Edward Lear's Diaries

A fine day ― bright, ― but with cold East wind.

Rose at 8. Breakfast with Arthur. Inside better.

Wrote 6 letters. ― At 12 walked with A. to Bathwick Hill, & round, home. ― Lunch.

C. Empson there. Δὲν μ’ ἀρέσκει ἐκεῖνος: ἀλλὰ δὲν ἐξεύρω τὸ διατὶ.*¹

Later, Mrs. E. A. & I ― went out in the carriage. As usual in carriages, I was miserable, ― the more that the steep roads of Bath destroy me. Called on a Miss Hill ―pleasant enough.

Then, to the Cemetery ― & by degrees, back to the Pump, where A. & I walked home by 5.

I feel tired, ― & 600 years old. Not however in pain, as lately.

Dinner ― a Miss Rawson: ― rather tiresome. Arthur is pleasant & good.

* C. Empson died July 1861 ―suddenly.

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

1. “I don’t like him: but I don’t know why” (NB). The note on C. Empson’s death was added later, of course. [↩]

Dull & [soppy]=gray at Torquay: ― but brighter as Devonshire was farther away. At 10 Bus to Rail ― Ticket to Exeter. (Torquay I only should care to revisit to see from afar ― never to live in.)

At Exeter, took ticket to Bath ― & was mostly alone to Bristol, where I took out my Cloak-room luggage, & got to Bath by 5. Bath looked so cheerful & “polite” & beautiful in the bright sun.

To 24. Royal Crescent ― passing Gay St. & Upr. Church Street ― days of poor good Mrs. Warner ― good perhaps not. At least, dearest Ann, tho’ she never spoke ill of her did not, I think, like her: ― & she liked or loved all that was at all good. ――― Saw dear old Mrs. Empson: but having left my clothes=box in the Bath Cloak-room ― I had to return for it. ― When I came back, Arthur Empson had arrived. Arthur is as kindly & good as ever.

Dinner & evening very quiet & pleasant. Alack! The “Essays & Reviews.” ―― !¹

Bed at 11.

Letters from,
Lady Ashburton,
Sir C. Eardley.
T. Fairbairn.
S.W. Clowes.
Mrs. Malcolm &
E. Tennyson.

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

1. See 17 February 1861. [↩]

Wet, till 12, cloudy afterwards.

Rose at 9.30. ― Breakfast. ― Having taken medicine, I couldn’t go out early. ― At 12.30 went up & down & came back: poi, walked below the Rock of Florence Villa, & went over it. & again to D.J. Duncan’s ― “Le chalet ―” where I had called previously. Lady D., & “Anna Maria” were there: very Thackerayish=worldly ― & not worth thinking of: flexible & futile. ―

Walked to Paignton later, & returned to dine in the Coffee room.

Cubs in the room prevented my writing as I wished: an old Indian Colonel was agreeable.

Night of the Census, ― they put me down, “Edward Lear, ― at 48 ― born at Highgate,” but they did it so loosely that I might have put Jakob Pipkinson at 80, born at Boston or Mitylene. ―― All afternoon I was very unwell ― but cannot tell if from constantly taking physic, or from anything really upset in the inside. I incline to think the latter.

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

Very fine, grayish, pleasant, but with that cold East Wind!

Down at 9. The garden & the Peacox. ― Breakfast, with Archer, who is a delightful boy. Kind clear Mrs. Clive also came, & Mildmay & Sybella, & darling little Kathleen ― who says she will go to Timbuc with me in 20 years, “if she is not ill.” She is certainly [A.1.] as an interesting child. At 10 ― Archer & 2 Dogs ― Self, & much luggage were in the break ― & I left Perrystone & its dear good mistress, whose sympathy has done me much good. The place is wholly shut in within itself ― unobtrusive & homeish: all the scenery rich & lovely: & I hope they will stay there now, always.

― Drive ― shakily, ― & I very unwell, ― to Ross: ― Archer, a gentle good clever lad ― saw me off. ―― Gloucester at 11… & some 3 odd minutes after the Bristol Train had gone. ( I had resolved to postpone Bath till Monday ― & to go to Torquay: a half-mad scheme ― but I cling to any promise of calm ― or weariness.) ― Waited till 1& came to Bristol by 2.30. At 3 went on by well known Highbridge, & Taunton, to Exeter, by 5.30. Wait again an hour. My “corpo”¹ troubles me ― but I am not alarmed now as I should have been a month ago, simply because it seems to me that ˇ[now] all care or joy or grief are folly. ― Set off at 6.25 ― & so, by the Ex, & Dantish, & Teignmouth ― where I was in 1851 ― just 10 years ago ― to Newton Junction & thence, to Torquay by 8. Omnibus to Royal Hotel. Supper at 9. ― Weary absurd life! ―― καὶ τὶ νὰ κάμω; Ἀκόμη δὲν ἀποθνήσκω, ― άλλὰ ἳσως πρέπει νὰ ἀποθνήσκω, διὰ ὀλίγον καφίν.²

The Clives kindnesses dwell in my memory: ― so does the year 1857, & my sister at Lydford, & my walks hereabout.

Sogno di vita!³

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

1. Body. [↩]
2. “And what am I to do? I am not dead yet ― but maybe I should die, for some coffe.” Nina Bouri notes that Lear might have intended the last word to be κέφι, which means “good cheer.” [↩]
3. What dream of life! [↩]

Fine ― but cloudy.

A particularly pleasant day: ― rose at 9. Breakfast ― Mildmay is a far nicer fellow than he seems at first. Made a plan for haninging the Drawng-room pictures. ―Lunch. ― Afterwards ― walked with Mrs. Clive all about the pine=avenue, Yatton chapel &c. &c. The place is ˇ[as] truly beautiful, as its Mistress is good & kind.

Dinner & evening pleasant.

Ἀλλὰ εἶμαι πάντοτε κουρασμένος τῆς ζωῆς μου: καὶ ἐπιθυμῶ νὰ κοιμοιθῷ.¹

Not well: yet better than before ― thanx to pills.

Perhaps after all, the less one stays in places one likes the better ― & so one escapes ˇ[some] pain. ― Therefore, wander. ――

XX

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

1. But I am always tired of my life: and I wish to sleep (NB). [↩]

Fine. Gray early ― fine afterwards.

Slept pretty well. Rose at 8―9. Letter from Mrs. Empson. Breakfast at 10. Kathleen ― a very charming odd child, makes me burst with laughter. ― Drew nonsenses till 12 or 1 & walked a little with Archer “all about the place.” And certainly the woods ― hanging over the Wye, & the calm river & green fields, are lovely; with the distant Ross Hills: ― & so is the quiet Terrace home garden. ―

Tired ― & unwell. ˆ[Home by 5.30] ― Little Kathleen came & amused us all. She sang “I am a Nemesis & a Fury rolled into one” ― with a queer spirit enough to kill a man outright: ― I thought I should never have been able to stop laughing.

Dinner: Mildmay is far pleasanter when you come to know more of him. Evening also pleasant: singing: & quiet.

Altogether the visit is highly pleasant.

A letter from poor Ellen. ―

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

Fine early ― wet more or less from 2.

After breakfast ― (wh. is a sad scramble here ―) I called on Mrs. & Maria Williams: then back. Lunch: & at 2 off to Rail. All these most kindly people came to the door ― & I believe the boys are good lads after all, only I am so indisposed to any novelty just now.

At Gloucester, waiting till 3. Francillon there, & staid till I left: kindly enough.

Rail to Ross by 4.40. ― Carriage from the Clives to meet me. ― At the house ― Perrystone ― sate with Mrs. C. & talked a deal.

Dinner, Mrs. Miss & Archer C. & little Kathleen. At 10 ― came Mr. Mildmay ― εἷναι μικρὸς, και¹ lame ― but seems a pleasant little man enough. ―

Bed at 10.30. ―

Health better to day.

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

1. He is short and (NB). [↩]

I am writing this at 10 ― Jemmy ― (who is supposed to be unwell,) screaming in the next room ― Helen practising below ― (scales,) & Mary on the other side.

One day of this house is enough ― basta¹ I live thro’ it! ― Breakfast at 8 ― but hurried ― & piggish: it is wonderful to me how people can live so, taking no care of the very days of boyhood & girlhood that make all their future life good or evil. Letters from Sarah, from J. Edwards, & dear good Giorgio. ―― But that little pickle roars so ― I cannot go on. ―

Wrote to Sarah. Her life is sad enough too.

After walking a bit in the garden with Sir J.R., I went to the post, & to Charles Gale at 11 & sate with him till 12. ― Then to Mrs. Williams, where I sate looking at drawings with her & Miss W. ― poor dear sorrowful people, ― till 1. Then to Sir James’s again: lunch. These children want regularity of discipline… ― coraggio!² ― tomorrow comes a kind of freedom. ― I see that I could not live here at all: ― & I think I will look at Bath, & Torquay.

(Pantaleoni is exiled from Rome.) After lunch, we called on Mrs. Dalzell, a shrewd nice old Scotch Lady ― & then (Sir J. & I,) walked to Charlton ― where we saw the village & church, ― & so back to Cheltenham by 5. At 6.30 dinner. Mr. & Mrs. M^cDonald, Miss Johnson, & a Miss Carter, & Mrs. Savory ― (Mrs. Dalzell’s daughter.) The dinner was hearty & good ― & one need not complain. ―

Sang a good deal.

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

1. Provided (I manage to). [↩]
2. Courage! [↩]

Dull, gray ― & showery at times, but not cold.

Letter from Mrs. Clive. Sybille is engaged to be married to Mildmay, the ˇ[other] member for Herefordsh.  I am really pleased. ― This, & feeling myself better from the medicine, made me more lively, ― but the effect of the medicine is gone, ― & the “stoppage” remains as before. At 9 Francillon went to his court, ― “Well Sir” “good-bye sir, I hope you will come & see us again Sir!” was what he said; but I believe he is really a kind good man. ― At 11.30, I left Lucy F. warm-hearted good Lucy ― & Robt.: ― & came away to Tivoli Lawn. ―― Scene changes. Good kind Sir J. & Lady Reid. ― a grand daughter of Sir W. Jardine’s ― (!)― & the children. Helen, still a pet, but grown clever. Mary, apparently awkward & childish. ― James, wild & snubbed. Robt. Clever & foolish & pest. ― John, gentle & not quite filial to my taste either of them. ― Hearing that Mrs. Williams was here, I went to call on her, (& met Miss Williams,) I found her recovered from illness. The Corfu, St. Maura, & Barbadoes drawings! ― came away, & then with Sir James R. “pottered” for 2 hours: also going over the College, with John R. & his father. ― A walk by the Park ― brought us back at 5. Dinner 6.30. Alack! ― Miss Williams ― Miss Maxwell, & the 2 boys. O cubbabini! ――

“Is this the end?” ――― O dear me!

They talked, these 2 boys ― & jeered ― & interrupted & jawed, & fooled, & contradicted ― come non si può credere.¹ Tea. ― & some singing. ― Prayers ― short & good afterwards. But the inelegant & insubordinate levity of the boys disgusts me. ― Ἃς δὲν ἣθελεν ἐλθῆν!² ― One day more ― . ―

Yet I am less well: ― ˇ[in] body ― as in mind.

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

1. So much, one can’t believe it. [↩]
2. Wish it wasn’t come (NB). I suppose Lear meant “I wish I had not come.” [↩]

Cold, & dark, & rainy. Slept ill. ―

Took a draught ― & am somewhat relieved, tho’ feeling ill. Letter from Ellen, who is unwell, & enclosing one from poor Mary to dear Ann.

O dear me. I do not expect or wish the rest of life to be brighter, but I see it will be difficult to bear. Wrote to Ellen & to C.F.

Francillon is a good kind man, but bores me: yet I must go back again, & try to be as cheerful as I can. ―

After lunch, it became fine, & though the trial was azardous, vû that I had taken medicine, I joined Mrs. F. Edith, Robt. & H.J. in a pleasant walk. The country is beautifully varied here. ― Home by 4. ― My “dentro”¹ bother me sadly. ―

Before 5 ― I am reading over all the last days of dearest Ann’s life: ― oh! sadness never to cease here!

Dinner: & evening pleasant. Lucy F.’s good sense makes all things straight & agreable. The boys were delighted with some “Nonsenses” ― & sang a little.

Bed ― not sleep ― at 11.

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

1. Inside. [↩]