XIII
The diary which Teixeira kept for me during my absence in South America was, so far as I am aware, his first venture in this kind of literature. Approaching it with trepidation, he abandoned it with loathing. The mystery of a double cash-column quickly palled; and he was not long intrigued even by printed reminders of the moon’s phases and of the days on which dividends and insurance-policy renewals became due.
30 December 1920.As a large number of these Diaries circulate abroad it may be well to point out that the Astronomical Data, such as phases of the moon etc. are given in Greenwich time.Perhaps it may be as well,Teixeira concurs, 30.12.20.31 December 1920.I did not see the old year out. I played 1/- bridge in the afternoon at Captain Cave-Brown-Cave’s,with him, Captain B. and Dr. F. and won£—18.0.which at normal points would have been9.5.0.(I presume that is what the right-hand column is for. But the left-hand column? Ah, that left-hand column!...)The last that I saw of the old year was a 68-7-0, grey-haired parson in pumps and a prince-consort moustache and whiskers waltzing a polka, or polkering a waltz—in short, dancing something exceedingly modern—with a 15-7-0 flapper. Then we went to bed, wondering how Stephen was spending his New Year’s Eve, on board theAlmanzora, in a south-westerly gale.Saturday, 1 January.When at 5.30 I switched on my light and rose, I saw a leprechaun standing on my writing-table, looking like a little sandwich-man. Fearlessly I approached; and he changed into a bottle ofeau-de-Colognewith an envelope slung round his neck, inscribed, “To my Best Beloved.” Mark[my wife’s]bold capitals. And show me another couple whose united ages amount to 117 years or more and who still do this sort of thing. O olden times and olden manners!...Monday, 3 January.Bridge at Cave’s with Captain B. and Dr. C.[My wife]: “What did you talk about at tea?”Tex: “Jam.”This question and answer never vary, after my return from a visit to the C.-B.-C’s....I foresee that this compilation is going to rival theDiary of a Nobody. And I am pledged to keep it up until the 7th of March. Kismet! Or, as the dying Nelson said, “Kismet, Hardy.”Wednesday, 5 January.Dividends dueWhat dividends?Sunday, 9 January.Thank goodness that I have only space to thank goodness that I have only space wherein ...ad infinitum....Thursday, 13 January.Received from Stephen’s mother his letter to his mother....Received from Lady D. Stephen’s letter to[her]and wrote to her in appropriate terms, expressing doubts upon Stephen’s dietary whilecrossing the South-American continent, where there are neither fish nor eggs, save the eggs of condors and hummingbirds....Friday, 14 January.... My bank-balance is overdrawn, but I make 19/6 at bridge.... Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Martin arrive. I do not know if this is theDaily News’Irish correspondent whom the Black and Tans wanted to murder.Tuesday, 18 January.Begin Couperus’Iskander: The novel of Alexander the Great; two enormous volumes, which I may hardly live to translate. It is a great joy to see this artist building up his story with firm and elegant perfection from the very first page, with conviction and a fine self-confidence, no grouping, no floundering, no hesitation....Saturday, 23 January.Need something happen every day at Ventnor? Danged if there need!Monday, 24 January.... The new rich arrive, Rolls-Royce and all.Tuesday, 25 January.Those new rich! So new, so rich, so drearily unostentatious! Young new richard bald, pan-snayed, ill-dressed; young new wife and sister-in-law dowdy; young new secretary without a dinner-jacket to his backside; young new baby and young new nurse all over the place; young new Rolls-Royce, careering over the island, the only sign of wealth.If only there were a few diamonds, a few banded cigars, a few h’s dropping on the floor with a dull thud, one could at least laugh. But the drabness, the gloom of these particular new rich: O my lungs and O my liver!...Thursday, 27 January.It is terrible, the number of people who come to this hotel; and I regret the pleasant, non-“paying” days when we were six visitors and three musicians, with a full staff of servants to wait on us. There are now over thirty people at meals, one uglier than the other. And as soon as one goes two others take his place....Sunday, 30 January.... To bed at 5, with my “special dinner” at 7, John Francis Taylor’s meal: “Give mesome milk; and let the milk be hot. And give me some bread; and let the bread be inside the milk.”Monday, 31 January.The Insurance herein contained is not valid until your name has been registered.I don’t care. Yer can ’ave the insurance.The new rich have some business visitors.Tuesday, 1 February.... Departure of the new riches’ little thyndicate of friends.Arrival of the dividend on my Benson & Hedges’ 10% 2nd pref., the only shares wherein I have ever invested that have ever paid any dividend whatever. Lord, how I have moiled and toiled to sink money in stumer companies! Shrewsburry & Talbot Hansoms! Galician Oilfields! Rubber substitutes! Cork substitutes! Tampico-Panuco Deferred! United Transport Co.! In the three last I still have holdings: about £250 in all. And the things that I have inherited: thousand of dollars’ worth of Mexican (and Turkish and Hungarian and Russian) rubbish, which would barely fetch a tenner, all told!...Thursday, 3 February.... The new arrivals include a long, lean man ... and his wife. His hair is dyed to suggest 55; he is probably a cadaverous 77. He comes down to dinner in a white tie and tails. His digestion is of the weakest. He refuses soup, leaves the fish, refuses a cutlet, leaves the goose and seems to dine mainly oncrême Beau Rivage, which is acrême carmeldecorated with a blob of whipped cream and angelica. His conversation with his wife consists purely of whispered smiles.Friday, 4 February.I received letters from Stephen to me and from Stephen to his mother. I have still to receive a letter from Stephen to Lady D....On his return he will borrow from me Frank Harris’ second series ofContemporary Portraits, just arrived from New York.There is no bridge at the Home-Sweet-Homes. I go to the club, play with P. the local solicitor; Dr. W., of Harrogate; Mr. S., of the same and win the sum of £——2½ d.Saturday, 5 February andSunday, 6 FebruaryAn episode of “And oh, the children’s voices in the lounge!” was followed by my going to the office and saying:“I am going to bed lest these children be the death of me. May I have a special dinner, please?”“Certainly. What would you like?”“Send me some milk and let the milk be hot. And send me some bread and let the bread be inside the milk.”Next morning, having slept eight hours and fifteen minutes, I went to the manageress and:“People,” I said, “are far too proud of their children and too fond of displaying them in public.... There is nothing wonderful about parentage and nothing clever. Most people are parents. I have been one myself.... Children should be seen and not heard.... If they raise their voices in the public rooms, they should be sent to their bedrooms. Some would suggest the coal-hole; but I, as you know, have a gentle heart.... Remember that we live in an age of reprisals. The privilege of screaming and yelling is not confined to children. Adults enjoy equal rights. Next time a child raises its voice in my presence, I shall in quick succession bellowlike a bull, roar like a lion, howl like a jackal, laugh like a hyena. If you drive me to it, I shall copy all the shriller domestic animals.... The matter is now in your hands.”Monday, 7 February.Peace reigns at Ventnor....Wednesday, 16 February.... I start my sock-and-tie stunt, which consists in “copycatting” daily, Austin Read seconding, an absurd young man of half my age. Thus do the elderly amuse themselves for the further amusement of a limited circle....Tuesday, 22 February.Stephen’s letter of 20.1.21 to his mother arrives.[I again varied my itinerary and had decided to make my way to Valparaiso through the Straits of Magellan rather than across the Andes.]So he is travelling in the wake of H.M.S. Beagle and the late Charles Robert Darwin! He’ll be perished with cold; but he’s more likely to get a fish or two to eat....Sunday, 27 February.Stephen’s birthday. His health shall be drunk in brimming barley-water; and, though I believehe has already had a birthday-present, he shall have a copy ofThe Tourthe moment it arrives. Good luck to him!P.S. Absolutely a good notice ofThe Tourin theSunday Times. My wife says that the critic must have been drunk.Monday, 28 February.Arrival of a terrible Yorkshire group, two men and a woman.... They foregather with ... a man who appears in carpet-slippers, like Kipps, and talk of nothing but food, in broad Leeds.Tuesday, 1 March.... “Ah had hum-und-eggs to my breakfast this morning. Ah was always partial to hum-und-eggs for breakfast.... Ah had new potai-i-toes ut the dinner. Ah said to McKanner, ‘These are too good to pass.’ We had summon with ’em, summon und new potai-i-itoes.”They seem to be bank-managers and to have dined with Reggie at some London City and Midland Bank-wet....Thursday, 3 March.T. takes me to East Dene, the childhood home of Swinburne, now a convent of the Sacred Heart.I am shown over the entrancing grounds by the Mother Superior. Before taking me into the chapel:“You are not a catholic, I suppose?” she asks.“Indeed I am.”“I mean, a Roman catholic?”“Reverend mother, are there any others?”“Oh, they all call themselves Anglican catholics nowadays!”Then on to Craigie Lodge, where Pearl Hobbes pesters the tenants with trivial spirit-messages.Home, feeling cold as death....Saturday, 5 March.... I am correcting proofs ofThe Three Eyesfor Hurst & Blackett. Altogether I shall have four books out this spring.The Tour, Butterworth.The Three Eyes, Hurst & Blackett.Majesty, Dodd.More Hunting Wasps, Dodd.Not so bad for an owld, infirm mahn!Sunday, 6 March.It is pleasant to see the sun gain strength daily, with every sort of flower appearing,almond-blossoms in full swing, cherry-blossoms hard at it and pear-blossoms making a beginning.Monday, 7 March.Departure of[the married Yorkshire visitors].“Thank God, they’re gone!” the survivor is heard to say.Arrival of the survivor’s women-folk. He sees them to their rooms and comes down to gloat over some woman. When his wife returns to the hall:“Hullo, Helen!” he says. “Are ye dahn olready?” And repeats the bright question: “Hullo, Helen! Are ye dahn olready?”What a people, the men of Yorkshire!...Wednesday, 9 March.I begin a collodial sulphur treatment ... for that picturesque right leg of mine. Irving’s left leg was a poem (Oscar Wilde); my right leg is a money-box, adorned with three patches the size of a shilling, a sixpence and a groat, all very nice and silvery. I asked[the doctor]whether it was leprosy or dropsy. He said it was soriasis, scoriasis, scloriasis: I don’t know which and I don’t care.Thursday, 10 March.The[other Yorkshire visitors]are to go on Monday, when I can say:“Thank God, they’re gone!”And I pray that the table next to ours may not be given to people with provincial accents. Let it be noted that the friend of “McKannar” is manager of the—branch of the L.J.C.M. at Leeds, so that, when I go to live at Leeds, I may bank elsewhere....Friday, 11 March.At the club, I win 1861 points at bridge in 90 minutes.£.s.d.In money, at 2½d the 100, this represents40At the Cleveland it would have represented9120At the Reform Club it would have represented280Sunday, 13 March.John (“Shane”) Leslie’s book on Cardinal Manning seems to me very good. Leslie is very nasty to Purcell, who no doubt deserves it.Monday, 14 March.Departure of[the last Yorkshireman], leaving his women-people behind him. He asked for it and he shall have it:“Thank God he’s gone!”He used to stare at me till I devised the retort: closing my eyelids and yawning at him like a lion.I think I must talk to Reggie about him some day.Tuesday, 15 March.... The hotel is filling up madly for Easter. There will be more here then than at Christmas. Help!...Thursday, 17 March.S. Patrick ☽ First Quarter, 3.49 a.m.Well, I went to church to pray for Ireland: what else was there to be done?Stephen’s return seems to be unduly delayed; and I’ve forgotten the name of his ship.Friday, 18 March.The sun shines in the morning.The rain falls in the afternoon.I play a little bridge.The sun shines all day.Thank God, a letter from Stephen and an end to this beastly diary!
30 December 1920.
As a large number of these Diaries circulate abroad it may be well to point out that the Astronomical Data, such as phases of the moon etc. are given in Greenwich time.
Perhaps it may be as well,Teixeira concurs, 30.12.20.
31 December 1920.
I did not see the old year out. I played 1/- bridge in the afternoon at Captain Cave-Brown-Cave’s,with him, Captain B. and Dr. F. and won
£—18.0.
which at normal points would have been
9.5.0.
(I presume that is what the right-hand column is for. But the left-hand column? Ah, that left-hand column!...)
The last that I saw of the old year was a 68-7-0, grey-haired parson in pumps and a prince-consort moustache and whiskers waltzing a polka, or polkering a waltz—in short, dancing something exceedingly modern—with a 15-7-0 flapper. Then we went to bed, wondering how Stephen was spending his New Year’s Eve, on board theAlmanzora, in a south-westerly gale.
Saturday, 1 January.
When at 5.30 I switched on my light and rose, I saw a leprechaun standing on my writing-table, looking like a little sandwich-man. Fearlessly I approached; and he changed into a bottle ofeau-de-Colognewith an envelope slung round his neck, inscribed, “To my Best Beloved.” Mark[my wife’s]bold capitals. And show me another couple whose united ages amount to 117 years or more and who still do this sort of thing. O olden times and olden manners!...
Monday, 3 January.
Bridge at Cave’s with Captain B. and Dr. C.
[My wife]: “What did you talk about at tea?”
Tex: “Jam.”
This question and answer never vary, after my return from a visit to the C.-B.-C’s....
I foresee that this compilation is going to rival theDiary of a Nobody. And I am pledged to keep it up until the 7th of March. Kismet! Or, as the dying Nelson said, “Kismet, Hardy.”
Wednesday, 5 January.
Dividends due
What dividends?
Sunday, 9 January.
Thank goodness that I have only space to thank goodness that I have only space wherein ...ad infinitum....
Thursday, 13 January.
Received from Stephen’s mother his letter to his mother....
Received from Lady D. Stephen’s letter to[her]and wrote to her in appropriate terms, expressing doubts upon Stephen’s dietary whilecrossing the South-American continent, where there are neither fish nor eggs, save the eggs of condors and hummingbirds....
Friday, 14 January.
... My bank-balance is overdrawn, but I make 19/6 at bridge.
... Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Martin arrive. I do not know if this is theDaily News’Irish correspondent whom the Black and Tans wanted to murder.
Tuesday, 18 January.
Begin Couperus’Iskander: The novel of Alexander the Great; two enormous volumes, which I may hardly live to translate. It is a great joy to see this artist building up his story with firm and elegant perfection from the very first page, with conviction and a fine self-confidence, no grouping, no floundering, no hesitation....
Saturday, 23 January.
Need something happen every day at Ventnor? Danged if there need!
Monday, 24 January.
... The new rich arrive, Rolls-Royce and all.
Tuesday, 25 January.
Those new rich! So new, so rich, so drearily unostentatious! Young new richard bald, pan-snayed, ill-dressed; young new wife and sister-in-law dowdy; young new secretary without a dinner-jacket to his backside; young new baby and young new nurse all over the place; young new Rolls-Royce, careering over the island, the only sign of wealth.
If only there were a few diamonds, a few banded cigars, a few h’s dropping on the floor with a dull thud, one could at least laugh. But the drabness, the gloom of these particular new rich: O my lungs and O my liver!...
Thursday, 27 January.
It is terrible, the number of people who come to this hotel; and I regret the pleasant, non-“paying” days when we were six visitors and three musicians, with a full staff of servants to wait on us. There are now over thirty people at meals, one uglier than the other. And as soon as one goes two others take his place....
Sunday, 30 January.
... To bed at 5, with my “special dinner” at 7, John Francis Taylor’s meal: “Give mesome milk; and let the milk be hot. And give me some bread; and let the bread be inside the milk.”
Monday, 31 January.
The Insurance herein contained is not valid until your name has been registered.
I don’t care. Yer can ’ave the insurance.
The new rich have some business visitors.
Tuesday, 1 February.
... Departure of the new riches’ little thyndicate of friends.
Arrival of the dividend on my Benson & Hedges’ 10% 2nd pref., the only shares wherein I have ever invested that have ever paid any dividend whatever. Lord, how I have moiled and toiled to sink money in stumer companies! Shrewsburry & Talbot Hansoms! Galician Oilfields! Rubber substitutes! Cork substitutes! Tampico-Panuco Deferred! United Transport Co.! In the three last I still have holdings: about £250 in all. And the things that I have inherited: thousand of dollars’ worth of Mexican (and Turkish and Hungarian and Russian) rubbish, which would barely fetch a tenner, all told!...
Thursday, 3 February.
... The new arrivals include a long, lean man ... and his wife. His hair is dyed to suggest 55; he is probably a cadaverous 77. He comes down to dinner in a white tie and tails. His digestion is of the weakest. He refuses soup, leaves the fish, refuses a cutlet, leaves the goose and seems to dine mainly oncrême Beau Rivage, which is acrême carmeldecorated with a blob of whipped cream and angelica. His conversation with his wife consists purely of whispered smiles.
Friday, 4 February.
I received letters from Stephen to me and from Stephen to his mother. I have still to receive a letter from Stephen to Lady D....
On his return he will borrow from me Frank Harris’ second series ofContemporary Portraits, just arrived from New York.
There is no bridge at the Home-Sweet-Homes. I go to the club, play with P. the local solicitor; Dr. W., of Harrogate; Mr. S., of the same and win the sum of £——2½ d.
Saturday, 5 February andSunday, 6 February
An episode of “And oh, the children’s voices in the lounge!” was followed by my going to the office and saying:
“I am going to bed lest these children be the death of me. May I have a special dinner, please?”
“Certainly. What would you like?”
“Send me some milk and let the milk be hot. And send me some bread and let the bread be inside the milk.”
Next morning, having slept eight hours and fifteen minutes, I went to the manageress and:
“People,” I said, “are far too proud of their children and too fond of displaying them in public.... There is nothing wonderful about parentage and nothing clever. Most people are parents. I have been one myself.... Children should be seen and not heard.... If they raise their voices in the public rooms, they should be sent to their bedrooms. Some would suggest the coal-hole; but I, as you know, have a gentle heart.... Remember that we live in an age of reprisals. The privilege of screaming and yelling is not confined to children. Adults enjoy equal rights. Next time a child raises its voice in my presence, I shall in quick succession bellowlike a bull, roar like a lion, howl like a jackal, laugh like a hyena. If you drive me to it, I shall copy all the shriller domestic animals.... The matter is now in your hands.”
Monday, 7 February.
Peace reigns at Ventnor....
Wednesday, 16 February.
... I start my sock-and-tie stunt, which consists in “copycatting” daily, Austin Read seconding, an absurd young man of half my age. Thus do the elderly amuse themselves for the further amusement of a limited circle....
Tuesday, 22 February.
Stephen’s letter of 20.1.21 to his mother arrives.[I again varied my itinerary and had decided to make my way to Valparaiso through the Straits of Magellan rather than across the Andes.]So he is travelling in the wake of H.M.S. Beagle and the late Charles Robert Darwin! He’ll be perished with cold; but he’s more likely to get a fish or two to eat....
Sunday, 27 February.
Stephen’s birthday. His health shall be drunk in brimming barley-water; and, though I believehe has already had a birthday-present, he shall have a copy ofThe Tourthe moment it arrives. Good luck to him!
P.S. Absolutely a good notice ofThe Tourin theSunday Times. My wife says that the critic must have been drunk.
Monday, 28 February.
Arrival of a terrible Yorkshire group, two men and a woman.... They foregather with ... a man who appears in carpet-slippers, like Kipps, and talk of nothing but food, in broad Leeds.
Tuesday, 1 March.
... “Ah had hum-und-eggs to my breakfast this morning. Ah was always partial to hum-und-eggs for breakfast.... Ah had new potai-i-toes ut the dinner. Ah said to McKanner, ‘These are too good to pass.’ We had summon with ’em, summon und new potai-i-itoes.”
They seem to be bank-managers and to have dined with Reggie at some London City and Midland Bank-wet....
Thursday, 3 March.
T. takes me to East Dene, the childhood home of Swinburne, now a convent of the Sacred Heart.I am shown over the entrancing grounds by the Mother Superior. Before taking me into the chapel:
“You are not a catholic, I suppose?” she asks.
“Indeed I am.”
“I mean, a Roman catholic?”
“Reverend mother, are there any others?”
“Oh, they all call themselves Anglican catholics nowadays!”
Then on to Craigie Lodge, where Pearl Hobbes pesters the tenants with trivial spirit-messages.
Home, feeling cold as death....
Saturday, 5 March.
... I am correcting proofs ofThe Three Eyesfor Hurst & Blackett. Altogether I shall have four books out this spring.
Not so bad for an owld, infirm mahn!
Sunday, 6 March.
It is pleasant to see the sun gain strength daily, with every sort of flower appearing,almond-blossoms in full swing, cherry-blossoms hard at it and pear-blossoms making a beginning.
Monday, 7 March.
Departure of[the married Yorkshire visitors].
“Thank God, they’re gone!” the survivor is heard to say.
Arrival of the survivor’s women-folk. He sees them to their rooms and comes down to gloat over some woman. When his wife returns to the hall:
“Hullo, Helen!” he says. “Are ye dahn olready?” And repeats the bright question: “Hullo, Helen! Are ye dahn olready?”
What a people, the men of Yorkshire!...
Wednesday, 9 March.
I begin a collodial sulphur treatment ... for that picturesque right leg of mine. Irving’s left leg was a poem (Oscar Wilde); my right leg is a money-box, adorned with three patches the size of a shilling, a sixpence and a groat, all very nice and silvery. I asked[the doctor]whether it was leprosy or dropsy. He said it was soriasis, scoriasis, scloriasis: I don’t know which and I don’t care.
Thursday, 10 March.
The[other Yorkshire visitors]are to go on Monday, when I can say:
“Thank God, they’re gone!”
And I pray that the table next to ours may not be given to people with provincial accents. Let it be noted that the friend of “McKannar” is manager of the—branch of the L.J.C.M. at Leeds, so that, when I go to live at Leeds, I may bank elsewhere....
Friday, 11 March.
At the club, I win 1861 points at bridge in 90 minutes.
Sunday, 13 March.
John (“Shane”) Leslie’s book on Cardinal Manning seems to me very good. Leslie is very nasty to Purcell, who no doubt deserves it.
Monday, 14 March.
Departure of[the last Yorkshireman], leaving his women-people behind him. He asked for it and he shall have it:
“Thank God he’s gone!”
He used to stare at me till I devised the retort: closing my eyelids and yawning at him like a lion.
I think I must talk to Reggie about him some day.
Tuesday, 15 March.
... The hotel is filling up madly for Easter. There will be more here then than at Christmas. Help!...
Thursday, 17 March.
S. Patrick ☽ First Quarter, 3.49 a.m.
Well, I went to church to pray for Ireland: what else was there to be done?
Stephen’s return seems to be unduly delayed; and I’ve forgotten the name of his ship.
Friday, 18 March.
The sun shines in the morning.
The rain falls in the afternoon.
I play a little bridge.
The sun shines all day.
Thank God, a letter from Stephen and an end to this beastly diary!