Monday, 17 October 1864

Fine ever ― & not so cold ― sun poco.[1] ―

Morning with ET chiefly. AT was in one of his irritating small=captions moods. I believe no other woman in all this world could live with him for a month. I walked alone to Murrow’s, & took leave of poor “Katie.” ― Then lunch ― & afterwards ― at 2 ― left in a car. ― It always wrings me to leave Farringord ― yet I doubt ― as once before ― if I can go again. I suppose it is the Anomaly of high souls & philosophic writings combined with slovenliness, selfishness, & morbid folly that prevents my being happy there: ― perhaps also ― vexation at myself for not being more so. The drive to Newport is hideous ― save just above Swainston ― & ditto to Ryde. It was past 5 before I got to a little Inn by the shore ― called ― … Vale ― close to Puckpool, & having dressed, the Landlord took me up by a path to the house ― a Swiss=like place ― with trees: a [battery] being on the shore. ― Here were De Vere, Mrs. D.V. ― Major Buchanan ―, & dear little Mary, who was very funny & nice. Dinner very pleasant ― & evening also ―: I read half Enoch Arden, & sang a good deal. De V. & B. walked down with me at 11.

Buchanan tells a sad story of the Clarks: ― Mrs. C. it seems “devellopped [sic] her complaint,” in the street at Malta ― & he was ordered to leave the Island: ― they are at Woolwich. ―

We had long talks of Corfû days “the past” ― as Mrs. D.V. says.

[1] Not much.

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


1 Comment

Filed under 1864, Diary Entry

One response to “Monday, 17 October 1864

  1. Peter Byrne

    As we see, Lear couldn’t stand Tennyson on a personal level in 1864. As time goes on he will dislike him even more. Yet no poet influenced Lear more
    and he will spend his last years illustrating the poet’s verse. Something of a mystery here.

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