21 December 1868 – 27 December 1868

1.45 train to London. Lodging at 44 Hans Place.

Tom Taylor at Richmond Terrace, friendly as usual : ' all well — come to us on Christmas Day ' ; gives me card for Picture Galleries, see Wallis's Exhibition in Pall Mall.

Call on Carlyle, ' out.' On Froude, who is friendly, praises the Rambles. On Miss Thackeray ; Mrs. Stephen, Marjorie, Annie, Nellie Ritchie and brother : Christmas Tree. Hans Place, — and to dinner at No. 1 9 : Mr. Planche, with old, comic wrinkled face ; Mr. Walter Cassell, good looking, kind, somewhat choice in manner and voice. Ouida (Louise de la Ramee), in green silk, sinister clever face, hair down, small hands and feet, voice like a carving knife ; also her mother. At dinner puns and jokes : Ouida silentish. The ladies go to the drawing-room, upstairs, and when after an interval we follow them we hear, before the door opens, a voice going on inside like a saw, and on entering find Ouida saying, in loud harsh tones — ' women are un- generous, cruel, pitiless ! ' Planche, taking refuge on an ottoman with a face expressing humorous alarm, ' God bless my soul ! I think they're angels — I adore them — they're the best half of the world.' Ouida, with severity, — ' I entirely disagree. The woman nearly always leads the man astray,' etc. etc. ' Woman can't be impersonal.' Mr. Cassell philosophises on the subject, rather materialistically. Ouida departs, after inviting Planche and me to visit her at the Langham Hotel, where she is biding at present with her Mother and an immense Dog. She carries a portrait of the latter round her neck in a locket, which she detached after dinner and handed round for inspection, with the remark, ' This is my hero' (perhaps the hero of one of her books). She asked somebody present ' Have you read my last book.?' — 'Not yet.' ' But you must read it, you know ! ' She said she had found America ' a mine of wealth ' to her, in the payments for her novels.

Miss Thackeray's at 1.30, to luncheon : Leslie Stephen and his wife : ' Come next Sunday.' L. S.'s ' earliest recollections connected with Kensington Gardens, The Yew Wood, seemed very solemn' — America — Emerson — Authoress of Charles Auchester. L. S. likes Lowell.

To Froude's to luncheon. Then to Carlyle's at three, shown upstairs, where I see The Ring and the Book, part read, a Frederick snuff- box, blue and gold, photographs of Mrs. Carlyle, Biographie Universelle^ Revisal of Miscellanies going on for Library Edition, ' volume in hand.' Enter Carlyle, friendly ; we walk to Kensington Gardens. The Ring and the Book ' a curiously minute picture of Italian Society : not poetry at all.' Dine at Tom Taylor's : — we go in to Ella's, to a small music-party. Ella gives an abstract of a story with musical illustrations, and is most vivacious and amusing, as well as an attentive host. Then he gives us part of William Tell. He overflows with anecdotes of musical celebrities whom he has known. Miss , who is dull and evangelical, one day expressed herself shocked at E.'s vanity and frivolity, ' and at his age ! ' I defended him, liked to see age cheerful, and thought Ella had given much pleasure to others — and so he has. So-called vain people, not fools, are usually amiable, they wish to please.

Cab to Warwick Crescent, to lunch by invitation with the great Robert. After luncheon — Shelley, the drowning of S. — ' not in his right senses — in the moon. Another man who lives in the moon is Sir George Bowyer. I called on him to ask some questions about Romana Homicidiorum Lex for my book, but as to intelligible answers — you might as well ask a butterfly to fly straight across this room ! He referred me to an Italian friend of his, who was ten times worse than himself.' We go into the Study — small back-room looking on balcony and back-green below, still talking of The Ring and the Book, and R. B, asks me plump ' How do you like it ? ' to which I return praise, and for the present (with uneasy conscience) nothing but praise ; don't know how to set about criticism, especially with but half of the Poem as yet seen. B. again shows me the original Book, and translates to me the letter of the lawyer, de Archangelis, written on the day of the execu- tion, saying, among other things, ' Guido is lamented for by all respectable people.' B. praises his own poem — ' It's admirable ! I've ever so much more to tell,' Shows me proofs of ' Pompilia ' ; also two rings of pure gold, very soft ; Castellani of Rome makes them. He gives me Volume II. of The Ring and the Book, re- marking, ' Your first volume was one of six only. I gave one to Gabriel Rossetti. I should like to give to Morris and Ned Jones and William Rossetti. The Athenaeum notice is good.' We walk out, — still talk of The Ring and the Book : ' a builder will tell you sometimes of a house, " there's twice as much work underground as above," and so it is with my poem. Guido's not escaping better, man won't give him post- horses ; the Pope, as Providence ; Guido has time for confession, etc' We part. I sit in an arbour and read the first pages of ' Tertium Quid.' To Hans Place, then walk to 12 Earl's Terrace, Kensington, to dine with Du Maurier, 6 p.m. D. M. in brown velvet coat, Mrs. D. M. in light robes ; Poynter, T. Armstrong, and another. Children, little girl on my knee, sturdy boy : talk, animals — swallows, etc. ' Ned Jones doing most wonderful things — three Saints.' Old Ballads — my Ballad Book. D. M. on his fear of blindness.