Thomas Turner

…In the evening Thomas Durrant and I smoked a pipe or two with Mr Francis Weller, in at his mother’s. In the first part of the evening wrote out several bills for Mrs Browne.

…In the evening down at Mr Porter’s a little time. This day we brought home by two men (whom our parish had sent on purpose) Will Burrage, who had absconded above 5 years ago and left a wife and 6 small children as a burden to the parish. Now as the affair makes a great noise and confusion in the place and the inhabitants seem much divided in their opinion about the treatment which he deserves to meet with, I shall for the future satisfaction of anyone who may happen to see my memoirs deliver my sentiments in the affair:

First, Mr Porter, Mr Coates and Mr French are desirous he should suffer the punishment due to so atrocious a crime as deserting his family, by which means they have been an expense to the parish of upwards of £50, and the poor woman become a lunatic through grief, in the most rigorous manner. The rest of the people are all desirous he should escape without any further punishment.

Neither of these methods is I think agreeable to reason or justice, for as to the first I think it is too severe, as many things appear in his favor, and as to his first going away I doubt he had some faint reason for so doing, (though none adequate to answer the leaving his family), such as his wife and he living unhappy through the instigation and unhappy temper of her mother, who lived with them, and the many attempts made by the first mentioned gentlemen to reduce the price of day labor by bringing into the parish certificate-men [paupers with certificates from their own parishes] for that purpose, which undoubtedly must be very disheartening to an industrious man and what I think hardly just and human. Then, since he has been in custody he has behaved extremely well, giving the men no trouble, and coming home with a seeming cheerfulness, and at the same time promising to maintain and do the best for his family in his power.

These things duly considered should I presume be some mitigation of the rigorous punishment due to his crime (which must be allowed great). The greatest number or body of the people who are for releasing him immediately plead that it will be of no service to the parish to confine him in the house of correction, and that the interest to the parish barely considered should be a motive sufficient to release him. This I think savors too much of a contracted and self-interested mind, or rather a pusillanimous disposition, neither of which methods I approve of.

I would then advise justice should take place in such a manner that a strict eye may be had to mercy, and not in the height of executing justice to forget that benign virtue. No, I would not but that it might be so tempered together as not to interfere or clash with each other, for undoubtedly he ought to suffer in some manner, either by confinement or corporal punishment, or both, in order to deter others from the same offence, but then I would have mercy so far take place that he might be convinced his punishment did not proceed from choice but as it were from real necessity in order to keep a due subordination in the parish and that the mitigation of the punishment proceeded altogether from the lenity of the officers and gentlemen of the parish. This if I can form any judgment of the affair would seem the most eligible way, as justice would not be perverted and yet mercy shine through the whole in the most beautiful and delightful colors. However as I write or think not to direct others, only to deliver my own sentiments in the affair, if my arguments were brought to the test sand strictly scrutinized they might perhaps be found quite insignificant and of no weight. Therefore I shall with all due deference submit to the opinion of them who are better judges.

…I dined on the remains of yesterday’s dinner. At home all day and pretty busy. In the evening Joseph Fuller smoked a pipe with me.

N.B.: By way of a postscript to what I wrote yesterday relating to Burrage’s affair, I doubt not but to every human and well-disposed person (especially in this land of liberty) (and freedom) there must at the first thought something appear shocking to humane nature at the prospect of a person’s suffering punishment even when his crimes justly merit it, and we are, as it were, instantaneously struck with a fellow-feeling for the delinquent, and at the same time sympathize and as it were bear a part of his punishment, but so soon as the first starts of the impression made on ow minds by the representation of outward objects (if I may be allowed the expression) are over and reason resumes its place, we shall then consider and reflect that, were not human laws in some measure executed, there could be no security of property, and when a person is become truly obnoxious to the laws of his country, totally to pervert the executing of justice would be as great a crime as wholly to exclude mercy, so that what before appeared as compassion and pity we shall now look upon rather as pusillanimity and as proceeding from fear, rather than from a true principle of mercy. Therefore in my opinion justice with humanity should be first executed and then let mercy and benevolence open their extended wings and close the scene.

N.B.: Were the executive part of our laws quite laid aside (as I fear they are in many cases too much) then mercy would cease to be a virtue, and become a real vice.

No service at our church in the morning, Mr Porter being ill. In the forenoon Thomas Durrant and I walked down to Mrs Browne’s, but did not stay. I dined on a piece of beef roasted. My-self and servants at church in the afternoon, where we had a sermon preached by the Rev Mr Jones, curate of Waldron, from Ecclesiastes 12:13: “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.”

After churchtime Thomas Durrant and myself walked down to Whyly, where we stayed and spent the evening, and, to my eternal shame be it spoken, came home not thoroughly sober. Oh, my imprudence: what frailty and perverseness is there in human nature! If I could have the resolution to drink only water, as my brains are so weak, happy would it be for me, for I think the very smell of liquor intoxicates my brain and when reason is lulled to sleep, then, then, undoubtedly appetite reigns triumphant, and we no longer can be said (with any propriety of reason) to be rational creatures, but rather brutes. Oh, how derogatory are such actions from the Christian religion… [20 words omitted]. My desire is to be guilty of no one action that may justly be called vicious, but who can be said never to offend? What poor creatures we are without divine grace… [352 words omitted].

Dame Akehurst a-washing for me half the day and dined with me on the remains of yesterday’s dinner. At home all day. In the evening my brother came over and stayed and kept me company till past 11 o’clock. Very melancholy all day; in the evening wrote my London letters. Rec’d of my brother 12/9 for 3 reams of paper bought of me today. Let me tread the precarious path of this life with care and caution, and mark the rocks and shoals which so many of mankind split upon and what, alas! may be my own fate one of these days.

…Dame Akehurst a-washing for me all day and dined with me on a leg of mutton roasted. In the afternoon walked down to Halland, but did not stay. Paid Dame Akehurst [9]d for her day and [½] work… In the evening wrote out some bills for Mrs Browne, she and Sam Jenner being at my house assisting me, and spent the evening with me.

My life thoroughly melancholy through my own misconduct. Let me learn that most excellent virtue of humility, and content [ment?], Virtues truly noble md beneficial, and which I shall reap inestimable profit from, both in this present life and that which is to come, for notwithstanding I am deprived of some blessings which others enjoy, yet if I duly consider how many and great are some blessings which I enjoy in the highest manner, which are denied to many of my fellow-beings and contemporaries, and — what? am I better than they? No, not perhaps near so deserving. Then let me learn to have a just sense of the goodness of the giver of all good things, and at the same duly, humbly and thankfully make a right use of then.

…A continual rainy day and at home all day and as little to do all day as it is possible to imagine. Oh, heavy and dismal is trade. I am quite in a strait not knowing what to do. Sometimes I think I will set myself clear in the world and leave Hoathly, as I am so embarrassed in my affairs, what with my friends, and together with the debts due on my trade. At other times I think it would be looked upon as a discontented mind that occasions me to do it, go that I am at a loss which measure to pursue, being unwilling to act imprudent and yet at the same time desirous to act in such a manner as might be most consistent with reason and at the same time not to distrust the wise distributions of providence. My inclinations seem most inclined to leaving this place, thinking it is the most prudent method as my circumstances are at present. In the afternoon posted part of my day book. In the evening Sam Jenner and I finished writing out Mrs Browne’s bills.

In the forenoon walked up to Mrs Piper’s… I dined on the remains of yesterday’s dinner… In the evening finished posting my day book.

In the forenoon my brother came and dined with me on the remains of yesterday’s dinner, with the addition of piece of pork and some turnips. After dinner I rode to Lewes upon my brother’s horse. I paid Mrs Mary Roase… £6… I also paid Mr George Verral… £4… Rec’d of Mr Thomas Carman 1.2.0 in full for half a year’s land tax due at St Michael last. Spent the evening at Mr George Verral’s in company with my brother and lodged at the White Hart.

I cannot say I went to bed quite sober, so frail, so wicked a creature am I, and as I have transgressed today, so may I perhaps again tomorrow. Could I express the torment which such an action creates in my mind, it would I believe draw tears from a heart harder than adamant.

Came home about 2:10. My brother went away immediately. My family at home dined on a piece of pork, an apple pudding and turnips… Oh, could I say I went sober to bed. Oh, how does my tormented mind suffer anguish — but let me quite, oh let me for ever conquer this easy temper; let me fix my resolution and with divine assistance let me pluck as it were out a right eye; that is, let me endeavor never more to be guilty of this folly. Oh, how do I detest myself; let me repent in dust and ashes, and once more try to obtain a victory over my unruly passions.