costly year. Read Wilberforce aloud from nine to half past eleven and finished the book to our great regret for it is most extremely interesting, the first volume dull, rising in interest every volume after till you quite forgot the disagreeable plan adopted by the editor.1 It is a book to have, to be often read again, for the times he lived in were full of moment and the people he lived with those of the first note in the moral and political annals of our country—many of them known to me—many of them connected with me—and his truly religious heart, producing an uprightness almost heavenly, is a study for every Christian though to my feelings the formality of his religion is to be deprecated and his enthusiasm avoided.
3. The little girls and I went to Widow Redmond’s and to Biddy Shannon to send the children to school. How miserable was Shannon’s cabin, the two families crowded together to save fuel, the asthmatick old man and his epileptick daughter, poor Biddy with five ragged girls, the three youngest infants—one at the breast, another hardly walking—God help them. Settled the school accounts with Miss Gardiner. I must think over the best plan for increasing the number of pupils.
5. A note from Mrs. Moore, [wife of the Rector of the neighbouring parish of Kilbride] about Caroline Clarke which has greatly annoyed me. A case of real hardship to the poor girl whom I by no means forced on her. Wrote notes to several members of our new Book Club asking for their subscriptions, and then to Mrs. Moore to say that neither Sarah [her first maid] nor I wanted Caroline, that I should have been glad to have had her at the time I offered to take her but now I had engaged another.
6. It will behove me now to throw off a degree of indolence I have I think too much given way to—partly from weak health—partly from having Sarah in whom we had such confidence to trust to. I do not mean to replace her and have thus arranged the household—a cook, a housemaid who will wait on me, a nursery maid, Helen to come to do the washing and to be apart in her laundry as a day labourer—to finish it in four days—her wages 10/-a month, finding her own tea, I feeding her, and every second Saturday to scrub the nurseries for which she will get her dinner. A butler and coachman completes our establishment indoors which a very little exertion on my part will keep in good order as they are a well disposed set of people.
7. All early astir to prepare for the marriage. The Bridegroom [James the butler,] did all his morning work and then set off with his hamper of provisions to arrange his own breakfast at the Doctor’s. Tea, coffee, brown and white sugar, butter, preserved strawberries, bread, hot rolls, ham, corned beef, cake and wine. The Bride dressed all the children and cried too much to dress herself. She was very neat in a blue muslin de laine gown given her by Lady Milltown, a blue plush bonnet given her by me, a white shawl, worked cambric collar, the little girls as bridesmaids in white gloves, their Dehli scarves and all their finery, the best man looking as happy as a king and calling for jam. Poor Sarah, she has been nearly ten years with us—within a very few months—the first servant we hired in England, who took Janey from her birth. Never forget, little girls, how much Sarah has done for both of you.
It is for you, dear children, I am keeping this journal. I have often during my life done so before by starts for my mother or my sisters when we were separated, and I have often regretted that I had not continued to do it. Reading Mr. Wilberforce determined me to begin [even] at this eleventh hour. My experience of life, my love for you, all make me anxious to devote myself to your welfare, and if it should be God’s will to take your parents from you, the voice of your mother from the grave may be a guide and a protection. I am not young—and I am not strong. I shall be 43 next May, your father will be 60 in March and he has been more than 25 years in India. Happiness, comfort, and care may lead us on yet many years—but we may go sooner—before your principles are secured. An uninterrupted course of prosperity you are not to expect nor would I ask it for you. God chastens whom he loves. But I long to see your tempers so controlled, your habits of industry and activity and kindness so fixed, your hearts so truly given to God that you may be enabled to bear the sorrows and disappointments of life with patience, as sent for your good by Him—that you may avoid the temptations of prosperity, diligently examining your hearts which will direct you right if you prove them faithfully, remembering for God’s sake to do your duty in that state of life into which it shall please him to call you.
The post brought a few lines from Mrs. Jameson with a copy made by Harry of his Uncle Woosnam’s letter describing the march of the troops into Affganisthan and the taking of the Fort of Guznee at which he assisted, the object being to dethrone one murdering tyrant and place just such another on the vacant throne. A shocking kind of warfare—our disciplined troops against those poor wretches—as may be judged of from the list of mortality on both sides—we the assailants having twenty-three men killed and about eighty wounded, the defenders leaving in the fort above five hundred bodies to be buried, the wounded and the numbers slaughtered by our cavalry in attempting to escape from the walls were unknown. If this be glory it is indeed but tinsel. There seems to me to be nearly as much credit to be gained by an attack like Don Quixote on a flock of sheep—and the King Shah Souja or something for whom we made this slaughter added his own mite to the general sum of corpses by cutting off the heads of all prisoners brought to the camp during his progress.2
Mr. Fetherstone called and we had an interesting conversation after dinner. In his parish of Holywood he has a great many Protestant parishioners most zealous for their religion—ready to fight anyone opposed to it—and perfectly ignorant of its principles—equally superstitious, bigotted, intolerant, and uninstructed with their papist neighbours. I can say the same of most of whom I have had experience here and then we wonder Ireland don’t improve. Oh, Protestant clergy and landlords of this darkened land what sins of omission at least have you to answer for.
9. The Doctor walked in so much improved by his fortnight’s holidays—sad picture of the state of society in that part of the country near Kilkenny. Gentlemen all living beyond their means—proud and poor and ostentatious, badly educated, idle, dissipated, almost worthless, so drowned in debt as to be crippled in every feeling. How happy are we to have had our quiet lot cast here. A letter from John [Robinson, his brother the Agent] with account current to the end of the year. All debts paid, fifty pounds in hand and two or three of the Tenants the back half-year to pay yet—to near a hundred pounds more, that will do very well and the pay coming in February.
10. Tom Darker [the Steward] much edified with a very able article on the Corn Laws I gave him to read—admits the possibility of the system of agriculture pursued here being improvable, thinks that lighter fences, corners brought in, gates to fields, drains and rotation of crops might greatly increase the value of land; assured me he and his brother have been improving in these respects. Anne Henry from Lodgepark came to call. I should be quite satisfied with such a daughter. I want no daughter of mine to shine. I want no acknowledged beauty, no professor of any accomplishment—no learned lady—nothing remarkable, but I wish to see my girls obliging, industrious, contented, sufficiently accomplished to make their home agreeable, so intelligent as to be suitable companions to their father, their brother or their husband.
12. I have been thinking how best to encourage the school, and not being able to afford more help in money than it now costs, I have determined on giving fewer prizes— only one in each Division—and instead I shall send ten children to school. I have also resolved on resuming my regular daily business as the only possible way of keeping things in order. Monday—The washing to be given out. Clothes mended. Stores for the week given to the servants. Tuesday—work for the week cut out and arranged, my own room tidied. Wednesday—accounts, letters, papers all put by. Thursday—house-keeping, closets, storeroom, etc. arranged, bottles put by, pastry made—in short every necessary job done for the week. Friday—gardening and poor people’s wants. Saturday—put by clean clothes and school. Two hours generally
