Tuesday, 29 September 1863

Rose at 7. ― Only one Subscriber ― the 73rd[.]

No Hunts, ― no Empsons, ― no Stanleys. Seemeth me I shall make a fiasco after all. ― After breakfast began to work, but violent indigestion & illness prevailed. X.

Then ― about 11 ― Mr. Morier came. 80 ― next February ― he is! ― I see him much aged & infirm ― but he is as clear-headed & full of fun as ever. Talking of an anecdote ― said to be from him, ― in Gronow’s Reminiscences[1] ― (& which he corrected,) we laughed at that of the Duchess de Pompadour’s gold Podechambre. But said Mr. Morier ― the fact of its being used as a Soup Tureen is only similar to what I myself saw at ― (some place in Turkey) ― where a Pasha had had English presents ― among others, a Bidet ― in which a roast Pig was served up!

After he left ― I drew ― but badly ― till 6. At this blessed 13th Lithograph.

Δὲν ὑπῆγα τὶποτες.[2]

Dined on cold beef & rice. ― ―

The sadness & solitariness of this life is becoming laughable.

Read Leigh Hunts Αὐτοβιογραφία.

[1] Rminiscences of Captain Grownow, Formerly of the Grenadier Guards, and M.P. for Stafford. London: Smith, Elder and Co, 1862.

[2] “Did not go nothing” presumably intending “anywhere” (NB).

[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3. Image.]


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Filed under 1863, Diary Entry

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