Friday, 18 March 1864

Rose before 8 ― & packed winter clothing, ― breakfast ― & then ― packed at times all day long. Saddish weary work.

Did not go out. The day was fine & blue cloudy ― with the port full of incident, cattle landing, & porpoises to wit.

But cui bono? all is passing. How to arrange ― as to taking or sending or leaving things I know not.

Dined at 7. ― & penned out Zante drawings till 10.30.

Giorgio is unwell from bad cold for 3 days past. “È una seccatura,[1] βέβαιως, αὒτη ἡ ζωή μας:[2] ― ma non si può muore tutto in uno, e bisogna far il meglio ed aspettar l’ora.”[3] ― Which reminds me of the (ἂχορος, ἂλυρος[4] ―) of the Colonas. Ever the Viviani melodies ― such music as is seldom heard. ―


[1] It’s a real bother.

[2] Surely, this life (NB).

[3] But one cannot die [“muore” for “morire”] all of a sudden, and one must do his best and bide one’s time.

[4] “Without dance or lyre.” Nina adds: “This is a reference to Oedipus at Colonus: The Helper comes at last to all alike, when the fate of Hades is suddenly revealed, without marriage-song, or lyre, or dance: Death at the end. Translation: Sir Richard Jebb.”

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


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Filed under 1864, Diary Entry

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