It seems a wearily sad affair that with all my trouble I utterly fail in the one trial most important.
Rose at 8. ― Gray, cloudy, but not raining,, & lighter. No letter. I wish I could hear from Giorgio.
Worked from 9 to 1 at the Parnassi, Ιας οποιας ζωγραφιας φαινεται που δεν θα ετελιωκλησαν ποτε.1
At 1½ called on Col. Hornby ― & Gibbs ― out. ― Then to Foord’s, looking for a bookcase & sideboard. To Bob Martineaus. ――― To Wyatts ― (having made a long & vain effort to find E.C. Holmes.) ― (remembering my father & a gig ― a gray mare, Peggy ― driving me by Theobald’s Road, & shuddering about a murder close by ― …) & then to other furniture shops ― & finally to the Cabinet maker in Lichfield St.. At 6/15 back & dressed, & a cab to 98 Gloucester Terrace. There were Mrs. Shakespeare & “Ida” ― Mr. & Mrs. Sayer, & Miss Sayer ˇ[& F.L]. The evening was not unpleasant, ― the dinner good: ― but there was a clashy clangy somewhat, not to be passed by. ― Photographs. ―
At 11½ or 12 ― walked back with F.L. who is as ever, most remote & lifeless as a friend, ― in all the outward & vital signs of union. ―
If one speaks, he is silent: ― if one don’t [sic] speak he is silent: ― & one don’t know if he knows one is here or there or at the devil.
[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3.]
- Lear probably meant, “whose painting never seems to come to an end;” των οποίων η ζωγραφική φαίνεται ποτέ να τελειώσει (GT). [↩]