Tuesday, 27 December 1864

Pouring rain all night!!!! XXX ― ― Rose at 8 ― 8.30. What to do? Drawing would not be possible ― & there is little to draw ahead. So I wait for the Bus, which should come at 9.30 from Savona. At 10.15 ― I was off in it ― a small 3 horse vehicle ― with G. & an old cove in front. Wind frightful, & at times rain. Gusts of sand.

(Luggage from Savona to Finale was 5.30. Bill here ― 22.50. And the Bus to Albenga is to be 6 or 7 ― & a car thence to Alassio 3 or 4.)

Snow on all hills. Loano river low. Back through all the walk of the 16th & reach Albenga at 12.15. Have left Bus, & consigned roba to boy with vehicle: every creature on this Riviera is civil & kindly ― without exception, hitherto. G. & I find a place free from wind near the E. wall, & sit & lunch on Eggs & sausage. A queer journey this. Walk on at 1: wind not unbearable. The olive grown flat ground ― (olives blown down by wind! ―) & then the rising road to the corner of the bay of Alassio: ― wind violent by fits. from 2 to 2.50 drew, but then rain came on, so we rushed down to & through the long street of Alassio by 3. La Bella Italia ― as before. Luggage all right.

At present ― 4. P.M. ― the wind & rain are egregious, & I see no chance of getting hence tomorrow ― & very little of sleep tonight ― vû the banging of doors & windows.

The little Cameriere-Segretario is ἔξω,[1] so there are only the infinite Γυναῖκες.[2] The wind ― if possible increases ― & various Vetturini stop. At 6. Dinner is brought by the very aff.te & unclean handmaiden. Peculiarly nasty soup: ― uneatable fish. Leathery Cutlet, with eatable potatoes: stringy lamb, with admirable turnips, & other things wholly uneatable. The poor women are however obliging & do all they can, & the amount of nastiness in the shape of sweets they have sent up is incredible. As for me, I have had some Marsala, & at 7.30, mi ritiro.[3] I ask G. if he can find out about the Vetturini movements, ― but he says ― ἔχουν χρυσὰ κατένα κὶ ὡρολόγια, καὶ ὀμιλοῦσι διὰ τοῦς εἁυτούς των.[4] ― I do not at all know what to do about tomorrow: ― inclining somewhat to wait for one more day’s chance. The (big) Diligence has just passed: what a fearful life in winter these drivers lead.

[1] The little Waiter-secretary is out

[2] Women.

[3] I retire.

[4] They have gold chains [Italian ‘catena’] and watches, and talk about themselves.

[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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