William Weston Young - The Final Years

The Final Years

The Dinas Firebrick Works experienced some financial and technical troubles during 1829, and Young laid out further monies to support his nephew William Weston Young Jr.'s stake in the company, but the company traded at limited profits for some time, requiring Young to start painting commercially yet again, this time in watercolours of the Neath Valley, where he'd moved once more, to Fairyland House, near the Ivy Tower on the Mackworth Estate, Tonna, Neath, Glamorganshire.

In 1835, Young published an eighty-five page, illustrated book Guide to the Scenery and Beauties of Glyn Neath, published by John Wright & Co. Bristol and sold by Longman, Rees, Orme, Browne & Co. London MDCCCXXXV. The naive but charming book comprises a prose guide to the Neath Valley and is illustrated with landscapes, scenery and decorative topographical and geological maps.

Young's wife; Elizabeth died following an awkward fall in March 1842, prompting Young to publish in 1843; The Christian Experience of Elizabeth Young, as a tribute to her, again published by Young's friend John Wright & Co. Bristol.

William Weston Young's profit share from the Dinas Firebrick Works was ultimately a very modest pension, and he died in relative poverty in Lower Mitton, Kidderminster on 5 March 1847.

Read more about this topic:  William Weston Young

Famous quotes containing the words final and/or years:

    The chief reason warfare is still with us is neither a secret death-wish of the human species, nor an irrepressible instinct of aggression, nor, finally and more plausibly, the serious economic and social dangers inherent in disarmament, but the simple fact that no substitute for this final arbiter in international affairs has yet appeared on the political scene.
    Hannah Arendt (1906–1975)

    During those years in Stamps, I met and fell in love with William Shakespeare. He was my first white love.... it was Shakespeare who said, “When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes.” It was a state of mind with which I found myself most familiar. I pacified myself about his whiteness by saying that after all he had been dead so long it couldn’t matter to anyone any more.
    Maya Angelou (b. 1928)