Edward Lear's Diaries

Fine, but pale, & somewhat misty.

Wrote, till 12. ―

At 12. 30 came to Procession of S. Spiridion ― & most beautiful it was. I hardly remember any more striking assemblage of color & form that the grand priest concourse [farmers &c.] ― against the blue hills. And the peasant dresses were delightful.

At 2 ― walked up to Casa Candoni, & lunch with Mrs. Woolff, Cormian & Ἐυφροσυνη Κ. & Fizzy. ―

At 4 ― walked to Ποταμὸς ― & the new parts of it, what olives ―― & so to Διονύσιος beyond, & back ―― what wonderful peasant dresses[.]

 2 on a horse!! ― Nicer mannered people exist not ― nor, I fancy, better.

At 6.30 ― went up to the Casino, where were the De Veres only. Little Mary De Vere in her night dress was really as like a small angel as could be. ― Would one have been as happy as one fancies if one had been married & had had children?

Left at 10.30. The moonlight, frogs, fireflies, Cypresses, quiet, mountains ――: but how little of this life is attainable!

Home by 11.15. ―――

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

4X

Cloudy early ― but fine by degrees.

Worked a little at Jánina.

Can one not change?

2 Papers ― & letters from R. Martineau.
Jane Husey Hunt.
Sir Cully Laidley.
T. Cooper
Geoffrey Hornby.

& William Beadon died on March 30.

So ― Friends do indeed depart.

Wrote till 4.30.

At 5 ― [mooned] up by Mandrucchio & the Parguenote new path ― & so to Casa Candoni, intending to call on Mrs. Woolff; but Sir C. Sargent was sitting on the hill, so I sate too ― & “got a Greek lesson:” ― we then walked back ― at 6.45 ― & I solo went round the quay, returning to dine at 7.45 ― & so penned out till 10.30.

W.F. Beadon dead. ― The absurd dreaminess of life becomes more & more acutely weary. ― That we do not all kill ourselves seems the wonder, ― of those at least who think.

A very dead time ― & I see no loophole out of the deadness. ― Alas. ―

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

Rainy, cloudy, gleamy.

All excursion=plans are absurd. S. Salvador has not been visible for days. The weather is just like November ― but warmer.

Worked at Grenfell’s Philæ ― not very well. Nervous, & irritated.

X3

By 2.30, I had worked every bit of the colour out of the painting, & apparently spoiled all my work: ― certainly this mestiere civile annoys me more & more, & I am just now miserable enough, only I won’t give way: piuttosto I’ll begin another Philæ.

At 2 the weather cleared a bit: & the Gulls sat on the calmer sea. ― Then I thought I would dine on cold mutton: having first attempted a translation of AT’s Will¹ ―― Θέλημα. ― O bother.

After witch ― sate reading R. Burtons “City of the Saints,” ― & walking up & down till 6.30. A beautiful sunset ―but with clouds.

At 7.30 ― supper ― absurd ― a 2^nd dinner ― 0f eggs & rice.

And penned out till 10. ―

Queer day. Queer life!

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

1. Published in Maud, and Other Poems (1855). [↩]

Cloudy ― & rain early.

2X

Woke at 6. But the weather evidently will not do for Paleocastrizza.

Increasing cloud all day, & a little rain.

Mrs. Boyd, Mr. & Mrs. Mussouri, & one or two more, came.

Worked somewhat at Mt. Athos ― & ‘showed’ the large Corfu.

Made ready to go tomorrow, if the weather suits ― but now, at 5 P.M. it is all mist & cloud, yet no rain comes. Τὶ νὰ Κάμομεν;¹

At 6 ― horrible thick gloom! ― walked out, but it rained a little & I returned at 7.15.

Exactly like very oppressive November weather.

Dined. & penned out till 10.30.

Gloomy days.

Happily, the Maudes are out; so, quiet.

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

1. What can you do? (NB). [↩]

Cloudy ― till noon. Then clear.

Worked a very little at the Col de [Baleno].¹

Col. & Mrs. Wynne came: ― & M. Grasset.

The sending away so much unfinished work is no small vexation ― & altogether I am bored & stupid & sorry. Better perhaps to go to Paleocastrizza tomorrow ― yet, although I am in better health than at this time last year, I have hardly more heart to do anything.

Lunched at 1.30 & read Burton’s Mormons² till 3.30, wh. book sustains me this much just now.

Walked out to the ridge road above the Parga village ― but could hardly draw anything I had intended, owing to their having put a chevaux de frise³ of reeds &c.

At 6 went to Mrs. Woolffs ― taking Eu. Curcumelly some of AT’s poems. ― Returned by 7.15 ― & dined at 7.30, or later. Penned out, but driven to absolute madness by that infernal little ass Sterling ― yelling song after song, in the most disgusting Pothouse way ― Mrs. M. ― playing hour after hour also ― the very same discordant thumps. If a steamer were ready ― I would pay 50£ now & go.

Bed at 11 ― but I fear me no sleep ― these howling hell=idiots still shrieking & roaring like drunken maniacs.

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

1. If “Baleno” is a mistake for “balena” (whale), this might refer to the place where Lear saw whale bones on 20 March, i.e. Palaiocastritza. On the other hand, this might be a hill somewhere, Col de Baleno being “Lightning Hill.” [↩]
2. Richard F. Burton’s The City of Saints, and Across the Rocky Mountains. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1862. [↩]
3. The singular form should be “cheval de frise.” [↩]

Rose at 6.30.

Quite cloudy all day: ― & warm. ― towards sunset, N.E. winds ― & a little rain.

Painted skies to small Corfus & seas ― &c.

Mrs. De Vere came.
& later, Ὀικονόμος.
& G. Παραμυθιόττι.

At 2 walked slowly to Ποταμὼ ― & drew at Πανταλείμωνα till 5.30. Saw the Dwarf Διονύσιος ― & returned to dine at 7.30 ― walking up ― (a bore ―) with Herbert & the Le Mesuriers ― who dawdle & talk no sense.

Penned out till 12. ―

Had arranged to go to Paleocastrizza on Thursday ― but cui bono in such weather?

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

XXX1

Very unable to paint: ― walked about ― suffering no end.

Painted somewhat at the small Corfus.

No letters.

At 3.30 ― to Miss G.’s, & at 4, with her & Mrs. N., Captn. Hillier, the maid & Cagiati, to the Captn.’s Boat ― & so to the Steamer.

Unpleasantly rough.

So. She is gone. ―

It is a twinge: ― ――

Came home ― & read papers, & at 5 went out again. Dreadfully nervous.

Steamer ― seen from Ascension, seems to go quietly.

Returned by 7.20. Dined at 8.

N. Wind.

Penned out till 11.10.

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

Perfectly calm & gray. Quiet is a blessing.

Wrote to Mrs. Clive.
Ellen Newsom
F. Lushington
C. Fortescue
W. Holman Hunt
J. Edwards.

At 1 called on “Julia Goldsmid.” ―

At 2 on Sir C. Sargent. Lady S. Miss R.

Walked with Sir C. Sargent ― beyond Alipù ―

alack.

Hastily returned by 6.15.

Warm close scirocc[o].

By 7 with the De Veres. ―
one Ὀικονομος¹ there.

Home by 11.45.

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

1. Housekeeper. [↩]

Very calm, warm, fine, windless, all day.

And, spite of predictions, ― the Ancôna boat came in at 8.

Brought, 2 papers, & letters from,
Ellen,
Holman Hunt ― (Egg’s house has been burned.)
& Mrs. G. Clive.

Worked at Gastouri view:
Captn. Balfour called.
& at 4, Miss J.G. & Mrs. N. ―

I am really grieved that they go.

At 5.30 walked the long round.

Dined alone at 8.

& penned out till 10.30.

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

Gray [warm]¹ early: rain at 11 ― at 2 ― finer ― but always ― barring that it is pleasant & warm ― like a Northern Summer to see.

Began painting No. 11―: ― at 12 however, came Mrs. Woolff & Ἐύφ. Κυρκυμέλλι & they stayed nearly 2 hours. ― But their stay was really a quiet pleasure ― poor Mrs. W. so delighted in Florence ― & Ἐύ.’s reading & understanding of Tennyson so very pleasant. Visions of everlastingly quiet homes beneath olive trees ―― & such like bosh.

When they went I lunched on bread & wine ― of wh. Mrs. W. had brought me 4 bottles. Also, Ja. Goldsmid wrote: ― they, alack! go on Monday.

Rain ― rain ― soft & sloppy ― 3 P.M. ― windows open ― warm: but no hills, not even Salvador visible. ――

― At 5 ― went out ― for it was too dark to see to work anyhow: ― but most pouring rain came on, & as I reached Kastrades I was soon utterly wet through.

Returned at 7 ― soaked. ― Dined.

Penned out ― & fell asleep ― & penned out again till 11. ― But now is a fearful gale: quite like the Condi Terrace winds of old: & at intervals ― torrents of rain.

These therefore are the Equalnoxious gales.

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

1. Blotted. [↩]