cecil’s chapel,
and ought to have made memoranda.

The breakfast at Wilberforce’s with Mr. Serjeant, Hawkins, Brown,
Thornton, &c., all members in committee on the assessed taxes.[187]
Miss Griffiths, the friend and mother of my ever dear Bobbin at
school, coming to board with Mrs. Y.; these and many more articles
all passed over, and, above all, the reflections which thronged in
my mind on the conclusion of that year which deprived me of my child
and turned my heart so imperfectly to God Almighty. Without that
event how should I have been able to bear the stroke of the taxes,
my share of which will I fear be 100_l._

Had I been out of debt it would have been comparatively light, but I
am seized about some bills which yet remain, and which, if I
pay,[188] shall not be able to pay those taxes. I have advertised my
cottage and eighty acres of land to let, but no chance of getting
such a rent as I know I ought to have to make letting answer.

I have been here with Lord Egremont above a fortnight. A good deal
of rabble, but some better. Lord Spencer, Lord Althorp, Lord
Dungarvan, Lord Milton, Lord Stair, Sir John Shelley, Mr. James
Feiryman, &c. I shall stay the whole vacation.

_February 14._—Another great gap, in which time I was four days with
the Duke of Bedford at Woburn, with a strange party, for all in all
I think the most strange I have been in for many years. Trevis, the
pseudo-Venetian Jew, who came long ago to England, has ran through a
great fortune, reduced from 200,000_l._to 1,200_l._ a year, having
shined with most satanic light in the annals of gallantry; Lady
Stanhope, Lady Cadogan, and a hundred more. Strong parts, wits,
originality (name evidently omitted here) and at seventy-one sings
wonderfully; Lord Lauderdale, who is a very pleasant, easy, cheerful
companion with knowledge, and so more capable of doing mischief;
Lord Maynard, Johns the parson, Bob Lee, Bligh, &c. The duke has
much good sense and clearness of head.

On my return to town, Lord Carrington applied to me to get a drainer
for Mr. Pitt at Holwood. I told him none to be had but from a
distance, and at a considerable expense; that perhaps it was an easy
job, and if so his own people could do it if the drains were marked
out for them, and I would go and look when nobody there. Next day he
came again from Pitt with thanks, and desiring me to go when he was
there.

I went, and examined the land. A hill wet from springs, the cure
obvious. So I am to do it for him. He and Lord Auckland and Lord
Carrington walked round the place with me, and then returned to a
cold dinner, where we debated the Board of Agriculture, and Pitt
seemed pleased with my idea of Government hiring the Bishop of
Llandaff’s house for the Board, and so getting rid of the difficulty
of not being able to quit Sir J. Sinclair’s without sixteen members
agreeing in the affirmative, a stupid statute they made.

By the first reports of the Board, and a multitude of other expenses
equally useless, Sir John ran the Board so much in debt that it
became a question of great difficulty how they should be enabled to
carry on any business at all. Through a spirit of liberality in many
individuals, a subscription was set on foot, and ten guineas apiece
by members and honorary members, which kept them for some time on
their legs. The revenue of the Board went entirely to printers,
above eighty reports in quarto, with broad margins, having been
given away to any who would accept them; and they were in general so
miserably executed, that they brought the institution into contempt.

While Sir John Sinclair was engaged in this pursuit he thought of
nothing but the establishment of his own character, and imagined
that his indefatigable exertions, misplaced as they were, gave him a
claim to the attention of Government, and, it is said, induced him
to ask a peerage. But Mr. Pitt not acceding to the proposition, he
next desired to be a Privy Councillor. When this second gentle
request failed, he set hard to work to form a party of his own in
the House of Commons in opposition to Government, which by degrees
completely estranged Mr. Pitt from him; and he was, by the votes of
the official members, turned out of the chair. Lord Carrington
taking me to Holwood, we walked about the place for some time before
Mr. Pitt came down. When he arrived, ordering a luncheon, he said he
had desired Lord C. to bring me, that he might understand what
members of the Board of Agriculture were proper to fill the chair.

I named Lord Egremont. ‘He has been applied to,’ rejoined Mr. Pitt,
‘and declined it.’ I then mentioned Lord Winchilsea; the same answer
was returned. I named one or two more, but the minister seemed not
to relish their appointment. I next said Lord Somerville, who was
famous for the attention he had paid to some branches of husbandry.
Mr. Pitt’s reply was, ‘He is not quite the thing, but I doubt we
must have him,’ and the conversation concluded with an apparent
determination that Lord S. should be the man. He was accordingly
elected; and I, the same day, received the orders of the Board
instantly to look out for a house (because Sir John S. being turned
out would no longer volunteer his), which I accordingly did, and
fixed upon one in Sackville Street, into which the Board immediately
moved their property, and appointed the secretary to reside in the
house, with an allowance of one hundred guineas a year for paying
the porter, keeping a maid in the house in summer, and finding coals
and candles.

_April 8._—A long gap, in which much has happened. The election, and
Sir J. Sinclair deposed. The world gives its all to politics, but it
was not caused solely by that motive; his management of the
3,000_l._ a year was next to throwing it away, and gradually created
much disgust; had his industry been under the direction of a better
judgment he would have been an admirable president. I have hired a
house for him and myself in Sackville Street. Crag, the clerk, wants
an apartment, and I have befriended him with Lord Somerville, the
new president, much against my own convenience, for the house is not
large enough; but, do as we would be done by, must be a rule far
more obeyed by me in future than formerly, and it is more a
convenience to him than an evil to me. It would be easy for me to
prevent it, and time has been that I should have taken that part;
but God send me the power to follow better dictates. I have been
twice more at Holwood. I have written a new pamphlet, a ‘Letter to
Wilberforce.’ I have worked hard at my Lincoln report, and the
election, with the business public and private concerning it, has
been on the whole such a worry, that I long for a week or two of
privacy and quiet, to render my mind more tranquil; it seems as if
my whole life is to be lost in a bustle. I am now going to Petworth,
and within the week to Bradfield; there I hope to make a momentary
retreat, and have time for recollection. I do not suffer anything to
distract me on a Sunday, or I should be lost in this hurry, and
everything serious driven from my mind. I have anxiety also about my
new habitation on another account, which is the doubt whether they
will furnish it for me; if they should not, it will be a most heavy
burthen of at least 200_l._, and an unjust one, elected as I am
annually.

Last Sunday se’nnight a new scene of sorrow and vexation. Arthur
sent me a foolish letter of his written to Lloyd from Dover, by way
of a stupid joke, describing an ideal conversation with some of
O’Connor’s jurymen,[189] to frighten Lloyd, who sent it to Lofft,
and he to Walker, to Erskine, &c. It was read in court at Maidstone,
and Lord Egremont told me it had an immense effect, exciting
universal indignation.

The Attorney-General pledged himself to punish it. The Jacobin
papers kindly assigned it to _Arthur Young_, so all believed it to
be me. I had a letter contradicting sent to four papers, and have
been in incessant worry ever since, writing for explanation,
employing Gotobed and Garrow, and seeing Lord Egremont often on it.
I sent an express to the Attorney-General, with a letter to him, and
another to O’Connor’s counsel. All agree Lofft to be a base villain,
pretending so much friendship for all the family, and keeping the
letter ten days in spite of Lloyd demanding it, and never asking any
explanation or naming it to Mrs. Y., Mary, or A. I have fretted
about this affair and worried myself terribly, and with reasons, for
it will be the utter ruin of my son. Possibly a fine of 500_l._ and
two years’ imprisonment if he is not able to prove it to be a jest.
To avoid being punished as a rascal, he must prove himself the
greatest fool in Christendom, which he certainly is, for the letter
was unquestionably a humbug.

_June 23rd._—I have had a roasting three weeks languishing for the
country; but, however, not discontented, and bringing my mind with
some success to submit cheerfully to everything I meet with. Arthur
has been in Kent and procured nine or ten affidavits of the jurymen;
those who refuse he never set eyes on till he made the application,
so he has cleared himself to me, but whether it will do for the
Attorney-General is another question. It is a sad business, and will
be very expensive, when I can ill afford it.

I have been four days at Woburn with Lord Somerville—a very great
meeting. The duke desired me to preside at the lower end of the
table; he told me to keep Stone from it.

I have been thrice at Holwood and conversed with Mr. Pitt every
time, but it is only on farming. No wonder. Reading Baxter’s
‘Serious Call to a Holy Life,’ which I have done with great
pleasure, and have begun it a second time. I think it an admirable
performance. Charity and a universal intention to please God in
everything are recommended with great ability.

I have forgotten to add a word about my new habitation. It is an
admirable house, and Mrs. Young’s only apprehension was the plan of
Cragg, the first clerk, having apartments in it; but when it came to
be debated, Lord Carrington procured it entirely to me, with an
allowance of 90_l._ a year for a porter, maid, coals, &c. Upon the
whole it is an arrangement which is equal in all to 100_l._ a year
to me, and in comfort, saving me the trouble of thrice a year
seeking lodgings, as good as a hundred more.

I am thankful to God for it, and may He give me His grace not to
apply to ill uses the favour of His providence.

_July 14th!!!_—This day twelvemonth it pleased God to take to
Himself my ever dear and beloved child. In the evening at the Hall,
my wife and self, children, and Miss Griffith joined in prayer.

[The remainder of the diary, chiefly detailing morbid religious
introspection, is not of sufficient interest to include.]

_Notes from Memorandum-book_

_March._—A dinner for fifteen poor children, 11_s._ 10_d._[190]

Another dinner for thirty-seven children, 16_s._ 6_d._

Another dinner for forty-seven children, 1_l._ 6_s._ 6_d._

_April._—This month seven dinners to about forty-eight children each
time.

_May._—Four dinners to about forty-eight children each time.

This year I sold the copyright of my ‘Travels’ for 250 guineas.

_April 1799._—In London. I am alone, therefore at peace. I rise at
four or five o’clock and go to bed at nine to ten P.M.

I have no pleasures, and wish for none, saving that comfort which
religion gives me; and the sooner I make it my only pleasure the
wiser I shall be. I go to no amusements, and read some Scripture
every day; never lay aside my good books but for business. I have
dined out but little, and wish for no more than I have. I get into
habits of reading and writing, and don’t like to quit them; privacy,
and silence, and retirement suit me, and I am content. New servants,
all; and the cook, a two-handed Yahoo, and cannot boil a potato. No
matter, I am passed being troubled at such things, but I like old
servants, and can’t bear this change.

May 4 of this year I went to the opera with Mrs. Oakes;[191] and
that amusement which had for so many years been my delight, I met so
coldly as to be almost asleep through much of the performance. What
a change had taken place in my mind! This was the last public
diversion at which I have been present.

I thank the Father of mercies that I have yet retained my attention
to religion, that I have read few books but those of devotion, that
I live very retired without any regret, that I rise at four or five
o’clock, and never omit my private devotions, morn and eve, and but
rarely family prayer. Thank the Almighty goodness I have almost
weaned myself from the world.

_June 4._—The King’s birthday. I have been in Kensington Gardens to
see the King review 8,000 volunteers of London and Westminster.
These corps owe their origin I may, without presumption, say to me,
and I should in a former part of my life have been full of
mortification and envy at the gay and brilliant situation of others,
whilst I was a humble spectator lost in the crowd, ‘the mob’ as I
should once have called them; but, thank God, I had no such ideas,
and am more free from sin of such thoughts than I am from that of
entering this note of it. My mind was much occupied in thinking of
such multitudes of people of all ranks, all ages, from infancy to
decrepitude, gay, lively, and running at the tilt of pleasure,
followed by more splendid scenes of courts, balls, dinners and all,
all to be in a few years in their graves, their souls in their
eternal doom, thoughtless as they may now be.

I work myself as often as I can, and as much as I can, into
meditations on the utter vanity of all such scenes and thence to the
inanity.

_July 1._—Wrote Mrs. Oakes an account of my visits to the King’s
farm. I got Sir J. Banks to ask his leave to see his farm. He gave
it readily, and said he would order Frost, his bailiff, to show me
everything completely. I wrote, but my letter came, by mistake of
the post, after I was there myself; and as Frost knew the King would
like to see me, he went when likely to meet him on his return from a
review. The Queen, Prince of Wales, the Princesses, &c., were in two
sociables, and the King on horseback, with his train of lords,
aides-de-camp, &c. He inquired who I was, and called me to him; rode
up to the Queen, &c., and introduced me. The Queen said it was long
since I was at Windsor, &c., not recollecting me at first; they
passed on, and then the King rode with me over his farm for two and
a half hours, talking farming, asking questions without number, and
waiting for answers, and reasoning upon points he differed in.
Explained his system of crops, his reasons, with many observations;
enquired about the Board, the publications of it, the ‘Annals,’ and
asked if I continued to work on my ‘Elements,’ which I have been
many years about; recommended me to compress the sense of quotations
in short paragraphs, ‘_as there are many, Mr. Young, who catch the
sense of a short paragraph, that lose the meaning of a long one_;’
said the work would be highly useful. Those who read the two letters
of R. R. in the last ‘Annals,’ written by his Majesty, will see how
clearly he expresses himself. He enquired about my farm, grasses,
sheep, &c.; he has himself only 160 lambs from 800 ewes. His strong
land farm is in admirable order, and the crops all clean and fine.
He was very desirous that I should see all, and ordered Frost to
carry me to two or three other things next morning. I found fault
with his hogs. He said I must not find fault with a present to him;
the Queen was so kind as to give them from Germany, and while the
intention was pleasing, we must not examine the object too
critically. ‘_The value of the intention_, Mr. Young, is greater
than a better breed.’ He told me he learned the principles of his
farming from my books, and found them very just. Quoted particularly
the ‘Rural Economy:’ Cattle give manure, and manure corn. ‘_Well
understood now, sir, but not so well before you wrote._’ When I said
anything that struck him he turned about to tell it to the nobles
that followed. He is the politest of men, keeps his hat off till
every one is covered. An officer with a lady in a whisky drew in his
horse as he saw the King crossing the road, taking his hat off. The
King rode up to him, uncovered, and conversed a little, and
afterwards said, ‘I think it is Captain Thorp, of such a regiment.’
What a memory!

Enquired much about the Duke of Bedford’s party at Woburn, &c. &c. I
forgot three-fourths. He was in high spirits, and looks remarkably
well.

My son this year married Miss Jane Berry, daughter of Edward Berry,
Esq. The connection arose from her being at school with my dear
Bobbin at Campden House, and afterwards visiting us at Bradfield.


Selected letters from those received this year:—

From Count Rumford on lime-kilns and cement for fire-places, &c.

                                        ‘Brompton Row: Jan. 8, 1799.

  ‘Dear Sir,—On my return to town last evening from Broadlands I
  found your letter. I beg you will present my best compliments to
  Lord Egremont and assure his lordship that it would give me very
  great pleasure to visit Petworth and see the various improvements
  he has, and is, introducing into the neighbourhood; but my stay in
  England will be but short, and, as I have more to do in the
  meantime than it will be possible for me to execute without being
  very industrious, I must devote all my time to those occupations
  in which I am engaged.

  ‘I wish it were in my power to give you any satisfactory
  information respecting lime-kilns, but I have not yet had leisure
  to complete the experiments I had projected, and which are
  necessary in order to enable me to form decided opinions on that
  subject. The kiln I had constructed at Munich not being well
  built, and being forced with too intense a fire before the masonry
  was properly dried, cracked, and burst open from top to bottom, so
  that no just conclusions can be drawn from the imperfect
  experiments that were made with it.

  ‘With regard to the best materials for withstanding the action of
  intense fire, I believe common fire-bricks, as they are called, to
  be one of the best. I am just now employing them in the
  construction of open chimney fire-places, and they seem to answer
  perfectly well. In laying them I have a cement of clay and brick
  dust instead of common mortar.

  ‘One of the best kinds of cement for resisting the action of fire
  I ever met with was composed of equal parts of brick dust, quick
  lime, and iron filings, mixed up with blood. It unites itself
  firmly to metals as to bricks and stones of all kinds, and even
  the most intense fire seems to have very little effect on it. It
  may even be made to join metals to stones, or even wood to metals.
  Our soap boilers in Bavaria use it to join the wooden tops of
  their boilers to their copper bottoms, which it does in so
  effectual a manner that they are very seldom found to leak. It was
  from them I learnt the secret of the composition of this most
  useful cement. I have no doubt but it would be found to answer
  very well for plastering the backs and covings of open chimney
  fire-places. I wish you would make a trial. If it should be found
  to answer it would be a most important discovery, for in that case
  bricks would certainly be as good, or even better, than
  fire-stones for constructing fire-places.

  ‘I am, dear Sir, with unfeigned regard and esteem,

                                         ‘Yours most faithfully,
                                                          ‘RUMFORD.’

                     _From the Duke of Grafton_

                                                  ‘Piccadilly: 1799.

  ‘Dear Sir,—I had but just time to cast an eye on Mr. Wilberforce’s
  letter last night, and seeing that the references are so many to
  texts of Scripture, I must desire you to leave it with me till I
  can have a good hour’s leisure to give it that consideration which
  everything from him must deserve.

  ‘I wish Mr. Wilberforce[192] and myself were agreed upon all
  points as we are on the (I fear) hopeless attempts to abolish
  totally the slave trade. Depend upon it that no one who knows that
  gentleman so little honours him more than myself; nor do I impute
  any opinions or dogmas to him which I have not learnt from his
  writings. I believe him to be an upright, sincerely pious and
  beneficent character, treading a road that leads to future
  happiness, even should he be under great but involuntary errors.
  Will he say the same of any one of those whom he improperly calls
  Socinians? For, though they honour the memory of Socinus, they do
  not follow his faith; far from it, for they acknowledge no masters
  on matters of religion but Christ and His Apostles.

                                          ‘Yours very faithfully,
                                                          ‘GRAFTON.’

                       _From Dr. Burney_[193]

                                             ‘Dover: Sept. 11, 1799.

  ‘My dear Sir,—Your letter [arrived] at Quarley after I had left my
  friend Mr. Cox, and was returned to Chelsea preparing for a
  journey into Kent. I have been here and hereabouts near three
  weeks in the thick of all the military bustle of this county. My
  headquarters are at my friend Mr. Crewe’s house in this town, the
  best it affords, and is taken for three months. Mr. Crewe, being
  colonel of the Second Royal Cheshire Militia, is quartered at
  Hythe, but comes over frequently, Mrs. and Miss Crewe being
  stationed here. The Duke of Portland and Lady Mary Bentinck came
  hither on a visit last Thursday, and remained inmates with us till
  yesterday morning. Being within eight or nine miles of the camp on
  Barham Downs and seven of Walmer Castle, we have been there
  several times, have dined twice at Sir Charles Grey’s, the
  commander-in-chief at the camp, and twice at Walmer Castle with
  Mr. Pitt, Mr. Dundas, and Lady Jane Dundas, who does the honours,
  and is a most amiable, sweet, and charming woman. Mr. Ryder and
  Lady Susan have a small house just by the castle, and Mr. Canning
  is lodged within its walls. The Duke of York was there for several
  days before he embarked for Holland. We, that is Mrs. and Miss
  Crewe, with Lady Mary Bentinck, went in one coach, and the Duke of
  Portland, with your humble servant, in another, at five o’clock on
  Sunday morning to see the third embarkation launched. The wind was
  furiously adverse, but it was done with wonderful dexterity,
  quickness, and cheerfulness, without accident. The Duke of York
  and Mr. Dundas were on the beach, the ladies were all in tears;
  the soldiers in high _spirits_, and all fun and jollity. We
  afterwards went to Walmer Castle to breakfast, and as the Duke of
  York was not to embark till the evening, Mr. Pitt invited Mrs.
  Crewe and her party to stay and take an early scrambling dinner.
  This was accepted, and we remained in the castle while the cannon
  on its ramparts were fired on his Royal Highness entering the
  launch in sight of a fleet of at least two hundred sail of ships,
  by which he was saluted; and we saw the flash of every gun, and
  heard the report which was brought to us by the raging east wind,
  _forte_, _fortissimo_. It was a glorious sight! God prosper the
  expedition, and grant that those brave men who are gone so
  cheerfully to fight our battles and those of all Europe, may come
  home with honour and whole bones. The Duke of Portland’s youngest
  son, Lord Charles Bentinck, sailed with the Duke of York, and
  young Crewe sails to-day with the last embarkation, being
  lieut.-colonel commandant of the Ninth Regiment of Infantry. The
  hymn to the Emperor and Souvarow’s[194] march have been sung and
  played to all these great folks with good effect and applause.
  Lady Susan Ryder and Miss Crewe sing it admirably, and I join in
  the chorus. I have obliged all the ladies mentioned above,
  including Lady Grey, with copies of these compositions; they are
  all musicians, and are the personages in the world most deserving
  of such a favour, and where the granting of it will be of most
  use.

  ‘I congratulate you on the great events of this wonderful
  campaign, not forgetting the acquisition of the Dutch fleet,
  which, I am glad to find, is ordered to England. The Duke of
  Portland received a letter yesterday before he left Dover from his
  son, who is with Marshal Souvarow (pronounced Souvaroff), of the
  battle of Novi, confirming all that the French have told us of the
  death of their General Joubert, of Moreau’s being unhorsed, and
  all his staff killed, wounded, or prisoners. It has cost the
  Allies 5,000 men. However, it seems to put an end to all other
  fighting and resistance by Jacobin armies of Italy.

  ‘I intend returning in about ten days, but have a visit of a few
  days to make on the road to Sir William and Lady Fawcett, at
  Eltham.

                              ‘God bless you.
                                           ‘My dear Sir,
                                                   ‘CHARLES BURNEY.’

1800. _Bradfield._—I never come to this place without reaping all
the pleasure which any place can give me now. It is beautiful and
healthy, and is endeared to me by so many recollections, melancholy
ones now, alas! that I feel more here than anywhere else. Here have
I lived from my infancy, here my dear mother breathed her last, here
was all I knew of a sister, and the church contains the remains of
my father, mother, and ever beloved child! Here, under my window,
her little garden—the shrubs and flowers she planted—the willow on
the island, her room, her books, her papers. There have I prayed to
the Almighty that I might join her in the next world. All that
locality can give an interest to in this world is here—sweet
Bradfield, to use an epithet of my dear mother fifty years ago at
Bath!—the scene also of many and great sins; and of none perhaps
greater than the black ingratitude of never thanking God with
fervency for the blessing of such a spot till misery turned my heart
to Him, and oh! how cold my thanksgivings compared with what I ought
to feel!

To me it has, however, often been a source of foolish uneasiness. I
have reflected on the increasing taxes and burthens on land and
houses in this kingdom as the inevitable cause of ruin to all little
estates; they are gone or fast going in this country, and what hope
can I have that this should remain in the posterity of so poor a
person as I am?

I have preserved it by a life of industry and singular success, or
it had gone long ago. But such thoughts are wicked. All is in the
hands of the great Preserver and Disposer of all earthly as well as
all other existence.

How few years are passed since I should have pushed on eagerly to
Woburn! This time twelvemonth I dined with the duke on the Sunday.
The party not very numerous, but chiefly of rank; the entertainment
more splendid than usual there. He expects me to-day, but I have
more pleasure in resting, going twice to church and eating a morsel
of cold lamb at a very humble inn, than partaking of gaiety and
dissipation at a great table which might as well be spread for a
company of heathens as English lords and men of fashion.

In my way from Royston to Baldock, passing a village I saw a couple
of cottages which seemed very miserable. Alighted therefore and
entered one. The woman said she was very unhappy. I enquired why?
Her daughter was now dead in the house. How old? Thirty-eight.
Married to a glazier in London. She had been down with her mother
some time for health in a decline, and died two days ago. ‘I hope
she died a good Christian.’ ‘I hope so,’ replied the woman, who
seemed to feel very little. And it is the blessing of God that they
do not—they cannot afford to grieve like their betters. It was odd
that I should happen to stop and enter a cottage with a corpse in
it, but nothing interesting followed. God forbid it should be for
want of my sifting and enquiring more—but nothing led to it. The
husband was expected soon, and the woman has a son, a miller, who
keeps her, a cow, and she had a good pig feeding at the door. She
was, however, thankful for the trifle I gave her.

My adventures increase and have a strange similitude. Passing
through Millbrook, near Lord Ossory’s, some cottages, with corn in
their gardens, on the slopes of a narrow sandy vale, caught my eye,
but speedily passing it was a second thought to stop the horse and
walk down to them. There are thirteen of them, and all inhabited by
owners. A hemp weaver, who lives in the first I entered, gave me an
account of them all, and amongst the rest he named Underwood’s, who
had a large family, and was sadly poor. I went to it. Poor indeed!
the cottage almost tumbling down, the wind blowing through it on
every side. On a bed, which was hardly good enough for a hog, was
the woman very ill and moaning; she had been lately brought to bed,
and her infant was dead in a cradle by the bedside. What a
spectacle! She had four children living; one, a little girl, was at
home, and putting together a few embers on the hearth. My heart sank
within me at the sight of so much misery, and so dark, cold,
tattered and wretched a room. Merciful God, to take the little child
to Himself, rather than leave it existing in such a place. What a
sight! I entered another cottage, which was lately built, neat and
cheerful, the Widow Scarboro’s; she earns something by washing, but
her smoky chimney most uncomfortable. No wonder, with the old broad
high fire-place. In the depth of winter the door must be open. I
told her how to cure it, but I wished to give her a Rumford grate
and see it fixed. Impossible! and her evils are nothing to poor
Underwood’s.

But how strange yesterday to find a dead woman in a house, and
to-day a dead child, and in such an accidental manner, as it seems,
to enter just these houses. No chance; the more I see, the more I
reflect, the more I am convinced that the providence of the Almighty
directs everything, but in a manner utterly incomprehensible to us;
and it is the more incomprehensible from our paying so very little
attention to it. If every one was to be careful to observe all such
apparently accidental events, they would have reason to acknowledge
the hand of Omnipotence. In three days how has what the world calls
chance conducted my steps!

These poor people know not by what tenure they hold their land; they
say they once belonged to the duke, but that the duke has swopped
them away to my lord (Lord Ossory). How little do the great know
what they swop and what they receive! What would be a blessing
poured into their hands if they knew how to use it. What a field is
here! How very trifling the repairs to render these poor families
warm and comfortable! Above their gardens on one side there is a
waste fern tract now enclosed, from which small additions might be
given them, yet would enable them to live from their ground at least
much better than at present. What have not great and rich people to
answer, for not examining into the situation of their poor
neighbours?

To Woburn Abbey. Here is wealth and grandeur and worldly greatness;
but I am sick of it as soon as I enter these splendid walls. I had
rather be amongst the cottagers at Millbrook had I but the means of
aiding them. I will see Lord Ossory, and try to do something for
them.

In these farming tours[195] of mine, vain ideas will too often rise
in my mind on the importance of my labour to the public good; and
were the improvement of agriculture alone to be considered, I
believe little doubt could be entertained. But what is the tendency
of all these improvements except to add to the wealth and prosperity
of a country that is already under a most heavy responsibility to
the Almighty for innumerable temporal blessings; repaid with the
black ingratitude of irreligion, and a general contempt of
everything serious or sacred. Carriers’ waggons and stage coaches
are passing here every hour in open defiance of the laws of God and
man; and the Sabbath is the sure day of labour for all travelling
gentlemen. What horses are they that rest, that can by any means be
made to work? Our fields are made to smile with cultivation for the
profits of men thankless to Heaven. Can such a country continue to
be thus blessed? I fear and dread some terrible reverse, and have
the only hope that the prayers of religious men, Methodists as they
are called, may be heard, and avert the misfortunes we deserve. It
damps all vanity of public good attending such attempts as mine, to
think of the use that is made of great wealth. Affliction and
poverty may do something in bringing nations, like individuals, to
their senses; but to increase the wealth that adds to our irreligion
and ingratitude, is of a very poor importance indeed, and too
questionable to permit one vain thought to be fairly founded.

_July 7._—Breakfasting at Huntingdon from Kimbolton, after spending
just a week with the duke and duchess. It has been so pleasant and
agreeable that I am unhinged on quitting them. The duchess pleases
me as much or more than any woman I have met these many years. Her
character in every worldly respect is most amiable. There is a
native ease, simplicity, and _naïveté_ of character in her which
delights me; and when I consider the life of the Duchess of Gordon,
her mother, the great patroness of every dissipation, I am amazed at
this secluded young duchess, who never goes to London, loves a
retired life, and is quite contented on a fortune very moderate for
the rank of her husband. She gave me her whole history, from going
one summer for some weeks to drink goat’s whey on the mountains many
miles beyond Gordon Castle, and running up and down the hills
bare-footed, driving down the goats and milking them; and being
delighted with the place and the life, though no human being within
many miles except the family and an old woman of the solitary house.
This was the case of all the girls; she never went to school, and
laid in a fine stock of health, and with it a sweetness of temper
and simplicity of character which, joined with an excellent
understanding, contributed so much to form her as she is at present,
calculated to be a blessing to her husband. She loves him, and
behaves with a most exemplary and unexampled patience and mildness
under his connection with Mrs. ——. I like her greatly,[196] and wish
I could add that she was religious. She goes to church often, she
says, and brings her four lovely children up to attend it; but I see
she has no sense or feeling of real religion, which I spoke of
repeatedly, and earnestly recommended. The next time they come to
Culford they both promised to come and see me, and will do it I have
no doubt. The spectacle in this age of seeing a very plain table, a
plain unaffected way of living, and everything about them modest and
moderate in scale, very little company, and never at London, yet all
cheerfulness and content, even under the above circumstance, speaks
a good heart and an amiable temper, as much as such can be good with
the Almighty coming in for so poor a share of its attentions. I do
and will pray to God that He will give her His grace to change in
this respect, and then she will be a pattern for her sex.

_July 7._—To Huntingdon, St. Ives, and Holywell, at the Reverend Mr.
Hutchinson’s, who was long at Kimbolton, and had livings given to
him by the late duke; [has] four stout, well-looking, unmarried
daughters, that have been marriageable some years. A common
spectacle, and everywhere from the same cause: the fornication of
men with the abandoned of the sex robs thousands of such virtuous
and good girls of husbands. The more I reflect, the more I see the
reason of God’s wrath and denunciations against this vice in
Scripture, however natural it is, and however powerful the
temptation. The more the temptation the more the wickedness to throw
so many into it, by depriving those of husbands to whom God has
given the right, but of which the vice of man deprives them. Every
man would have his wife, and every woman her husband, were it not
for whores and whoremongers. Christianity is in everything
consistent with reason, morals, and the religion of nature.

At St. Ives [met] a drunken beast, a doctor of divinity, is
intoxicated every day; drunk about the streets; introduced himself
to me, and breathed like a puncheon of rum in my face.

_Sunday, 20th: Downham._—I have had a busy week and gained a great
variety of good intelligence; but what is it all but vanity and
vexation of spirit if examined with view of a superior nature!
However, it is my undoubted duty to do my best, and I must approve
upon the whole of exerting as much industry for the Board as ever I
did upon my own account. My employment is not only lawful, but
useful; God grant me to render it as much so to the poor as
circumstances will permit. In this week I have been at Wing’s at
Thorney Abbey. A party of ladies [here], Mrs. Ansel of Ormsby in
Lincolnshire and two daughters. They attacked me, but with
politeness, on my rabbit article in the Lincoln report. I found from
their conversation on Wilberforce and H. More that they are good
Christians, so they might say anything; but we parted very good
friends. At March: Reverend Mr. Jobson and a vulgar steward, a
prating but a useful fellow, Wandby, dined with me.

At Downham: Lemon, Dashwood, and a poor fen man Talbot. I have gone
on well for the object of my journey; would that I went on as well
in the great journey to the next world! At church twice; Mr.
Dashwood in his sermon spoke very properly on a topic which I have
often thought should be inveighed upon vigorously: the great
indecency of people sitting when they should kneel, which is now
everywhere so common; but in the afternoon a better congregation and
no sermon! For a clergyman to have an audience collected ready to
hear him and yet quit the church without preaching, how very
lukewarm he must be in care of souls who can bring himself without
violence to such a conduct! Is this the way with Methodists as they
are called? God forbid! With a church thus filled as that of England
is, who can wonder at Sectaries increasing? All is poor work when
men are not in earnest—when they are not as animated and eager in
their sacred calling as others are in their business and shops. A
parson should always think: what would St. Paul do on this occasion?

_Sunday, August 3._—Dined last Tuesday with the Grand Jury at
Cambridge, and in the afternoon Lord Hardwicke took me with him to
Wimpole. On the Thursday, a great public day, seventy-three at
dinner, turtle, venison, and everything that could be. A Lord
Lieutenant’s gala which has not been these four years. Lady Cotton,
Sir Wm. Rowley’s sister, there all the week, and a Miss Coburn. Lady
Margaret Fordyce has uncommon talents, and reading and languages,
French, Italian and German, but I mistake if she is not a bit of a
fury when she has a mind. I don’t like her countenance. Lady H.
pleases me better. Lord H. is very clever, has very good parts and a
clear head, a man of business. I was pleased to find that he went
twice to church, and read a long prayer at night to all the family,
taken from the Liturgy. I shall be here a week, and have idled none
of it away, but beat the country well for enclosures. I have not,
however, broken my resolution of passing Sunday alone without being
[misled], for even in such a family I had a farming expedition to
the next parish, and conversation is never religious—I hope I shall
do it no more.

_Night._—Lord Hardwicke had all the family together, and read a long
prayer taken from the Liturgy, from almost every part of it. I am
glad to find a great Lord who is not ashamed of praying to God. May
there be many such!

_4th._—I left Wimpole, and the 9th came to Bradfield after a journey
of eight weeks, thanks to the Almighty, in health and safety. There
passed a week, staying two Sundays. Mrs. Y. in great health, and
when that is the case in too much irritation—God forgive her—life is
a scene of worrying, time trifled with, a book never looked in,
quarrels and irritation never subsiding. My daughter and
daughter-in-law reading cart loads of novels. While at Bradfield I
received from Sir J. Banks, confidentially, many enquiries about the
means of encouraging the culture of hemp; they are therefore
apprehensive of a war with Russia. At the time of the Russian
armament I was consulted on the same subject by Lord Liverpool, but
they do nothing except on the spur of the moment, and then never
effectually. Heaven avert more wars, those scourges of humanity!
This first week of my second journey[197] I have laboured very hard
in my enquiries, and travelled many miles on bad roads, not
finishing the day till six in the evening, and then dining and
having much writing. Such a life I should earnestly wish to avoid if
I had a home tolerably comfortable, but mine is so far from that
description in almost every respect that I submit the better to
being ever in harness. It is the will of God, and my duty is to
submit with cheerfulness.

_October 6th: Hounslow._—Found near twenty letters at the
post-office, and, among the rest, two from Parker of Ripon, attorney
to Sir Cecil Wray, Kilvington, and Allanson, to inform he had orders
to hold me to bail on my bond to them on buying Knaresboro’ Forest,
as Abbey of Northampton has not paid one shilling rent or interest.
This is a fine affair; it is true there is land security for the
4,000_l._ of double the value, but who am I to get to bail me? I
fear this is the hand of God working against me, and that He means
me chastisement. The Lord’s will be done! I shall pray earnestly to
be spared, but if it is His will, be it done, and may He grant me
resignation, patience, and submission to His correction. It comes
heavy at the moment, for I was much injured at Enfield by coffee out
of copper, as I suppose, with a violent purging colic and vomiting,
and left by it in a state of great debility of body; this stroke of
fresh anxiety cuts therefore. May God be appeased and spare me the
affliction.

Last Sunday I read much in Hale’s ‘Contemplations: Moral and
Divine,’ in which the Providence of God is treated more to my mind
than in any other book I have read. I have derived on various
occasions, as well as the present, much consolation from that most
excellent work, which I now earnestly recommend to my children, and
hope if they should ever read these words, they will think of their
father and follow his advice to make that great lawyer’s book their
constant companion.

On the close of this century it may not be improper to look back
through the period of my own recollections in order to reflect on
some eminent names that may be mentioned as forming the principal
constellation of talents which have distinguished the period; and
the more readily because I have had the honour of conversing with
most of them, and being well known to several. In minuting such a
list I may name the following, viz.: Burke, Pitt, Fox, Johnson,
Reynolds, Barry, Burney, Miss Burney, H. More, Wilberforce, Soame.

The following are the selection of this year’s letters:—

         _From Jeremy Bentham, Esq., queries sent from the
               Treasury to the Board of Agriculture_

                  ‘Queen’s Square Place, Westminster; June 14, 1800.

  ‘Dear Sir,—Underneath is a question, which I have just been
  calling in Sackville Street to beg the favour of your answer to,
  for my _own_ information. It is in contemplation to make the
  purport of it the subject of a reference to the Board of
  Agriculture from the Treasury. The occasion seemed to be of a
  nature particularly favourable to the enabling the public to avail
  itself of the services of the Board, and may perhaps have the
  effect of placing the utility of that Institution in a new and
  additional point of view; while the dignity of its members, and
  the manner in which it is composed, will give such a title to
  public confidence, in respect of the grand point of superiority to
  all personal considerations, as would in vain be looked for in any
  other quarter capable of being applied to for such a purpose. In
  this light I have just been mentioning the matter to Mr. Nepean,
  who entered so thoroughly into it as to say he would himself
  propose it to the Treasury to make such reference.

  ‘On enquiring I had the mortification of learning that the Board
  had adjourned to some day in November: but would there be no such
  thing as the calling an extra meeting, if not to the Board at
  large, of a Committee for the purpose of receiving a reference
  from such a quarter, and making a Report? If not, possibly the
  opinion of the Secretary might be accepted of as the only
  obtainable succedaneum to the opinion of the Board; for where else
  could any other equally competent opinion be obtained? But
  howsoever the matter may stand with regard to the Board and Mr.
  Secretary, I hope Mr. Young will not refuse an old correspondent
  the favour of an answer for his own guidance, and that as speedy
  as possible; for it is for this answer that I wait to enable me to
  fill up a blank with figures, the propriety of which is what is
  proposed as above to be made the subject of reference to the
  Board. If you are unable to guess my reason for interfering in the
  business, so much the better, but if you _have_ your conjectures,
  all I can do is to beg (which I do with the utmost sincerity) that
  you would forbear letting them find their way, directly or
  indirectly, to any person to whose lot it may fall to concur in
  making the Report. It was at Mr. Nepean’s express recommendation
  that I called in Sackville Street for the purpose of conversing
  with you in person: but, if your absence be not fatal to the
  business, I shall be much better pleased with the opportunity of
  transacting it in this manner without any other communication than
  what will show itself in black and white. I am not _sure_ but the
  Report from the Board might be waited for without much
  inconvenience till their regular time of reassembling: but till
  Mr. Young’s answer is obtained, or is known to be unobtainable,
  everything is at a stand. And a business in which the public has
  an interest of no inconsiderable magnitude, and for the conclusion
  of which all parties are impatient, sleeps, and, in short, if it
  does not come at farthest before this week is at an end, the hopes
  entertained of an answer from a quarter thus respectable must be
  deserted. But these matters are so perfectly A.B.C. to Mr. Young
  that I am sanguine enough to hope, if not for a definitive
  solution, at least for an answer with an approximation, and
  announcing a definitive solution in a few days, by return of post.

               ‘I am, dear Sir, with all respect,
                                  ‘Your faithful humble servant,
                                                  ‘_Jeremy Bentham_.

  ‘Now for my question—A sum having been allotted in March, 1793,
  for the maintenance of a certain number of persons, of the lowest
  rank of life, in provisions, clothing, bedding, washing, firing,
  and lighting, how much, if anything, per cent. ought to be the
  additional allowance made at present in consideration of the
  intervening rise of prices? The calculation to be grounded not on
  the prices of a particularly bad year (such as the present), but
  on the probable average of a future term—say of twelve years.

  ‘P.S.—Relative to the "Annals"—I have got a titbit for your
  “Dragon” (the name Dr. Hawksworth used to give his magazine),
  some facts which to me are as new as they are interesting,
  relative to the effect of the rise of prices on the wages of the
  self-maintaining labourers in agriculture, and the mode of
  provision for the burthensome. The author, a very intelligent
  and respectable clergyman, Mr. North, Rector of Ashdon in Essex.
  They are contained in two or three letters:[198] the moral of
  them appears to lean to two practical results, both of them I
  believe as alien to your notions as to mine, viz. rating wages
  and restricting the size of farms. At the same time what they
  indicate is certainly a disease, the mischief of which, however,
  would, I am inclined to think, be much exceeded by that of the
  least mischievous of the above two remedies. But if capable of
  an answer, they are, at the same time, highly deserving of one;
  and this not only on account of the facts themselves, but on
  account of the good sense as well as candour with which they are
  delivered.

                                                             ‘J. B.’

        _From J. Symonds, Esq., to the Speaker of the House
                          of Commons, &c._

                                         ‘Euston: November 30, 1800.

  ‘My dear Sir,—I came hither on Friday and shall go home next
  Saturday. I hear there are three pamphlets lately published that
  command much attention—Lord Sheffield’s,[199] Sir Thomas
  Sturton’s, and “Candid Enquiries,” etc. When does your Board
  intend to enter the lists? The Duke says it has shown him great
  politeness by the attention it has paid to a proposal of his. If
  you have not got “Islington on Forestalling,” &c. you should buy
  it, for several statutes, absurd as they are, you will find set
  forth clearly and methodically—I should not properly say clearly
  (but this is no fault of the editor), for we do not know what
  statutes may be said to be declaratory of the common law, or not.
  Did you not rejoice with me that Sheridan animadverted on those
  judges who had thundered their anathemas against forestallers,
  &c.? I am persuaded that some of the riots owed their origin to
  the intemperate language so extra-judicially used. I was sorry to
  see the turn which affairs took upon the Report of the Committee.
  Had Pitt been silent about the Jacobins, and had your friend
  Wilberforce abstained from abusing Grey’s connections and Sir
  Francis Burdett’s speech, there would probably have been a great
  unanimity. The more Wilberforce endeavoured to exculpate himself,
  the deeper he seemed to plunge. He was well advised by Sir F. B.,
  who seldom harangues with any propriety, “to think more, and speak
  less.”

  ‘When I mentioned agricultural books I ought not to have appeared
  insensible to the pleasure I received from perusing the greater
  part of Burke’s pamphlet, very lately published by Dr. Lawrence.
  You, I find, make there a distinguished figure in the foreground.
  Do you approve of what Burke says about the distilleries?

  ‘A few minutes before I came hither on Friday a very melancholy
  event took place. Winterton, the Groom of the Chambers, had been
  seen walking by the side of the river near the mill, not far from
  the house, and was never heard of afterwards till his body was
  found in the river. The Coroner is expected to-day, and he will
  probably instruct the jury to bring in their verdict, “lunacy,” as
  some of the servants had observed in him marks of insanity a few
  days preceding.

  ‘If you can spare five minutes from the service you pay to the
  Board and to the public, favour me with a few lines. You live now
  more with politicians than with farmers.

  ‘What will be the result of our breaking with the Emperor of
  Russia, whose conduct Mr. Pitt truly calls "strange versatility
  and caprice"?

  ‘Tell me a good deal, for the Duke has no regular correspondent in
  Town now that Stonehewer is here.

  ‘I was with you at Bradfield when Buonaparte’s first offers for a
  peace were published.

  ‘You said you thought the Ministry would pay attention to them,
  and do you think that, upon the whole, we can make as good a peace
  as them, the French having been almost driven out of Italy?

                                    ‘Adieu.
                                             ‘Yours sincerely,
                                                       ‘J. SYMONDS.’

-----

Footnote 187:

  Assessed taxes. On December 4, 1797, Mr. Pitt introduced a Bill
  for trebling the amount of assessed taxes. This was again debated
  in the House of Commons in January 1798, and finally passed. See
  Hansard’s _Parliamentary History_.

Footnote 188:

  In a memorandum-book of the preceding year occur the following
  entries: ‘Receipts, 901_l._; debts, Dec. 31, 986_l._’ Debts seem
  to have been a burden throughout A. Y.’s long life.

Footnote 189:

  A. O’Connor, concerned with others in an address to the Directory
  France; tried for treason at Maidstone, 1798; found not guilty.
  See _Annual Register_, 1798.

Footnote 190:

  These dinners to poor children were given in memory of Bobbin.

Footnote 191:

  _Née_ Betsy Plampin.

Footnote 192:

  Referring to a long letter from the great Wilberforce on ‘Original
  Sin.’

Footnote 193:

    The _Letters of Maria Josepha Holroyd_ give an amusing account
    of the events here described.

Footnote 194:

    On November 4, 1794, Souvarow took Warsaw, when 8,000 soldiers
    and 12,000 men, women, and children were massacred in cold
    blood. See _L’histoire générale de Lavisse et Rambaud_, vol.
    viii. p. 358. It is to be hoped that Dr. Burney was in ignorance
    of this.

Footnote 195:

  Note by A. Y. at close of year’s diary: ‘In the summer,’ in
  consequence of much conversation with Lord Carrington on the
  importance of enclosures, I proposed to him that I should take a
  tour expressly for the purpose of ascertaining what the effect had
  really been in practice. He approved of the idea, and desired me
  to execute it; and, in regard to the expense, I told him that if
  he would allow 100_l._, I would expend it in travelling, and
  report to him the country travelled and the enclosures examined,
  and then he might extend or not the undertaking at his pleasure.
  He approved the plan, and I accordingly employed twenty weeks on
  the journey.’

Footnote 196:

  In the _Annals of Agriculture_, vol. xxxv. p. 432, occurs the
  following: ‘If a farming traveller comes to Kimbolton, and forgets
  its mistress, may his sheep rot and crops blight! A young duchess,
  ever in the country, loving it, and free from a wish for London—a
  character that, if I was to give my pen scope, it would run wild
  on such a subject.’

Footnote 197:

  Full accounts of these tours are given in the _Annals of
  Agriculture_.

Footnote 198:

    These letters are inserted in the _Annals of Agriculture_, vol.
    xxxv. p. 459.

Footnote 199:

    Lord Sheffield published _Remarks on the Deficiency of Grain
    1799-1800_, and _Observations on the Exportation of Wool from
    Great Britain to Ireland_. 1800.

-----




                              CHAPTER XIV
                       DIARY CONTINUED, 1801-1803

Public affairs and prophecy—The divining rod—The appropriation of
    waste lands—The word ‘meanness’ defined—South’s
    sermons—Projected theological
    compendia—Correspondence—Journalising to ‘my friend’—Anecdote of
    Dean Milner and Pitt—Death of the Duke of Bedford—Napoleon and
    Protestantism.


_March 20._—It is in vain to complain of gaps; if I had but
attention enough to write only two lines every day I should have
hope of going on. I have been thinking more seriously of the
Journal, and of converting it to use as a memento of the progress I
make in the only business worth real attention—my salvation through
the merits of the Blessed Saviour. For this purpose I must fix on
some hour of the day to be regular at it, and, if I hold my
resolution, it shall be immediately after my prayers in the morning,
being always up at 4 A.M. and sometimes at 3 A.M. I am then sure to
be uninterrupted; positively I will begin to-morrow morning.

_21st._—Dined yesterday with Lord Somerville. I did not like the
day. Duke of Montrose, Duke of Athol, and Lord Rossmore sent
excuses, but the Marquis of Abercorn, Lord Dalkeith, Lord Villiers,
Lord Barrington, Mr. McDougal, Mr. Baird, and two Scotch members
were there, the last but one a hard-headed, sensible man.

Much conversation, particularly farming. This morning Sir A. St.
John Mildmay called to have my opinion of a Bill he is now bringing
into Parliament to enable the clergy to give leases of their tithes
beyond the term of their lives. The Archbishop has not negatived it,
but such a Bill can no more pass than the abolition of tithes; it is
open to such frauds that perhaps it ought not to pass.

My chief misfortune in having little society with well-disposed
minds: I know few except Wilberforce and Cecil; the latter I rarely
see, and W. is so full of business that I might nearly as well be
unknown to him. I will urge him to form a Society to meet once a
week for conversation merely on religion.

_22nd, Sunday._—To be eager and alert in rising at 4 A.M. for all my
secular employments and sluggish on the Lord’s Day, when, if I rise,
it must be to His worship, seemed long ago a snare of Satan, which,
blessed be God, I have resisted. I was yesterday at the Society for
Bettering the Condition of the Poor, the Bishop of Durham in the
chair; it is an excellent institution, and may call down the
blessing of God—may that Being grant them his grace to do good from
right motives! With the Duke of Bedford on the Smithfield Society,
and the whole day full of business, which, on the Sabbath, I banish
as much as I can from my mind. In the evening my son and daughter
only at home, and therefore I got an hour’s religious conversation
with them on the times and the Prophecies.

I have been too negligent of improving such opportunities, but the
tremendous moment in which we live, so lately having seen the
country without King, without minister, with a famine, and seven
wars! If it be not a moment to call people to a serious
recollection, nothing can ever do it.

So near the expiration of the 1,260 years of Daniel and St. John;
the Turkish Empire on the point of destruction; a strange and
unthought-of establishment in Egypt, a country that is to have much
to do in the return of the Jews—ourselves in India, they may have
some unknown relation to that phial to be poured out on the
Euphrates to make way for the Kings of the East—altogether combine
strangely to give suspicion that we are on the eve of some great
events which are to usher in the final consummation of all things,
and consequently the fall of the ten Kings of Europe. The times are
truly awful, and demand such piety and resignation as no other
period of modern history even approached to.

_23rd._—At the Lock yesterday. Scott is now my favourite preacher,
and I have heard him ever since I came to Town with great pleasure
and attention in spite of a very bad manner. His matter is most
excellent. Received the Sacrament.

_24th._—Called yesterday on Mr. and Mrs. Montagu in their great
house. It is said he has just lost a coal pit that was worth
6,000_l._ or 7,000_l._ a year; I had a card for her Monday parties,
and not having been, I apologised. I must now and then go after
Easter. But all company of the sort is flat to me. I have just made
up the annual account for 1800, and the loss upon the year is
22_l._; this meeting a tax on paper which will cost 48_l._ a year is
alarming. I had entertained many vain hopes that the work after so
many years’ continuance would have stood its ground, but I know not
what to think. Now I must print only six instead of seven sheets,
and try so for another year. If I lose then, I must give up the
work, much as it will hurt me. The ‘Agricultural and Commercial
Magazine’ and the ‘Farmers’ Magazine,’ which approach more to the
nature of newspapers, and which have contained hardly one paper of
real importance, have been selling well; such is the world, its
judgment and discernment!

_28th._—Yesterday the Board proceeded to Hyde Park in a body to see
the experiments of Captain Hoar on the _Virgula divina_. He, many
years ago, saw Lady Milbank’s surprising faculty of discovering
springs, and trying, found that he had it himself. He is recommended
to the Board by Mr. Lascelles, member for Yorkshire.

I found from the conductor of the waterworks at the reservoir then
at work, that the twig in Mr. Hoar’s hand when he crossed them
turned up in a surprising manner. He seemed, in the opinion of Sir
Joseph Banks, to fail once, but in the four trials I watched, and in
which I know he could not be acquainted with the direction of the
pipes, he succeeded completely. Next Tuesday another trial.

To-morrow will be published in the ‘Annals’ the first parts of my
essay on applying waste lands to the better support of the poor. I
prepared it some time ago for the Board, as it was collected in my
last summer’s journey; I read it to a committee—Lord Carrington, Sir
C. Willoughby and Mr. Millington—who condemned it, and, after
waiting a month, Lord C. told me I might do what I pleased with it
for myself, but not print it as a work for the Board; so I altered
the expressions which referred to the body, and sent it to the
‘Annals.’ I prayed earnestly to God on and since the journey for His
blessing on my endeavours to serve the poor, and to influence the
minds of people to accept it; but for the wisest reasons certainly
He has thought proper not to do this, and for the same reasons
probably it will be printed without effect. I think it, however, my
duty to Him to do all I possibly can. Such events and circumstances
I am well persuaded are entirely in His Divine management, and that
we are mere instruments in His hands. Whether I print or not is a
matter wholly unimportant, but the use made of it is in the hands of
the Almighty alone. I am well persuaded that this is the only
possible means of saving the nation from the ruin fast coming on by
the misery of the poor and the alarming ruin of rates. God’s will be
done!

_29th._—Yesterday at the Farmers’ Club. I have little relish of
these meetings, unless given to farming conversation, and this was
nothing but wrangling about the disposition of money. Sunday before
Easter.—Company and talk, eating and wine; sitting up late are ill
preparations for the Sabbath.

_31st._—The Duke of Bedford and Lord Winchilsea at the Club; filled
up vacancies and settled the premiums. The Board greatly attended
yesterday, and adjourned for the holidays.

Captain Hoar is turned over to Lord Egremont, of whom the Bishop of
Durham said that he possessed of all the men almost that he ever
knew the clearest head and most penetrating understanding. I asked
Lord Carrington to employ Arthur while I am absent; he said it was
mean to make him a clerk—but everything is wrong that is proposed to
this man, even the things which, let alone, he would propose
himself.

Honest industry in a lawful employment cannot be mean, especially in
an employment that he likes. This is one of the world’s prejudices,
and rotten like all the rest.

_April 4._—At Bradfield. The pleasure of coming into the country
from such a place as London is great and pure. The freshness and
sweetness of the air, the quiet and stillness, the sunshine
unclouded by smoke, the singing of the birds, the verdure of the
fields, the budding out of vegetation, altogether is charming.

I have only an old woman who keeps the house in our absence, and
never was so attended before; but no matter—I am quiet, peaceful,
and living economically, and shall, I hope, be very well contented.
Divine service was worse done than anything; Sharpe, who is past
everything, preaches and reads worse than any human being; this is
lamentable. That point is the glory of London; one can find churches
where our attention is commanded by instruction.

I never saw the wheat look better, thanks to God! My farm is the
source of disquiet as well as pleasure—such bailiffs as I must keep
execute everything badly, except just what they have always been
used to; and with great expenses there are always many things sadly
neglected. With such absences as I am forced to, this must be the
case.

I have read Barrow’s sermons chiefly since I came down. That on Good
Friday excellent, on Whit Sunday capital, and on the prophecies of
the Messiah such as would convince an infidel, were not infidelity
true hardness of heart.

_5th._—At the Sacrament, none but Green and his wife, and the clerk
and his wife. How much have the clergy to answer for! Reading Barrow
and South’s sermons, ‘The Image of God in the Creation,’ which is
full of wit. Barrow is a most powerful writer, he pours out a
torrent of matter, a stream of mind, as Johnson said of Burke; an
amazing flow of conception and of expression, forcible and varied; a
rich command of language, and such fertility that one of his sermons
would make ten modern ones.

The life I am getting into here of walking and reading is such a
contrast to that at London as to be a most pleasant change and
recreation to my soul and body.

From January 20th I had been so loaded with business of the
requisitions from the Committees of Lords and Commons, and reading
360 essays, that I was employed every day from morn to dinner. I
rose at 4 A.M. regularly, sometimes sooner, even at 3 A.M., and
neglected my ‘Elements’[200] entirely on this account. All was for
the Board, and not free from anxiety. Here I shall have a
fortnight’s refreshment and relaxation, thanks to the Almighty for
it, and that He blesses me with health to enjoy it.

_7th._—Yesterday at 2 o’clock I walked to Bury, for I have neither
horse nor chaise to go in or on. Dined with my friend[201] alone. I
had much talk, and tried hard to impress her with good religious
notions, but I fear in vain; she will not be converted but by
misfortune and misery, her easy prosperous situation will prevent
it. I can only pray for her.

I have made an experiment in living here not unimportant. I drink no
wine or beer, only a pint or one-third of a bottle of cider at
dinner. I care not what I eat, I have only one maid and no helps,
and could thus live for a trifle in a cottage. In such times such
trials may have their use beyond the Christian propriety of
self-denial; but my collection of good books are a great comfort,
which, if deprived of, I should miss terribly. I rise at 4 A.M.,
walk up to my neck in the garden pond, pray, and then read till
breakfast; read, walk, and farm till dinner, and so on till it is
dark, and no moment hangs heavily on my hands. I reproach myself
with indolence for not going among the cottagers, but they come to
me numerously, and having descriptive lists I know enough to do more
than I am able, but I ought to go to their houses and examine their
state well.

I have been reading Watson’s Collection,[202] and am forming a table
of striking passages, and think to have them copied for arranging
with the many I have already written, and may print it some time or
other under some such title as this: _A course of reading on the
origin, truth, and doctrines of the Christian Religion_. I know of
no book of evidences that includes all; by taking the most
impressive passages on each subject from many books, and disposing
them in a lucid form, I think I could produce a very useful work
without presuming to compose any part of it myself. May the Lord
afford me His Spirit should I go on with the design, but with my
employment it would be a business requiring much time!

_9th._—Dined with Mr. and Mrs. Balgrave. Balgrave is a good-tempered
Suffolk parson, neglects the duty of his church, idle, indolent,
drinks his bottle of port and reads his newspaper, but what is
called a respectable character, no vices, nor any imprudent follies.

_10th._—Symonds dined with me and took a bed. The Duke of Brunswick
marching into Hanover will, he says, be a keen revenge.

When he married our King’s sister, Lord Bute (who told the whole to
S. while travelling with him in Italy) promised him the government
of Hanover as soon as it should be vacant, with the King’s
knowledge. The Marquis of Granby conveyed the assurance. When the
vacancy happened the Prince of Mecklenburg was talked of. Lord
Granby wrote to Lord Bute to remonstrate, who went to the King and
Queen, and urged the real necessity of adhering to the promise. All
in vain, the Queen prevailed, and her brother, not two degrees
better than ——, was appointed. The Duke of Brunswick never forgave
it, and when invited to England rejected the idea with anger.
Symonds saw him at Venice and noted the asperity of some of his
expressions.

_11th._—Reading Sherlock’s sermons. In those on the truth of
Christianity, and a defence of the mysteries of it, I know none
equal; excellent indeed and clear, persuasive, and convincing; but I
have some doubts on the vitality of his faith. In the third
discourse of the second volume he says: ‘Here is a plain proof of
what the work of the Spirit is. It brings proofs to the reason of
man, but does not bring the reason of man to the proofs.’ I conceive
just the contrary, the proofs themselves are clear, full, and
abounding with what ought to produce universal conviction, but men,
for want of the Spirit, turn their back, neglect, or despise them.

It is the business of the Spirit to take away the heart of stone,
and then the proofs are manifest: the heart and reason of man are
really brought to the proofs.

_12th, Sunday._—The ground white with snow, and the wind cutting. I
am up every morn at 4 A.M., and walk to the garden pond; habits will
do anything. I do not mind it at all, and sometimes stand in the
wind till dry; it is, however, sharp work.

A nonsensical letter from Lord Carrington requiring me to go to the
Treasury for the 800_l._ for the Essays, which is entirely the
treasurer’s business. He is as unfeeling as a log; this is a return
for my being at work from 4 A.M. in the morning for ten weeks. I
should once have been full of indignation and abhorrence; thank God,
I am more calm. I shall go on Friday instead of the Monday
following. But I wish he had let me alone. I am vexed, but the world
is full of nothing but great miseries or teasing vexations, the more
the better; they wean us from it effectually.

I have been here ten days and have not visited one poor family. My
heart reproaches me. I have given as much as I apprehended I could
afford, but that is laziness. The cold winds and sleet have kept me
too much in the house. It is easier to give than to be active in
doing good. I have four days more. Oh, let me be stirring in doing
good! Indolence is inexcusable. If I thought I had but a little time
to live, with what energy would all this be done! And how soon may I
be trembling on a death bed! Have mercy on me, O God, and give me
grace to serve Thee with activity and vigour. Read the whole book of
Job. I can read, think, speculate, write, and meditate, but in doing
good am negligent and slothful. I have had a passing fit of
melancholy from looking at my ever dear daughter’s picture, which I
carry with me everywhere, and never think of her but to bless God
for having in some measure (how imperfectly!) brought me to Himself.
Age coming on apace; the world fading faster still; horrible
threatenings in the aspect of public affairs; small hope of any
comfort underived from religion. How black and dreary would all my
prospects be were it not for the consolation I draw from a most
lively and never varying faith in the truth of Christianity, in the
_full assurance_ of immortality! What would be my situation without
this only balm of my existence? Domestic comfort a blank; my friends
dropping into the grave, and the infirmities of age in near
prospect.

Gratitude and thanksgiving to my blessed Saviour for affording me
grace to believe; and with it all the comfort that remains for me in
this world. My child! My child! Oh, may we meet in heaven!

_13th._—The poor people of the neighbouring villages crowd here to
my great distress. I give all something, and wish I could give more;
but I dread falling into the dark impropriety of giving too much, of
making what would seem and be a parade of charity or generosity with
other people’s money, which is somewhat the case with a man who
gives while he has debts unprovided for. I truly know not what
rightly to do in this case. The evil just described is great, and
ought to be avoided, but at the same time what ought I to think of
myself who have been always ready to spend and run in debt for forty
years together; and then should take up so strictly as to do nothing
for miserably poor people in such times as these? Surely on such an
occasion we should be exerting every power to relieve them!

_20th._—Friday to London. Saturday, Farmers’ Club. An argument with
Lord Egremont, &c., on land for the poor; everybody is against it.
What infatuation!

_21st._—Last night at Mrs. Montagu’s conversazione. I had some
[talk] with the Bishop of Durham, who agrees with me on the poor;
with Lady Harcourt, who wants restrictions on farmers; with Lord
Somers, who told stories of supernatural movements of furniture in
Norfolk.[203] I left it very early though invited for all March and
April. This is the first of my going.

London very disagreeable to me, and has made me compare in my mind
my present situation with a large income, and that of living in a
cottage in the country upon 100_l._ a year, without trouble or
anxiety or business, except to make my peace with God. I liked my
time alone with my old woman [servant] at Bradfield much better than
here. I had nobody to wrangle and quarrel with me.

_May 4._—Yesterday I was at church in the morning with Mrs. O. Oakes
at the Lock, and heard Scott, and in the evening at the Surrey
Chapel to hear Rowland Hill. Neither of them pleased, though she
admits Scott’s matter was excellent. She was most struck with the
extreme fervency of Mr. Wilberforce’s devotion, who, sitting in the
reading desk for the convenience of hearing better, she saw him
clearly. Bought Rowland Hill’s sermon on the Sunday Schools against
the attack of Bishop Horsley,[204] who is, from all I hear of him,
such a bishop as Suffolk parsons are clergymen. Scott thinks that
evil spirits do work on our souls, and to me it is remarkable that
he says the imagination is their great field. I have reason enough
to believe him in the right. These are enquiries in which we have no
other clue to guide us but Scripture, and surely there we find
proofs without end of the agency of evil spirits; for my own part I
have no doubt of it.

_Bradfield._—As there was no church this morning, I had eleven poor
women from the village to talk to upon their neglect of church. I
read many passages on public worship and prayer out of Dodd’s
Commentary on the Bible, and explained, preached, and reasoned with
them. One made a defence, and was inclined to prate. I took it
coolly, and presently brought her to better reason. I doubt they
liked a sixpence apiece better than my sermon, yet three of them
cried. How much more docile and teachable are the poor than the
rich! One might gradually do much with the poor, but very little
indeed with their betters. God opens the hearts of the one, and
hardens those of the others as a punishment for their pride and
ingratitude.

The Duke of Bedford has asked Lord Carrington to the sheep shearing.
Lord Egremont called, he remarks that the Chancellor, Lord Rosslyn,
and Lord Grenville, &c. &c., all have in the late debates gone out
of the way to abuse the Board of Agriculture, and remarks that
keeping a Board only to treat it in this manner is preposterous.

_7th._—My publications are very well adapted to take off the edge of
all worldly infatuated admiration or dependence on the things of
time in comparison of those of eternity. Washington’s Letters have
been advertised to the expense of 5_l._ or 6_l._, and I do not
believe that 100 are sold, and my enquiry into the cottage system
for poor people will have no more effect on Government or the
Legislature than if I had whistled ‘Alley Croker.’ So much the
better perhaps for the good of my soul.

_25th._—Mr. Hoole called and was let in. He has heard at a great
table (he did not say where) a very so-so account of Lord
Carrington—fidgeting, restless, dissatisfied, ambitious, avaricious,
with a mere show of parts and knowledge. He has made immensely by
the loan; and the richer he grows, so much the worse. The eldest
girl said to Mr. H. when he called: ‘My papa used to have prayers in
his family; but none since he has been a peer.’ What a motive for
neglecting God! Also he is a dissenter and a democrat. A Unitarian
he may be, but certainly no democrat. The Lord show mercy to him,
and by interrupting his prosperity or lowering his health, bring him
to repentance!

_26th._—Yesterday I dined with the Duke of Grafton, and he asked me
when the election of president and secretary of the Board was, for
he heard there was an intention of turning Lord Carrington and me
out. He said his answer was, as to Lord C., there were reasons which
might account for that, but what can Mr. Y. have done? ‘Oh, he is
careless, and does nothing,’ and so I dare say there are people to
report and perhaps so think. Lord Somerville in revenge, I doubt
not, hates everything belonging to the Board, and wishes to come in
and sweep everyone clear away, in order to introduce creatures of
his own, and this, uniting with Gifford’s scandals and slander about
the Board intending to pull down the club in the ‘Porcupine’ and
‘Anti-Jacobin Review,’[205] gains the attention of fools, and
mingled by the depravity of the world, is circulated and believed.
But of all farces, that of my doing nothing is the most precious.
What I have done through the whole session of the Board surpasses
credibility, almost to myself, and nothing but rising at 4 A.M. in
the morning could have enabled me to go through it. The first spare
half day I have I will make a list of all I have done, and see if
they will not acquit me to my own heart. Oh, did I serve my God as
well as I have served the Board! Could I review my services to my
Redeemer as satisfactorily, happy should I be!

_27th._—Symonds and Hoole dined with us, and, as the former will see
the Duke of Grafton to-day, I gave him a message card, on one side
of which is ‘_Some use in rising at 4_ A.M.,’ and on the other as
follows: ‘From January 20 to May 23 are 90 days, Sundays and
vacation excluded, 50 Boards and Committees; 340 essays read, and
every one commented on. Report to the House of Commons on Potatoes.
Report to the Lords on Grass Lands. Enquiry into cottagers’ land
published, but drawn up for the Board. Memoir on Salt, from more
than fifty authors. Ten new premises framed. Memoir on wastes,
paring, burning, and arable land.’

If for such employment I am stigmatised for doing nothing, it shows
that in order to please, it matters not what we do, caprice will be
the only judgment. What conclusion is to be drawn from such cases?
Serve God truly, and as to man trouble not thyself about him; let
this be the golden rule, and it will bring peace at the last.

_28th._—Lord Carrington fretting and worrying, and upon the full
fidget about the newspapers’ abuse, and the criticisms in the House
of Lords upon the publication of the Board; swearing that he will
allow no nonsense to be published, and this will be more absurd and
pragmatical than ever. Oh! Mr. Pitt, Mr. Pitt, that thou shouldest
have formed such a Board as this, and then permit it to frame such a
constitution as should render it absolutely dependent on the folly
and caprice of a president! What might it not have done had its laws
been what they ought to have been!

Dalton, of Yorkshire, gave me a long account of his taking Hyder Ali
when only the colonel of 500 horse—a soldier of fortune.[206] Lord
Egremont came up from Petworth, where, he tells me, not a loaf for
three days and a half, and a mutiny among the volunteers.

_29th._—Dined yesterday at Lord Winchilsea’s. There were the Duke of
Bedford, Lord Egremont, Lord Romney, Lord Somerville, Mr. Calhoun,
Mr. Northey, Mr. Conyers, and myself: much farming. Lord Romney gave
Lord Egremont a guinea, to receive fifty when he produced a tench
that weighed seven pounds.

Yesterday the Committee voted 50_l._ to my son for his labour in
arranging &c., during thirteen weeks, the Reports from inclosed
parishes to the House of Commons. I thanked them very awkwardly, and
talked of gratitude, for it came on unexpectedly; that readiness
which is never at a loss I have not an atom of. My heart always
speaks at a sudden; whereas in many cases the head is most wanted.
But the fault was on the right side, it was more than I expected.

_June 6._—Charming weather for the country, now in its full beauty,
and I am stoved up in this horrid place. Lord C. talked of
adjourning the Board on Tuesday, which I hope much he will do. The
15th is the Sheep Show at Woburn; it will be the 20th before it is
possible for me to see Bradfield, and hardly then; the longest day
before a man gets into the country!!! Let them turn me out of my
secretaryship and I shall not regret it, but down all discontent; it
is God’s will, and my duty is to be thankful for all.

It is a comfort which exceeds all others, that as age advances the
end of life is viewed as a mere change of residence, and the mental
eye fixed on heaven, with full confidence in the promises of God. I
would not give this conviction for the wealth of the Indies, for the
empire of the world. And what does one lose by religion? I enjoy all
such pleasures of life as are unattended by remorse, just as much,
or more indeed, far more, than I did while I was a dissipated
character. Reading, composition, serious conversation on any topic
worth discussing, the rural beauties of Nature, and the pleasures of
agriculture, friendship, affection, not love, as it is called, the
whole of which I fear is founded in lust, and proves nineteen times
in twenty the tyrant of the breast, and the fertile source of ten
thousand miseries! Happy those in whom it terminates in a settled,
quiet, tranquil friendship, sufficient to satisfy without the
wanderings of the heart that lead to so much misery.

I was here (at Bradfield) three weeks at Easter after a severe
confinement to incessant business; I am now again in the same deep
retirement, the life of a hermit, after eight weeks of business and
bustle. I feel how vast the benefit is to have these periodical
retirements from the world in silence and solitude. Had I gone
directly from London on my tour, plunging from one busy scene to
another, my mind would have had no time to cool, none to settle into
any calm and tranquil state for reflection, which is unfavourable to
the growth of religion, of morals, nay, of talents to perform
anything of consequence. A round of business or dissipation thus
unbroken is mischievous to the heart, ties it to the world, and
unfits it for every effort of regeneration and repentance, or of
meditation and philosophy.

Lord Euston is going the tour of Suffolk, ordering returns to be
made of all carts, waggons, horses, mills, and ovens; a step
preparatory in the expectation of an invasion. But it is in
everyone’s mouth that with such a price of corn half the country
would join an enemy. I must freely confess I dread the result. We
have no hope but in the protection of the Almighty, who has hitherto
so wonderfully protected us; and what has been the gratitude shown
to Him?

Most melancholy is the reflection. Our rulers are truly infatuated,
to have done nothing for the assistance of the poor, but leave them
to such trying times without even showing a disposition to take any
steps that could be effective. To do nothing to give relief, when
land for the poor does relieve them so beneficially wherever they
have it, is a cruel infatuation. To see poor rates at their present
enormous height and the poor in misery—yet where they have land, to
find rates 3_d._ or 4_d._ or 9_d._ in the £, and the poor in a state
of ease and comfort—one would think should speak feelingly and
powerfully—but no such thing. Men are governed by their stupid
prejudices, and have too much pride to permit their eyes to be
opened. Had an Act passed last session that had the effect of thus
assisting the poor, instead of the pernicious system by rates, and
some progress were now making in every county to carry it into
execution, we should not hear such opinions advanced, because they
would be groundless; the poor labourers, seeing such steps taken for
their comfort and to free them from the ineffective thraldom of
parish rates, would be patient and quiet. At present they see
nothing done or doing for them, and have their hearts almost broken
by penury—without resource—without hope.

In such a situation who would wonder to see men join an enemy in
crowds? Heaven forbid that this infatuation of Government be not
providential, and the means by which the Deity may mean to punish
the nation for and by its sins!

The trumpeter of the Corps of Yeomanry came to me with a written
engagement to forfeit 5_s._ the first absence and 10_s._ 6_d._ every
successive one if we do not meet the first Friday of every month. I
was always exempted on account of my necessary absence; however, as
they expect to be called into actual service, I would not now retire
when an invasion is expected, so I signed; but when the alarm is
quite blown over—should that please the Almighty—I shall withdraw,
for I am too old and too weak, and my pursuits too far off and too
numerous to permit attendance.

_September 7_ [on tour, at Dunstable].—Breakfasted with Mr. Parkyn,
and then went to meet a person who instructs people in plaiting
straw, and I bargained with him at 30_s._ a week for a girl to be
instructed—a month will do; that is 6_l._, and the journey there and
back, about 4_l._, so for 10_l._ I shall be able to introduce this
most excellent fabric among our poor. The children begin at four
years old, and by six earn 2_s._ or 3_s._ a week; by seven 1_s._ a
day; and at eight and nine, &c., 10_s._ or 12_s._ a week. This will
be of immense use to them.

Got to Woburn by 2 P.M., sat down and wrote for two hours and a
half, then dressed, but did not dine till nearly 8 P.M. The Duke of
Manchester there with Lord Preston, Mr. Cartwright, and Edwards, the
bookseller, who is putting the library to rights and showing how to
make the catalogue. I was surprised to learn from him that a man
could not lay out in one year more than 5,000_l._ judiciously in
books; that Lord Spencer has been fourteen years expending
25,000_l._, and has the best library in England, perhaps better than
the King’s. He tells me the nation [France] bought L’Héritier’s[207]
library, and gave it to the Botanical Garden. Miss Knight,[208]
authoress of the continuation of ‘Rasselas,’ whom I met at
Kedington’s, lent Dolmien’s[209] ‘Life at Naples,’ through Lady
Hamilton’s interest with the Queen. He wrote to her from prison.

Did not get to bed till past 11 P.M. Such hours and fasting from 9
A.M. in morn to 8 P.M. at night did not agree with me. I waked at 4
A.M., and having a lamp, rose, washed, prayed, and sat down by
candlelight to my notes and finished them.

Lord Preston swears; it hurts me to hear him. I certainly ought to
convert such people and reproach myself, and confess the sin every
day in my catalogue to God; but I go on and do it not. If I had wit
I could laugh at it, but I have no more wit than a pig.

The following are selected from this year’s correspondence:

_From T. Symonds, Esq., describing Trinity College Establishment,
Revenue, &c._

                                         ‘Cambridge: March 20, 1801.

  ‘You desire me, good friend, to send you a long letter from this
  place, but I could more easily find materials to write one to our
  friend Charles Cole, from his being perfectly conversant with
  every one here, and with almost everything. You observe very
  right, that landlords cannot come into a share of the wealth of
  their tenants but by a corn rent. This I have insisted upon of
  late frequently at Bury. The present state of the University is an
  indisputable proof of it. The pressure of the times is hardly felt
  by its members. Will you not think so, when you hear that the
  revenue of this College amounted to nearly 16,000_l._ last year,
  and that the eight senior fellows received more than 300_l._ each,
  and the junior half of that sum? They have been obliged to raise,
  however, the price of the commons (as they are called) from
  fifteen to eighteen pence. But I sit down here every day for this
  sum to a dinner, which gentlemen of a thousand a year cannot give
  often with prudence.

  ‘The papers, I presume, have informed you of the trial of our
  plate stealers last week.

  ‘The whole business was ill conducted. The man who sold to the Jew
  the medals of King’s College for 70_l._, the plate of this for
  300_l._, and the plate of Caius for 500_l._, pleaded guilty, and
  in consequence of a free pardon to appear against the Jew, who,
  though acquitted at these Assizes, will probably be hanged at the
  next. Grimshaw, the chimney sweeper, is the only victim at
  present. Your friend Simeon was not wanting in his visits to him.
  He told an acquaintance of mine "that he found Grimshaw’s
  conversation delightful; that he had grace to die; and that the
  sooner he was executed the better, for fear this grace should
  evaporate." Should it ever be my lot to be condemned for
  execution, I will immediately apply to you for consolation. Simeon
  could work no conviction in the Jew; this will not surprise you.

  ‘I saw in the papers a list of the dancers at Lady Carrington’s
  ball; but, to my astonishment, did not discover your name. The
  papers have raised Lord C. to the degree of Viscount;[210] it
  would be too insulting for a man recently in business to step
  above the heads of our ancient Barons. I should have told you that
  we have here a young nobleman of unblemished character. I mean
  Lord Henry Petty, whose knowledge and abilities are such, both in
  writing and speaking in public, as to lead me to imagine that he
  cannot fail to make a distinguished figure in Parliament. By the
  bye, there seem to be some members of the House of Commons who are
  jealous of your Board.

                                           ‘Yours sincerely,
                                                       ‘J. SYMONDS.’

_January 24, 1802._—A great gap; but from coming to London in
November to quitting it the following month I wrote journal letters
paged to my friend.[211] Through the Christmas holidays a blank. I
have subscribed to the Lock Hospital 5_l._ 5_s._, and go every
Sunday. Wilberforce always there taking notes of Scott’s sermons.

In the great business of my salvation I go on slowly, struggling
hard, however, to advance, by freeing my imagination from sensuality
and my heart from coldness. God give me grace to persist. I lay
great stress on trying by every means to impress in my mind a
constant sense of God’s presence.

_March 8._—At Wilberforce’s last night till 10 o’clock, and was not
in bed till quarter past 11 P.M. Though I was up before 4 A.M., and
had no sleep in the day, or very little, the consequence was that in
the night just past I slept very soundly indeed, and till 6 A.M.
Dean Milner[212] there, and I had much conversation with him about
W. while he and Mr. W. were out of the room. He first made an
impression on Wilberforce’s mind at Scarborough; he hinted on some
person named being an enthusiast, but Milner (though not religious
then himself) checked it with a firmness that made W. think. They
afterwards travelled to Nice, and were there three months about the
year 1783 or 1784. The Duke of Gloucester was then an infidel; the
conversation M. had with him upon the journey had no other effect
(indeed that was the capital one) but of making him serious in
reading and considering the Bible, which he did with great industry
and deep attention, bringing to it a _heart_ open to conviction; his
health was injured by application, but his eternal soul was saved.
He afterwards broke off his intimacies with a social fashionable
set, and particularly from dinners which hurt his progress in Divine
impersonation. He fairly and openly told his friends the reason.
Pitt never joked or laughed at him—some did, but he never; all were
sorry to lose him. But he was in earnest, and carried his
determination into effect to give himself wholly to the care of his
soul in the first place, and next to perform his temporal duties by
assiduity in business. The Dean remarked the great good his book is
likely to do from this time to the end of the world. Many, many may
be saved by it. He dictated an answer to some quotations from David
which the Duke of Grafton gave me the other day in argument against
original sin, the righteousness named 1,000 years before Christ. He
replied as I had done on the spot to the Duke, that these men had
the _spirit_, and then were righteous before God in _Jesus Christ_
who saved from the creation.

The Duke of Bedford’s death! How much I could write on that topic. I
met Halifax at the Duke of Grafton’s. He died with what is called
perfect courage, collectedness, and resolution that is perfectly
hardened in insensibility. A most tremendous, awful, horrible case!
But very difficult to separate affection for the amiable temper and
useful life from a just condemnation of his utter want of religion
and piety.

                   _From the Duke of Bedford[213]
           in carrying out the plans of his late Brother_

                                      ‘Woburn Abbey: March 28, 1802.

  ‘Sir,—The sudden and fatal event which deprived me of one of the
  kindest of friends and most affectionate of brothers, Agriculture
  of one of its firmest props, and Society of one of its best and
  most useful members, coming upon me too so soon after a former
  severe domestic calamity, left my mind in such a state of sad
  dejection as to render me wholly incapable of writing to you on a
  subject deeply interesting to me, because it occupied the last
  thoughts of my much lamented brother. His zeal for that first and
  most interesting of pursuits, Agriculture, did not forsake him
  even in the last moments of his life, and on his death-bed, with
  an earnestness of mind expressive of his character, and with that
  anxious consideration for the interests of his country which
  occupied so many years of his well-spent life, he strongly urged
  me to follow up those plans of national improvement which he had
  begun, and from which he had formed the most sanguine hopes of
  success. He referred me to Mr. Cartwright and to you for
  explanations and details; with Mr. C. I have already had some
  conversation, and hope soon to have the pleasure of seeing you. I
  shall be in London in a day or two, and if you will favour me with
  a line in Arlington Street, to name the day and hour most
  convenient to you to call upon me, you will much oblige me. Should
  you be absent from Town I trust it will not be long before I have
  the satisfaction of seeing you at Woburn.

  ‘Desirous as I am in every point of view to fulfil the last wishes
  of my departed brother, I feel that my humble efforts must be at
  such a vast distance from the exertions of his well-regulated and
  superior mind, that without the aid and advice of those most
  capable of assisting me, I should utterly despair of attaining the
  objects now so near to my heart.

                      ‘I am, Sir,
                              ‘Your faithful and obedient servant,
                                                          ‘BEDFORD.’

                             _My Reply_

                                   ‘32 Sackville Street: March 1802.

  ‘My Lord,—The melancholy event which has deprived your Grace of a
  brother so beloved was a stroke that affected every feeling of my
  heart; others more habituated to his merit on great occasions
  better knew than it was possible for me to do the powers of a mind
  that could fathom the most important subjects; but to me, sinking
  his great consequence in the country, he was a kind, most amiable,
  and indulgent friend, nor shall I ever cease to lament the loss of
  the best temper I ever met with; good humour seemed to spring from
  a perennial source in his bosom. Pleasing and happy it is for his
  lamented memory that all ranks and classes of the people have vied
  in the expressions of grief for the loss of so able, sincere, and
  unquestionable a patriot. It pleased him on several late occasions
  to converse with me on his plans of those establishments he
  meditated to connect with the employment of Mr. Cartwright.
  Probably that gentleman has explained all or most of them to your
  Grace. I shall be most happy to repeat them, and I am sure I need
  not add that veneration for the memory of one who commanded the
  regrets of a great nation, as well as the respect I owe to your
  Grace’s character, will induce me most willingly to give you the
  little assistance that is in my power to lessen the loss we have
  all suffered.

  ‘I rejoice in hearing of your Grace’s determination to tread in
  those steps which proved so direct a path to a well-earned and
  most useful fame.

  ‘From eleven o’clock to-day till four, and from twelve till three
  on Thursday, I am engaged with the Board, but will wait on your
  Grace at any other time you are pleased to appoint.

                ‘I am, my Lord,
                           ‘Most respectfully your Grace’s
                              ‘Much obliged and most humble servant,
                                                  ‘ARTHUR YOUNG.’

The Board has been busy in voting testimonies to the memory of the
Duke of Bedford, a race who should express most strongly their
veneration. The Bishop of Llandaff brought a dedication for the
volume now ready—a medal ordered and a bust. These people are carnal
and worldly, except, however, Mr. Wilberforce, who much promoted it,
and spoke often in favour of it. His example is authority, or I
should have considered the whole as a worldly-minded business, and
bad. This Duke, with vast powers and immense influence, set an
example to a town and populous neighbourhood in the country, and to
a great circle of friends and dependents, of an utter neglect, if
not contempt, of religion: all was worldly in his views; all his
motives tending that way, and his example mischievous to religion
and the souls of men. All this praise and veneration is therefore
very questionable, and, I think, unlawful; it is looking at objects
and judging of things with the herd, and therefore wrong; we cannot
go with them but to do mischief. Of what consequence is religion to
the world if farming and beneficence and good temper, and a life
highly useful in a worldly view, is to outweigh the evils of
irreligion, and so very bad an example in morals and want of piety?
I cannot approve of it, much as I liked the man in all worldly
respects.

Dr. Pearson talking of experiments observed that contrary
experiments to good ones are nothing. ‘I can get evidence for or
against anything: for the existence of angels and devils,’ &c. He is
a great infidel, one of the gang of philosophers of the Royal
Society, whose head, Sir J. B., is of the same mould, and whose
influence is all on the same side, and does much mischief. The
great, the wise, and the learned in this town, I fear, are nineteen
in twenty infidels. Shocking! dreadful to think of!!

Dined at the Duke of Grafton’s, Menil the Nimrod and Dr. Halifax
there. I never fail to combat his Unitarianism, but do no good; yet
his arguments are weak as water.

_20th._—At the Farmers’ Club. Carried with some difficulty a premium
of fifty guineas for the best plough; several voted against it,
because impossible to decide which of several should be the best!
These folks can hardly know the right end of a plough.

_25th._—Dined at the Bishop of Durham’s; Price, the
Vice-Chamberlain, there, and Mr. and Mrs. Bernard. I would have some
serious talk, and therefore asked the Bishop if he had read
Overton’s[214] book? He had, and highly approved it. He met with it
at York, and asked the Archbishop if he knew anything of the author,
and, to his surprise, found that he did not even know there was such
a man, and knew nothing of him. The Bishop promised to send me his
two charges and letters to the Deists. He was lately in company with
Otto,[215] and made enquiries what that minister conceived would be
the result of the present order of things in France relative to
religion. Otto thought that it would end in the establishment of
Protestantism;[216] this is remarkable and not improbable. The
Concordat will not be executed. I questioned the Bishop about Paley:
‘Mr. Y., I gave Dr. P. a living of 1,100_l._ a year for two great
works, the “Horæ Paulinæ” and “The Evidences,” and so I told him:
“But, Dr. P., as to your Moral Philosophy I disapprove of it, and
therefore do not mistake my motive”’!! He is engaged in a work now
at press on natural religion by the Bishop’s recommendation.

_27th._—Our third volume Part I. of the ‘Communications’ is out, but
I have yet heard nothing of the public opinion. The mere printing
this thin quarto has been the whole business of the Board, that is,
of the President, from last November; nothing else done of any sort
or kind. This is pitiable. He corrected the proofs and made them
dance up and down to Wycombe, and wait as if time was of no
consequence, and a whole Session will pass with this for its only
employment. My ‘Hertford’ is ready for printing, Pitt’s ‘Leicester,’
Howlett’s ‘Essex,’ and Plymley’s ‘Salop,’ and all at a stand; not
one proof of the second part of the ‘Essays’ at press in a
fortnight, and nothing else thought of. He is as fit to be President
of the Board as Grand Llama of Thibet; such is the way that all
public business is conducted. If I saw as much of the Treasury, have
no doubt but similar though not equal neglect would appear. But what
a table of cyphers to meet week after week and urge nothing to
satisfy the public. The whole of this flows from the most fastidious
coxcombical pretension to purity of language: the time is spent in
making phrases, as the French express it, which ought to be employed
in devising and executing plans of improvement and pushing on the
county surveys. Lamentable! A fine folly, however, has taken place;
the President and two other members went to see Salisbury’s
botanical garden—there he agreed to hire six acres at rent and taxes
14_l._ an acre for Board experiments 1½ miles from Hyde Park Corner.
I was not consulted, and 60_l._ paid for a lease before I knew a
word of the matter; then I was ordered to view it, which I did, but
no opinion asked. Next I was directed to draw up a plan of
experiments, which I did, without corn, for myriads of sparrows from
nurseries would eat all up. These were partly accepted and partly
rejected, and potatoes scouted because _people are sick of the name
of potatoes_. ‘Suppose another famine, my Lord, what will those
persons then think who are now sick of potatoes?’

It stands over for the Board. The whole idea is stark, staring
folly; it will cost 250_l._ a year, and the harvest well deserved
ridicule.

_April 11._—Last Wednesday, Lord Carrington took me into his room
and told me that his brother having the loan, he had spoken to him
to write me down for 500_l._; and that the rise having been 4 per
cent. he had directed it to be sold, and it would produce me 200_l._
clear of charges. I thanked him much. Such a thing never entered my
thoughts, and consequently surprised me much. It was very kind and
considerate, and I am certainly much obliged to him for it. Next
evening he sent for me, and gave me a draft on Smith and Payne,
221_l._ 17_s._ 6_d._, for the rise was 4½ per cent. I was thankful
to God for this, and meditated much on it. If God had not been
willing it would not have entered his head, and I find it
comfortable to attribute everything to God, as, indeed, everything
ought certainly to be attributed, and the more we trust entirely to
Him the better I am persuaded it is for us. This is the first
lottery for many years that I have been out of, but meeting with a
passage in some of Scott’s things against lotteries I would not put
in, or have anything to do with it. If God pleases to give me money
He has a thousand ways of doing it, and in these reflections I have
had hard work to guard my mind against the temptation to consider it
in the light of a reward which would be vile where there is no
merit, no desert. I offend too daily and hourly to deserve anything
but wrath at His hands, and this I cannot dwell on too much or too
deeply. But for two years past of His infinite goodness He has made
all money matters very favourable to me, and I thank Him for an
uninterrupted stream of His bounty without let or hindrance, and
this notwithstanding my sensual mind and many offences. I cannot be
too grateful for so much goodness, and I pray Him to give me grace
to be kind and charitable to others while He is so good to me. I
think of these things with fear and trembling, lest they should
throw my mind and conduct into an improper train.

Of late I have been ruminating on a short publication against the
Deists, to consist merely of an attack on them to show the
difficulties and absurdities of their system; it will consist
chiefly of extracts. I have read Bogue,[217] and Fuller and
Berkeley’s[218] ‘Minute Philosopher,’ and Leslie,[219] but none of
them come up to my idea. It should be unmixed with a defence of
Christianity, which should come in by way of appendix. I cannot get
it out of my head, and shall certainly attempt it; the worst is I
must read their works (_i.e._ of the Deists, &c.), which is bad, but
I shall not do it without prayer to God to fortify me against their
sophistries and delusions.

Yesterday morning I hoped and expected to leave London, but Lord
Pelham, Secretary of State, has sent us the returns of acres cropped
last year from the clergy of the Kingdom, and so a Committee to-day,
and to-morrow Good Friday; for Saturday I have taken places. Thus,
after twelve weeks in London, I lose four days. Very unlucky, and
very disagreeable, and for such nonsense as disgraces common sense.
He wrote a circular letter to all the clergy of the Kingdom last
June for this purpose, and from 10,000 parishes received accounts
from about a half. Precious ones, to be sure! A very probable matter
that the farmers would give the number of acres sown with every sort
of grain to the parsons; such attempts degrade Government in the
eyes of the people. What opinion can they have of men’s abilities
who expect thus to gain such facts?

I was in danger of returning to London without one entry in this
Journal, but going up to wipe my dear Bobbin’s book has thrown my
mind into a fit of melancholy that I know not how easily to get rid
of; yet will it go too soon? I have been whitewashing the house,
cleaning about it, and keeping all things in pretty good order to do
justice to the place as well as I am able; but my dear child’s
recollection brings forcibly to my heart the impression that it is
the will of God I should have hardly any chance of this prosperity
being kept in my family. My son has no children, nor likely to have
any. Mary, no chance of marrying, so that my posterity ends with the
next generation. The will of God be done, but human vanity and
feelings will rise in the bosom, and they cannot rise without these
unpleasant ideas forcing themselves into my mind. Bradfield has been
ours 200 years, and I should have liked that my name and family
might here have continued. But God has punished me for my sins; I
can have nothing at His hands that I do not deserve. Blessed be His
holy Name, be it my endeavour to submit to His will with resignation
and cheerfulness.

Betsy and O. dined with me on Tuesday, but the day so bad I could
not show her the round garden, which was got in very neat order. I
have had a letter from the Duke of Liancourt in which he speaks of
coming to England. I wrote to advise him against it, for he would, I
fear, be very ill received. The Duke of Grafton read me a letter
expressed in most indignant terms on the passage relative to him and
his family in Mons. de Liancourt’s travels.[220] The new Duke of
Bedford writes to desire me, in very kind terms, to go to the Woburn
sheep-shearing; asks it as a sort of favour. I had some very fine
days on coming down, but of late the weather has been cold, damp,
and melancholy, but I never come without wishing to live here
constantly. I cannot help wishing it, but I hope without
discontent—that would be black ingratitude to God. He fixes me where
I am; all, all things I am well persuaded come from His Almighty
hand, and therefore a cheerful submission is one great article of a
religious life. I brought down linen for the poor, but the number
that want, and I cannot relieve, is melancholy: I think I have fixed
straw work here, for above twenty-five have learned, and my
splitting machines are all distributed. Some days since I sent off
to Dunstable the first product of their work, and hope I shall have
a good sale for the poor children.

_June 1: London._—I keep this Journal as I do everything else, lest
good purposes be turned aside by trifles and want of resolution.
This is the thanksgiving-day; and last night was the Union
masquerade, and the coaches are now (5 A.M. in the morning)
rattling, and one fool in some monkey dress has walked by my
windows.

A letter from the Duke of Bedford asking me to go to Woburn, which I
shall do, and then I hope to Holkham, where Mr. Coke will take me in
his coach——and there I am on my ground for the survey of Norfolk;
but it is not yet decided whether I am to do it. It is a duty I owe
to God to use the vacation in the best manner I can, but I can ill
afford to travel at my own expense, determined as I am, if possible,
to pay 700_l._ of debts.

I should like to make a long journey in enquiries concerning the
poor; I know not what would be best, and have prayed to God to guide
me, but I am utterly displeased with myself in my religious
pursuits. My mind is sensual, and my progress slow; may the mercy of
the Almighty be shed on me in grace to mend. I have planned a new
work, ‘Deism Delineated,’ and made some progress, but do not please
myself. It must be done gradually as I read, and my time is fully
occupied with many pursuits.

Post to Chesterford, and having received a letter from the present
Duke of Bedford requesting me to meet Lord Somerville and Mr. Coke
at Woburn in order to consult upon the best means of carrying the
late Duke’s intentions into execution, especially in relation to the
sheep-shearing, I set off accordingly, and got to Woburn at night,
where I found Lord Somerville and Mr. Coke, and we considered the
matter as well as the late Duke’s proposals to breeders. At the
meeting the Duke’s attention was very pleasing, for he had great
solicitude to arrange everything down to the minutest trifles in
exactly the same manner as his brother had done on former occasions.

Before dinner, the first day, he came up to me and said, ‘Mr. Y., I
beg you will take your old seat, and preside at one end of the
table, for which purpose I have ordered a servant to keep your
chair.’ Everyone remarked the extreme attention of the duke that all
the business of the meeting should be well conducted.

_12th._—Heartily tired of London, and the scenes I have endured at
home. I left town, and took Betsy’s new chaise, which I had bought
for her (170 guineas) for Chesterfield, where her whole family were.
It was a hurrying day.

Next morning, Sunday, to church, and in the afternoon, contrary to
many feelings, to Baldock. No post-chaise to be had, so went on in
my whisky to Shefford, then post to Woburn by particular desire of
the Duke of Bedford, to concert matters with Lord Somerville and Mr.
Coke for the shearing business. It was 11 P.M. at night before I
arrived; nobody there except they and Cartwright.

On the Thursday, with Mr. Coke and Mr. Talbot, in Coke’s chaise to
Brandon, and on Friday morning to Holkham.

Farmed on Saturday and too much on Sunday, so here have been two
Lord’s days profaned. How difficult it is to be in the world and
preserve oneself uncontaminated by common practices! At church,
however, in the morning.

The sheep-shearing the four following days, at which I had never
been before. He does it handsomely; 200 dined on plate.

The dinner better than at Woburn, I think from vicinity to the sea,
which gives plenty of fish.

At the Holkham meeting, had I entertained my former feelings of
pride and discontent, I should not have been too well pleased, for
Mr. C. was personally civil and attentive; and yet he took not the
smallest public opportunity of mentioning me, the Board, my report,
or anything about it, though the occasion certainly called in reason
for it. Once this would have mortified me, but now I value such
matters not a straw. May God permit me to do my duty to Him, and as
to what men think of me, I regard it less than the idle wind. I went
to bed every night directly after coffee, between 9 and 10 P.M., and
was up between 3 and 4 A.M.

[In London] at Mrs. Montagu’s.—Sir Sidney not there; Ryder, the
Privy Councillor, and his brother and Montagu, had been at Paris,
and we had little conversation except on Bonaparte, &c. They
contended that every scrap of land is cultivated and much that was
waste. Sir F. combated the idea, and urged reports of prefects,
speeches, &c., as proving rents sunk, price of land fallen, produce
as four to six, population lessened, and the price of labour risen,
&c. &c. The last no proof of decline.

Ryder, on corn, observed that the same fact of wheat being dearer in
peace than in war is found in the French prices annexed to
Arnold.[221]

They would not be introduced to Bonaparte. Fox had much conversation
with him, and he plainly urged the fact that Wyndham was concerned
in the infernal machine, asserting that he had the proof. Sir F.
says that this proof was one George, being much with W., and
afterwards going on the expedition to Quiberon. A party was taken
amongst whose papers (on the arrests for the infernal machine) were
letters on that conspiracy to or from George, which combination was
Bonaparte’s _proof_. The Government, [he says, is] the completest
military despotism that ever was in the world.

At the theatre some Frenchmen finding Montagu was English, spoke
much of me; and said they wanted of all things that I should come
and examine France a second time under the new _régime_.

Dined with Swirenove, the Russian chaplain of the embassy, greatly
employed by the nobility of that Empire in agricultural commissions.
Patterson, bailiff to Lord Hardwicke, is going to Russia, and left
me to make a bargain for him, which I did. He is to have 100 guineas
first year, and increasing 20 yearly till 200 guineas; 60 for his
son-in-law, and 20 for his daughter, and 25 for a ploughman. Count
Rostopchin, at Woronowo, near Moscow, who has an immense estate, is
the man. A Russian count there, Benwakin, I think, [he named] whose
peasants pay him 30 roubles a year; but paper money so multiplied
and at 50 per cent. discount, that all prices are greatly risen
nominally. The Emperor’s going to farm so largely has already had a
great effect in turning the attention of the nobility to it. My
annuity yesterday remitted from Ireland, 72_l._[222] Thank God for
that uninterrupted stream of His bounty which I have enjoyed of late
years without let or hindrance, and which my vile ingratitude
returns so badly.

Lord Winchilsea called yesterday, and sat an hour with me. He is, I
believe, one of the very best of the nobility, and a really
respectable moral character, and benevolent to the poor.

_August 22: Bradfield._—Here is a blank of many weeks, which shows
once more how difficult it is to keep journal resolutions. After a
long tour in Norfolk, which would have afforded much pleasure had
not business occupied all my time, I met Betsy and O. at Harleston,
on the 9th.

War much talked of. The militia calling out. These things, whatever
the event, are certainly God’s providences. His will be done. But
when I consider the almost universal vice and iniquity of the
kingdom, the amazing protection and blessings which have been
showered down on us, and the vile ingratitude to God which pervades
all ranks in an utter forgetfulness of Him, or contempt of His
judgments, I must own I tremble at the thought.

I have lived some time without making a will, which has been very
wrong. I am under such complex settlements that I do not understand
what power I have; and Gotobed’s draft was so full of law jargon,
that I understand nothing of it. I wait no longer, but have made one
plain and simple, and such as I hope, with the blessing of God, will
not nor can be misunderstood. I have disposed of what I have to the
best of my conscience, that is, if I was to die at Christmas. Here
is only 300_l._ to be made up by sale of timber, ‘Annals,’ &c. &c.,
but a farm auction would produce more than 900_l._, and rents are
always behind, some over due. I pray to God for better economy, and
much hope, by a fresh and careful attention to my farm and ‘Annals,’
to bring things speedily to a better account.

I forgot 100_l._ due to me from the Board for Norfolk Report, so
that I evidently leave enough for all demands, probably without
cutting any timber.

I have never lived so well with Mrs. Young as for five weeks past.

War! To look into futurity is idle. The event is in the Lord’s hand,
and will depend on the number and piety of true Christians amongst
us, and not be governed by fleets and armies. France is so
unprepared at sea, that no war ever opened in that respect with
better prospects. But this is the arm of flesh, and may mark the
vanity of all trust in such circumstances.

The following letter to A. Y. may fitly close the chronicle of this
year:

                                          ‘Drinkstone: Dec. 8, 1803.

  ‘Sir,—A letter from Lord Euston to Sir Charles Davers recommends
  that in case of invasion all horses and draft cattle that cannot
  be driven out of the reach of the enemy be shot; and that all the
  axle-trees or wheels of all carriages likely to fall into the
  enemy’s hands be broken, the fullest assurance being given of
  complete indemnification, provided no horses, draft cattle, or
  carriages of any description fall into their hands through
  negligence or want of proper exertion on the part of the owners.

  ‘All other stock is to be left for the use of the troops, unless
  there be evident danger it may fall into the invader’s hands, in
  which case the measures formerly determined upon must be resorted
  to.

                     ‘I am, Sir,
                                 ‘Your obedient humble servant,
                                                    ‘JOSHUA GRIGBY.’

-----

Footnote 200:

  _The Elements of Agriculture._

Footnote 201:

  Mrs. Oakes, _née_ Betsy Plampin.

Footnote 202:

  _A Collection of Theological Tracts_, by the Bishop of Llandaff, 6
  vols.

Footnote 203:

  This seems to have been an anticipation of table-turning.

Footnote 204:

  Samuel Horsley, born 1733, died 1806, Bishop of St. Asaph’s, St.
  David’s, and Rochester; celebrated for his controversy with Dr.
  Priestley.

Footnote 205:

  The _Anti-Jacobin_, or _Weekly Examiner_, was started by Canning,
  J. H. Frere, and others; the editor was W. Gifford. It ran from
  November 20, 1797, to July 9, 1798.

Footnote 206:

  I print this as written, but can find no allusion in works of
  reference to the circumstance mentioned.

Footnote 207:

  C. de l’Héritier, born 1746, died 1800; botanist, and member of
  the Académie des Sciences.

Footnote 208:

  Cornelia Knight, author of _Dinarbas_, a continuation of
  _Rasselas_, 1790, and other works.

Footnote 209:

  Celebrated French geologist. Accompanied Napoleon to Egypt; on his
  return was taken prisoner and confined at Messina by the King of
  Sicily; on peace being made with Naples was liberated.

Footnote 210:

  Robert Smith, son of a banker at Nottingham; M.P. for that town
  from 1770 to 1796; supporter and friend of Pitt; raised to the
  Irish peerage in 1796, to the English peerage in 1797.

Footnote 211:

  Mrs. Orbell Oakes, the beautiful Betty Plampin of former
  flirtations, is ‘the friend’ henceforth constantly alluded to.

Footnote 212:

  Isaac Milner, 1751-1820, son of a poor weaver (brother of the no
  less remarkable Joseph Milner), Dean of Carlisle, and Professor of
  Mathematics at Cambridge.

Footnote 213:

    John Russell, sixth Duke, ‘the great Duke of Bedford,’ who did
    so much for agriculture, and in 1830 rebuilt Covent Garden
    Market at a cost of 40,000_l._ Died 1839.

Footnote 214:

  J. Overton, officer in the Excise; made telescopes, and had a
  private press, where he printed books, mostly theological. Died
  1838. See _Annual Register_ for that year.

Footnote 215:

  L. W. Otto, Count of Morlay, was a German diplomatist in the
  French service, and lived 1752-1817. See Didot, _Biographie
  Universelle_.

Footnote 216:

  This was not, perhaps, impossible. See the following note from the
  _Daily News_ Paris correspondent three or four years ago:

  ‘An account of Napoleon I.’s visit to Breda in 1810 is now
  appearing, for the first time, in the _Débats_, and is deeply
  interesting. It will be seen that Napoleon I. at the zenith of his
  power was on the point of becoming a Protestant.

  ‘The Emperor, after receiving several Deputies, went up to the
  Catholic Vicar, who had written a speech, and proceeded to read
  it. The Emperor, without replying, asked where were the Protestant
  ministers. Then M. Ten Oever, in his robes, followed by the entire
  Protestant clergy, was presented by the Prince de Wagram, and read
  an address. The Emperor remarked with satisfaction that the
  Protestant ministers wore their robes. Then, turning to the Roman
  Catholic clergy, he asked, “How is it that you are not wearing
  your frocks? What! I come to a Department [Holland had been
  annexed to France] where the majority are Catholics, who were
  formerly oppressed, and who have received more liberty from the
  King, my brother, and myself, and your first act is to show me
  disrespect! I have always found my Protestants faithful subjects.
  I have six thousand at Paris and eight hundred thousand in my
  empire, and I have no cause for complaint against a single one.
  Fools that you are! _If the Concordat had not been accepted by the
  Pope, I should have turned Protestant, and thirty million
  Frenchmen would have followed my example._ [The italics are my
  own.] You have calumniated Protestants, representing them as men
  teaching principles contrary to the rights of sovereigns. I have
  no better subjects. They serve in my palace in Paris. It was not
  Luther, nor Calvin, but the German princes who declined to submit
  to your fanatical yoke. The English were quite right to part
  company with you. You would like to set up scaffolds and stakes,
  but I will prevent you. All authority comes from God.”’

Footnote 217:

  D. Bogue, D.D., _On the Divine Authority of the New Testament_,
  1801.

Footnote 218:

  Bishop of Cloyne, _Alciphron; or, the Minute Philosopher_, 1732.

Footnote 219:

  C. Leslie, died 1722, author of _The Rehearsals: Tracts against
  the Deists and Socinians_, 4 vols.

Footnote 220:

  _Voyage en Amérique_, 2 vols. 1800. It seems that the French
  _émigrés_, after being most hospitably treated in England, showed
  little return in the way of graciousness. See _Letters of Maria
  Josepha Holroyd_; also the _Jerningham Letters_.

Footnote 221:

  Ambrose Marie Arnault, French economist, 1750-1812. See Vapereau.

Footnote 222:

  See Chap. IV. ‘Ireland,’ for this curious bargain, by which A. Y.,
  instead of a sum total of 700_l._, in 1776 was to receive 72_l._
  per annum!

-----




                               CHAPTER XV
                         APPROACHING BLINDNESS
                               1804-1807

A great preacher—Arthur Young the younger goes to Russia—Cowper’s
    Letters—Mrs. Young’s illness—Dr. Symonds—Novel reading—Skinner’s
    ‘State of Peru’—Death of Pitt—Burke’s publishing
    accounts—Literary projects—Approaching blindness.


_February 24._—The sins of a journal are like those of life, much
offence and a little repentance, minutes applied and months
neglected. Last night, for the first time in my life, I was at a
religious conversazione. Mr. Fry has it once a fortnight.

Mrs. Wilberforce and thirty more, I suppose, began with singing a
hymn, and then a prayer, and ended in the same manner; the subject
discussed was Providence. Scott, Macaulay, and Fry were the only
speakers except myself, who threw in a word or two in a bad manner
and not in unison; but I went without preparing the temper of my
mind, and it proved to me a mere temptation to sin, as everything is
sure to do when we trust in our own strength and do not pray for
divine assistance. I like the thing itself much, and the
recollection since it passed has produced in my mind a degree of
humiliation which might not have been in it had I not gone there. I
wished to touch on the state of the King’s health, where the hand of
God is so evident; but they would attend only to little and private
things, and probably were right. They made every possible event, the
most trivial, providential. Scott is a predestinarian, but impresses
the necessity of attending to the _means_ by which God acts as much
as if the divine decrees were not universal. The next subject is
Temptation.

_May 22._—My dear friend[223] at Bradfield writes me in a most
melancholy strain, on the ill success of her husband’s farming. I
doubt I shall lose largely by a scheme which was executed merely to
keep him out of greater mischief.

The new Bishop of Bristol is in dress and manners much like what we
call in Suffolk a leather breeches parson.

Somebody called on Mrs. Pelham, and found her lying on a sofa
reading a novel, rouged as much as any Madame la Marquise. They
thought she seemed to be too high flown to be asked to a sober party
of whist. What a gradation of evil amongst the worldly even in the
_respectable_ (_soi-disant_) class.

An application from Phillips for another edition of the ‘Farmer’s
Calendar.’ He printed 2,000 of the fifth, and 1,200 sold in a month;
they will all be gone before it can be reprinted. I had 100_l._ for
that edition, 40_l._ more for this six months after publication, and
in future 25_l._ each succeeding one.

How grateful I ought to be, but am not, to God for a success which
has smoothed many difficulties, and enabled me much to lessen, in
assistance to other circumstances, my debts. The sale is an
extraordinary one.

What would be with me the result of moral reflections and trust in
human means, in the power of a vile heart to cure its own
iniquities? I have a conviction amounting to sensation in its truth,
that everything but looking unto Jesus is weaker than water—vain and
frivolous. This is the grand consideration, result, and object of
religion in the soul, all beside is wide of the mark and without
power and efficacy. Oh, my God, my God! write these truths in my
soul, impress them in my heart, that by communion with Thee I may by
Thy grace be purified, washed, and cleansed from every evil thought.
Blessed be Thy Holy Name for keeping me from _acts_ of sin. Oh! have
mercy on my mind and take away every _thought_ of it.

I shall have to experience another temptation, and should be
preparing for it. I have little doubt but Lord Carrington will be
again President of the Board. He likes not me, and I shall be much
more uncomfortable than I have been with Lord Sheffield; but such
changes, if they happen, will be from the Lord, for nothing is so
idle as for a Christian to suppose that anything takes place by
chance.

I do not mean to leave town till the Woburn meeting, but I am
restless, and want to get away. This is a common folly, and ought
carefully to be checked. It is the spirit that wastes half a life,
ever looking to a future moment and never enjoying the present,
which is that alone that is truly our own.[224]

There is not a more valuable lesson than to learn how to apply every
portion of time to use, and not to suffer the expectation of, or
waiting for, any future moment to make the intermediate ones
tiresome or unpleasant. It is wasting life and time that is never to
return.

Yesterday, at 7 P.M., I dined with Mr. Anson—a farming party: Duke
of Bedford, Earl of Galloway, Earl of Albemarle, Lord Somerville,
Sir Robert Lowley, Sir John Wrottesley, Mr. Coke, Mr. Motteaux, Mr.
Child, Sir G. Pigot, Mr. Western, Mr. Wilbraham, all M.P.’s or in
high life.

Nothing but a farming conversation makes the company of these people
proper for me to have anything to do with; and that it is not to be
conceived how little they know on the subject, considering it’s a
favourite pursuit. Such great fortunes and a life of luxury and
bustle and motion are hostile to every kind of knowledge; and the
conversation abounds with information for those who watch for and
have a memory to retain it, yet it demands a good deal of knowledge
previously digested and arranged to make a due use of it. A splendid
house, one of the best in London; magnificent furniture, plate,
servants, wines, and everything, equal to 30,000_l._ or 40,000_l._ a
year, but he has no such income.

I have—I think I have—no envy of these doings. Such situations are
so hostile to the religious principle that ought to animate the
soul, that I should think of them with fear and trembling. I hate
parties, and my heart condemns me whenever I go to them, in which
not a word ever occurs to give God the glory due to His Holy Name,
which is sometimes profaned but never honoured, where Grace before
and after meat is discarded. And this is a sort of denial of Christ
which gives me no slight disquiet and remorse, and ought entirely to
banish me from all such company; it works in me, and I cordially
hope it will soon produce that effect, for the pleasure I receive is
little and the offence to God I fear is much. ‘Come out from among
them and touch not the unclean thing,’ is applicable to more cases
than I have applied it to. I am determined to go only to Woburn this
year and not to Holkham; four days of noise and bustle are too much,
I will get away in three; but a whole fortnight is horrible. I will
get to Cambridge by Saturday, and I hope Jane will meet me there to
spend Sunday, and perhaps Monday, with Simeon, and make him promise
to meet Fry at Bradfield. Yesterday and this day hurry, bustle,
packing up, paying bills, and recollection on the stretch lest
anything should be forgotten. Wrote to Cordell, the bookseller, to
settle with me for the Irish Tour. It has been years out of print,
and the last settlement in 1795. I have half the sale; 154 were then
left, my half, 30_l._ at least, and it never came into my head
before. Very careless indeed, and in money to receive! Such busy
days are unpleasant because both mind and body are fatigued.

_18th_ at Woburn. Came with Lord Sheffield yesterday. I detest this
profanation of the Sabbath, but he urged me so to accompany him that
I yielded like a fool. A great dinner, Lords Albemarle, Ossory,
Ludlow, Duke of Manchester, Sir H. Fetherstone, Sir R. Pigot, the
Wilbrahams, &c., twenty in all. Several apartments newly furnished,
and many very expensive articles, clocks, &c., from Paris to the
amount of 2,000_l._ Much done to the greenhouse, and everywhere a
profusion of expense. The late rains have given a fine verdure, and
the place in full beauty. Such a flow of worldly blessings as are
seen in one of these very great residences makes me melancholy when
I reflect on the immense temptation and dreadful responsibility that
attaches. What have not these people to answer for if they forget
the Giver in the profusion of His gifts? and where am I to go to
find a great house and establishment with a society and conversation
that shows the Gospel of our Lord to be held in reverence and
affection?

This poor Duke of Bedford, whose nominal income is so enormous,
will, I fear, involve himself with the same imprudence. Cartwright
has built him a steam engine (700_l._) for threshing and grinding:
12 per cent. interest in the least to be calculated, or 84_l._, and
yet a one-horse mill, price 50_l._, would thresh all the corn that
will ever be brought to this yard.

An extravagant duchess, Paris toys, a great farm, little economy,
and immense debts, will prove a canker in all the rosebuds of his
garden of life. The providence of the Almighty governs all, and will
not permit an utter forgetfulness of Him to produce even the
temporal happiness which is alone sought for.

I am tired of the whole, and long for the retirement and quiet of
Bradfield after so many weeks of London, and this finishing of hurry
and bustle. I would not have another week of it for a hundred
pounds. What has a Christian to do with such scenes? How a person of
fortune and the world can be one I know not. They are never cool,
and have no time for reading or thought. It is madness to continue
in such a state, but to travel 120 miles in order to enter a fresh
scene of it, and perhaps within earshot of such a profane beast and
fool as that Captain G. I sat near last year—this would be insanity.
What a spectacle at Woburn was that miserably swearing profligate,
Major B., of Sussex, at the age of eighty-one, sticking to the last
moment to worldly dissipation, and utterly regardless of what is to
become of him hereafter. Like Lord Lauderdale, who declared that he
feared nothing in this world nor in the next either! These people
call themselves Deists; I think they must be atheists, or they are
utterly in contradiction to themselves. It is a sin, and ought to be
repented of, to go into such company. I feel myself here, looking on
the tranquil bosom of the Ouse, as having escaped from a
multiplicity of temptations, and that this is the first moment of my
summer holidays, quiet and alone. This morning I had a letter from
Jane, by which I find it is quite uncertain whether I shall meet her
at Cambridge. She asks my directions, but had she thought, must have
known that she could not receive an answer in time. I hope to hear
Simeon[225] twice on Sunday, and much wish that she may be there, as
I wrote before to request it; and she says she should like it of all
things.

_24th: Cambridge._—I dined here yesterday. Inquired for that great
and good man, Simeon, but he was not to be in town till the evening.
I walked behind Trinity and John’s, &c., twice—a delightful day.
Wrote and left a letter for him; at nine he came, and will certainly
meet Fry at Bradfield. Thank God! I shall hear him twice to-day and
Mr. Thomason once, for I shall go thrice to Trinity Church. I
mentioned Fry’s calculation of three millions of Christians; but he
very properly thought it very erroneous. He thinks Cambridge a fair
average, and in 10,000 people knows but of 110 certainly vital
Christians—more than 150 can scarcely be from a seventy-fifth to a
hundredth part therefore! There are, I am rejoiced to hear it, many
very pious young men in the colleges.

_Night._—I have been at Trinity Church thrice to-day. In the morning
a very good sermon by Simeon, a decent one by Thomason, and in the
evening to a crowded congregation a superlative discourse by Simeon
on the twelfth verse of chapter iv. of the Acts: ‘There is no other
name under heaven,’ &c. Vital, evangelical, powerful, and impressive
in his animated manner.

_Sunday, July 8: Bradfield._—This day se’nnight took the Sacrament
with Jane at Bury, suddenly, and therefore without any preparation,
and got there in the Lessons. The week has been vile and miserable.
Fry cannot come, but had a letter from Simeon, he will be here
to-morrow! O Lord, of Thy mercy give a blessing to his presence,
that conversation and prayer with him may give a turn to my mind!
Were it not for what I think a firm faith in the Cross of my
Redeemer, I should think that I was almost in the jaws of hell. But
if I perish it shall be looking at the brazen serpent. Fiery
serpents innumerable bite; let me turn instantly to the Cross, and
there see and trust to the blood of sprinkling. What should I have
thought of this before my conversion? Is it true and saving faith
now to think and feel it—or rather to know it in my understanding
than feel it in my heart? I am full of apprehensions, and the only
sign of spiritual life in me is some sense and feeling of my own
iniquity and the plague of my carnal thoughts; but if they were
truly a load to me, would not the Lord ease me of the burden?

_10th._—Yesterday, Simeon came. His character singular. His
piety—his strong expressions—his fervency in prayer—a powerful mind!

_13th._—Simeon went this morning. I have been horribly negligent in
not writing down many of his conversations. What he thinks of me I
know not, but he spoke to Jane with great freedom and candour, and
as became a good Christian.

His abilities are considerable, his parts strong, his ardour and
animation uncommonly great. His eloquence great, and his manner
impressive. His prayers admirably adapted to the cases of all who
heard him. He came with a servant and two very fine horses, on which
he places a high value. From his life and expenses must have a
considerable income; for his preferment is only expense, and costs
him more than he receives from it. His fellowship is as good as 400
guineas a year to him. He must have a very good private fortune,
from some circumstances, as I judge, which he dropped in
conversation. He went to Cambridge from Eton and became a Christian
on the third day, now about twenty-five or twenty-six years ago.
During all which time he has never doubted of his future salvation.
He is remarkably cheerful and has much wit, or something nearly
allied to it.

I wrote to N. H., requesting his pulpit for Sunday, but he refused
it; and after church apologised, saying it was not from himself, but
he was _talked to_.

Oh! for the dumb dogs of our clergy who will neither preach the
Gospel themselves nor let others do it. I told him that my request
was to him a safe one, for I asked, of course, only for a
regularly bred clergyman, and who possessed preferment in the
national church. Very unlucky! Symonds dined here, and his
conversation never does any good. He explained his chance for
salvation in the merits alone of Jesus Christ, but denies original
sin. This seems a contradiction; I would not think so for a
thousand worlds! How can he be sensible of what he wants in the
blood of the Saviour without knowing the utter depravity of his
heart?

Tuesday morning, C. Coke, of Holkham, Allen, and Moore called on me
to see the farm, and would have me dine with them at Moore’s. Haunch
of venison, &c. Mrs. M. young, and in the worldly sphere very
agreeable; her dress horrid. She contrives to force out her
prominent bust in a manner that must take no small attention in
dressing, is very big with child, and thinly clad; such a figure is
common in these times, but the fashion is contrived purposely.

Mr. Smirenove came last night to dinner, and brought Count
Rostopchin’s snuff-box. It is turned in his own oak, lined with
gold, and has a tablet containing the representation of a building
dedicated to me. The inscription in Russian, _A Pupil to his
Master_, set round with sixty-six diamonds. Query—Should not all
such toys be turned into money and given to the poor? He was Prime
Minister under Paul, and has 50,000_l._ English per annum.

On Monday I breakfasted, dined, and slept at Lord Bristol’s; Lady B.
and her sister, Miss Upton, sung Italian airs till twelve o’clock at
night. They were many years ago a horrible temptation, now [they
are] a frivolous waste of time, but ever a bad tendency on the
heart. Pressed me greatly to stay; but I was engaged next day to
dinner at Gooch’s, and yesterday I dined at Betsy’s. All this
visiting is very bad for my soul.

Friday I dined again at Lord Bristol’s, by desire of the Oakes, as
they expected meeting none they knew, but there were several. Music
in the evening, slept there; in the morning, at Bury, met Benjafield
on justice business. He wanted to commit a woman for being a lewd
woman, on the statute of King James, by which it can only be for a
year; if this was executed, all the prisons in the county would not
hold them, and the time is far too severe; nor do I conceive that
the case comes within it. I declined, and desired they might be
heard on Wednesday, as appeared the week before. I go on in
repentance miserably, my heart is cold, and I am languid in
devotion. Oh, could I sufficiently hate and abhor myself!!

_November 2._—If I go ten yards from home it can be only into the
world, and therefore I never move but for mischief. I have every
post a packet of letters from Lord Sheffield, filling the tables and
for many hours employment every day. There seems to be no great
reason for apprehending any famine, or even such a scarcity as
before, but the price must be too high for the poor, without being
half high enough for the farmer: I mean of wheat, the crop of which
is full as bad as it has been for ten years past, but there is a
stock in hand which will keep it down.

_December 30._—I went to London on account of the Smithfield Club
and there received the first Bedford medal of the Bath Society for
an essay on the Nature and Properties of Manures, there being four
other candidates. At London also I dined with M. de Novosilikoff, a
particular friend of the Emperor Alexander, who is here on a
political mission of great importance.

Davidson, who manages the Emperor’s farm, and Smirenove were
present; their plan at present is to have reports of their
Governments made upon the same system as ours, of counties, and Mr.
de N. talked much of the great advantage of my going. I would not
offer myself, but said that the whole would depend on the sort of
men employed. Since I came down I wrote to Smirenove, offering
Arthur (by his own desire), provided the sum granted for the purpose
was adequate.

De N. was out of town, so no answer yet.

The attention I give to all these worldly matters, though they do
not sit at all close to my heart, yet occupy too much of my time.

I do not give enough to the far greater interests of the eternal
world; and I have been for months past, and am at present, in a
dead, sinful state, remote from the only God of hope and
consolation.

His mercy to me is great, for I have life and health. I am not in
hell; but I find a horrible difficulty in coming to God, and a
deadness of heart which hurts my prayers and plunges me more and
more in sin and offence.

O Lord, of Thy mercy listen unto me. Oh! look with compassion on my
wretchedness.

_1805. Jan. 30._—The 19th I came to London; the 23rd breakfasted
with Mr. Novosilikoff, and made my proposals of terms on which
Arthur would go to Russia, having before received a letter from
Smirenove announcing an entire approbation in Mr. N. of my son for
the expedition. The terms were that he and his wife should go by
land, getting out hence the beginning of March, in order to be at
Moscow the beginning of May; that is, if out a year he should have a
thousand pounds, and proportionably for a longer time, and all his
expenses paid to, at, and from Russia. He came into it readily, and
when the conversation was over, Mr. Davidson, who was present, said,
‘Well, now it seems all settled, and it only remains to know where
Mr. Y. is to be supplied with money for his journey.’ Mr. de N. said
Mr. Smirenove would be directed to advance it.

Reflecting afterwards on this conversation, I thought that some
admission of the terms in writing should be obtained, as in case of
deaths or revolutions they might be questioned; I therefore wrote to
Mr. de N., recapitulating the terms on both sides and begging to
know if I was correct.

No answer was returned; but Lord Somerville, calling on me two days
after, mentioned in conversation that be had recommended a Mr.
Green, who had farmed in Normandy, and been seven years in a French
prison, of which he had published an account, to Mr. de N. to go to
Russia to survey a government, hinting at the same time his
knowledge that my son was in contemplation also. He said that G. had
breakfasted with de N., who was much pleased with him.

All this awakens suspicions in my mind that, combined with the
silence of Mr. de N., make it apparently necessary to know how we
really stand, and I determined to write to Smirenove requesting that
he would speak to Mr. de N., as any uncertainty was unpleasant,
while my son was actually arranging his farm, &c., for his
departure. This I have now done, and shall send it before breakfast,
for no answer is yet come.

I do not like the complexion of the business, but think it likely
that Green speaking French, which will save the necessity of Jane
going as an interpreter, and perhaps his taking one or two hundreds
instead of 1,000_l._, may have induced de N. to think again of the
matter.

I have prayed earnestly to the Lord that He would prevent the
journey taking place if it would turn out in any way injurious to
the state of their souls, putting the matter entirely in His
Almighty hands, and determining to rest assured that if it does not
take place, it will be the Lord’s will, and that I should be
thankful for His interference to prevent it.

The government of Moscow which A. was to have done is thirteen times
as big as Norfolk. It would take two years to do it well without any
doubt. A. is much disappointed, for he liked the thoughts of the
scheme much.

I threw out in conversation with N. that if the business of the
Board would permit, and they approved it, I would go over in June,
and stay till November to assist in the work; that I should ask only
my expenses. He seemed much to approve of this, but it was mentioned
only as a contingency. Here the matter rests. I shall know soon what
the event will be.

Many things have had a very lowering aspect of late, the ‘Annals’
with Phillips are certainly at an end. They do not answer with him,
and he has demurred at settling the account, with 100_l._ or more
due to me. This will be a loss of 180_l._ a year. My plan is to
print four numbers a year on my own account, for the sake of selling
old stock; by this I shall lose 40_l._ more. In Ar.’s (Arthur’s)
farm the rent will be sunk from last Michaelmas 20_l._ a year, and I
am engaged to pay Noxford 20_l._ a year more tithe. This year the
Exchequer annuity of 150_l._ a year ceases.

On the whole here is full 400_l._ a year loss of income, which will
be very distressing if every expenditure be not pared down in a most
economical manner. May the Lord’s mercy give me grace to be steady
and determined in this matter, for it is a most important one. I
have very little to suffer personally in the reduction, for the
expenses do not run that way, but comforts must be cheerfully
lessened.

_Feb. 3._—No answer came from Novosilikoff; I wrote therefore to
Smirenove, who replied last Friday that N. was gone to St.
Petersburg, that he had replied to my letter, and was surprised that
I had not received it; that he approved of all the contents of mine,
and had left orders with him to supply money.

This I despatched to A., who was become very uneasy and impatient.
So now the business seems concluded and the die cast, but may the
Lord prevent it taking place if it is to be productive of evil to
the eternal interests of either! I pray for this, may He hear my
prayers. I have little notion of comfort in anything that is
undertaken without consulting God, opening the business to Him, and
begging His direction how to proceed. I have had a letter from
Orbell’s[226] friend, who agrees to my terms of letting Ar.’s farm,
so, thank God, that is settled.

_17th._—Many difficulties have occurred relative to a post-chaise
for them. Brown has examined my old one and sent an estimate of the
repairs, 56_l._ Smirenove approved of it, but his second advice is
that it would not do. He proposed one of his, and letters backwards
and forwards. But yesterday I found one at Holmes’s in Long Acre,
built for a Mr. Lock to go to Malta, which will do exactly, and in
which they may have bedding and sleep at full length; a journeyman
said the price was 50 guineas. H. not at home, in the evening a
letter, and 70 guineas named.

I got up as always at 4 A.M., and have been reading and praying. Fry
last Sunday alluded to an apostate from the truth, and Wilberforce
asked him who it was, saying that of course he would not answer if
the question was improper.

It was Townsend,[227] of Wiltshire, the traveller in Spain, who
began his career quite in the style of Whitfield’s energy and
openness of declaring his principles in the fields or in barns, &c.
The Lansdown folks told him they could never make him a bishop with
such conduct or such principles; upon which he dropped the whole,
giving out to his friends that he only suspended his conduct and
meant to resume it at a better season. That never came, and he has
continued an apostate from all religion, and from having 200
communicants at his church, has now only two or three besides
himself and his clerk.

This miserably constituted Board of Agriculture is ever in a dilemma
when a new president is to be elected. Lord S. will keep it no
longer, and he is in a difficulty to propose another. He has written
to the Duke of Bedford, and I fear in a way that may make the duke
suppose that Government approves of it. Lord Carrington I suspected
intended to come in again, but he assures me that he would not.

_March 3._—I borrowed of Mr. Wilberforce, Owen[228] on ‘Indwelling
Sin,’ to which are annexed two other essays on Temptation and the
Mortification of Sin in Believers. The last work is incomparable,
chapter ix. of it perhaps the most useful paper ever written. I
have made many extracts from all three. The essay on Mortification
I meditate printing a new edition of, being out of print, to which
I could add notes that might be useful. The reading these
treatises has had an effect on my mind which I hope, with the
blessing of the grace of God, will produce a more serious
attention to the state of my heart with God than reading any book
has done since Wilberforce’s.

_April 20._—At Bradfield. Yesterday returned from Harwich. Arthur
and Jane went on board the ‘Diana’ packet, Capt. Stewart, Thursday,
the 18th, at 3 o’clock, and I have taken a long and melancholy
farewell of them! Oh! may Almighty God give His blessing to the
undertaking, and that we may all meet again in health and happiness.
But when the fearful uncertainty of all earthly events is
considered, such partings ought to be more melancholy than they are.
She felt much, and has a cordial affection for me.

The undertaking, thus employed by a foreign sovereign to make a
report of one of his provinces, is the first thing of the kind that
has occurred, and will either give Arthur a great reputation, or
sink that which he has gained. It is a very difficult work, however,
to produce a good book from a very ill-cultivated province, and in
the large experience of all our own reports we see that very few are
well executed; the object has either been ill understood or poorly
done, the surveyors deal in reflections instead of giving the
experience of individuals, yet the husbandry of a county is made up
of nothing else but private exertions. They do not half travel
[over] the districts, and do not take notes of the practice of one
hundredth part of those persons that might be applied to. Arthur
goes with every possible advantage except languages, I hope he will
exert them.

Bradfield is very melancholy without them. Jane was always cheerful,
always affectionate and kind to me, ever pleased with my presence,
and never parted from me but with regret. The loss of such a friend
with much conversation and an excellent understanding nothing human
can make amends for. It is a loss that ought to turn all my
attention and all my heart to that better world where parting,
sorrow, and death will find no place.

_24th._—Last night I slept at Bury, at the Oakes’, having walked
there in the morning and dined with them. It raised my low spirits a
little—but badly—for such company is mere dissipation.

On Monday morning, hankering after some sort of dissipation to
divert my melancholy, I fortunately recollected that Jane had left
Cowper’s Letters, and that I had not read the third volume. I got
it, and beginning knew not how to lay the book out of my hand, and
before night read the volume through. There is an uncommon charm in
his sentiments and his style; something that interests the heart
wonderfully. The religious passages are peculiarly valuable, and a
few struck me very much.

On the Sabbath he is extremely just. On turning the mind from
creation’s beauties to creation’s Author, the observation is fine;
his remarks on the life of dissipation at Brighton, beautiful; on
religion, page 106, on local attachments, on familiar communion with
God, on natural music, terminated by a most sublime passage—‘There
is somewhere in infinite space a world that does not roll within the
precincts of mercy; and as it is reasonable and even scriptural to
suppose that there is music in heaven, in those dismal regions
perhaps the reverse of it is found. Tones so dismal as to make woe
itself more insupportable, and to acuminate even despair!’ What a
striking thought! But how many are there that will believe in
neither hell nor devil, and what must their belief and feelings be
who, closing their ears here, open them to the sounds of such a
world as that! How many passages do we meet with in great authors
which seem sufficient to strike a reader’s mind to conviction and
conversion; yet read by thousands, perhaps admired, without the
smallest effect on the heart.

_25th._—A Mr. Cole called here to ask about passports for Russia. He
has hired 30,000 acres in the province of Minsk, which he is to have
with 300 boors, paying half the profits as rent. He was advised not
to take a grant of land, as it would cause a difficulty after it to
quit Russia. I must caution Arthur about this, for he may entangle
himself without being aware of it. In the melancholy, solitary
moments I pass here, I have been thinking of the many blessings the
Almighty has been graciously pleased to shower down upon me. First,
He gives me great health, at sixty-four, as good as at any time for
twenty years past, and much better than forty years ago. Secondly,
He has been pleased to leave me two children. Oh, that He would call
them to feel truly His faith, fear, and love! Thirdly, He has
granted me an ample income very far beyond what I had, upon entering
the world, the smallest reason to expect. I have many doubts of
money ever being a blessing, but that is owing to the receiver and
not to the giver, it certainly is that which might be made by grace
a very considerable one. Fourthly, He has given me the power of
being greatly useful to my country; it would be foolish not to
reckon that which I know beyond the possibility of vanity deceiving
me. Fifthly, He has given me a paternal estate and residence which I
greatly love and never wish to change. I could go on and reckon many
other things, but these are sufficient to call for a heartfelt and
deeply abiding gratitude. I ought to be able to add, that I am
miserable for want of feeling this as I should do; in truth I am in
this respect a brute beast devoid of everything that marks the
Christian and the penitent. O Lord, of Thy mercy soften this
obdurate heart by the grace of Jesus Christ! Fill it with contrition
for offences. Purify and renew it, bring it in holy faith to the
foot of the Cross, and make it feel its iniquities, till it be
changed and impressed with Thy holy image.

_26th._—I read the concluding entry of yesterday, and it struck me
that I had not thanked God for the friends He had given me, and this
made me muse for a while. Had I wrote before I became serious, how
warmly should I have thanked Him on this score! How it is with
others I know not, but with me religion has cooled, checked, or
annihilated those feelings; real friendship cannot be felt by a
Christian but to a Christian.

What surprises me much more is that I do not feel any very
striking advantage from the society of Christians. This I
attribute as a fault in myself, and dare say it is for want of
more grace and prayer. I love their company, and, some hankerings
apart, desire no other. I hope with God’s blessing to improve in
this respect—hitherto solitude has been my best friend. Here there
are none to be acquainted with but a very few poor people who are
never at their ease with me; and at London those I know are too
much engaged to see many more than for a moment. Going to bed at
nine o’clock prevents the society I might otherwise have there if
it were followed up.

_28th._—Symonds slept here the night before last and dined twice,
which obliged me to postpone more business than I otherwise should
have done. He told me one anecdote I had not heard before. In Lord
Bute’s administration, as his lordship told him himself, the King
settled with him to give the Royal Society 500_l._ a year for ever,
which was accordingly communicated, and to Lord Bute’s amazement
refused. On enquiry he found that the motive was an apprehension
that he should become too popular if it was accepted! Was ever such
folly heard of?

Another anecdote of Symonds. He dined last year at Sir C. Bunbury’s,
where he met the rich Mr. Mills, the brandy merchant, who bought
Mure’s estate, and who said he found my ‘Annals’ there, which were
good for nothing. ‘What, nothing good in them?’ said S. ‘No, nothing
at all.’ ‘That is unfortunate with so many correspondents. But if
the “Annals” are bad, have you read Mr. Y.’s travels?’ ‘Yes, and
very poor stuff they are.’ ‘That is still more unfortunate, for I
know that the Marshal de Castries and the late King of Prussia spoke
in the highest possible terms of them, and books in French by
respectable writers have been dedicated to Mr. Y. in consequence of
that publication.’ ‘I can see nothing in them.’

The next day he wrote Symonds a letter with many apologies, as he
understood that he had been talking to a gentleman who had
contributed much to the ‘Annals.’

So much for my rich neighbour.

Letters from London, and I am very sorry to find that my poor wife
is much worse. Nothing but bad news. Sir J. Banks writes me that Sir
J. Sinclair is to resume the chair of the Board under promises of
good behaviour. My wife’s miserable state is a much worse business.

_May 22._—I am entirely alone and not without melancholy. Worldly
people have a thousand resources, as I had once, but every atom of
them leads to mischief, and I am a thousand times better without
them. Lord Carrington the other day, speaking to Sir C. Willoughby
about his son going to school, said, ‘Oh, send him to a great one,
which will give him a manly character fit for the world, make him a
man of the world.’ So it is with these people; Jesus Christ tells us
to hate the world, and that what is in high estimation amongst men
is abomination in the eyes of God; but worldly men declare, and
think, and feel, and act, directly hostile to Scripture; they urge
one another and impress as respectable everything that God abhors.
Words cannot express a character more in contradiction to the
Christian than that which is meant by a _man of the world_.

_23rd._—I was awake at 2 A.M. and laid without sleep till 3 A.M. My
thoughts were not edifying, so I jumped out of bed, and having
prayed to the Father of mercies, I began with business. But the
train of thought I had been in came again and interrupted me; it was
upon the event of what would befall me as secretary to the Board. I
have many reasons for thinking that several of the members do not
like me, and should anything happen that gave them any handle, would
be glad to get rid of me. This was not the case when I was one of
themselves, but they know that I associate with religious people, go
to the Lock (a very black mark), and read the Bible, and now and
then words drop which I understand. Should Sir J. Sinclair become
president or Lord Carrington, they might make it very unpleasant to
me. Sir John is as poor as a church mouse, and would like well to
have his lodging here. Should my family lessen, it would be quite
unbearable, and if the idea was started, I must resist it, the
question would probably be lost, and then I should resign; this
would fix me in repose at Bradfield, and I should be to the full as
happy as at present, but my family would not, and then—all this is
very wild. I will have done with it for so much as I am persuaded
that everything is in the hands of God; nothing can be greater folly
than pretending thus to look forward, it is equally useless and
uncomfortable.

_June 3._—Since the last entry I have had letters from Jane and
Arthur at Berlin, where they seemed to have stayed a week. They had
been received with great politeness and attention by the Princess of
Holstein, Prince Baratinsky’s mother; had dined with her, and she
carried them to her villa; they had dined also with the English and
Russian Ambassadors, and been at Charlottenburg with Sir G. Rumbold.

I begin to be a little restless to get into the country.

_15th._—Bradfield. I got here the 6th, earlier than ever before or
since the institution of the Board, which is a great blessing. I
have managed to escape both Woburn and Holkham.

I have missed Jane terribly, but I have endeavoured to turn it to a
religious account. Poorly and weakly, but still better than not at
all. The weather has been bad, which has caused my taking less
exercise than is good for me, but blessed be God, my health is
excellent.

I have stuck close to my great work the ‘Elements,’ and have gone
through my own Norfolk report and the fourth volume of the Board
‘Communications.’ What an immense labour has it been, and for how
many years to collect and arrange materials. I could not have
conceived how much it is necessary to do before I can fairly say,
Now all is before me and in order, ready to compare and draw
conclusions.

I mean it to contain everything good that has ever been printed.
Till all that is collected and before me, how can I know what is
already done, and what wants to be added?

But the labour, when continued year after year, is what I never
dreamt of when I began. I have worked hard at the first
division—_Soils_, and brought it into some form; and it is a
specimen of how much attention every division will demand. I have
also began the second, on Vegetation. I fear making the work too
voluminous, and that by-and-by I must curtail greatly. Success is
pleasant, and I should fear that if it exceeded two large quartos.

Since I have been here I have read a little work of Flavel’s,[229]
‘A Saint indeed,’ which is truly admirable; some [passages] in
Marshall[230] on ‘Sanctification,’ and very many of Cowper’s
letters, all the religious ones.

_18th._—Cowper is invaluable to a country gentleman that would enjoy
his residence without the world’s assistance. Reading his letters
has made me more attentive to every beauty of this place, of which I
was always so fond; there is something very amiable in the manner in
which he converts every flower, tree, and twig to enjoyment, and I
walk out better prepared for this pleasure from the perusal of that
most agreeable writer. There is but one danger from which, poor man,
his poverty secured him, and that is the mind insensibly running
into speculation of improvement. I have made many here, and the
taste is very insatiable; this may without a guard lead to too much
expense. But I endeavour to correct the wanderings of imagination,
and to dwell on the beauties of every single tree, shrub, and spot,
and to be content with them all as they are. The laburnum in the
back lawn is more beautiful than I ever saw it, so entirely covered
with rich clusters of its golden flowers, that I can admire it for
an hour together. This enjoyment, however, is very poor and fading
if we do not, with Cowper, tum our minds habitually to the great and
beneficent Author of all these beauties. This sentiment is
impressive and durable, and leads the mind to the richest
contemplations. If for such a race the earth is thus clothed, what
must heaven be?

A reading habit is a great blessing. I am sure I find it so, for
though I have risen at 3 A.M. since I have been here, and not once
been in bed at four, still I am not tired at night. A walk is a
refreshment to be had in the country in a moment, but at London half
a mile of street thronged and noisy, and then only a crowded park,
with sights to wound or to tempt. I do not like snow, but a deep one
and blustering wind here is preferable to calm sunshine in the
streets of London.

But much as I like Bradfield even alone, I must leave it and get
quickly into Essex. I could write the Report from materials before
me, and from a long knowledge of the county, and produce a valuable
work, but that would not be honest. I shall take their money, and
will therefore travel as much in it, and give as much attention to
it, as if I had no materials at all to work upon.

_August 12._—Letters from Jane and Arthur at St. Petersburg. They
give sad accounts of the treatment the English have received there
if most specific agreements be not made beforehand for everything. I
wish cordially they were well home again, and so do they, I believe.

_October 20._—At Rayleigh. To keep a journal in this manner is
nonsense, and worse than nonsense; besides, I have time to do
better, and therefore ought to do it.

Three nights past I slept at the Earl of St. Vincent’s, who, being a
great character, forces a note. I had much inclination to have
called on him, as I heard of Sir T. Leonard that he farmed, but I
thought it would be a forward step, and so passed on to the Squire
of the parish, Towers. He was in with the gout, but his sons told me
that they had lately dined in company of Lord St. V., who mentioned
my being in the country, and that he expected to see me. Whence this
expectation came I have no conception. He received me politely,
pleasantly, and cordially; kept me all day to dinner and to sleep,
and desired me if ever I came near him again to be sure to make his
house my headquarters. He showed me every acre, cow, ox, and pig,
and talked sensibly enough on farming, as far as he knew of it. When
he returned he told me he did not dine till 6 P.M., and as he should
be out again, I should have a fire in Lady St. V.’s dressing room,
and a pen and ink, and that I was my own master. Montague Burgoyne
coming, he sent him up to me. At and after dinner much political
conversation, for Burgoyne is a desperate politician. It was plain
that Lord St. Vincent thought himself very ill used by opposition as
well as by Mr. Pitt; he seemed to think that they made a great cry
about him while it served their own purpose, but that when this
would not answer, they cared little for him and forgot him, but he
praised Lord Sidmouth greatly. Burgoyne, who wanted Fox in when Lord
Sidmouth accepted, told Lord St. V. the only sin he ever committed
was joining that lord, as he could not have made an administration
without him. He said it was impossible to resist, the state of the
country was such that his conscience would have condemned him; it
was greatly to his personal injury, for he was, as commander of the
Channel fleet, in the receipt of a good 25,000_l._ a year, which he
gave up for a miserably paid Cabinet place then of only 3,000_l._
That the King urged him to keep the command with the Admiralty, and
Lord Sidmouth agreed to it, but he would not do it, it would have
been wrong. The King urged the precedent of Lord Howe, who kept
both, and why should not he? But he was firm. He hates all
religions, called Lord Barham an old canting hypocrite—all of
them—and ‘little Wilber-force too!’ I said something against that,
but not half enough. He remarked that the old hypocrite would soon,
very soon, be removed. I hope in this he will find himself mistaken.
He swears pretty much, not quite as sailors do, but he says grace
before and after dinner; is not this hypocrisy? He has great
spirits, a good understanding, and is very pleasant.

_December 9._—My old friend Symonds being dangerously and in all
probability fatally ill, I went yesterday to see him. I was there
four hours. He dozed much, but when awake had the perfect use of his
faculties, though not quite speech enough or recollection to explain
himself as when well; my dear Jane took him to be a real Christian,
though not without thinking he had bad notions on certain points. I
ever doubted it, and thought I saw much in him of sound, good
doctrine, but great deficiencies.

He utterly disbelieved original sin, which appeared always to me a
fatal sign.

He talked to me of Naples, Bonaparte, &c., said he had something
_particular_ to say to me, upon which B. left the room. It was to
tell me that Cocksedge would not give 40_l._ for a very well done
map and survey of the Eldo estate, and that therefore he should take
care that he should have nothing done to accommodate him, no part of
the furniture should be his, &c. _This will be talked of_, and
therefore mention the motive. What stuff to occupy the attention of
a dying man! I took four or five opportunities, or rather made them,
to turn his mind to Christ, but they passed, and he was silent, not
one religious or serious word came out of his mouth, nothing of the
kind seemed to be in his mind. He was in general quite easy and
composed, and slept perfectly free from any apparent disturbance.
Awful is such insensibility.

_10th._—I was with him again yesterday, and through such a day of
rain that I hope I shall not take cold. He was just the same,
mentioned Casburn’s account of the Blue Coat Hospital, and being
washed four times a day; talked of the water gods, smiled, and
joked. I could not endure the moment passing without another attempt
to turn his mind to more serious impressions. I asked C. if he had
had any prayers said to and for him. No, he had not mentioned it,
but two nights before he had prayed shortly for himself. I told him
that there ought to be prayers in the room, and that C. could read
them. He said, ‘_Yes, he could_,’ and for the family also! It made
no impression, and soon after closing his eyes as if for sleep,
said, ‘Your servant, I only keep you,’ so I left him. I have fears
that it is a sort of judicial blindness and insensibility of his
state to have his senses and make no better use of them, I am much
shocked.

_11th._—Yesterday there again, but he was getting up to have his bed
made, and White, the physician, thought I had better not go up.

_January 10, 1806._—Peggy Metcalfe lent me ‘Marie Menzikoff’ as a
true history, and I, like a fool, read much of it, after finding it
a mere romance. I have not looked at anything of the novel kind for
many years, but this French thing seized my attention and hurried me
on. I wish she had been further before putting it in my hands. It
has unhinged me, and broken my attention to better things, which
shows strongly how pernicious this sort of reading is, and what a
powerful temptation to vice such productions are sure to prove.

Oh! the number of miserables that novels have sent to perdition!

_16th._—I have been looking over Dr. Johnson’s ‘Prayers and
Meditations,’ and, upon the whole, the feeling they have impressed
is that of pity; he seemed by one passage to think his complaints
nearly allied to madness, and often speaks of his morbid melancholy;
his sloth seems to have been dreadful. What a contrast to the life
of John Wesley!

His religion seems to have been against the very grain of his soul,
and all the tendencies of his mind to have arisen from his
understanding only, and never to have been truly in his heart.
Company, and engagements, and indolence keep him from church from
January to March; he scarcely ever got to it in time for the
service, and he aimed in resolutions only at taking the Sacrament
thrice in the year; he does not name a book (the Scriptures
excepted) that was likely to give a right turn to his devotion. To
study religion and to read the Scriptures was a matter for
resolution, like rising early, but he does not seem to have been
carried to the employment by the comfort, hope, joy, and consolation
to be derived from them, they were never his pleasure. ’Tis well his
mind was morbid, for he seems to me (from this work) never to have
been really converted. Fasting, penance, and a gloomy superstition
banished from his soul the felicities of piety founded in faith. But
I must look it over again with more care. Yesterday morning I went
to Flempton and called on Carter; with him I had some very proper
conversation. He is far from the truly evangelical state, and his
mind fully occupied with being satisfied with the opinions and
conduct of the regular clergy in general; he has no affection, no
regard for truly evangelical ones, a readiness to sneer at them, and
with all a laxity in doctrines, a comprehensive _candour_, which
gives me but an ill opinion of his doctrines. He is a very worthy
respectable man in all worldly points.

My neighbour Gooch called yesterday. He has taken the curacy of
Wattisfield of Plampin, who has evaded the curate’s law. Gooch gave
me twenty cases at least of rectors who decidedly cheat and impose
on their curates by most unworthy evasions; but if a farmer cheats
them of a turnip in tithe, they pronounce them all the rogues to be
imagined. Most lamentable is this for those who should be the
ministers of Christ’s gospel.

But in no country that I have heard of is there such a set of clergy
as in this neighbourhood. Dreadful!

I have been sketching out an essay on the defence of the kingdom in
case of invasion, and yesterday added to it. The regularity with
which I have made entries in my journal since I determined to write
one line in it, shows the infinite importance of method and
regularity in every pursuit and business of life. What is regularly
undertaken will be regularly executed, but desultory endeavours at
fits and starts perform nothing.

_22nd._—Yesterday I went up into my dear Bobbin’s room, in which I
had not been for a year or more. I wiped the mould off her books,
&c., with a heavy heart, and prayed to God that I might join her
spirit in heaven. It made me very melancholy! She has been dead nine
years, would therefore have been two-and-twenty had it pleased God
to spare her. But what a world is this for a girl of that age!

_23rd._—To-day I pack up and prepare, and to-morrow, with God’s
permission, to London. May He protect me from all dangers! Mr. Pitt
dead! This has struck a damp into my soul that I cannot shake off.

_26th._—Arrived safely, thanks to the Lord. Yesterday I unpacked and
set all my things in order. Mrs. Y. better than I expected, but I
cannot perceive that warmth of gratitude to God which I hoped to
find. I know not what to make of her state of soul! Pitt’s death
made a considerable sensation, and I wonder not at it. The
providence of the Almighty has taken the two men perhaps the most
necessary to our worldly prosperity in order to show us that it is
on Him only we should depend, and to convince us that vain is the
arm of flesh. May He protect us! Providence is better to depend on
than a hundred Nelsons and Pitts if we consider them in any light
except that of means in the hand of Him who governs the fate of
nations.

Ministry not arranged. It is said that Fox is as much plagued with
the apprehensions of some of his own people as with those of the
Grenvilles. Grey First Lord of Admiralty! Is it possible? What a
scheme!

Could not sleep longer for three nights past than half-past two or
three; evil imaginations were generating. Plunged out of bed, but as
I cannot get to bed before ten (at Lady Egremont’s last night but
one, and De Bees’ last night) it makes me heavy. De Bees says that
all foreigners agree as to the folly of our expeditions; that to the
Mediterranean should have been in greater force to Venice, which
would have preserved that city, and enabled the Archduke Charles to
have stood his ground. It is obvious, if driven from the Continent,
Venice at least would have been saved.

_February 2._—I have seen Smirenove, he thinks his Emperor will have
a great army on the Danube early in the spring, for preparations are
active; they think, or have intelligence, that Bonaparte has ceded
to Austria much more than Servia, probably large provinces, to cut
Russia off from contact with the Turks. He has Trieste, and now his
dominions embrace both shores of the Adriatic and join the Turkish
Empire. This must be productive of great events, and I cannot but
look forward to the destruction of that Empire which seems clearly
advancing, and we all know how very important an epoch that will be
towards the winding up of all things.

_8th._—Mary dined with Lord Coventry, and met Mrs. Lyggon and Mrs.
Nesbit, and heard that D. Moira will take nothing. He wanted to be
Prime Minister, and the King would rather have had him. The Queen of
Wurtemburg has written a letter to our Queen and to Lady Harrington
in praise of the politeness and goodness of Bonaparte. De Bees in
the evening; Fox was in powder, which made everyone stare.

_14th._—Read much in Skinner’s ‘State of Peru,’[231] which has some
curious things in it. I work every morning on my ‘Elements,’ but
though I have been near thirty years reading and making extracts for
this work (but with long intermissions), yet now I am arranging the
chapters and sections I find numberless gaps to supply as I advance.

_15th._—Dined with the Duke of Grafton against my will, for I think
it wrong to go to the house of a Unitarian, or have anything to do
with them; the only defence of its lawfulness even that I know of is
St. Paul’s supposition of his converts being invited to a feast, and
_if you are disposed to go_, &c., then do so. In the evening Walker,
an engraver, who has been twenty years at St. Petersburg, and who
brought letters from Jane some time ago, called. He gives but a bad
account of Russia, and it is from every authority a very bad country
to live in, in every respect that should make a country desirable,
except the people being good tempered and very ingenious. England!
England! thou art the first of countries! Oh! that thou wert
grateful to Heaven for the multitude of thy blessings.

_20th._—Lord Carrington half an hour, then Vancouver,[232] who has
seen Vansittart[233] on his tour scheme, and who did not seem to
approve of it at all, but desired him to have an interview at
Tyrrwhitt’s with Dr. Beke to hear his opinion, whom he esteems much,
the greatest political arithmetician of the time. This is
accordingly to take place. Vansittart told him the whole income of
the public is 200,000,000 sterling. V. replied that it was three
times as much. At night I went to the Lock and heard a most
excellent sermon by Fry on Luke xi. 21, 22.

_22nd._—It was so fine a day that I took a walk to Kensington
Gardens Gate. The Marquis of Hertford chatted with me for some time
as he walked his horse, and wants a drainer for his estate in
Ireland. I saw Marshall[234] also, and I never see and converse with
him, but I think I see the haughty, proud, ill-tempered, snarling,
disgusted character which he manifested in his connection with Sir
John Sinclair. A thousand pities that so extremely able a man, for
of his talents there can be no question, should not have more
amenity and mildness. Government, however, should have promoted him
without any doubt; and it is a blot in their scutcheon that they
have not done it.

The funeral of Mr. Pitt. I think him a very great national loss, and
did not go near any part of the business. Pomp and pageantry of all
sorts do not accord with my feelings. A pamphlet published to
prepare us for peace, ‘The Relative Situation of France and
England,’ said to be by Wraxall.[235] I dread a peace politically,
but as a Christian all is directed by Him who cannot err.

_25th._—I have of late been uneasy lest Dodsley, the bookseller,
should have lost much money by my ‘Experimental Agriculture,’ and
called on Becket to know what became of him, and who he left. There
I found that Nicoll was one of his executors, and now the only one
left. I went to him and desired some information. On examining the
list of his books he found there was but one single copy, and that
consequently to suppose he lost by the work would be idle. ‘I can
tell you what he gave you for the copy, for here is one of the
greatest of curiosities.’ This was Dodsley’s book for authors’
receipts; in that he showed me William Burke’s receipt for 6_l._
6_s._ on account of Edmund Burke, for the copy of the ‘Vindication
of Natural Society.’ That book, said Nicoll, was so much admired in
France by d’Alembert, Diderot, &c. &c., that it made them mad, and
really produced the Revolution.

‘And now’ (he added) ‘I have shown you what Burke had for kindling
the Revolution, let me also show you what he had for putting it
out,’ and then he pointed out his (Burke’s) own receipt for
1,000_l._ for the profits of his famous volume. The [other]
writings, &c., one other of his later pamphlets, were sold together
for 300_l._ He seems, however, to have left it to Dodsley, and when
the things were sold, to have taken what D. said was fair. Melmoth
had a great deal of money of him, for his translations, &c.

At night letters to us all. Three came from Jane and Arthur. A sad
account of the interpreter provided for him, who is an ignorant
puppy of a nobleman who is too lazy to do anything. Of all the
Governments I have heard of, it seems to be the most stupid, the
most ignorant, and the most profligate: the fact, I dare say, is
that the army alone is attended [to]. They had the news of the
battle of Austerlitz, with a loss as they supposed of 40,000
Russians. Not a family at Moscow but must have lost a relation, yet
a grand ball that night, and nothing but gaiety and festivity. They
have no feeling. The governor took Jane into a window and told her
that he was informed she disapproved of all her husband’s farming
ideas as much as anyone could do, and ridiculed all his schemes.
Upon explanation it came from Marshall Romanzoff, who had it from a
German baron that had been at Bradfield, who, admiring the number of
experiments, Mrs. Y. told him that she detested them all, and that I
had ruined myself by them. A true report I will answer for, for this
was her conduct through life. Lamentable it was that no enemy ever
did me the mischief that I received from the wife of my bosom by the
grossest falsehoods and the blackest malignity; of just such
anecdotes of her conversation I have had instances from every part
of the world. But do such things rise from the dust? Oh! no, they
come from God, and were far less than what I merited at His hands. I
had such as I deserved, or much better.

_27th._—I was up at four o’clock and kept the fast till 8.30 at
night; and as I have a strong stomach that will bear it pretty well,
I determined to take no snuff, of which I every day take much, and
am almost uncomfortable if at any time I forget my box. This was
more a fast with me than abstaining from food; but whether it was
not done in a right spirit, or that I had thought about it too much,
I know not, but I was dead, and sleepy, and sluggish in body and
soul all day except at the evening sermon. Unluckily the night
before the fast long letters from Russia, and an account that Arthur
had been warned much as if he would be murdered, so determinately
hostile to the object are all the Russian nobility.

_March 1._—Yesterday was a most worrying moment, full of labour and
anxiety. In the morning to Smirenove, to read him my letter to
Novosilikoff. He advised me to call on Count Strogonoff, who is here
on a political mission, and who treated with Arthur at St.
Petersburg. Accordingly, as soon as I returned, I wrote to request
he would name a time for my waiting on him, which he did, and fixed
Sunday, 10.30. Oh, how the world values that day!

Then to copy fair my letter to Novosilikoff and inclose it to Arthur
in his; this, with two hundred other things, kept me till dinner on
the table to the chin in anxiety, for if I did not trust in the
goodness and mercy of God’s providence, I should be fearfully
apprehensive of my son’s personal safety, the hints he has had are
alarming.

Their general conviction at Moscow, that he is come with full powers
or intentions to emancipate the boors, have made them all hostile to
the plan.

_March 17._—Yesterday morning, at 4 A.M., I came down to pray
according to custom, and it pleased God that I should pray with more
than usual fervency. I then meditated a little and fell asleep. I
awaked with a certain sweetness of frame that I noticed at the time,
and a transitory idea crossed my mind that God had heard my prayers,
and that what I felt might possibly be His grace, or an effusion in
some small degree of the Holy Spirit in my soul. It struck me also
that I should know if it was by the current of my thoughts and
imaginations; for any proof of the Spirit unattended by good effects
would be a mere fanatical idea. I took the blessed Sacrament, and in
the evening Fry preached on the means of ascertaining whether a man
has the Spirit or not—a very excellent sermon, and one well adapted
to urge and assist self-examination. The day closed, and I was not
sensible of giving way to any loose and wild imaginations.

_23rd._—Thanks to the ever blessed God, I think that I spent last
week in a more satisfactory frame of heart and mind than any for an
age past—more upon the watch against sin—more in contemplation of
the greatness and goodness of God; vile thoughts have intruded, but
I dismissed them by struggling, and my prayers have been more
fervent.

_April 19._—I have only to-day and to-morrow in the country.
Solitude agrees best with my soul. I read all day, and only
divinity, temptations are distant. Wesley could not bear the
country, from the hurry and bustle of his perpetual labours having
given him habits quite contrary to it.

_June 3._—I was up again this morning at 3 A.M., and by it escaped
falling into evil imaginations. This is an evil I thus fight against
and struggle to avoid. I think the Lord will hear my prayers and
free me from this buffeting of Satan, this thorn in the flesh, which
is a horrible disquiet to me.

_4th._—I found the devil at work with me this morning, and jumped
out of bed at twenty minutes before 3 A.M., dressed, and came down
to prayers.

Paying debts formerly with me had but little effect from the
necessary contraction of new ones; but at present I have abstained
steadily from all, so that though I want shirts, &c., and have only
one coat, and that much worn, yet I order nothing, that I may
endeavour effectively to get quite free as soon as possible.

_17th._—A letter from Arthur, he has had a week’s fever, and went
back to Moscow, which recovered him. It was caused by want of sleep,
owing to bugs, lice, fleas, &c., fatigue and vile food. They are
horrid savages, and five centuries behind us in all but vice,
wickedness, and extravagance. The interpreter behaves much better,
which is comfortable.

_18th._—The last Board for the season sat yesterday and adjourned
till November. Mr. Coke was here, pressed me to go to Holkham; but I
have long determined against it; there is not one feature which
could carry a Christian there for pleasure, but a thousand to repel
him, and this is so much the case with all public meetings that they
are odious. The Norfolk farmers are rich and profligate; of course
oaths and profanations salute the ear at every turn; and gentlemen
and the great, when without ladies, are too apt to be as bad as the
mob, and many of them much worse. I am never in such company, but
the repugnance of my soul to it is so great, that much as I love
agriculture I can renounce it with more pleasure than I can partake
of it thus contaminated. I shall get to Bradfield as soon as
possible, I hope on Saturday, and having much to do there, God send
that employment may keep me out of all temptation.

_July 13._—Every Sunday I hear sixteen or eighteen children read the
Scripture and say their Catechism, and I pay for the schooling of
all that will learn. They are sadly careless and inattentive, but
still they come on. If it pleases God to turn it to account by their
reading the Scriptures it will be well. The rest of the day I pass
in reading; the spirit of visiting in the country among servants
prevents much that might be done, but still I am not satisfied, and
must find the means of doing more in the instruction of the parish
poor.

_14th._—I have been reading over my ‘Inquiry into the Propriety of
applying Wastes to the better Maintenance of the Poor.’ I had almost
forgotten it, but of all the essays and papers I have produced, none
I think so pardonable as this, so convincing by facts, and so
satisfactory to any candid reader. Thank God I wrote it, for though
it never had the smallest effect except in exciting opposition and
ridicule, it will, I trust, remain a proof of what ought to have
been done; and had it been executed, would have diffused more
comfort among the poor than any proposition that ever was made.

_February 21, 1807._—To think of keeping a journal regularly is all
in vain; the gaps in mine are terrible.

_March 9._—Mrs. Wilberforce lent me Crichton’s ‘Diary of
Blackadder,’[236] and gave me Dr. Owen on the 130th Psalm. I have
read much of the former and find it a reproach to my whole soul,
life, and conversation. What a Christian was there! and what a
wretch am I?

_10th._—I am very much struck with ‘Blackadder’s Diary’ and letters
to his wife, so much so that I have prayed earnestly to God to
enable me by His grace to have the same constant trust and reliance
in His mercy and goodness that this excellent Christian had.

_12th._—The Marquis Saloo, from Sicily, gave me many accounts of
Bolsamo, and how much he referred in his lectures to his master,
Arthur Young. If there be glory in this sort of fame, oh! my Father,
let me have done with glorying save in the Cross of the Lord Jesus.
I have been glorying in foreign and domestic fame for forty years in
true fleshly vanity.

I have been seven weeks in London, and, blessed be the Lord, I have
had only four or five invitations to dinner and accepted but two.
There has been a great kick up in the Ministry. Tyrrwhitt, from
Carleton House, called here, and tells me that Lord Sidmouth and his
friends were actually _out_, but the Foxites made it up with the
King, pacified him, and they were immediately restored; but Lord
Howick and the rest are to give their opinion in the House of
Commons, and the obnoxious clause to be left out. The King is ready
to turn many out the moment there is strength enough to carry on
business without them.

Called at Lord Egremont’s; that detestable atheistical profligate
kinsman —— was with him. Lord E. loud in the commendation of the
_Dactylis glomerata_;[237] it succeeds so greatly with him on cold,
strong, wet lands that oxen fatten where they could never be _kept_
before, and it grows all winter. I was the first man in England that
had five acres of this grass. I believe they had a root of it twenty
years ago; I had much, and recommended it greatly.

A letter from Tyrrwhitt, Carleton House, to inform me that
Vansittart and Lord Grenville approve my plan, which I proposed to
T. It is this: The Baltic and co. [country] around it being shut up
or eaten up, and 400,000 men in our grainery [granary], should we
this year have a short crop of wheat or a bad harvest, or a mildew,
the supply being cut off, the price would rise beyond all
experience; therefore I propose that the Government should supply
money to enable the Board to give great premium for the culture of
potatoes _for the use of cattle and horses_; without this object an
alarm might spread and more mischief than good accrue. T. writes me
they approve the idea, and will _advance_ the Board 2,000_l._, but I
will have this explained; it must not be to lend 2,000_l._ but to
_give_ it.

_March 26._—I am very sure that I do not give to poor Christians so
much as I ought to do, but I am in doubt whether I do not give more
than I ought to do to others. Here is a German, Behrens, once a
merchant in good circumstances, whom Sir John received papers from
and sent to me. He translated a paper for the Board, and made known
such poverty that I promised him a pair of boots; but writing to him
on the translation, I took occasion to enquire what religion he was
of; he was educated a Lutheran, but I see plainly he has none. He
shall have the boots, but I shall give him nothing else. I can do
nothing for Christians if I give to all others that apply.

_April 6._—At Bradfield. There is a poor fellow in the gaol
condemned to die next Wednesday for forging or uttering bank notes.
I heard some bad accounts of him, and as I came from Bury early in
the morning, yesterday called to see him. I found that he had been
attended by the minister, Mr. Hastead, and also by a Methodist,
recommended by a brother of his. I had a good deal of conversation
with him, and prayed with him. He was very ignorant, and had no
feeling of religion till he was condemned, but has since been
instructed and spoke properly enough, lamenting his want of faith at
times, and at others being full of faith. I gave him the best
instruction I could, and urged little more than (which is his only
possible hope) faith in the Lord Jesus. He prayed aloud for some
minutes, and more to the purpose than I should have expected. He
thanked me much for coming, and as he begged me to come again I
promised, and accordingly this morning went on purpose. It comforted
him much. I prayed earnestly and fervently for him, and his amens
and ejaculations seemed to come quite from his heart. I left him
tranquil, and, blessed be a merciful God, I think he may without
presumption hope strongly for pardon at the throne of mercy.

I am planting lands, and forming an experiment on the application of
vegetable substances as manure.

_29th._—London. At eight o’clock at night I received the following
note from Sir John Sinclair. I hurried away to the place named in
the cover, Great Shire Lane, where I found Sir John; and Dr.
Garthshore on the same errand as myself.

We signed a bail bond.

  ‘My dear Sir,—A most extraordinary circumstance has happened to
  me. A rascally saddler, whom I employed at Edinburgh to furnish
  accoutrements to my regiment of Invincibles, brought me in so
  exorbitant an amount, that I refused to pay it; and instead of
  bringing an action against me at Edinburgh, he has arrested me for
  750_l._ So many of my friends are out of town, that I must trouble
  you to give bail for my appearance.

                                         ‘Sincerely yours,
                                                     ‘JOHN SINCLAIR.

  ‘Tuesday.’

Sir John’s regiment has been disbanded nine or ten years, and
consequently this rascally saddler has been at least so long kept
out of his money. What can these people think of themselves! To live
quietly while thus depriving tradesmen of their right for such a
number of years!

_May 16._—This is the first fine day that has occurred since I left
town; the lilacs are coming fast into blossom, and the fresh verdure
of the grass and trees is highly pleasing.

_August 29._—As the time approaches to go this Oxford journey, I
dislike it more and more, and wish I had firmly rejected it. I am
not in a situation at all comfortable here, and have only one
maid—no man or boy—and only the carpenter to put my horse in the
whisky; but with a little exertion all this could be arranged. Mrs.
Y. going to the sea for seven weeks, and therefore seven weeks’
peace here if I stayed. I am in a regular habitual application to my
‘Elements,’ and have made a good progress in them, so that if I kept
here I should have gone through many meetings of the Board; and then
if it pleased the Lord to take me, they would at least be in a state
to be serviceable to mankind, and the great collection I have made
in divinity would gradually be brought into order.

All around here is a region dead in iniquity and sins, as far as
ladies and gentlemen are concerned. Amongst the Sectaries there is
Christianity, and nowhere else, which is a horrible thing to think
of. The clergy are, if possible, more dead than any others; many of
them very profligate, many thoroughly worldly minded, but some of
very respectable moral characters, but without a spark of vital
religion.

I associate only with Mrs. O. Oakes. Having written till I am tired,
I go once or twice a week to relax with the mild green (_sic_) of
her soul, because I can be free and do as I like, and I try hard to
make her a Christian, but hitherto in vain. If evil ideas at any
time plague me, then I keep away, and, thanks to God, I have of late
had an unusual command over my imagination, which for years plagued
me terribly. Prayer is my refuge.

_November 23._—The 17th, 18th, and 19th at Euston, and I had much
conversation with the duke, in which I earnestly endeavoured to
impress on his mind the fact, that by his tenets he placed himself
entirely under the covenant of works, and that he must be tried for
them, and that I would not be in such a situation for ten thousand
worlds. He was mild and more patient than I expected.

He lent me, and I read it there, Priestley’s Life, by himself. He
asked me what I thought of it? My reply was that through the whole
it was the recital of a man perfectly well satisfied with himself,
not the confessions of a sinner lamenting what has been wrong in
him. He seems to have had no feeling of the sort; as if, when tried
by the test of his own merit, it would be a great injustice in God
not to be satisfied with him, and that I had no conception of any
man having it in his power to review or detail his life with any
religious aspect without much self-condemnation, and beseeching God
to try him in any way rather than by an appeal to his life or his
own merit, but (if he be really a Christian) by the merits only of
the blood of his Redeemer. He said it was my view of things, and not
that of the doctor, whom he believed was undoubtedly a very good
man. The conversation continued, but we were as far as the poles
asunder. The duke has drawn up memoirs of his life, and he and Lady
Augusta read to me that part which concerned his own administration,
which is very satisfactory, as it consists much of original letters.
He appears to much more advantage in it than I conceived he would
have done, and it was certainly a wise step to leave such a memorial
in justification of himself. Lord Templeton there one day. They seem
to me to grow more and more economical, and to descend to minute
attentions which are below their rank and fortune.

I do not feel comfortable, though he always receives me well, and
desires me to come again. It is long since I was there before, and
will be long before I go again; such visits, however, have very
little of dissipation in them, and so much the better.

The less we like them the safer they are.

[Note, probably by Mary, Arthur Young’s only surviving daughter]:
‘1807. It was upon this journey [into Oxfordshire] that Mr. Y. first
perceived the approach of that dimness of sight which afterwards
terminated in its total eclipse. His first suspicion arose from
looking at the planet Jupiter, and perceiving what appeared to him
to be two very small stars near him, at which he was much surprised,
as he knew that the satellites were invisible to the naked eye, and
nobody saw these stars but himself. This multiplication of bright
objects increased the following year, till at last one lamp appeared
to him to be five. Objects became by degrees more and more confused,
and at last totally disappeared.’

(Total blindness appears to have resulted from the failure of an
operation for cataract, as will be seen later on.)

-----

Footnote 223:

  Mrs. Oakes.

Footnote 224:

  This recalls Goethe’s line, ‘Der Augenblick ist Ewigkeit.’

Footnote 225:

  Ch. Simeon, 1759-1836, an eminent divine of the Evangelical
  school. His works, consisting of 2,536 sermons, &c., were
  published in twenty-one volumes in 1832.

Footnote 226:

  Orbell Oakes, husband of ‘my friend,’ the beautiful Betsy.

Footnote 227:

  J. Townsend, 1740-1816, English divine, and author of _A Journey
  through Spain_, 2nd edit. 1792.

Footnote 228:

  John Owen, D.D., 1616-1683, the great Nonconformist divine who
  accompanied Cromwell to Scotland. In 1817 A. Y. published
  _Oweniana_ (or selections from his works).

Footnote 229:

  John Flavel, Nonconformist divine, 1627-1662, author of numerous
  works.

Footnote 230:

  By Walter Marshall, 1692; frequently reprinted.

Footnote 231:

  Joseph Skinner, _Present State of Peru_, 1805.

Footnote 232:

  ‘There is now with us a Mr. Van Couver, of Vancouver’s Island, who
  would entertain you very much. He is making an agricultural tour
  in Sussex.’—_Letters of Maria Josepha Holroyd_, p. 326.

Footnote 233:

  Nicholas Vansittart, Lord Bexley, sometime Governor of Bengal of
  great financial reputation.

Footnote 234:

  W. Marshall, 1778-1817, a voluminous writer on agriculture,
  _Minutes of Agriculture_, &c. &c.

Footnote 235:

  Evidently alluding to Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, a voluminous writer
  in France, whose works are now forgotten.

Footnote 236:

  J. Blackadder, lieut.-colonel, afterwards minister, died in prison
  1685.

Footnote 237:

  ‘Cock’s foot grass, considered valuable as a pasture grass in
  light soils.’—_Loudon._

-----




                              CHAPTER XVI
                         LAST YEARS, 1808-1820

Gradual loss of sight—Illness and death of Mrs. Oakes—Daily
    routine—A disappointment—Riots—Death of Mrs. Young—Anecdotes of
    Napoleon—A story of the Terror—National distress—Close of
    diary—The end.


In February I was obliged to take a reader as my sight was failing
fast.

_February 27._—For some months past I have had the comfort of seeing
my debts drawing to such a conclusion that I might consider myself
as free; and I have certainly thought too much of it, and rested too
much satisfaction in it, and not sufficiently been thankful to God
for so great a blessing. If I am so ungrateful as not to thank God
sufficiently for blessings, how can I expect to avoid misfortunes?
My eyes! My eyes! Is not His hand upon me here, too, for the same
reason?

What has been my gratitude to Him for their preservation during
sixty-seven years? and what uses have I made of them?

_April 4._—How employment can be carried further than with me I am
at a loss to conceive. Notwithstanding the state of my eyes I am
generally up at 4 A.M., though I do not call St. Croix [his reader]
before five.

Last Tuesday I read the first lecture that was, I believe, ever read
on agriculture in England, my subject ‘Tillage at the Board,’ The
room was well filled, and several of much ability and more of rank;
but the day was a bad one, which kept others away. I found that they
were well satisfied.

So many years in the habit of incessant employment has made any
idleness irksome to me. But my eyes force me to have time for
contemplation; and I pray to God to enable me to fill it as a
Christian ought to do whose conversation is in heaven; but my mind
will run out too much on worldly objects, and sometimes on sinful
ones.

How much in all things do I want washing in the fountain opened for
sin and uncleanness!

_May 13._—Much of my time has of late been lost by people calling on
the malt business.[238] I am tired of sugar and malt before the
question comes into the House of Commons, which will not be till
Monday. I sent another letter to Cobbett last Monday, but he did not
insert it. I care little about it, and I wish that I cared less, for
these questions only connect one more nearly with the world than a
Christian ought to be connected with it.

However, it is in my vocation, and my conscience is not at all
wounded by the part I take, for I am well persuaded that the
consequences of this measure will be mischievous and tend to
scarcity, which is so greatly to be guarded against for a thousand
reasons. Sir John Sinclair spoke once against it in the House, and
he tells me that Percival looked as black and indignant at him as if
he had been talking treason.

_July 25: Bradfield._—I am tired of the thoughts of such a journal;
had I kept it of late it would have been employed on my departing
sight. I can see to write a little, but can read scarcely anything.

Praised be the mercy of God that enables me to pay a reader; St.
Croix is with me. And I have been hard at work on my ‘Elements’ to
get those papers into such order as to want as little as possible my
own sight in the future progress of completing them. Whenever it may
be the will of God to make me quite blind, oh! may I receive His
dispensation with the submission of a Christian!

_1809. May 16._—April twelvemonth I read my own lectures by means of
Baker’s great hand and black ink; but last month Mr. Cragg read the
two, and one new one for me, for I am unable to do it; yet I can
write a little, but cannot read when written. The Lord’s will be
done, and may He sanctify the affliction and turn all my attention
to Himself.

Mrs. Oakes arrived at Bury last Sunday fortnight; and on Sunday
se’nnight she broke a blood-vessel and brought up two spoonfuls, and
on Saturday evening last had another smaller attack. My own fear and
opinion is that it will end fatally. Her fatigue coming from Bath
and Bristol, and at London, contrary to advice, has caused it. I
have prayed most earnestly for her. Oh! may the Lord of all mercy
hear and grant my petitions. My thoughts are all employed on the
state of her soul. The long intimacy and friendship I have had for
her, and the kindness and attention I have ever received from her,
now lacerate the heart with wounds that sink deep; and my conscience
reproaches me that I have not done all that I might have done to
turn her heart more to God.

_May 18._—I am very, very unhappy, and cannot think of her without
wretchedness. In every worldly respect what a loss will she be to
me! A placid, sweet temper, with a good understanding; that ever
rec^d. [received] me with kindness, and attention, and preference,
with whom I was at my ease, and where I could be at any time; a
resource in blindness fast coming on that would have been great. The
hope has fled and a sad and dreary vacancy, which freezes me, is in
its place.

_May 19._—Good news though not of better health. Hastead has been
with her, to be sure, by desire, which shows an attention to her
soul.

Poor thing! she has been bled twice more, and the blood as highly
inflamed as ever; bleeding gives relief to her lungs.

The Duke of Bedford and Mr. Coke [have written] desiring me to go to
Woburn and Holkham; but all great meetings, and anything like
festivity, have for some years become so insipid and disagreeable
that I shall have done with them wholly. They, like so many other
things, are links of that worldly harness which it is high time for
me to throw down for ever.

_June 1._—Read the ‘Edinburgh Review’ on ‘Cœlebs in Search of a
Wife,’ by Sydney Smith. Wretched stuff; false and frivolous,
reasoning on cards, assemblies, plays,[239] &c.

_June 3._—Yesterday, as the ‘Edinburgh Review’ was read to me, I was
much struck with a reference to Necker on the finances, saying that
7,000 pedigrees of the nobility in the archives of the old
Government were destroyed in the Revolution. It occurred at once to
me that this was the exact number of _names_ of _men_ slain in
Revelations. It is in the eleventh chapter: ‘The tenth part of the
city fell in a great earthquake, and 7,000, &c.’ The commentators
all seem to have reckoned France as the tenth part of the city; but
of the names of men they knew not what to make, but 7,000 pedigrees
answer to a wonderful degree, and the coincidence of numbers is
truly amazing.

_June 6._—Yesterday’s letter bad. Poor thing, she has been bled
eight ounces, and much inflamed; had been out twice, and I suppose
took cold. She wrote herself, and there are some comfortable
expressions relative to the state of her mind with regard to
religion. I have little hope of her recovery.

_July 4._—Betsy continues just the same, whether better or worse,
the cough does not go, and therefore I conclude the case bad. But,
thanks to God, her mind, I hope, goes on; she has the Testament read
to her by all the four children.

_July 6._—I work at the ‘Elements’ every day, and find every time
they are read to me something to cancel, something to add, and much
to reconsider and correct.

_July 8._—The gradual declension of my sight in viewing the scenery
of this place, but especially in knowing faces, makes me surprised
that I can manage to write; I cannot read in the least degree, or
know anything of the views in Lord Valentia’s Travels.[240] It is a
very great deprivation, but much better than feeling the torture of
very painful distempers, so that I am very thankful to God for the
less affliction. It was, I doubt not, very necessary for me to have
some heavy one, and what I am likely to suffer is comparatively a
mercy to what might have been the dispensation of the Almighty.

Mrs. O. the same, and the weather as unfavourable to her; I drank
tea there on Thursday.

_July 19._—Drank tea with her last night. [She was] bled in the
morning, and going to have a blister. All her symptoms worse, I
suppose she has caught cold.

_August 4._—I have been so provoked, my dear Jane,[241] with so many
of my letters miscarrying that I am determined to begin a book to
use some safe opportunity of conveying it to you, for I know nothing
so provoking as to write twenty letters for one or two that arrive
safe. In your last you made many enquiries into what I was doing?
How I passed my time, &c. &c. A very short account will answer this.
I rise from four to five in the morning, pray to God for half an
hour, more or less, according as He affords me the spirit to do it.
At half-past five I call Mr. St. Croix, who comes to me at six, and
reads a chapter in Scott’s Bible with notes. I then dictate such
letters as want to be written, after which we sit down to my
‘Elements of Agriculture,’ which have been more than thirty years in
hand, and at which I have worked for two years past with much
assiduity, wishing to finish it before my sight is quite gone. At
half-past eight the servant brings me the water to shave; from nine
to ten we breakfast, and sit down again to work for two or three
hours, as it may happen, as I take the opportunity of sunshine for a
brisk walk of an hour, very often backwards and forwards on the
gravel between yours and the round garden. I wish much to have my
thoughts during that hour employed upon death and the other world,
but my weakness and want of resolution are lamentable, so that I
sometimes think on every subject except that which I intend should
occupy me. We then sit down to work again, till the boy and his
dicky arrive with the letters and newspapers. When they are read we
work again, but usually catch half an hour for another walk before
dinner. When alone we dine at four, and always at that hour in the
height of summer, but if any person be in the house, as it prevents
an evening work, five is the dinner hour. What is read afterwards is
usually some book not immediately connected with work. At eight we
drink tea and go to bed at ten, but the Sunday is an exception; you
know there is service but once a day. At the church hour, whether
morning or afternoon (when no service), about thirty children from
Bradfield, Stanningfield, and Cuckfield come to read in the
Testament and repeat their Catechism, and undergo some examination
from Mrs. Trimmer’s ‘Teacher’s Assistant.’ Whatever is well done
receives a mark against the name; the girl or boy that has fewest
marks receives nothing, the next a halfpenny, next a penny, and so
on, all which does not amount to more than two or three shillings. I
cannot boast much of their progress, though I pay for most of them
as constant scholars. In the evening, between six and seven o’clock,
forms are set in the hall to receive all that please to come to hear
a sermon read, and the numbers who attend amount from twenty to
sixty or seventy, according to weather and other circumstances.
Such, my dear Jane, is the tenor of my life both in summer and
winter while I am in the country.

_December 1._[242]—Here is a pretty breach in the continuance of
this book letter, but you are not to fail to remember that during
this period I have sent off two letters to you, not short ones,
which, from Smirenove’s account of the conveyance, I hope may get to
you safe. I have also received two short ones from you, and another
from Arthur at Odessa, describing the severity of the winter, and an
escape he had of being burnt in a Tartar combustion of old grass,
but, most provokingly, saying not one word of his own intentions, or
a syllable of what he is about. This is very mortifying to me, for
what are frost and fire to me compared with his own plans and views?
Nor does he say a word about coming to England; and the idea of the
possibility of your coming in autumn is now all past by, and I am
precluded from the possibility of seeing you till next summer, by
which time I shall have no eyes to see you.

_April 9, 1810._[243]—The discovery lately made by your letter of
the enormous expense of postage must limit my correspondence to
private hands, and will not permit the communication of anything but
topics the most immediately interesting to your future motions. My
notes of the riots, therefore, are preserved for your eye by copying
a letter to Mrs. Oakes:—

‘I know not what reports may have reached you relative to the state
of London, nor what newspapers you read, but I have been witness to
such a scene as I hope, through the blessing of God, will not occur
again. On Friday night the mob was extremely agitated in Piccadilly,
especially near Sir Francis Burdett’s, and they took the
unaccountable whim of forcing everyone to illuminate. I lighted up
as other people did, and when I went to bed left orders with the
servant who sat up to be sure to keep the candles burning till
daylight, instead of which, when others put out their candles, ours
were extinguished also. At two o’clock the mob returned and broke
many windows, and ours among the rest. The servant ran into my room
and waked me out of my sleep to tell me the windows were smashing.
We hurried the candles out again, and, upon examination, found the
alarm exceeded the damage, for only three panes were broken. All
Saturday passed in a very quiet manner, and in the evening the
illumination was more general, but troops pouring into London from
all quarters, we hoped to be secure without violence. The mob,
however, were so determined, that by twelve o’clock we heard
platoons firing in Piccadilly, and a few in other directions more
remote, the Riot Act having been read. A person who saw much, and
clearly, told me that orders being received by the commanding
officer to fire with ball, about fifty cavalry fired twice over the
heads of the people, that the whizzing of the balls might inform
them what they had to expect; still, however, they were audacious,
insomuch that the officer was forced to fire on them. In five
minutes all Piccadilly was cleared. We afterwards heard a little
more distant firing, and a party of horse scoured up Sackville
Street, firing in a scattered manner at the flying mob; but, from
the reports of the pieces, I believe with powder only. The reports
relative to the mischief done are extremely vague and not to be
depended on. Some say that one trooper was killed, others three or
four; what was the loss suffered by the mob is, I believe, quite
unknown, but certainly it was very inconsiderable. During Sunday the
agitation of the streets threatened a bad night, but Government had
brought in so many troops, that had we known it we need not have
been alarmed. A train of artillery in the park, horses attached and
matches lighted, two pieces of artillery in Berkeley Square, two
others in Soho Square, and many more about the town, and doubtless
many others of which I knew nothing, all ready at a moment’s
warning, with parties of troops scouring the streets, showed such a
state of preparation as effectually awed the mob, notwithstanding
the efforts of Sir F. Burdett to inflame them. He was at his house
ready to resist the Speaker’s warrant for commitment, and had the
audacity to write to the sheriff to bring the _posse comitatus_ to
assist him in so doing, printing the letter in the Sunday’s
newspaper. They say he is still at his house, and that he will not
be seized before the House meets this day. It really is a tremendous
moment, for if they do not carry it with a high hand, as a means of
prevention, we shall have an organised mob and great mischief will
follow. It is expected that the gallery of the House will to-day be
cleared by acclamation and a Bill brought in to suspend the Habeas
Corpus Act, and the rascally authors, printers, and publishers of
those inflammatory papers which have done so much mischief seized
and imprisoned; but whether the Ministry, with such a violent
opposition, will have resolution enough for this will depend on the
influence the Marquis of Wellesley has among his colleagues in the
Cabinet. I am much inclined to expect that good will result by
drawing close to the Ministry all the honest men in both Houses,
with all others that might be wavering; for it is a question now
whether we are to be governed by Parliament or the mob. Many
circumstances, however, are unfortunate, and not the least, that
though the public revenue amounts to 62,000,000_l._, yet the
expenses of the year will rise to above 80,000,000_l._, and must be
made good by means that will occasion the necessity of having
additional taxes. This will cause a yell for peace—and such a peace
as must be ruinous if made. We have also one adversary armed at all
points, and whose depth of policy is such as ought ever to create
alarm and the exertions of all the talents the country possesses to
oppose him.’

_May 3, 1811._—I do not think that for the last twenty years of my
life my general health has been better than at the moment when
discontent, I fear, with the will of God, induced me to oppose that
will. In the most mild and merciful manner He had nearly deprived me
of sight without my feeling the smallest pain. Heavy as this
dreadful deprivation is and must remain to me, I feel, in proportion
to my convalescence, that even blindness itself may be a temptation;
as a dispensation from God, it must have been meant as a calamity,
and a calamity to be deeply felt. Is there not danger then that a
mind which has been accustomed to look upon the favourable side of
objects, should gradually so accustom itself to its new situation as
to deprive it in a good measure of the misery which might be the
direct intention of the Almighty? The capacity of continuing the
attention formerly given to old objects by means of the eyes of
others, may leave the mind almost as full of the world as when by
sight I could enjoy its visible objects; this is a circumstance
which ought undoubtedly to be guarded against, that is, prayed
against. For a man of seventy to be struck blind and to continue
worldly-minded, with his head and heart full of objects which,
though not of sight, command attention, is to tempt God to send some
deeper affliction in order to bring his heart home to its true
centre. This is a subject which merits great attention, and may the
Lord of His mercy enable me to consider it as I ought to do!

_May 8._—Twelve o’clock at noon my dear friend Mrs. Oakes breathed
her last, after a long severe illness, and many and great
sufferings. Thanks to God she was attentive throughout this sad
period, as I am well informed, to the state of her soul with God.
Thus is terminated in this world a very intimate friendship of
twenty-six years, with a temper so mild and cheerful, with manners
so gentle and persuasive, that had it pleased the Almighty to have
spared her, she would have been the source of great comfort to me in
my melancholy state.

_May 16, 1812._—At this time a new oculist appeared in town, a
desideratum much wanted. The highest accounts were universally
circulated of his skill and success, and the most unequivocal good
effects attended his new attempts at removing cataract. I was
unwilling to go to him, cherished no hope of my own case, and
considered this calamity as the appointment of Providence,
concerning which I had but one wish—that of submitting to it with
the most unaffected resignation. But the persuasions of my friends,
more sanguine than myself, and the high reputation of Mr. Adams at
length prevailed, and a day was appointed finally to decide my
state—to give some expectation of recovery or to destroy all hope.

The feelings of the mind may be subdued, but they cannot be
destroyed. From the reluctance I showed to name the day even after
resolving to go, the dread of hearing my doom, and the natural
desire to enjoy a little longer the precious glimmering of hope, may
be inferred. At length the long-wished-for dreaded morning came. The
sun shone brightly as I walked to the house; I felt its warmth, and
the thought that perhaps his light may still, ere long, ‘revisit
these sad eyes,’ lent new interest to his cheering beams.

The man who has never had his mind enlivened and his senses cheered
by contemplating the scenes of nature or the employment of his
fellow creatures, would feel much less at the thought of learning
whether this would ever be his fate or not, than he who, once having
felt in every variety the extent of the blessing, loses it, learns
by experience the sadness of the contrast, and goes with a throbbing
heart to enquire if any hope exists of again enjoying that power he
would gladly forfeit all his possessions to recover.

I was shown into a room, where I waited a few minutes (they were
painful ones), and Mr. Adams appeared. ‘I wish, sir, to be informed
what is the state of my eyes,’ looking very attentively at him. ‘You
have not, sir, undergone an extraction for cataract?’[244] ‘That you
must decide.’ ‘Why, yes, and I fear unsuccessfully.’ ‘Is there any
hope of recovery?’ Mr. Adams started, and looked down with evident
marks of bitter disappointment the first instant he saw me. ‘I
grieve, sir, to say that the eye itself is destroyed, the cornea
gone, and there has been such an excessive discharge of the vitreous
humour, that the coats are collapsed.’ ‘No chance, then, of course?’
‘I fear, sir, _none_;’ then, after a pause, ‘I believe I am
addressing Mr. A. Young?’ I bowed. ‘I have heard your case
differently reported; it was the subject of much conversation, and
excited unenviable interest last spring when it happened, and I had
hoped that it would have been possible to relieve you, but I now see
the contrary.’ ‘I am much obliged to you, sir, good morning,’ I
replied, and came away.

Mr. Adams was a young man, his aspect was pleasing and intelligent,
and there was a sorrowful look when I departed that well became the
sad occasion. There were two things worth repeating on that morning,
one was his liberality in clearing his brother professor from the
character of _carelesness_, which he endeavoured to do. I complained
that I was sure I could not have been well prepared. But Mr. Adams
replied that preparation was _not_ necessary for extraction, that
people of the worst habits had been treated in that way with no
preparation and complete success; that the fault was not of the
operator, but of the operation, which must always be liable to
failure. Mr. Adams’ own method of removing cataract was not this
ill-fated scheme of extraction. The second remark is this. It had
become much the custom to use hot water for the eyes when weak or
inflamed. The author of this memoir had been afflicted with a
transient indisposition of them, and on application to Phipps, hot
water had been recommended and used for a twelvemonth without
effect.

Mr. Adams, on being questioned with regard to the expedience of its
continuance, decidedly answered, that by increasing the relaxation,
hot water would only augment the disease; prescribed the frequent
use of the _citrine ointment_[245] (to be had at any druggist’s) and
_cold_ water constantly. On the way home, I was for a few moments
depressed. ‘How happy,’ I cried, ‘are those beings who can see; no
one can tell the misery of blindness, the dark gloom over that mind
never cheered by the light of the sun, especially now with me, who
am certain never to see again. If it were not for religion, I should
wish to be the poor man who is to be hanged next Monday; but, thank
God, I can consider the whole affair as His appointment, intended
not for a curse but a blessing, and can reconcile my mind to it
completely as His will. You will see,’ I added after a pause
[presumably addressing Mr. Adams], smiling, ‘I shall be as cheerful
and happy as ever,’ and so I was.

_1814._—This year I paid much attention to the ‘Elements.’

My son came from Russia.

_1815._—Arthur, Jane, and myself went post to London the last day of
January, Mary remained at Bradfield with Mrs. Young, who was unable
to move.

About this time ‘Baxteriana’[246] was published. Through the
following spring I was, at various times, too apt to fall into
reflections which tended, more than they ought to have done, to
discontent; but in thirteen weeks to the present day I have not once
entered the doors of any other person than those of Mr. Wilberforce,
and I have not dined once with him, having been only at breakfast
for the pleasure of hearing his Exposition and Prayer; for the
conversation at and after breakfast has been entirely desultory, and
not once on any religious question. And as to any Christian calling
on me, John Babbington, from Peterborough, once breakfasted here,
and is, I believe, never in town without calling. Mrs. Strachey, who
was in town a month, was so kind as to call three or four times;
Mrs. John Wayland twice, and here, I think, except Miss
Francis,[247] dining once a week, is the whole amount of my
communication with those whose conversation would please me.

It would be natural to suppose that a poor old blind man who,
through the blessing of God, retains his health and strength might
have received something more of friendly attention than this, but
such discontent should be banished, for let me not a single moment
forget the great mercies of God to me; and while many are on beds of
torment from dreadful diseases, I am free from bodily pain. These
are points that should give a perpetual spring of gratitude in my
bosom, and if the neglect which I have been apt to think of too much
turns my attention more to the Lord Jesus, it is a benefit and not a
misfortune. Let me only take care to be looking unto Jesus, and then
I shall esteem, in the manner it deserves, all that the world can do
for me.

Monday, March 6, most execrable riots began in London, on account of
the Corn Bill, then in the House of Commons, attended with
circumstances proving decisively the abominable effects
(sufficiently proved before) of printing in all the newspapers those
violent and mischievous speeches which are made as much to the
Gallery as to the House, and can be intended for nothing else but to
inflame the people, which they have done to a degree of desperation.
Petitions from a multitude of cities and towns pour in to the Houses
every day they meet, and, in fact, the prayer of them all is to beg
that they, the petitioners, may be starved, which would probably be
the result of granting their desire. 600,000 qrs. of French wheat of
an excellent quality have been poured into our markets to meet a
crop generally mildewed; this has reduced the price on an average of
the kingdom to 59_s._ per quarter, and that average taken in so
preposterous a way that the real price fairly ascertained would not
amount to 50_s._; 90_s._ per qr. [quarter] would not pay the farmer
in so bad a year. If importation was to be continued, at least half
the farmers in England would be ruined, and wheat consequently must
rise in a year or two to scarcity, and if importation should be
prevented, by many probable events to famine. Country labourers
throughout the kingdom are in the greatest distress, as I know from
many correspondents. For want of employment they go to the parish,
but these poor families never petition, even when starving, and a
Legislature which attended not to their interest would deserve the
abuse now vomited forth by towns. From thirty to forty houses at
London have had their windows broken, many their doors forced, and
everything in them destroyed; and after much mischief, with general
anxiety and apprehension, the military were called forth; but it was
the last day of the week before their numbers were sufficient to
secure any tolerable tranquillity.

_Monday, March 13._—I breakfasted with Mr. Wilberforce: a file of
soldiers in his house, because his servants had been violently
threatened that it should be speedily attacked.

The bawler bearing[248] last week, in the House, read a denunciation
in a petition from Carlisle against the Board of Agriculture, which
made it necessary for me to hire a bedchamber elsewhere, as
blindness would not permit an escape by the roof of the house.

I wrote to Mr. Vansittart, transcribing a resolution of the
Committee of 1774, proposing to lay the millers under an assize. The
Bill for that purpose passed the Commons, but was lost in the Lords.

In Mr. Vansittart’s answer to me, he mentioned the difficulties in
the way, but observed that as Mr. Franklin Lewis had taken up the
business of bread and flour in the House, he would mention to him
what I proposed. From Lord Sidmouth’s speech it seems they intend to
remove the assize of bread, which will leave in case of scarcity the
bakers without protection in case of riots, and also leave the
millers in full possession of their rascality.

At Mr. Wilberforce’s I met Miss Francis and Mr. Legh Richmond, who
read to us, with Lord Calthorpe and General Macaulay, a most
interesting letter from a Russian Princess, describing her
conversion to vital Christianity by Mr. Pinkerton instructing her
children, and her translating into Russian the ‘Dairyman’s
Daughter,’ and thanking Mr. Richmond for his other tracts sent her
for the same purpose. Her English extremely good, and real
Christianity, with expressions of the deepest humility, breathing in
every line.

This was an eventful year, for my poor wife breathed her last after
a long illness, and it gives me great comfort to be informed that
she showed great marks of resignation and piety. My daughter was
with her to the last.

_May 12._—A few days ago, writing to Miss Francis, I used the
expression, ‘If a Christian was to call on me it should be entered
in a pocket-book with a mark of exclamation.’ Mr. Wilberforce saw
this note, and yesterday morning Mr. Pakenham called on me, and
introduced himself by saying that he came for some conversation with
me, by desire of Mr. W. He was quite unknown to me, but I found that
he was the grandson of that Lord Longford with whom I was in Ireland
in 1776, forty years ago, which lord was in the Navy; and the
present gentleman is also in that employment, about twenty-six or
twenty-seven years of age; his father living and an admiral. I soon
found that he was a firmly established Christian, ready to converse
on the good subject, which he did with good sense and no
inconsiderable energy.

He is in mourning for General Pakenham, and the Duchess of
Wellington is his first cousin. Mentioning Miss Francis, he said he
met her twice at Mr. Wilberforce’s, and speaking in commendation of
her, I told him that she was to dine with me at five o’clock, and
that it would give me much pleasure if he would meet her; this he
readily complied with, and came accordingly.

I have not had so much religious conversation for an age past; and
had not Dr. Halliday from Moscow called between seven and eight,
expecting to see my son, this conversation would have been
uninterrupted. I wish he had come on some other day. Remarking that
I had some apprehension of the ensuing war, because we should be, in
fact, fighting for the restoration of the Pope, the Jesuits, and the
Inquisition, Mr. P. replied, that Lord Liverpool had informed Mr.
Wilberforce that Bonaparte was reconciled to the Pope, pretending to
be a most dutiful son of the Church. It seems agreed by all that the
first victory gained on either side will have most decisive
consequences. I hope I shall hear more of this young man, whose
determined avowal of his religious principles pleases me much.

_May 15._—Breakfasted at Mr. Wilberforce’s. General Macaulay there;
he told me that in his late tour in France, travelling from Lyons to
Geneva, he met with a Monsieur Michaud, who, speaking much of his
farm and offering to show it, the general accompanied him to view
it, and found everything in the highest state of management, and so
much superior to all the rest of the country, that he enquired into
the origin of such great superiority. The answer was, ‘My
cultivation is entirely that of Monsieur Arthur Young, whose
recommendations I have carried into practice with the success you
see.’

Much conversation about Bonaparte; the general is well persuaded
that the allies will be entirely successful, as B. is, and must be,
very badly provided to resist them, and that the first campaign will
carry them to Paris.

_May 17._—Last night, being at West Street Chapel, Mr. Gurney, after
the sermon, came into the pew, when I told him he had not performed
his promise, by calling, on which he came home with me, and gave us
a long account of his life and conversion, beginning at four years
old with a magpie which his father found in a nest, in a haunted
wood, where he went at night in search of a reputed ghost, and which
proved to be only a white pony. This magpie was, by a strange series
of little events, his introduction to Drummond, the banker, and to
procuring himself a school and college education, a knowledge of
several of the nobility, and eventually, through Lord Exeter, the
appointment to the Rectory of St. Clement Danes; and all this from
having been no more than a poor country labourer’s son, and one of
_twenty-two_ children. The detail was very interesting, from being
not only well told, but, from the providence of God, clearly marked
in many little circumstances, and attended by what to him were great
events. These were so remarkable as to induce him to make many
memoranda, and to think at times that they ought to be published,
but on this point he does not seem to be at all determined. I urged
it strongly as a sort of duty. He is uncommonly lively and animated
in conversation, and contrived to talk with little interruption,
from drinking tea and smoking several pipes, till twelve o’clock at
night. I much hope that we shall see him often.

_1816._—This was a very barren year, for the memoranda made are
uncommonly few, but among them is the preparation for the
publication of ‘Oweniana.’[249] The extraction from my religious
papers of those published under the titles of ‘Baxteriana’ and
‘Oweniana’ has greatly diminished the mass, but the remainder is
considerable, and increases every year.

_February._—Last Tuesday se’nnight Sir John Seabright, coming up to
me, said: ‘Mr. Young, the Archdukes of Austria desire to be
introduced to you,’ and the Archduke John, who Seabright said was
the farmer, began a conversation on agriculture which, as many
persons were around, was very short. Some days afterwards Mr.
Ackerman, of the Strand, called to inform me that his Imperial
Highness Archduke John desired to have more conversation with me,
and in three or four days he called and made many enquiries into
those points upon which, I suppose, he had most doubts, contrasting
many circumstances with the system of Austrian peasants, who, by his
account, are in general the proprietors of their little farms even
to the amount of as little as three or four acres. In the
conversation I took occasion to mention my son being in the Crimea,
and intending to return to England by Vienna. In a most obliging
manner he desired me to write to him to tell him to be sure not to
pass Vienna without making himself known to him (the Archduke), as
he would show him everything worth attending to in agriculture. The
conversation was in French, for he speaks no English. It is a pity
that he will go away without seeing anything of Norfolk or Suffolk.

Sir J. Sinclair just come from Paris. He saw Sylvestre[250] there,
the secretary to the Royal Society of Agriculture, who told him that
agriculture saved his life in the Revolution. He was in prison and
brought to trial, and told that his life should be saved if he could
show that he had ever done anything really useful to the Republic.
He replied that he had unquestionably done good, for Arthur Young’s
‘Travels through France’ contained much highly important
information, and in order to spread it through the Republic in a
cheap form, ‘I published a useful abridgement,’ he said, ‘which has
been much read, and has had important effects. I was pardoned and
set at liberty,’ and then, turning to Sir John, he said, ‘Tell your
friend, Mr. Young, that he was thus the means of saving my life.’

_February 17._—The Board met for the first time last Tuesday, but
had no business whatever before them. I suggested the propriety of
sending a circular letter throughout the kingdom, in order to
ascertain by facts the real state of the farming world. They
approved the proposal, observing that not a moment should be lost,
and I retired in order to draw out a letter with _Queries_. This
they examined and altered to their mind; it was immediately
despatched to the printer, and all the rest of the week has been
employed in drawing out lists of persons from the reports, to whom
these letters have been addressed, post paid, to the amount of
12_l._, and many yet to despatch on Monday.

The replies have just begun to come in; by two valuable ones from
Maxwell, near Peterborough, and from Page, of Cobham, the
probability is that much important information will be gained, and a
basis laid for a very interesting publication, but I greatly
question whether they will permit any public use to be made of the
information, and I suspect that it will disclose so lamentable a
state of distress, that it may prove somewhat dangerous, or, at
least, questionable to make it public. What are we to think of the
infatuation of Government in laying on a property tax at such a
moment, rather than borrow a few millions to avoid the necessity,
one of the great evils resulting from our Government being in all
money matters little better than a Committee of the Bank?

Answers to the circular letter of the Board, which was despatched
throughout the kingdom the first week in February, flowed in rapidly
till about April 10, and they describe such a state of agricultural
misery and ruin as to be almost inconceivable to those who do not
connect such a defect with the utter want of circulating medium; the
ruin of the country banks, and the great want of confidence in those
that remain, with an issue of Bank of England notes utterly
insufficient to fill up the vacuity thus occasioned, has made the
want of money so great as to cripple every species of demand.

It is difficult to pronounce what the consequence of the present
ruined state of agriculture will prove, but I must confess that I
dread a scarcity, which must have dreadful effects, coming at a
period when such multitudes are almost starving for want of
employment, even with such cheap bread. What must be their situation
should it be dear? To my astonishment, Government seems utterly
insensible of the danger, and has not taken one single step to
prevent it, or to meet it should it come.

_March._—Lord Winchilsea, who I have not seen for some time, called
on me yesterday and mentioned his having been long absent in France,
Spain, &c. He was at Marseilles when Bonaparte landed from Elba, in
Provence; every circumstance was previously arranged. Messina, at
Marseilles, kept everything quiet on his left, and the [garrison?]
at Grenoble was prepared to receive him; of all this there was no
doubt. Uncertain of what might be the event in France, his lordship
embarked instantly for Barcelona; from thence he crossed Spain to
Lisbon, and throughout the whole of his Spanish journey he did not
pass through a town that was not in a state of ruin and desolation.
He everywhere enquired the cause, and was always told ‘that the
French had done all the mischief,’ with many expressions of cordial
detestation. He would not have conceived a country to be in a more
wretched and deplorable state.

_April 24._—Miss Way and Miss Neve, daughter of the late Sir Richard
Neve, both high Calvinists and constant hearers of Mr. Wilkinson,
called on me the other day in order to converse on religion. They
appear to me to be perfectly sincere, but seem wedded to the high
Calvinistic notions of that preacher. Miss Way lent me two
manuscript sermons of his full of predestination, and the
impossibility of falling from grace; her sister took them in
shorthand. This day Miss Neve called on me again, bringing with her
a Miss Johnson, another Calvinistic lady, who, being in Italy with
some relations, went to Elba to see Bonaparte, and had much
conversation with him. He had told somebody, who told the Johnsons,
that he wanted to see my ‘Travels in France,’ which he had often
thought of reading, but came to Elba without them. Mr. Johnson had
these ‘Travels,’ and took them with him to Elba and presented them
to the Emperor, who expressed much pleasure at receiving them, and
Mr. Johnson afterwards heard that he had read them eagerly and with
much approbation. His countenance indicates a steadfast, resolute,
determined mind, and he is known to abhor all doubtful and
hesitating answers that do not come immediately to the point in
question. In the very short interview that took place he was
standing with his hands in his breeches pockets clinking the money
in them; but she observed that his nails as well as his teeth were
dirty. He enquired, when they were in Provence, and especially on
the coast, whether there were troops at Antibes or at Nice. This
conversation took place on the Thursday, and he left the island on
the Sunday following. He asked her name, and on the reply of Helen,
‘Oh! I am to be sent to St. Helena,[251] this is ominous of my
voyage.’ The interview was very short with him, but with the
Bertrands the conversation was rather longer.

I have finished reading the first volume of ‘Gibbon’s Miscellaneous
Works,’ published by Lord Sheffield. Of mere worldly production, it
is the most interesting that I have read for many years, more
especially Gibbon’s own memoirs of himself. I have been acquainted
with Lord Sheffield above forty years, and more than once met Gibbon
at his house; and, if I remember rightly, the first time I was at
Sheffield Place, which, I think, was in 1770, being invited by him
on my advertising the intentions of the Eastern tour. Mr. Foster and
Lady Elizabeth his wife, daughter of the Earl of Bristol, were
there. I thought her a most fascinating woman—an opinion many times
afterwards confirmed by often meeting her at Ickworth. I was not
therefore surprised to find such advantageous mention made of her by
Gibbon, but, alas! the whole volume has not one word of Christianity
in it, though many which mark the infidelity of the whole gang. Lord
Sheffield never had a grain of religion, and his intimate
connections with Gibbon would alone account for it. Of course he
took no pains to instil it into his family, and if Mrs. Clinton and
Lady Stanley have any, they are not indebted for it to their father
or to his friend. A great number of persons of high rank,
extraordinary talents, and great celebrity thus passing in review,
and all of them (Burke alone excepted) without the least suspicion
of religion attaching to their characters, yield a melancholy
impression on the mind of a Christian. Nineteen in twenty of the
persons mentioned are gone to their eternal state, and of what
account is it at present whether they were celebrated authors,
splendid orators, great ministers, or successful generals or
admirals? Whatever might be their worldly greatness how little are
they to be compared at present to the case of a poor Christian whose
employment was sweeping the streets! Without doubt the propriety of
such observations depends entirely on Christianity being true; but
what a dreadful situation is that man in whose safety is attached
solely to the falsehood of that religion. The reflection makes my
blood almost run cold, and old and blind as I am, and scarcely
exchanging in six weeks a single word with more than one or two
persons out of my family, I feel a comfort and consolation, and I
will add a measure of happiness, not one atom of which would be
found in my bosom if I were not most perfectly convinced of the
absolute truth and importance of that blessed religion which forms
the sole enjoyment of my life.

_June._—Lord Winchilsea called here and chatted with me upon
cottagers’ land for cows, which he is well persuaded, and most
justly, is the only remedy for the evil of poor rates.

1817.—The death of the Princess Charlotte this year created the
greatest sensation ever known.

1818.—On coming to London in February, five-and-twenty claims for
the premium on the [summary of] the state of the poor, the causes of
their distress, and the means of remedying it, were received, and it
afforded me continued employment for many weeks in reading and
giving a character of them. Much the greater part of the authors who
drew up these memoirs were of the same opinion as to the cause of
the national distress, attributing it to the peace having thrown a
vast number of men out of employment who were in the Army or Navy,
or working in the manufactures immediately supported by military
demands; and this evil concurring with a general stagnation from the
failure of a multitude of country banks, had materially affected the
industry of the whole kingdom. The remedies proposed were various,
and many of them visionary; the most rational advised the issuing of
Exchequer Bills in payment of various sorts of public works, such as
canals, roads, harbours, fisheries, and many other employments. Such
suggestions had been proposed to Government, but unfortunately the
ministers in England have very rarely indeed listened to any such
propositions. My friend Mr. Attwood, of Birmingham, in a work
publicly addressed to me, wrote upon the subject with great ability,
and most justly remarked upon dismissing at once both the Army and
the Navy, and turning such numbers loose upon the public when it was
perfectly well known that they could not find employment was highly
mischievous. This ought to have been done slowly and gradually, as
the expense would have been an evil far less deplorable than that
which was insured by a contrary conduct. It was the beginning of
1818 before the kingdom was decidedly found to be in a reviving
state, and in the mean time the infinite number of offences against
the peace and property of the people arose to an alarming height in
every part of the kingdom. The first week in January I received half
a year’s rents, and it was a great comfort to me to find that the
tenants continued their regular payments without running the least
in arrears, and this at a time when complaints on the non-payment of
rents were very general over the greater part of the kingdom. I
attributed this effect, which was very general around Bury and
through all Suffolk, to the stability and flourishing state of our
country banks, whose paper passed readily current, and formed a
perfect contrast to the deficiencies and distress so generally felt
in various other countries; nor can anything be more lamentable than
for gentlemen of small estates finding their tenants running in
arrears of rent.

This was much experienced in the counties of Cambridge, Huntingdon,
and part of Bedford. Sir George Leeds informed me that he had farms
in the former counties abandoned and lying absolutely waste.

[Illustration: ARTHUR YOUNG’S TOMB AT BRADFIELD.]

Here ends the diary. Arthur Young died in Sackville Street on April
20, 1820, and was buried at Bradfield. The following letter from
Mary Young to her brother in Russia gives some details about his
last years. The letter (undated) apparently belongs to 1818: ‘My
father talks of going to Bradfield in June with Miss Francis and Mr.
St. Croix. He is fearful lest Miss Francis (who is a granddaughter
of Dr. Burney, and a daughter of Mrs. Broom by her first husband)
will join the Wilberforces at Brighton, and leave him. When at
Bradfield she sleeps over the servants’ hall, with a packthread tied
round her wrist, and placed through the keyhole, which he pulls at
four or five times, till he awakens her, when she gets up and
accompanies him in a two hours’ walk on the turnpike road to some
cottage or other, and they take milk at some farmhouse; and she
distributes tracts (religious ones), and questions the people about
their principles, and reads to them and catechises them. They return
at half-past six, as that is the hour Mr. St. Croix gets up (his
secretary), who finds it quite enough to read and write two hours
and a half before breakfast. After breakfast they all three adjourn
to the library till one, when Mr. St. Croix takes his walk for an
hour; she and my father read, or write, or walk till three. Before
she went to Bradfield, Mr. St. Croix had but one hour. She has a
table and great chair filled with books in all languages, as she
reads in every language every day to keep them up—Greek, Latin,
Italian, Hebrew, Arabic, German, Spanish, French, Dutch, &c. &c. &c.

‘My father puts children to school at Cuckfield, Stanningfield, and
Bradfield. Every morning, summer or winter, she inspects and teaches
at these schools. Every Sunday they all meet in the hall and read,
and are catechised; and every Sunday night a hundred meet, when St.
Croix reads a sermon and a chapter, and my father explains for an
hour, after which a prayer dismisses them! Last summer they went to
church at Acton or Ampton every Sunday, each church ten miles out
and ten home, besides teaching the schools and the meeting at night
in the hall.

‘He has taken out a licence for the hall, as there is an assembly of
people which would have been otherwise liable to an information.

‘Adieu, my dear Arthur. Are we ever to meet any more?

                                           ‘Yours affectionately,
                                                             ‘M. Y.’

The following is added by Mr. St. Croix:—

  ‘Mr. Young’s benevolent exertions for the poor in his own and the
  adjoining parishes, and constant plan for welfare and relief of
  their necessities, was very beautiful, and I believe and fear very
  uncommon. To women this attention is natural.

  ‘H. More truly says, “Charity is the employment of a female; the
  care of the poor is her profession;” but to see this extend to the
  other sex, to witness the same solicitude for the distresses of
  the ignorant, unextinguished by business or by ingratitude, in a
  man of such activity of genius as Mr. Y., was indeed an impressive
  sight. At one time he established spinning matches; a cap was the
  prize, and several young girls contended for it, the best spinner
  being victorious. This occasioned industry and emulation,
  certainly; but even this was not without its attendant evil, and
  Mr. Y. finally abandoned it, from the dread of encouraging vanity,
  and appropriated the money to _winter feasts_.

  ‘In this cold, unproductive season, there were amongst the poor
  constant endeavours and constant failure at repletion. Every
  Sunday after church a set of poor people, chiefly children, were
  invited, and a plentiful dinner provided for them, Mr. Y. waiting
  on them and carving himself.

  ‘But this he was at last obliged to relinquish. The Sunday cooking
  was certainly a grand objection; and some neighbouring ladies who
  had (charity) schools remonstrated at the absence of the children,
  who were crazy if they were not allowed to forsake everything in
  order to attend Mr. Y.’s dinners. But another scheme, more
  extensive and more useful, succeeded this—namely, the introduction
  of straw-plaiting among the young cottagers.’




                                 INDEX

[Illustration]

 Abercorn, Marquis of, 347
 Aldworth, Richard, 72
 Allen, Alderman (father-in-law of Arthur Young), 32
 — —(son of the above), 60
 — Mrs., 36, 38
 Althorp, Lord, 313
 Amorette, Abate, 176
 Anson, Mr., 394
 Arblay, Madame d’, 23 _note_ 12, 32 _note_ 29, 61 _note_ 52, 100
    _note_ 74, 135 _note_ 99, 196, 214, 216
 Arbuthnot, Mr. (son of Viscount Arbuthnot), 66, 92, 97, 98, 124
 Armstead, Mrs., 260
 Ashby, Rev. George, 104 and _note_ 79, 114, 129
 Aspin, Miss, 15
 Attwood, Mr., 471
 Auckland, Lord, 314
 Augusta of Saxe Gotha (Princess of Wales), 16

 B., Countess of, 29
 Baker, Whyman, 88, 111
 Bakewell, Robert, 135 and _note_ 101
 Balgrave, Rev. —, 355
 Banks, Sir Joseph, 150, 151, 163, 165, 167, 174, 201, 224, 321,
    339, 350
 Baroude, A. F., 464 _note_
 Barrington, Dr. (Bishop of Durham), 254, 348, 352, 358, 376
 Barry, James (painter), 115-118
 Bayley, Butterworth, 59
 Bedford, fifth Duke of, 172, 206, 244, 245, 246, 254, 256, 273,
    276, 301, 313, 318, 330, 351, 360, 363, 372, 374, 375
 Bedford, sixth Duke of, 372, 373 _note_, 374, 383, 384, 396, 444
 Bentham, Jeremy, 247, 249, 308, 341
 Bentinck, Lady Mary, 327
 — Lord Charles, 328
 Berchtold, Count Leopold, 167 and _note_, 168-170, 180
 Bernard, Mr., 376
 Berry, Edward, 323
 — Miss Jane. _See_ Young, Mrs. Arthur, daughter-in-law of Arthur
    Young
 Bolton, M.P., Cornelius, 75, 80
 Boswell, 191
 Boulainvilliers, Comte de, 32 and _note_ 30
 Boyd, Hugh, 92-97
 Bristol (Bishop of Derry), Earl of, 101, 102, 103-105, 113,
    128-131, 228
 — Countess of, 225, 227, 243
 Brudenell, Mr., 18
 Brunswick, Duke of, 355, 356
 Bryant, Jacob, 245 and _note_, 291
 Buccleugh, Duke of, 245, 256, 261
 Bukaty, M., 159, 180 and _note_
 Bulkeley, Lady Frances, 52
 Bunbury, Sir C., 412
 Burdett, Sir Francis, 345, 449, 451
 Burgoyne, Montague, 418, 419
 Burke, Edmund, 67, 93, 174, 232, 256-261, 302, 345, 428
 — W., 257, 428
 Burney, Dr. Charles, 23 and _note_ 12, 51, 65, 92, 100, 101, 115,
    144, 181, 194, 196, 197, 214, 232, 250, 299, 326
 — Fanny. _See_ Arblay, Madame d’
 Burney, Hester, 51, 100 _note_ 74
 —Sarah, 215 and _note_
 Burrell, Sir Peter, 164
 Burton, Colonel (afterwards Lord Cunningham), 67, 68
 Bute, Lord, 192, 355, 412

 Cadell (the publisher), 395
 Cadogan, Lady, 313
 Caldwell, Sir James, 69, 70, 75
 Camden, Lord, 304
 Canham, the elder, Bartholomew, 2
 Canning, Mr., 327, 362 _note_
 Carew, Pole, 202
 Carnot, M., 307 and _note_
 Carrington, Lord, 314, 315, 319, 333 _note_, 351, 356, 360, 361,
    363, 370, 379, 393, 407, 413
 Cartier, M., 157
 Cartwright, Dr., 367, 373, 374, 396
 Castiglioni, Count di, 176
 Castries, Marshal de, 240
 Catherine, Empress, 124
 Charlemont, Earl of, 75
 Chester, Bishop of, 97, 98
 Chesterfield, Lord, 33, 34, 49
 Chevalier, Rev. M., 14
 Cibber, Mrs., 15
 Clermont, Lord, 211
 Clive, Lord, 49
 Cobbett, William, 442
 Cocks, Sir Charles (afterwards Lord Somers), 52
 Coke, J. W., 212, 384, 385, 386, 400, 432, 444
 Cole, Charles, 243, 245, 255, 290, 297, 304, 368
 Colhoun, Mr., 363
 Collier, Joseph and Mary, 27 and _note_ 15
 Cornwallis, Archbishop, 139
 — Marquis of, 205
 Cotton, Lady, 338
 Coulter, Rev. Mr. (Master of Lavenham School), 7, 8, 23
 Courtenay, Sir W., 192
 Cousmaker, John, 103
 — John de, 3, 126
 — Miss, 102, 103
 — — Anne Lucretia de. _See_ Young, Mrs. (mother of Arthur Young)
 Coventry, Lady, 20
 Cowper’s ‘Letters,’ quoted, 410
 Coxe, Archdeacon, 236
 Crewe, Mrs., 214, 233, 259, 260, 327
 — Mr., 326
 Crosse, Lady, 17
 Cullum, Sir John, 104 and _note_ 78, 114, 134
 Cumberland, Duke of, 4, 6, 16 _note_ 10

 Danby, Mr., 50, 55, 76
 Darnley, Earl of, 245
 Dartmouth, Lord, 236
 Day, Thomas (author of ‘Sandford and Merton’), 166 and _note_
 Derry, Bishop of. _See_ Bristol, Earl of
 Doddington, George Bubb, 12, 161
 Dolmein (geologist), 368 and _note_ 209
 Douglas, Bishop, 236, 304
 Dryden (quoted), 35
 Ducket, Mr., 172
 Dundas, Lady Jane, 327
 — Mr., 261, 327
 Dundonald, Lord, 160
 Dunstanville, Lord de, 245
 Durham, Bishop of. _See_ Barrington, Dr.

 Edward Augustus, Prince. _See_ York, Duke of
 Egremont, Lord, 111, 179, 244, 245, 275, 299, 313, 315, 317, 324,
    352, 358, 360, 363, 434
 Elizabeth, Princess (daughter of George II.), 16
 Ellerton, Mr., 50
 Erne, Lady, 267
 Estissac, Duchess d’, 175
 Euston, Lord, 365

 Fawcett, Sir William, 329
 Fielding, Sir John, 69
 Fife, Lord, 112
 Folkes, Sir Martin, 2, 11
 Folkestone, Lord, 59 _note_ 49
 Forbes, Mrs., 252, 253
 Fordyce, Lady Margaret, 338
 — Sir William, 147
 Forster, Lord Chief Baron, 75
 Foster, Lady Elizabeth, 468, 469
 Fox, Charles James, 202, 227, 233, 234, 259, 424, 425
 — Henry (afterwards Lord Holland), 16, 134, 164
 Francis, Miss, 457 and _note_ 247, 460, 461, 472
 Freeman, Miss, 20
 Frere, J. H., 362 _note_
 Fry, Mr., 391, 395, 398, 407

 Gage, Sir Thomas, 191
 Garrick, 10, 15, 22, 31, 32
 — Mrs., 245
 George II., 16
 — III., 112, 132, 138, 160, 178, 190, 224, 237, 268, 321, 322
 George, Prince (afterwards George III.), 16
 — — (afterwards George IV.), 192
 Gibbon, Edward, 258, 259, 468
 Gifford, W., 362 _note_
 Gloucester, Duke of, 371
 Gordon, Duchess of, 334
 Gough, Captain, 5
 Grafton, Duchess of, 139, 140
 — Duke of, 139, 140, 141, 193, 201, 211, 239, 254, 305, 325, 361,
    362, 372, 382, 426, 438, 454 _note_
 Granby, Marquis of, 355
 Gray, Thomas (the poet), quoted, 89, 90
 Green, Valentine, 59
 Grenville, Lord, 360, 435
 Grey, Sir Charles (afterwards first Earl Grey), 327
 — — — (afterwards second Earl Grey), 233, 234, 235, 424
 Grigby, Joshua, 390
 Guerchy, Comtesse de, 186, 187
 Gurney, Rev. Mr., 462

 Halifax, Dr., 372, 376
 Hanger, Colonel George (afterwards Lord Coleraine), 192 and _note_
    141
 Harcourt, Countess of, 50 _note_ 39, 358
 — Earl of, 67, 75
 Hardwicke, Lord, 338
 Hardy, Professor, 238
 Harte, Rev. Walter, 32 and _note_ 31, 33, 35-43, 49
 Harvey, Fenton, 20
 Hastings, Warren, 164
 Hawke, Lord, 241
 Hawkesbury, Lady, 267
 Hawksworth, Dr., 343
 Héritier, C. de l’, 367 and _note_
 Hertford, Marquis of, 427
 Hervey, General, 105, 106
 — Lady Mary, 267 and _note_
 Hesketh, Lady, 233
 Hill, Rev. Rowland, 359
 Hoar, Captain, 350, 352
 Holdernesse, Lord, 56
 Holroyd, John Baker (afterwards Lord Sheffield, _q.v._), 58
 Hoole, Mrs., 189, 198, 246, 250, 252
 — John, 189
 — Rev. Samuel, 189, 246, 251, 252, 361, 362
 Horsley, Bishop, 359 and _note_ 204
 Howard, Sir Charles, 28
 — John, 59, 60, 248
 Howlett, Rev. —, 97, 285
 Hunter, Dr. Alexander, 61 and _note_ 53
 Hutchinson, Rev. Mr., 336
 Huthhausen, Baron, 173

 Ingoldsby, Dr., 19
 — General, 4, 5, 6, 7
 — Mrs., 6, 10

 Jarré, General, 123
 Jarvis, Lord, 267
 Jefferys, Mr. and Mrs., 73
 Jenkinson, Mr., 256
 Jenyns, Soame, 244, 245
 Jermyn, Sir Thomas, 2
 Jobson, Rev. Mr., 337
 John of Austria, Archduke, 463, 464
 Johnson, Dr., 26, 27, 32 _note_ 31, 285 _note_ 177, 353, 421, 422
 Joy, Mrs., 19

 Kalaskowski, Count, 144
 Kames, Lord, 84 and _note_ 63
 Keene, Mr. and Mrs., 3
 Kennon, Mrs. Sidney, 10, 11, 12, 13
 Kenrick, Dr., 27 and _note_ 14
 Keppel, Lord, 108
 Kingsborough, Lord, 76, 77-80
 Kinsman, Mr. (master of Bury St. Edmunds School), 7
 Knight, Cornelia, 368 and _note_ 208

 Lafayette, 191
 Lamb, Mr. (King’s Messenger), 45
 Lambert, Captain, 29
 Langford, Dr., 142
 Latrobe, B. H., 172
 Lauderdale, Lord, 314, 397
 Law, Thomas, 229
 Lawrence, Dr., 345
 Lazowski, M. de, 119 and _note_ 91, 120-124, 154, 175
 Leeds, Duke of, 51
 — Sir George, 472
 Leigh, Mr. (Clerk of the House of Commons), 261, 262
 Liancourt, Duke of, 119 and _note_ 90, 120-123, 154, 259, 382
 Liverpool, Lord, 339
 Llandaff, Bishop of. _See_ Watson, Richard
 Lofft, Capel, 101 and _note_ 75, 102, 276, 291, 317, 318
 Longford, Lord, 71
 Loughborough, Lord, 86, 98, 207, 208, 219
 Louisa, Princess (daughter of George II.), 16
 Luther, Mr., 179

 Macartney, Lord, 196
 Macaulay, General, 460, 462
 Macklin, Rev. Mr., 154, 267, 274
 Macpherson, Sir John, 224, 225, 239
 Macro, Mr., 170
 Magellan, Mr., 150
 Manchester, Duke of, 367, 395
 March, Lord, 140, 141
 Marlborough, Duke of, 26
 Marshall, W., 427 and _note_ 234, 429
 Martin, Professor, 147
 Massalski, Prince (Bishop of Wilna), 52
 Mauduit, Israel, 255 and _note_
 Medlicott, Mr., 71
 Milbank, Lady, 350
 Mildmay, Sir A. St. John, 348
 Milner, Dean, 371 and _note_, 372
 — Professor, 150
 Miripoix, M. de (French Ambassador), 17
 Moira, Lord, 243, 304
 Moncrief, Sir Henry, 238
 Montagu, Mrs., 233, 243, 244, 245, 312, 349, 358, 386
 Montrose, Duke of, 245, 347
 Mordaunt, Lady Mary, 52
 More, Hannah, 233, 245, 246, 473
 Mouron, M., 124
 Murray, General, 171

 Nepean, Mr., 341, 342
 Neve, Miss, 467
 Neville, Mr., 134
 Newcastle, Duke of, 16
 North, Lord, 60, 107, 201
 — Rev. Mr., 344
 Northey, Mr., 363

 Oakes, Orbell Ray, 154, 266, 382, 388, 406
 — Mrs. Orbell Ray, 266 and _note_, 270, 320, 321, 354, 359, 370
    _note_ 211, 382, 385, 388, 392, 438, 443, 444, 445, 446, 453
 O’Connor, A., 317 and _note_
 Oliver, Right Hon. Silver, 74
 Onslow, Dr., 191
 — General, 4, 15, 16, 191
 — Lady, 20
 — Mr. Speaker, 4, 20, 28
 Orde, Mrs., 245
 Orford, Earl of, 60, 206, 207, 233
 Orwell, Lord, 16 _note_ 9
 Ossory, Lord, 331, 332, 395
 Otto, L. W., Count of Morlay, 377 and _note_ 215
 Overton, J., 376 and _note_

 Pakenham, Mr., 460, 461
 Paley, Dr., 378
 Parkyn, Mr., 367
 Partridge, Rev. S., 280
 Patulle, M., 36, 40, 42
 Pearson, Dr., 376
 Pelham, Lord, 381
 Peterborough, Bishop of, 147
 Peterson, Lady, 20
 Petty, Lord Henry, 370
 Phillips, Sir John, 17
 Pigot, Admiral, 193
 Pitt, William, 134, 137, 161, 166, 201, 203, 219, 221, 254, 255,
    306, 314, 315, 327, 345, 346, 363, 371, 424, 427
 Plampin, Betsy. _See_ Oakes, Mrs.
 — Captain John, 154, 423
 Polignac, Prince and Princess de, 162 and _note_
 Pope, Alexander (quoted), 136 _note_ 102
 Popple, Mr. (Governor of Bermuda), 13
 Porteus, Bishop, 178, 179
 Portland, Duke of, 51, 326
 Potemkin, Prince, 102, 125
 Poulett, Mr., 246
 Preston, Lord, 367, 368
 Priestley, Dr., 99, 150-153, 439

 Queensberry, Duke of, 192

 Radnor, Lord, 161
 Richardson, Samuel, 192
 Richmond, Legh, 460
 Roberts, Dr., Provost of Eton, 142
 — Lewis, 91 and _note_ 67
 Robertson, Messrs. (of Lynn), 22, 23
 Rochefoucault, Counts de la, 119-121, 154
 Rochester, Bishop of, 4, 28
 Rockingham, Marquis of, 42, 50
 Roper, Dr., 52
 Rose, George (President of the Board of Trade), 132 and _note_ 97,
    137, 221, 241, 242
 Ross, Bishop, 160
 Rosslyn, Lord, 360
 Rossmore, Lord, 347
 Rostopchin, Count, 387, 401
 Ruggles, Th., 194 and _note_ 143
 Rumford, Count, 323
 Ryder, Lady Susan, 327, 328
 — Mr., 327, 386

 St. Vincent, Earl of, 418, 419
 Sambosky, Rev. —, 124, 125
 Saunderson, Dr. Nicholas, 14 _note_ 8
 Scott, Rev. Thomas, 349, 359, 391, 392
 Seabright, Sir John, 463
 Sheffield, Lord, 132, 220, 245, 258, 344 and _note_ 199, 393, 395,
    402, 407, 468, 469
 Shelburne, Earl of (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne), 67, 69, 102
 Shelley, Mr., 20
 Sheridan, R. B., 164 and _note_, 234
 Shipley, Mr., 59 _note_ 49
 Sidmouth, Lord, 419, 434, 460
 Simeon, Rev. Charles, 369, 395, 397, 398, 399, 400
 Sinclair, Sir J., 159 and _note_ 119, 160, 219, 220, 224, 241, 242,
    243, 245, 247, 256, 299, 314, 315, 316, 413, 414, 437, 443, 464
 Smirenove, Mr., 387, 400
 Smith, Sydney (quoted), 445 _note_ 239
 Somers, Lord, 359
 Somerville, Lord, 245, 315, 316, 318, 347, 361, 363, 384, 385, 404
 Souga, Anthony (Austrian Consul), 169
 Spencer, Lord, 313, 367
 Stafford, Lord, 161
 Stanhope, Lady, 313
 — Philip, 33
 Stanislas, King, 119
 Stonehewer, Mr., 193, 346
 Sturton, Sir Thomas, 344
 Sutton, Dr. Robert, 8 and _note_ 4
 Symonds, Professor John, 103, 114 and _note_ 84, 120-124, 129, 140,
    144, 146, 154, 160, 184, 192, 201, 210, 236, 239, 253, 283, 295,
    304, 344, 355, 362, 368, 400, 412, 419-421

 Thornhill, Major, 78, 79
 Thurlow, Lord, 161
 Tillet, Mr. de, 170
 Tomlinson, Mr., 22
 — Mrs. (sister of Arthur Young), 20, 22, 126
 Tour du Pin, Count de la, 257
 Townsend, Rev. J., 407 and _note_ 227
 Townshend, Lord, 136
 Trant, Mr. and Mrs., 73
 Tuam, Archbishop of, 75
 Turner, Miss, 15
 Turton, Dr., 264, 273, 274

 Valpy, Dr. Richard, 106 and _note_ 81, 133, 297
 Vancouver, 426 and _note_ 232
 Vansittart, Nicholas, (afterwards Lord Bexley), 426 and _note_ 233,
    435, 459
 Vary, Mr., 140, 141, 193
 Vassy, Governor, 4
 Voltaire (quoted), 39

 Wakefield, Edward, 75 and _note_
 Washington, General, 189, 191, 360
 Watson, Richard (afterwards Bishop of Llandaff), 97, 123, 124, 147,
    150, 177-180, 236, 237, 254, 375
 Way, Miss, 467
 Wedderburn, Alexander (afterwards Earl of Rosslyn), 97 and _note_
    70
 — Colonel, 16 _note_ 9
 Wellesley, Marquis of, 451
 Wentworth, Lord, 245
 Whitbread, Samuel, 52, 59, 161
 Wight, Alexander, 84 and _note_
 Wilberforce, William, 201, 287 and _note_ 180, 288, 289, 297, 307,
    325 and _note_, 326, 345, 348, 359, 371, 375, 407, 454 _note_,
    457, 459
 Wilkes, John, 10
 Willes, Mr. Justice, 52
 Willoughby, Sir C., 351, 413
 Winchester, Earl of, 245
 Winchilsea, Earl of, 244, 315, 351, 363, 388, 466, 470
 Windham, William, 161
 Wollaston, Dr., 277
 Wurtemburg, Queen of, 425
 Wyndham, M.P., Mr., 259

 Yeldham, John, 47
 York, Duke of, 16, 266, 327
 York, Mrs., 245
 Young, Rev. Dr. (father of Arthur Young, writer of the
    Autobiography), 2-6, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14, 24
 — Mrs. (mother of Arthur Young), 3, 22, 24, 28, 56, 57, 61, 77, 81,
    126
 — Arthur (son of Arthur Young), 51, 139, 143, 299, 317, 318, 323,
    352, 363, 382, 402, 403, 406, 408, 415, 418, 428, 429, 432, 448,
    456, 457, 464
 — — (last descendant of Arthur Young), 127 _note_ 94
 — Mrs. Arthur (wife of Arthur Young), 32 and _note_ 29, 46, 81,
    142, 146, 319, 339, 389, 413, 424, 429, 438, 457, 460
 — — — (daughter-in-law of Arthur Young), 323, 397, 398, 399, 404,
    409, 415, 429, 446, 448, 457
 — Bartholomew (grandfather of Arthur Young), 2
 — Elizabeth (‘Bessy’) (second daughter of Arthur Young), 51, 146,
    181, 189. _See_ also Hoole, Mrs.
 — Elizabeth Mary (‘Elisa Maria’) (sister of Arthur Young), 1, 15,
    19, 20. _See also_ Tomlinson, Mrs.
 — Rev. Dr. John (brother of Arthur Young), 2, 9, 57, 107, 127, 132,
    138-143
 — Martha Ann (‘Bobbin’) (youngest daughter of Arthur Young), 110
    and _note_ 83, 158, 159 _note_ 118, 184, 185, 263-284, 286, 287,
    290, 294, 295, 298, 323, 382, 423
 — Mary (eldest daughter of Arthur Young), 43, 184, 382, 425, 440,
    454 _note_ 244, 457, 472

                             PRINTED BY
              SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
                               LONDON

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                         Transcriber’s Note

In the Table of Contents, the page for Chapter I was missing and has
been supplied. The page given for Chapter III was ‘4’ and has been
replaced by the correct page 44.

The Index has frequent references to footnotes, mentioning the page
and number on those pages. Since all footnotes have been renumbered
sequentially, for uniqueness, across the text, the Index references
have been modified to reflect the new numbers.

On p. 223, Young includes a memorandum from August 21, opening with
a quotation mark which is never closed. Judging from the tone of the
memorandum, it is likely that it closes at the end of a long
paragraph on p. 224 (see below).

Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected,
and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the
original.

  32.23    [I ]shall make the tea                         Added.

  58.13    were the numbers ascertained.[’]               Removed.

  187.30   quoted particulars o[f] yearly expenses        Restored.

  211.11   ‘Last night, in[s]tead of reading              Inserted.

  213.13   on the p[oli/la]ce of corn and capital         Probable.
           employed

  224.22   secretaryship of the Board.[’]                 Added.

  284.26   dwells upon the present.[’]                    Added.

  306      the study of polite letters[.]                 Added.

  315.27   the same answer was [r]eturned                 Restored.

  381.16   I have taken places[.]                         Added.

  393.31   ‘Der Augenblick ist Ewigkeit.[’]               Added.

  459.12   general anxiety and app[r]ehension             Inserted.

          Transcription of Manuscript Letter after p. 188

The following is a transcription of a letter from Arthur Young to
his wife Mary. There are several place names that resist
transcription in indicated with bracketed dashes.

                               No 82

                                                Besançon July 27. 89

Dear Mary

      I expected a L^r here, but was disappointed How comes y^t: I
hope not to be so at Dijon.

        I think I wrote you fr^o Strasbourg: the day after at y^t
place 20,000 mob pillaged the Hotel d. Ville a house 3 times as big
as the Angel & almost tore it in pieces: It was well furnished, but
all turn’d out of windows in sight of 6 Regim.^{ts} who could not or
w’d not do anything to save it. From y^t time to this moment all has
been riot in every place I have been at. I spent a day at Schelestad
with the Ct. de la Rochefoucauld who was very civil & obliging but
on y^e qui vive for populace who are every where in motion At one
place I was near being knocked on the head for want of a Tiers etat
Cockade; and at another saved by self being an english^n. by
explaining how y^e Tiers etat p^d no taxes but the Seigneurs all in
England; proposing to them to do the same in France, they relished
this, and believed y^t I was not a Seigneur, but an honest fellow.

In this country worse & worse—they are burning and plundering
chateaus, & hunt down the Seigneurs like wild beasts—some have been
shot, others hanged, and hundreds driven out of the Country &
ruined. You see by y^e papers I suppose that the King is at
Versailles bereft of Guards power, family & all but claps and
huzzas: the Queen shut up at St Cyr; the Count d’Artois gone to
Spain it is said but first to [————]; and all the Queen’s friends
fled the Kingdom to escape halters. Never was such a revolution
known or heard off. The towns are every where arming the tiers etat,
so it will very soon be too late for the nobility to stir in their
defence.

Pray tell Hyde to take Care that the acre in Grav P.field y^t is to
be inclosed be well dunged & sowed with cabbage seed I ordered fr^o
[——] thro Bess—with^t fail by the 20^{th}. august in fine order.
Write me how the Cabbages are, fr^o a little bed in [——] past Round
garden; How does Cooper go on? I desire that Arthur may lose no time
at home, but take M^r Symonds directions when to go to C. I have not
had a L^r from him of 11 months; I suppose because I expressly
desired one once a fortnight: But nothing surprizes me that come
fr^o him; Eton has I hope has done so much for his head that it
leaves nothing for his heart—God send it may prove so; & y^t I have
not impoverished myself for nothing.

Give my dear Bobbin a Kiss for me & tell her I shall write her a L^r
next.

                                             Adieu  Y^r affect^t  AY

Rem^r me to y^r Mother

Say nothing to Arth. ab^t writing; I had much rather have no L^r
than such as those hints bring: observe this:

                           Miss Young
                           Bradfield Hall
                           Bury
                           Suffolk
                           Angleterre