24 October 1864 – 30 October 1864

Up at 7 — fog. Drive to Christchurch, the sun breaking through fog. Enter the great Priory Church and look at the Shelley Monument. Call at the gate of Boscombe in passing and leave Lord Houghton's note of introduction with my card. After luncheon I walked out to Boscombe and found Lady Shelley at home — a small lively pleasant woman, who invited us to dinner for to-morrow. Dinner-tea at Mrs, Clough's, and then I was left alone to examine Clough's letters, and MS. lectures on English Poetry. Mrs. C. wants advice as to what to publish.

Boscombe. Sir Percy and Lady Shelley and two sisters of Percy Bysshe Shelley. I sat between them at dinner, having taken in Shelley's favourite sister, whose name is spelt ' Hellen.' She was lively and chatty, and I looked at and listened to her with great interest. She is tall, very slender, and must have been graceful and handsome in her youth, I saw, or fancied, a likeness to Shelley. She was sumptuous in light purple silk, which became her. She looked about fifty-six, but must be much more. Her sister, who seemed rather younger, was much less lively, Tennyson's name occurring in conversation. Miss Hellen Shelley let it plainly appear that neither he nor any modern poet was of the least interest in her eyes. ' After Shelley, Byron, and Scott, you know,' she said to me, ' one cannot care about other poets,' Somebody had once read to her a poem of Tenny- son's, which she liked, but she could not remember what it was. It seemed doubtful that she had ever heard of Browning. Mr. Grantley Berkeley at dinner — a tall strong man over sixty, like a militaire. He lives in this neighbourhood on small means, is a great sportsman, and his talk worth listening to on the habits of animals, etc. He doubts whether there is such a disease as hydrophobia — thinks most or all of the deaths may be due to the effects of a punctured wound or diseased blood, helped by fright. Says he can't walk as he used to do — ' My feet stick to the ground.' Describes a quarrel with a game-keeper, in which he threw the man, who was insolent, into the river. He is off-hand and pleasant to talk to, enjoys society and private theatricals. In the drawing-room we found Miss Hellen Shelley stretched on a sofa, with two dainty white satin shoes with rosettes peeping beyond the purple robe, and looking really elegant. Her recollections of Leigh Hunt were not of a friendly sort, so I did not pursue the subject. She always speaks of her brother as ' Bysshe.' A young lady sung an Italian song. I came away about 10. Sir Percy Florence Shelley is a rather short, fair and fattish man of forty-five. The nose, which is like his mother's, projects when seen in profile, but the front face is roundish and smooth, with small eyes, and a bald forehead over which the pale light-brown hair is partly drawn. His voice is very quiet but in a high key (the only point reminding one of his father), his words few, and whole manner placid, and even apathetic. He likes yachting and private theatricals, cares little or nothing for poetry or literature. He has a thinly -humorous, lounging, self-possessed, quietly contemptuous manner of comment and narration. When I mentioned Tennyson's poetry. Sir Percy said fellows had bored him a good deal with it at one time. He never read any of it of his own accord — saw no sense in it.