_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 bellow like 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 believe he has already had a
birthday-present, he shall have a copy of ~The Tour~ the moment
it arrives. Good luck to him!_
_P.S. Absolutely a good notice of ~The Tour~ in the ~Sunday
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 of ~The Three Eyes~ for 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 represents_ _4_ _0_
_At the Cleveland it would have represented_ _9_ _12_ _0_
_At the Reform Club it would have represented_ _2_ _8_ _0_
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!_