Memoirs of Dr. Joseph Priestley — Reading Companion
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The source record for Memoirs of Dr. Joseph Priestley — Reading Companion measures this digital text at 74,856 words, 5 hr 26 min estimated reading time, and 18 detected text sections.
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to leave behind me some account of my _friends_ and _benefactors_, it is in a manner necessary that I also give some account of _myself_; and as the like has been done by many persons, and for reasons which posterity has approved, I make no farther apology for following their example. If my writings in general have been useful to my cotemporaries, I hope that this account of myself will not be without its use to those who may come after me, and especially in promoting virtue and piety, which I hope I may say it has been my care to practice myself, as it has been my business to inculcate them upon others.
My father, Jonas Priestley, was the youngest son of Joseph Priestley, a maker and dresser of woollen cloth. His first wife, my mother, was the only child of Joseph Swift, a farmer at Shafton, a village about six miles south east of Wakefield. By this wife he had six children, four sons and two daughters. I, the oldest, was born on the thirteenth of March, old style 1733, at Fieldhead about six miles south west of Leeds in Yorkshire. My mother dying in 1740, my father married again in 1745, and by his second wife had three daughters.
My mother having children so fast, I was very soon committed to the care of her father, and with him I continued with little interruption till my mother’s death.
It is but little that I can recollect of my mother. I remember, however, that she was careful to teach me the Assembly’s Catechism, and to give me the best instructions the little time that I was at home. Once in particular, when I was playing with a pin, she asked me where I got it; and on telling her that I found it at my uncle’s, who lived very near to my father, and where I had been playing with my cousins, she made me carry it back again; no doubt to impress my mind, as it could not fail to do, with a clear idea of the distinction of property, and of the importance of attending to it. She died in the hard winter of 1739, not long after being delivered of my youngest brother; and having dreamed a little before her death that she was in a delightful place, which she particularly described, and imagined to be heaven, the last words she spake, as my aunt informed me, were “Let me go to that fine place.”
On the death of my mother I was taken home, my brothers taking my place, and was sent to school in the neighbourhood. But being without a mother, and my father incumbered with a large family, a sister of my father’s, in the year 1742, relieved him of all care of me, by taking me entirely to herself, and considering me as her child, having none of her own. From this time she was truly a parent to me till her death in 1764.
My aunt was married to a Mr. Keighly, a man who had distinguished himself for his zeal for religion and for his public spirit. He was also a man of considerable property, and dying soon after I went to them, left the greatest part of his fortune to my aunt for life, and much of it at her disposal after her death.
By this truly pious and excellent woman, who knew no other use of wealth, or of talents of any kind, than to do good, and who never spared herself for this purpose, I was sent to several schools in the neighbourhood, especially to a large free school, under the care of a clergyman, Mr. Hague, under whom, at the age of twelve or fifteen, I first began to make any progress in the Latin Tongue, and acquired the elements of Greek. But about the same time that I began to learn Greek at this public school, I learned Hebrew on holidays of the dissenting minister of the place, Mr. Kirkby, and upon the removal of Mr. Hague from the free school, Mr. Kirkby opening a school of his own, I was wholly under his care. With this instruction I had acquired a pretty good knowledge of the learned languages at the age of sixteen. But from this time Mr. Kirkby’s increasing infirmities obliged him to relinquish his school, and beginning to be of a weakly consumptive habit, so that it was not thought adviseable to send me to any other place of education, I was left to conduct my studies as well as I could till I went to the academy at Daventry in the year 1752.
The Memoirs of Dr. Joseph Priestley is a composite work, structured in three distinct parts: Priestley's own autobiographical narrative to 1795, a continuation by his son Joseph Priestley covering the final years, and two critical appendices by Thomas Cooper and William Christie assessing his scientific and metaphysical writings. This layered arrangement creates a dialogue between the subject's self-presentation and external evaluation, inviting readers to compare firsthand testimony with later analysis.
The son's preface signals the editorial approach: the original memoir is presented with only "one or two trifling alterations," preserving what he calls the "simple unaffected manner" of the writing. This fidelity to Priestley's own voice sets the tone for a work that values directness over embellishment.
A Life in Three Acts
The book's tripartite structure mirrors Priestley's own division of his life into phases: his early years and education, his scientific career in England, and his final decade in America after the Birmingham riots. The son's continuation picks up the narrative seamlessly, noting that Priestley abandoned even the idea of a temporary return to England due to the political climate there. The appendices then step back to evaluate the whole career, with Cooper focusing on chemistry and natural philosophy, and Christie on metaphysics and theology.
This arrangement allows the reader to trace how Priestley himself shaped his story, then see how his son reframed it for a posthumous audience, and finally encounter two contemporary critics who assess his legacy from different disciplinary angles. The result is a polyphonic biography that resists a single authoritative interpretation.
Recurring Images: The Diary and the Plan
One of the most striking details in the son's continuation is the description of Priestley's lifelong practice of keeping a diary. From his time at the academy until within three or four days of his death, he recorded daily occurrences, reading (with exact page counts), and any hints suggested by his studies. He also began each year by arranging a plan of study and ended it by reviewing his progress. The son notes that this practice was "a source of great satisfaction" and was initially adopted to regulate his studies, then continued from pleasure.
This image of systematic self-accounting recurs throughout the memoir: Priestley is portrayed as a man who apportioned his time strictly, adhered to a regular plan of alternate study and relaxation, and never materially deviated from it. The diaries themselves, mostly destroyed in the Birmingham riots, become a symbol of both the orderliness of his mind and the violence that disrupted his life.
Movement Between Scenes: England and America
The narrative moves between two geographical poles: England, where Priestley achieved his scientific reputation and suffered the destruction of his library and apparatus, and America, where he found "peace" and "ease in his circumstances" at Northumberland. The son's account explicitly contrasts the two: in England, Priestley's discoveries added to the credit of the nation; in America, he was not obliged to withdraw his name from the Philosophical Society, and he was "suffered to live in peace."
This spatial contrast is not merely descriptive but evaluative. The son argues that the American system, placing all religious sects on the same footing, "effectually secured the peace of the community" and promoted truth and virtue. The movement from Birmingham to Northumberland thus becomes a movement from persecution to tolerance, from disruption to productivity. The text notes that Priestley did little at Hackney compared to what he achieved in Birmingham or America, because his time was "very much broken in upon by company"—a telling detail about the social pressures of his English life.
The Critical Appendices: Cooper and Christie
The final sections of the volume shift from narrative to analysis. Thomas Cooper's appendix provides an account of Priestley's discoveries in chemistry and his writings on scientific subjects, while William Christie's covers his metaphysical writings. These are not mere summaries but evaluative essays that engage with Priestley's ideas and their reception. Cooper, a judge and political figure, brings a legal precision to his assessment of Priestley's scientific method; Christie, a clergyman, examines the theological implications of his materialism.
Together, these appendices serve as a contemporary critical response, offering readers of the 1806 edition a framework for understanding Priestley's intellectual legacy. They also reflect the collaborative nature of the volume: the memoir is not a single author's work but a collective project involving family and friends, each contributing from their own expertise.
Readers approaching this edition should be aware that it offers not one but several portraits of Priestley: his own, his son's, and those of two sympathetic but critical contemporaries. The shifts in voice and perspective reward careful attention, as do the recurring motifs of order, diary-keeping, and geographical movement. The appendices, often overlooked, provide essential context for understanding how Priestley's work was received in the early nineteenth century and how his reputation was shaped by those closest to him.
Reading Priestley’s quiet account of his own life, I thought of old letters my grandfather kept—half-finished sentences, voices layering on top of each other. That same feeling came once from The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 03: Military Career — A Reader’s Guide, where a man’s self-description wobbles between truth and self-forgiveness, just as Priestley’s does. Both books felt less like history, more like eavesdropping on a private apology.
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