Wednesday, 7 December 1864

“Guastato il tempo”[1] ― said G. at 7 ― but it was not so, only gray.

I had to arrange paper &c. ― it was 8.30 before I breakfasted.

At 9 ― went out ― near the sea ― multitudinous washing women; ― & striking to the left, entered a by-path=road thro’ olive groves as the best way to the long promontory I wanted to explore. Women gathering olives recalled Corfû. No one ever “sonava olivi”[2] so quietly as my mother ― says G. ― The olive glades are lovely, & the frequent Orange Gardens ― but no sun. Coming out on the sea, a road, pine=bordered runs to the end of the promontory of S. Martino (?) & round & over it & all ways. Pines very lovely: & views each way very pretty. Drew 2 times, yea thrice: but lost my knife, wh. G. went to fetch, but found not, for thro’ a hole in my pocket, it had elapsed into my shoe. A 4th time drew Mentone, ― but perversely the sun would never shine on it, ― & so, when about 4 I got by degrees near the town, I could not see the outline for want of light & shade. Moreover it was cold. ― So I walked through the town, & along the East side, where Hotels & villas are numberless ― & so by sunset (4.15) to Pont St. Louis ― where I asked about the road of some French sentinels, ― & then we returned, reaching our Hotel de Londres at 5.45. There is no small bother as to how to get to S. Remo on foot ― for Diligences only start after 12 ― & there is a Douane inevitable, & at which I must be present in the body. On the whole, I fancy a small voitûre to S. Remo must be taken.

Tomorrow, my purpose is to go to Monaco & back here. ―

Dinner, μοναχῶς, & very good ― at 6.15. Since which I have been reading Maud, & G. has brought me my waistcoat mended ― & so ends

2nd day of Corniche travel: pleasantly.


[1] The weather broke up.

[2] Sounded olive trees (?).


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

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