The Diaries of Sir Ernest Mason Satow, 1883-1888: A Diplomat In Siam, Japan, Britain and Elsewhere

By Ian Ruxton and David Warren

These are the edited (i.e. transcribed, annotated and indexed) diaries of Sir Ernest Satow (1843-1929) for the six years from the time when he left Japan early in 1883, through his time as Agent and Consul-General and subsequent promotion to Minister Resident at Bangkok, until his return to London and his request in December 1887 for another posting on health grounds. The period includes his visits to Japan (officially for rest and recuperation) in 1884 and 1886, and to Rome and Lisbon for research into the Jesuits in Japan conducted early in 1888, and the confirmation of his appointment to Montevideo in October of that year. Throughout the period his ultimate goal was promotion to Minister in Japan, which he achieved in 1895. The original diaries are in the National Archives (UK). Published for the first time on lulu.com.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365500053

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The Diaries of Sir Ernest Mason Satow, 1883-1888: A Diplomat In Siam, Japan, Britain and Elsewhere

The Diaries of Sir Ernest Mason Satow, 1883-1888:

A Diplomat in Siam, Japan, Britain and Elsewhere

:Satow Diaries 1883-1895:Satow and Pony.jpg

This photograph is believed to be of Satow in Bangkok.

:Satow Diaries 1883-1895:Satow CMG.jpg

Table of Contents

Preface

Foreword

1883

1884

1885

Illustrations

1886

1887

1888

Bibliography

Chronology

INDEX OF NAMES

The Diaries of Sir Ernest Mason Satow, 1883-1888:

A Diplomat in Siam, Japan, Britain and Elsewhere

Edited by Ian Ruxton

With a Foreword by Sir David Warren

All rights reserved. Copyright © Ian Ruxton 2016.

Crown copyright material among the Satow Papers (PRO 30/33) in the National Archives (UK) is reproduced by permission of the Controller of Her Majesty’s Stationery Office (H.M.S.O.). Copyright material from the letters and diaries of Sir Ernest Satow is reproduced by permission of the National Archives (UK) on behalf of the Controller of H.M.S.O.

The photograph of Satow on the front cover is from the Takeda Papers held at the Yokohama Archives of History. It is thought by the editor of this volume to be from his time in Bangkok.

Printed Paperback

ISBN-13: 978-1-365-46242-9

Ebook (EPUB)

ISBN-13: 978-1-365-50005-3

Publisher: Ian Ruxton

Preface

The project of making the important and valuable diaries and letters of Sir Ernest Satow, P.C., G.C.M.G. deposited by the terms of his will after his death in the Public Record Office (now the National Archives of the U.K.) more easily available in book and digital book form to scholars, students and the general reading public began with my The Diaries and Letters of Sir Ernest Mason Satow (1843-1929): A Scholar-Diplomat in East Asia (Edwin Mellen Press, 1998). It has since become a time-consuming, but most absorbing, enjoyable and rewarding life work.

I first encountered Satow in 1993, when living in Kobe and writing a modest ‘local history’ paper about the Kobe Incident (Kobe Jiken 神戸事件) of 1868. Already in Japan since 1 April 1988, I was starting out on my career as a Japan-based scholar and needed to produce evidence, however meagre, of scholarly endeavour in a specialist field (senmon 専門) for the purpose of gaining full-time employment in a Japanese university.

Satow had written at length about the neglected but significant diplomatic incident, which had occurred at Kobe, in his widely acclaimed A Diplomat in Japan (see Ch. XXVI, The Bizen Affair). He had explained how he and A.B. Mitford (later Lord Redesdale) had been ordered by Sir Harry Parkes to witness the judicial suicide (hara-kiri 腹切 or sometimes seppuku 切腹) which was ordered, as a punishment for the unfortunate officer of the Bizen clan named Taki Zenzaburō.

What intrigued me most was Satow’s statement:

It was no disgusting exhibition, but a most decent and decorous ceremony, and far more respectable than what our own countrymen were in the habit of producing for the entertainment of the public in front of Newgate prison. (A Diplomat in Japan, first edition, 1921, pp. 346-7)

I simply had to know more about Ernest Satow from that moment, and his eye-catching and seemingly very modern willingness to make thought-provoking cross-cultural comparisons. The attempt to get to know him better has led me through all the nine decades of his life, and across the world to all of the places where he served and lived (Japan, Siam/Thailand, Uruguay, Morocco, China and Britain).  Following his life and career closely through his diaries and letters has been a wonderful and privileged journey (which is still ongoing), and I have learned a great deal from it so far.

It is my earnest hope that the present volume will interest and be of value to scholars of Siam/Thailand, as well as those of Japan and of Satow himself. He has left to posterity a rare and precious legacy, as yet not fully or appropriately exploited. My sincere thanks are due to Sir David Warren, a former British ambassador to Japan (2008-12) and presently Chairman of the Japan Society of the UK, for writing the foreword to the present book. I am also grateful to Lulu.com for the opportunity to publish these diaries and previous works of mine in affordable paperback and digital formats. Finally, I would like to dedicate this book to the memory of Dr. Nigel Brailey of Bristol University, who was well aware of the importance of the Satow Siam diaries for scholars of that country, and who I believe would be pleased that this book has at last appeared.

Ian Ruxton

Kyushu Institute of Technology

October 2016

Foreword

Sir Ernest Satow (1843-1929), one of the most distinguished diplomatists of his era, is chiefly celebrated as a pioneer Japanologist.   He arrived in Yokohama in 1862 as a student interpreter for the Foreign Office, spent the rest of the decade in Japan as a witness of the civil war that led to the restoration of the Emperor Meiji, and after a period on leave in Europe, returned to what was now the British Mission in Tokyo as the Japanese Secretary.  From his earliest years in East Asia to almost the end of his life, he kept a diary, and this record of his activities, together with many personal letters to his friends and colleagues, is now kept in the National Archive.

Satow’s early years in Japan were full of turbulence and adventure.   He was involved in the intense diplomatic activity through which Britain sought to build links with the clans competing for power as the influence of the Tokugawa government waned and that of the Emperor’s party grew.   He was a diplomat, not a soldier – but he also participated in military action, in the bombardment of Kagoshima in 1863 and the battle of Shimonoseki the following year.  And the world in which he lived in Japan was one of intermittent violence rather than sedate diplomacy: more than once, he faced physical danger from travelling samurai hostile to foreigners.

By the 1870s, perhaps frustrated by the routine of more conventional diplomatic work, perhaps in reaction to working for a Minister (the Mission had not yet become a full Embassy), Sir Harry Parkes, for whom he felt little sympathy, Satow was becoming somewhat detached from his diplomatic responsibilities.   He had already established himself as the best Japanese linguist among his peers.   Moreover, he had an omnivorous and polymathic appetite for understanding Japan – the language, the culture, the society.  He began a career as a scholar of Japan, helping to found the Asiatic Society and contributing numerous essays and papers on all things Japanese – art, religion, geography and geology – over the next ten years.  He translated books of history and published a Japanese conversation text-book on which he had been working since the mid-1860s.  

He also formed a union with Takeda Kané, variously described as the daughter of the Embassy gardener or of a cabinet maker in Tokyo.   It is unclear exactly when they met: Takeda was born in November 1853, and would have been 14 when the Meiji Restoration took place in 1867/1868.   It is believed that a daughter was born to them in 1872 and died in early infancy.  Two sons, Eitaro and Hisakichi, were born in 1880 and 1883.  It would have been virtually impossible under Japanese law for him to have married Takeda, and unthinkable to have acknowledged the relationship publicly within the Foreign Office or the diplomatic community.  There is no reference to Satow’s family in his diaries or letters during this period in his life. 

The present volume deals with the years 1883 to 1888, for most of which Satow was posted to Bangkok, in what is now Thailand, and was then Siam.

At the beginning of 1883 Satow left Japan to return to Britain on home leave.   He spent the whole of 1883 away from Asia – working in the Foreign Office in London on the proposed revision of the Treaty of Amity and Friendship with Japan, travelling around Britain to see friends, around Europe (Italy, France, Switzerland), visiting art galleries, enjoying concerts, and spending time with his extended family (he was one of eleven children, and although his father had died ten years previously, his mother was still in the family house in Clapton).   In addition to all this, Satow resumed his law studies in the Inns of Court, and passed his examination with distinction in November.

Satow’s diaries are rarely revealing about his innermost thoughts.  The modern reader has to scour the record to find clues to the tension may have existed in his mind between his intellectual and personal commitment to Japan and his role, and possible advancement, as a Foreign Office diplomat.  But reading between these lines, one can see that he was at a crucial moment in his career, and that he understood this.   He had served for twenty years in Japan, as a member of the Japan Consular Service rather than the Diplomatic Service.  He wanted to make the transition to the latter; he may well also have wanted to move away from concentrating solely on Japanese affairs.  We can only guess to what extent, if at all, his personal circumstances may have been relevant to any of these considerations.  To a modern reader it seems inexplicable that he should leave Japan just as his wife was about to give birth to their second son. 

Towards the end of 1883, he discussed his prospects with Sir Francis Plunkett, who was about to replace Sir Harry Parkes as Minister in Tokyo.   Plunkett wanted Satow to return to Japan to help him with the forthcoming negotiations on treaty revision, but, generously, did not want to stand in Satow’s way if this might impede his career.  Almost immediately, Satow became aware that the Foreign Office was considering him for the post of Agent and Consul-General in Bangkok, in what was then Siam.  He was encouraged to think it over; this does not seem to have been a lengthy process.   He applied for the job, and was told in early January 1884 that his name had been submitted to the Queen for her approval.  He left for his post on 25 January.

It was to be a difficult three years for Satow in Bangkok.     Siam was an independent kingdom, pursuing Western-style reforms under King Chulalongkorn, son of King Mongkut.   Under his father’s influence, Chulalongkorn had received a broad education, including exposure to European tutors.   (Among them was Anna Leonowens, whose service at the Siamese court was subsequently romanticised through her own memoirs and various semi-fictional versions, most famously the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, The King and I).    The King’s policy was to play off both the British and the French, who were seeking to advance their own imperial ambitions in South-East Asia.  Satow’s main responsibility was to work for closer Siamese relations with Britain, against a background of rivalry with France (who were at war with China in neighbouring Indochina, now Vietnam) and (successful) British attempts to annex Burma.   This objective was complicated by the Colonial Office and the Government of Singapore pressing the territorial claims against Siam of the Federation of Malay States.

Satow’s new post brought effective and in due course substantive promotion (he was upgraded to the rank of Minister the following year).   But almost immediately he regretted applying for it.    In a diary entry for 26 February 1884, he describes saying farewell to the Plunketts in Singapore, as they set off for Japan: I wished I were going back to Japan with them, instead of being an exile in Bangkok.    He had less time for study and scholarship, and found Siam a difficult and unhealthy climate.  He missed Japan, and the work on the revision of the unequal treaties that he would have been doing in Tokyo had he returned there.    In a letter to his friend F V Dickins in March 1884, he wrote:   I never think of that country without the liveliest feelings of regret.   One was so happy there, in spite of the distance from England, and the travelling in the interior was delightful.   Sometimes I think I was a great fool to leave it simply for promotion. 

Little of this emerges in the diaries, which are taken up with the minutiae of Satow’s professional responsibilities, and his usual botanical and travel observations.   He found Siamese officials frustrating to work with, and some of the irritation he felt at their conservatism and evasiveness can be sensed in these diary entries.  But he consciously eschewed the choleric approach of Harry Parkes and was at pains to keep his temper.  When one is angry, he wrote, it is very important to be more polite than usual and to have an air of regret at having to remonstrate.    There is much in his journal about the details of Court etiquette, with Satow hyper-sensitive to slights, both imagined and real.   He sounds frustrated and bored, which he never appears to have been in Tokyo.

In the autumn of 1884, Satow returned to Japan, spending October and most of November there, and calling on not only his diplomatic colleagues but many British and Japanese friends with whom he had maintained close contacts.   He also saw his Japanese family again, although the first reference to them in his diary is written in romanised Japanese so as to remain secret.  This was the first time he had seen his younger son, Hisakichi: he wrote: He is of fair complexion and looks much like my younger brother Theodore.     He gave a paper on Notes on the intercourse between Japan and Siam in the Seventeenth Century to the Asiatic Society, and attended a garden party at the Palace, commenting dyspeptically: The Mikado looked more idiotic than ever, and could only mumble some inarticulate words which meant nothing: he is horribly ugly.  He was to visit again in 1886, spending three months there to convalesce after illness.    His friends expressed the hope that he would be able to return to Tokyo as Plunkett’s successor, and it is clear that Satow aspired to this too.   Indeed, there appears to have a possibility of this in 1885, although it never materialised, as Plunkett was unwilling to be moved to Peking in succession to Parkes, who had died in that year. 

In professional terms, there were certain parallels between Japan and Siam.  Both were countries under monarchical rulers coming to terms with late 19th century modernisation – energetically in the case of Japan, cautiously in the case of Siam.   Both had resisted becoming colonies of Western powers, but nonetheless had to deal with those powers seeking to enfold independent states within their spheres of influence and imperial control.  The question of extra-territoriality was important.   Britain had negotiated special legal rights over its expatriates in Japan in the ‘unequal treaty’ with Japan.   This had a parallel in Siam, where Satow’s time was taken up increasingly with disputes over the registration of British subjects and the juridical powers of British courts in areas of dispute with the Siamese authorities.    One of the interesting developments in Satow’s thinking at this time is his gradually increasing sympathy with the idea of repatriating local legal rights over expatriate communities.   At times this amounts to antipathy to predatory British imperialism.  He wrote to Dickins in April 1886: The English people no longer content themselves with territories they can make use of themselves;  they have begun to ‘collectionner’ tropical countries for the benefit of Asiatics, chiefly Chinese and Klings who flock together wherever the easy-going colonial official sets up business.   For the colonial man is quite a different sort from the Indian official, much less of a benevolent despot, not as to benevolence but as to despotism.   At the same time, he maintained little faith in the Siamese legal system, and as Professor Ruxton, quoting the late Nigel Brailey, notes in his reference to Satow’s travel diary, this and his contraction of malaria. . . did nothing to improve his disposition towards the Siamese people or their customs.   

The tension between these conflicting feelings doubtless contributed to his general unhappiness.   By the end of his time in Bangkok, this amounted almost to a crisis of confidence in his chosen career, to the point of his briefly considering early retirement from the Diplomatic Service.  In addition, his health was weakening in Siam.   His doctor friend William Willis, to whom he had been close in Japan, came to Bangkok to keep him company.   Satow suffered attacks of malaria, and lost a lot of weight.  He travelled from Bangkok to Chiang Mai (the account of the trip was posthumously published under the title A Diplomat in Siam), but the rigours of that journey aggravated his condition further.     It is not clear whether the separation from Satow’s Japanese family played any part in his overall malaise during these years.  Satow never recorded such personal details, even in his letters to Dickins, to whom he wrote relatively frank accounts of his professional unhappiness.   We can only guess at the emotions that lay behind the brief and often clinical references in the diaries and letters. 

On top of all this, his relations with some of the local British expatriates in Bangkok were poor.  He had already formed something of an animus against British businessmen in Japan. In Siam he fell out with some senior British residents, who complained about rules requiring them to register and pay a registration fee to the British Legation.   Satow’s account of a meeting with the two ringleaders of the campaign against him in December 1886 reveals him in uncharacteristically pompous and high-handed mode, bridling at what he took to be devious and impertinent behaviour on their part.    Predictably, they made their dissatisfaction public – a report in The Times of London of 11 February 1887 spoke of quite a commotion among the British residents in Bangkok and a determination. . . to resist this impost.  The men in question were close to Prince Thewawong, one of the King’s half-brothers, also known as Devawongse or Devan, who was the King’s correspondence secretary when Satow arrived in Siam.  The controversy soured Satow’s relationship with Thewawong, whom he suspected of conspiring against him.   It all contributed to making his life in Siam miserable.  

Satow left Siam in May 1887, accompanying Thewawong to Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.    In July, he attended a meeting at the Foreign Office on territorial questions – the future of Perak, the British-protected Malay state to the south of the Siamese peninsula.   This went badly, with the Siamese prince resiling from what the British had taken to be a commitment to agree to their terms on the disputed border territory of Raman.   He implied that he was reacting against the way in which Satow had attempted to present him with a fait accompli.    Satow, already debilitated, was angered by what he believed to be Thewawong’s duplicity, and his response antagonised the Siamese prince.     Lord Salisbury read the riot act to Thewawong subsequently, but declined to record the meeting in what was seen as a snub to Satow for mishandling the issue.  

Satow had already written to the Foreign Office requesting a transfer from Bangkok on health grounds, to no avail.  Following the row over Raman, the idea appears to have gained currency within the Foreign Office that it would be better for him not to return to Siam.   He learned that Tokyo was not now a possibility; he considered applying for Berne, but was not encouraged; he was told that he should be thinking of a South American posting.   He was unenthusiastic about moving to one of the unstable post-Iberian empire states.    But in late 1888, after inconclusive discussions about going to Venezuela and Chile, he was eventually announced as Minister Resident in Montevideo, in Uruguay. 

These diaries end with that appointment.  The last entry for 1888 has Satow copying a Japanese translation of Thomas à Kempis’s Imitation of Christ he had discovered in the Bodleian Library in Oxford.   Satow had spent much of the second half of 1887 and 1888 on leave from the Foreign Office.    During this period he was called to the Bar (at Lincoln’s Inn) at the conclusion of his legal studies; and spent some months travelling in Italy, Spain and Portugal, studying the early Christian missionaries in 17th century Japan, as a result of which he wrote a monograph on the Jesuit Mission Press in Japan 1591-1610, which was much admired.    His cousin and early biographer Bernard Allen believed that it was while reading Thomas à Kempis in Oxford that he experienced a spiritual conversion.   He had been brought up a Nonconformist, but had drifted away from religious observances.   He was confirmed in the Church of England in a ceremony at St Paul’s Cathedral, by the Bishop of London, in October 1888.   From that point, wrote Allen after Satow’s death, religion was at the centre of his life.    There are references in his personal writings, as late as 1899, to a continued interest in converting to Roman Catholicism. 

It is hard to escape the conclusion that the strains of his years in Siam may have nudged him in this direction.   He had been separated from the country and culture by which he was fascinated and from which he drew energy; he was bogged down in arduous and thankless diplomatic negotiations in an intractable environment; he was physically enervated; and perhaps he was also now doubting the diplomatic career in pursuit of which he had given up Japan – as well as contact with his Japanese family.  Whatever the cause, the years in Siam were the closest Satow appears to have come to a dark night of the soul, following which he adopted a serious and increasingly devotional attitude to religion.  

Satow’s diaries are not, on the whole, full of colourful incidents and anecdotes, pen-pictures, evocative descriptions, or meditations on the meaning of his life and the world through which he passed.   They are functional diaries, recording what he did and what he said, where he went and whom he met, and from time to time what he saw.   Occasional personal revelations – in this volume about a family dispute where Satow had to mediate between warring family factions, and a younger brother whose marital and financial difficulties were a source of concern to him – also emerge from time to time. 

As the years pass, and Satow moves from being a callow young interpreter to a seasoned and respected senior official, the diaries become more functional rather than less.   But they are an important and unique record of a diplomat’s life in the second half of the 19th century, and of the development of British policy in its informal empire in Asia.   They also add greatly to our knowledge of a man whose long life encompassed the heyday of Britain’s imperial reach and foreign policy ambitions, whose insight, especially into East Asia, where Britain was a power, but not a colonial force, is unique, and whose personal records, in terms of journals and correspondence, are unusually full.  

In Satow’s Siamese years, we see him conscientiously discharging his official duties in a difficult and unsympathetic environment.   Japan – the country that gave him focus and purpose in intellectual and personal terms – was both a recent memory and an uncertain aspiration.   Eventually he was to return, as British Minister from 1895 to 1900   His diaries for that period have already been published as part of Professor Ruxton’s project of bringing this important primary source material to a wider audience.   We owe Professor Ruxton much gratitude for his outstanding work in making the diaries of this important but neglected figure more generally available.  

David Warren

August 2016

Ernest Satow’s diary (PRO 30/33 15/7)

1883

Jan[uary]. 1.  After a rather rough passage, got to Kôbe about 5, and were taken ashore by [W.G.] Aston & [William] Gowland,[1] who came off to fetch us. Slept at Aston’s, where was also [Hiram Shaw] Wilkinson[2] on his way overland to Tokio. Talked to Gowland about a course of Geology in Jermyn Street,[3] w[hi]ch. begins in October, and might be useful, if I could get over my law exam before.

Jan. 2.  Walked out after breakfast to the Wada no misaki [和田の岬] Lighthouse [designed by Richard Henry Brunton]. Some snow fell, but the day was sunny on the whole. After lunch called on Carpenter in the Magpie, to see the charts of the islands of the S. Korean coast, w[hi]ch. are being prepared. Much of what is laid down as doubtful coast outline turns out to be islands, but the positions in the Japanese map are on the whole correct.

Jan. 3.  Left at 4 a.m. and passed through the Southern passage at 3.30 p.m. Passengers besides ourselves were the Beadons, and half a dozen men from Singapore, Penang &c., besides an old globetrotter who said he had been up to Miniosta in a sampan, meaning Miyanoshita [宮ノ下] in a kago [palanquin 駕籠]. Snow was lying on the m[oun]t[ai]ns. in Shikoku, often as low as 1000 ft.

Jan. 4  At 2 p.m. passed through the Straits of Shimonoseki; a slight swell outside. At 11 a.m. passed thro’ Spex Straits [between the island of Hirado 平戸 and Kyushu九州],[4] the country both sides pretty & well-wooded, but the tide quiet. It is already getting warmer.

Anchored at Nagasaki about 3 p.m. Gubbins[5] of the Flying Fish came off to see us, & was taking me ashore, when we met [J.C.] Hall & [Henry A.C.] Bonar going off in the consular boat. Dined with the Halls, and went afterwards to a musical party at Bonar’s, where were assembled the ladies of the place, including 2 young ladies, cousins of young Mackenzie of the Iron Duke.

Jan. 5  Left at 1 a.m. Got up to breakfast, but the sea was rough and I had to retire to my cabin for the rest of the day.

Jan. 6. Sail set this morning, and the motion much less. Managed to eat again, and quite got over my seasickness.

Jan. 7. Fine weather, and a good breeze after, carrying the Bangalore along at the rate of 12 knots. The Captain, Halsall, very fond of church music, so I played the chants for him. He is a very good fellow, and much given to chumming with his passengers.

Jan. 8.  Wrote to Hawes and Walters, and got into Hongkong[6] at 11.38 p.m. anchoring about 2 miles from the buoy.

Jan. 9. Landed immediately after securing our cabins on the [R.M.S.] Mirzapore, to the Captain of w[hi]ch. Perrins, we had a letter of introduction, and went to see the postmaster [Alfred] Lister, who put our names down at the club. Lunched there; afterwards called on Russell of the Hongkong Civil Service, and at the barracks, where we saw Davies, one of the men up at Tokio in the summer. Inquired after young Dauglish, Mr. Henry Dauglish’s eldest son, but he was out. The ship having been advertised to sail at 4, embarked punctually, but disgusted to find that she would not sail this afternoon, as the cargo could not be trans-shipped in time for her to sail before sunset.

Jan. 10.  Left Hongkong at 6 a.m. Calm temperate weather. Began putting printer’s copy of the H[an]db[oo]k. in order for printing.

Jan. 14.  Wrote to [A.G.S.] Hawes & [J.H.] Gubbins, and reached the outer harbour at 9.30, anchoring there as it was too late to go to the wharf.

Jan. 15  Left the anchorage about 5.30 and got alongside the wharf at 7. We came in from the Indian Side in order to be against the current in moving up to the wharf. Shortly afterwards the Ganges with the mail of Dec. 15 came in. [George William] Buchanan[7] & I went after breakfast to Singapore, and after getting some notes cashed, called on Winton of the Hongkong & Shanghai Bank, who put our names down at the club, and then secured rooms at the Hotel de l’Europe. Went out to Mount Echo ab[ou]t. 3 miles from the town to tiffin [lunch] with Mrs. Winton, who had a very tall Miss Braddall staying with her to be married. Dish of Singapore sweetened with fluid sugar from Province Wellesley[8] and cocoanut milk, by far the best thing out. Gold mohur trees in blossom in some places and a magnificent red Hibiscus, growing as a shrub like the ordinary one in Japan, but having a flower like the Bussōke. Thunbergia, a small red & orange paniculate flower, w[hi]ch. in Japan I had potted as an exotic, grows here wild by the roadside. Other interesting yellow blossoms, one on a large shrub, white creeper, but mostly trees & shrubs without flowers, prob. owing to the time of year being the local winter. A cool breeze all day. Dined at the Hotel, very bad dinner. From the Wintons’ drove to the public gardens, well planted with trees tastefully grouped, and a few tropical birds. The diff[erent]. species of palms very interesting. Sago palm tall and spreading clumps, quite unlike the Sotetsu (Cycas revolute) to w[hi]ch. people in Japan erroneously give that name.

Jan. 16.  We bought ½ hundred mangosteens for 40 cents and a durian last night, which smelt horribly, and had to put it under the charge of the Chinese servant, who calmly slept with it under his bunk. In the morning had it opened and brought in, with spoons. Outside it is as large as a big prickly pear, but of a more regular oval shape, and the inside has a number of large stones arranged round a centre, enveloped in a white creamy substance, delicious to look at and of a pleasant, strange taste, but the odour so horrible that we were forced to eject the thing from the room immediately.   

Walked over to the club and ordered our breakfast for 11, but shortly came in Mr. W.G. Gulland, of the firm Paterson, Simons & Co,[9] and introduced himself as a friend of David’s.[10] Wanted us to go home and tiffin with him at one, but we manœvred [sic.] to decline without giving offence, and finally he constituted himself our host at our own hour. (Name of his wife must have been Addis.) Learnt from him that Lawrie[11] had been transferred to the Audacious from the Iron Duke, w[hi]ch. left about 3 weeks earlier for home. Left about 4, with a deliciously cool breeze.

Jan. 18.  Reached Penang at 7.30 a.m. Landed after breakfast with B[uchanan]. And inspected the market. There were oranges, jackfruit (like a large vegetable marrow with small bosses covering the surface), pomegranates, bananas in plenty (a huge bunch for 20 cents), prickly pear, limes with bossy excrescences all over them, mangosteens at 50 cents the 100, pumelos and small China pears; yams, taro, potatoes, French beans, Chili peppers. Drove thence to the waterfall, w[hi]ch. falls over granite rocks at the foot of the hills NNW of the town. Fine palm-groves a great part of the way. From the spot where we left our gharry [horse-drawn cab], about a ¼ to the foot of the fall, up a steep path at last. Glimpse of the town & anchorage seen thro’ the trees. Here stands a small Hindoo chapel, much frequented by Klings [Hindu traders, Marakkayars], who run round it and prostrate themselves on the ground in front, putting each cheek alternately to the earth. In front was a lingam stone crowned with a garland of flowers. Drove back another way, by the parade-ground and barracks, to the Hotel de l’Europe, pleasantly situated on the sea-shore, to lunch, but the food was very bad. Large oleanders in front.

Returning to the ship w[hi]ch. had been announced to start at 3, found that repairs to the steampipe were being made, w[hi]ch. will delay her several hours, perhaps until tomorrow morning. After tea went ashore again with the Beadons and Macleod’s (doctor fr[om]. Shanghai), and walked about for an hour or so. The repairs were finished earlier than we expected, and we got off at 10.15. A cool breeze blew all day long.

Jan. 23  Yesterday afternoon we came in sight of the long low coast of Ceylon, and anchored this morning at 7 inside the breakwater at Colombo. Adam’s Peak, an acute-angled lofty summit, was distinctly seen above the clouds in the early morning. Landed early to see P[eninsular]. & O[riental]. Agent and get cabins in the Thibet, w[hi]ch. had arrived before us, but found no one in the Office. At Post Office no clerk who could give information about letters. Posted one to [Basil Hall] Chamberlain asking him to send me certain lives of Buddha and reprints of my Shiñ-tau papers. On going ashore again after breakfast found Bowley, the P. & O. clerk, who advised me not to go to Kandy, on account of the difficulty of getting a bed, as the courts are sitting there at present. Took a room at the Grand Oriental Hotel, and then by train to M[oun]t. Lavinia, a hotel situated close to the seashore ab[ou]t. 8 miles out, to tiffin. Beautifully situated and perfectly cool, no punkahs [fans] used. Back by the 4.24 train and found the Assam steamer from Australia arrived. We went on board, & finding the accommodation much better, transferred our baggage thither, with some difficulty, as a heavy swell was setting in from the N[orth]. Luckily came across a steamlaunch[12] that plies for passengers, and got towed alongside the Assam at last. Dined at the hotel, and had an excellent vegetable curry, quite mild and without any pungent spices.

Jan. 24.  The steamer advertised to sail at 4 o’clock. We breakfasted early, then drove round by the club to the cinnamon gardens, and round the lake back again. The scarlet hibiscus pretty common, also a tree with large yellow flowers like a cotton plant, turning pink at the edges when faded: Ipomeas [Ipomoeas].  Fruits oranges, limes, jack, bananas, and I fancy also breadfruit: cocoanuts in plenty. Wrote a letter to [John Harington] Gubbins. Bought Ceylon by an officer late of the Ceylon Rifles and some tortoiseshell combs. On getting to the ship learnt that she was taking in cargo, and would not go before ten or eleven at night. The same ill luck pursues us everywhere, always delayed long after the time advertised. Dined on board, and thought everything hateful. Mrs. Armytage.

Jan. 25. Left at 10 o’clock this morning, having been 2 days and 3 hours lying in Colombo. This place is much pleasanter than Galle, the drives more numerous, and the houses better, but the foreign population few. The whole island has not more than 250 foreigners engaged in trade. 1 to 10,000 inhabitants. People speak Sinhalese & Tamil chiefly.

Feb. 1. Reached Aden about 5.30. Coming from the E. you see the lighthouse and cantonments long before reaching the place. In spite of the dry climate there are abundance of bushes along the shore on the S. side and in the clefts & gullies all the way up to the summit. The st[eame]r. passes along the S. side of the rock, and turns round a point to the W. Numerous steamers lying here. Anchored a good way from the shore. Went ashore to get letters, and returned a little after nine, at w[hi]ch. hour the shops kept by Parsis [Parsees] all close for the night. Cargo taken on board, coffee and cinnamon and pepper, strong smell from the boat conveying them on board.

Feb. 2.  Left at 4 a.m. rest disturbed at an early hour by the crew putting cargo into the hold close to our cabins and noisy steam winch.

Feb. 3.  Sea perfectly calm at night; phosphorescence extremely clear & bright; fishes darting away from the bow of the sea [ship?] as it cleft the water, leaving a long, bright track behind them. On the next two days we had a strong headwind with roughish sea.

Feb. 7.  Got into Suez at 1 a.m. the exact hour at w[hi]ch. the steamer was due. The Thibet from Calcutta and [P. & O. steamer] Hydaspes from Bombay had already got in ahead. Roused out at 3.30, and went ashore to the dock in a tender where the train was waiting to take the overland passengers to Alexandria. After patiently waiting till all the silk cargo was put into the luggage vans, the railway agent finally took pity on us, and gave us a ride as far as Suez.

Crossed the town with our baggage to the railway Ter[mina]l and leaving it there, went to ask for letters and get some breakfast at the Hotel, very good bread & butter. Inspite[13] of the bright sun, the temperature very cold. Train left at 8.45 and got to Cairo at 5.15, after waiting 1½ hour at Zagazig. Track very rough as far as Ismailia, or rather Nefiche, where I got out & waited while the train went down to Ismailia. Desert everywhere, but now & then a few round tufts of coarse herbage, the water of the freshwater canal looked very muddy. Before coming to Zagazig, passed Kassasin & Tel-el-Kabir, at the latter a few trenches & parapet on the r. of the line, but the real fighting took place on the N. over the brow of a slight ascent.[14] Fr[om]. the latter place began to get into cultivated ground, and some time before reaching Zagazig had lost sight entirely of the desert. Date Palmtrees and tamarisk pretty abundant; and wheat coming up, broadcast light [sic. like?] a huge green carpet. Camels, sheep both brown & white, a few goats & buffaloes, donkeys, w[hi]ch. seem to feed on a kind of vetch as it grows in the fields. Irrigation by basin shaped buckets or by a water wheel worked by a donkey moving round inside a shed. Perfectly level country as [far – word omitted] as the eye could reach, except on the western horizon, where a line of sandhills rose beyond Cairo. Approaching the capital had a good view of the pyramids to the r[ight]. of the [railway] line; they are much steeper than I had imagined.

Drove to Shepheard’s hotel, which was nearly full, & had to put up in a doublebedded[15] room together. Found Sir Samuel & Lady Baker,[16] Dean Butcher & Pringle RN who commands the Falcon, now lying at Port Said, all staying at the hotel. Did not recognise P[ringle]. who has grown a beard, and whom I have not met for 14 or 15 years. He was in the Scylla in 1864. Very excellent dinner. The Bakers have picked up some fine specimens of old Imari [porcelain 伊万里焼], w[hi]ch. seem to have reached Egypt by way of Persia. They talk with dissatisfaction of the way things are being managed by Ld. Dufferin[17] & the Gov[ernmen]t; he probably wants to be adviser to the Khedive, & consequently thinks H[er] B[ritannic] M[ajesty] interferes too much. 

Feb. 8.  Drove out in the morning to the citadel and saw the view over the city, w[hi]ch. is extremely picturesque and much larger than I had any idea of; the roads rough. Greater part seems to be built after the French model. After lunch left cards on Lord Dufferin & called at the Consulate-gen[era]l., where we saw Malet & his sub Portal.  Then to the Boulak Museum, where we found everything upside down, and no catalogue in existence, so that all one could do was to stare and gape.

After dinner went to the Bakers’ room, where we met Sir E. & Lady Lochmere; the latter a very stout oldish lady, and Sir Samuel’s two daughters. Butcher made me acquainted with some one who is the Director of Telegraphs, but I did not catch his name. After Boulak, we went once more to the citadel, and visited the mosque of Mehemet Ali.[18] The interior is vast, covered with Turkish carpets and without any furniture except a lofty pulpit and a much lower reading-desk. Huge circles of metal hung with lamps by long chains from the ceiling, w[hi]ch. when lighted must be dazzling. The roof formed of 4 halfdomes[19] round a central dome, and 4 small domes in the corners is very finely decorated, in colours & gold. But one is disappointed to find a great deal of the interior of stone painted to resemble alabaster, money having been apparently wanting for the completion of the original design. Afterwards to the terrace outside to see the view again, w[hi]ch. now was lighted up by the sun sinking in the W[est]. and casting a powerful shadow behind the minarets and hills. Besides the Pyramids of Gizeh [Giza], noticed 3 of Sukkárah further to the S, and apparently at a somewhat greater distance.

Feb. 9.  In the morning walked to the Esbekeeyeh Gardens & sunned ourselves there, & then to Lord Dufferin’s, where we found Nicolson, Bland and another man named Harding. Then I called on [John] Hartley Sandwith, who is now a Major and Deputy Asst. Adj. Genl. on the staff; then to the Club Khedivial. After lunch we drove to the pyramids with Sandwith past the ground where a course has been marked out & some races were taking place. The new road, made on the occasion of the Prince of Wales’ visit goes straight across, & mounts up to the base of the great pyramid, in about 1½ hr. from the city. As we approached, the view was very imposing, not unlike a double Fuzhi san [Mount Fuji]. The ascent looks not particularly difficult fr[om]. the N.E. corner where it is usually made, but we had arranged not to make it; evidently, it is merely a question of persistence.

The Sphinx is disappointing, and the engravings make its features much more marked than they really are. Coming on it from behind, the strata of w[hi]ch. the head is composed give it a very dilapidated look, and as the stone is merely the natural limestone rock in situ with clumsy additions of sandstone to fill up gaps & holes, no great idea of labour spent on it is conveyed to the spectator. But the temple close by, now buried in sand, w[hi]ch. is built of gigantic blocks of granite is very imposing, and by itself alone is worth coming to see. The tomb excavated deep down in the limestone rock, called Campbell’s tomb, is a huge square pit into w[hi]ch. it makes one almost giddy to look. An arab offered to climb down a sort of well that gives access to the lower story and the bottom, but we did not encourage him. Sandwith had an interpreter with him who protected us from the importunities of the Arabs, who might perhaps have been troublesome. To the N. of the second pyramid is a group of interesting tombs, with hieroglyphics & paintings in the interiors, w[hi]ch. are unfortunately neared [nearly] buried in the sand. The top of No. 2 still has part of its casing near the apex, w[hi]ch. serves to show what the completed form was. We then went up to the entrance of No 1. The passage inclines steeply downwards, and looks as if it had been built for the passage of a sarcophagus, as the sides and top are quite smooth; the steps & notches cut in the floor were no doubt made to enable visitors to get down comfortably.

We left about five & after a long drive came back again into the city over the Nile Bridge; a fine iron structure with a pair of huge lions on pedestals at each end, w[hi]ch. were removed by Arabi during his tenure of power, and are now back in their places. Spent the evening at the Club, reading the papers.

Feb. 10.  In the forenoon to the Tombs of the Khalifs. 1stly mosque of Sultan Berkook, a dilapidated building of solid masonry. What strikes one chiefly about these mosques is their uniformity of plan & want of variety in the external ornament; the domes are covered either with zigzags or with a sort of network of carving. The pulpit is pretty but if really one of the most beautiful objects in Cairo, there must be very little that is fine. 2ndly El-Ashraf, w[hi]ch. has a good pavement of coloured marbles, also very dilapidated, and 3rdly, to the Tomb-mosque of Kaitbey w[hi]ch. is now being repaired, & the windows renewed. To judge from the few traces of old glass still remaining, it was made with inferior colouring matter, and the shades are consequently much more delicate. It is the fashion to praise the old tints obtained in this accidental manner, and to cry down the modern ones, w[hi]ch. are pure.

Then into the citadel for Joseph’s well (said to be so called because it was re-excavated by the order of Saladin, also called Joseef). The water is brought up in small buckets or pots of earthenware fastened on an endless rope of coir;[20] and the cavity of the well is square, very wide. An inclined passage leads down to the bottom of the first section, going round & round the central shaft, & lighted by holes cut in the rock. I went down to the bottom, and found there an ox working a wheel which brought up the water in the lower shaft. Then to the mosque of Sultan Hassan below the citadel, also very dilapidated, and with false wooden cornices & pendentives to the dome; the real support being given by low wide arches which cross the angles of the square lower part. The massive exterior with its lofty portal and fine cornice are the chief fixtures, & the large pointed arches inside.

In the afternoon rode to the big obelisk on the site of the ancient Heliopolis and the Sycamore tree under which the virgin is said to have rested on the occasion of her flight from the Holy Land, & the well at w[hi]ch. she washed the child’s clothes. The excursion is a dull one, for there is nothing to see besides the obelisk of w[hi]ch. one might gain an equally good idea from a photograph. We also visited an ostrich farm in the neighbourhood, and saw some young ones about 18 days old, one of w[hi]ch. had a body not much larger than an ostrich egg, while the others stood about 15 inches high.

In the evening wrote to Hawes, Mrs. Hannen and the house.

Feb. 11.  In the morning went to the bazaar Khan Haleen, where we looked at carpets & embroideries, but bought nothing. The prices were inordinately high, and we had not time to beat them down to the proper figure. I bought a couple of waistbands of silk, by weight for £2. In the afternoon walked for two hours past the Abdin Palace westward through the native quarter, w[hi]ch. seemed perfectly quiet and busy. Haunted by one of the traditional donkeymen for about half the time, and no refusals would induce him to leave me, until he saw me turn back along the boulevard, & then he resigned himself to the hopelessness of his endeavours. Packed and then said goodbye to the Bakers. Dined at the Headquarters staff with Sandwith, to whom I gave a commission to buy me some carpets and a folding teatable with a brass top. There were also Genl. Graham, Malet, Sir Henry Green, Sir Arnolf Kembal, Mackenzie Wallace, who looks like a Jew, and Col. Grenfell, & Buchanan. Went afterwards to the theatre, and saw the last act of Le Jour et la Nuit, an opera bouffe, rather broad in its jokes. The house is a goodsized [one] and the acoustique perfect.

Feb. 12.  By the 10 o’clock train to Alexandria in 6 hrs. Left Buchanan, who is going to rejoin the Mirzapore at Suez, at the Hotel. Expenses for five days, including carriages every day about £7. The country is flat and dull the whole way: in one or two places stretches of sand visible among the fields green with corn. Excellent oranges at Benha 10 for a piastre or 4 a penny, with loose skins. All the Egyptians in the compartment bought large quantities to carry off to their homes at Tantah &c.

Lunched off dates which I had bought in Cairo and a loaf of capital bread got at Benha. On arr[ival]. put up at the Hôtel Abbat, the only one which has escaped the conflagration. I am surprised to find so much of the town still standing, and yet the amount destroyed seems overwhelmingly large.[21] Very little progress has been made in reconstructing, but the materials are gradually being got into order. Called on [Charles Alfred] Cookson, the consul, a slight wornlooking little man of about 50, who wrote an article on Japan a great many years ago in a vol[ume]. of essays of w[hi]ch. I forget the name. He talked at once in an allusive philosophic style, which was rather difficult to reply to.

Finally he asked me to go out to Ramleh and dine there with him at the Beau Séjour Hotel, an offer w[hi]ch. I gladly accepted. Then drove down to Gabari, to present Sandwith’s card to Captain Donner RN, but found him out. S[andwith]. thought he might be disposed to show me over the forts. Met [Charles] Cookson at the Ramleh station and went down with him. The hotel is small and the company consisted of four military men, and [an] old merchant named Hazeldean, a judge of the International Tribunal named J. Wallis and one other man besides ourselves. Cookson traces everything back to the deposition of Ismail, and the establish[men]t. of a sort of constitutional gov[ernmen]t. under his son, as the fons et origo mali.[22] To Arabi and his supporters he attributes only ambition and bad faith. They held out promises of freedom from taxation to the fellaheen [peasants]. Lent me an article on Egypt in the Quarterly [Review] by Edwin de Leon, formerly U.S. Consul-genl. here, in w[hi]ch. pretty much the same views are expressed. Next to it in the same number was an article by [F.V.] Dickins on Korea, with some curious slips in it. Speaking of the area of the country, he calls it 80 million acres. Got to hotel a little after eleven.

Feb. 13.  Passed the morning in the Court of First Instance, listening to the pleadings in three cases. In the first both parties were foreigners. One advocate spoke in French, another on the same side held forth in Italian. The President spoke both languages, but Italian more fluently. Then came on a case in w[hi]ch. an Italian, who appeared for himself, was pl[ain]t[i]f[f] and several natives def[endant]s. They spoke only Arabic and the court interpreter explained to them the questions asked by the President in French. The interpreter appeared to be more or less ignorant of Italian. The court sat for 2 hours & went into three cases, not deciding either, but one of them was compromised. Besides the pres[iden]t. there were two European judges, one of whom was Mr. J. Wallis, and three natives.

After breakfast went to the forts Pharos, Ada & Ras-el-tin, the latter of w[hi]ch. was most knocked about. In Pharos there were three unburst shells lying in the rubbish they had knocked down. The idea of attempting to defend such rotten old places against the fire of big ships was on the face of it most idiotic. Ras-el-tin had one or two guns cracked by overloading, and another in which the shell had been forced halfway down the bore point towards the breech. The magazines still contain a quantity of shot & shell for the Armstrong guns. Some were huge smoothbore muzzle-loaders about 10 inch.

To Pompey’s pillar afterwards. It is a splendid piece of granite of great height, spoilt by a very rough & unfinished capital. How such a gigantic mass was brought there and raised to its present position is more than can be easily represented in thought. Returned Cookson his Q[uar]t[e]rly Rev[iew]. At dinner opened up a conversation with my neighbour, who proved to know Ottery St. Mary very well, and Sidmouth slightly, but he did not reveal his personality.

Feb. 14. Woke before 6, finished packing and got down to the Hydaspes lying at the wharf about 1/4 past 7. Met there the Russian merchant D. Macpherson, who had come on in the Mirzapore. Left at 9 a.m. with high wind from the N. and consequently sea very rough. Could not lunch or dine.

Feb. 15. Calm and fine. Passed W. end of Candia [Crete] about 9 p.m. during the night a wind sprang up which knocked the ship about a great deal.

Feb. 16. Much calmer today. About 8 a.m. passing sharp snowy lofty peaks rising above a finely mountainous coast, said to be Mt. Olympus. The rest of the day very sunny & pleasant. Passed Zante [island] & Cephalonia.[23]

Feb. 17. Rainy morning & day. Passed Otranto[24] at 8 am and reached Brindisi[25] at noon. The former is apparently a town of some size and importance. Entrance to the latter very narrow. Some old churches in the town, but too rainy to go ashore. St[eame]r. went alongside wharf opposite to the Hotel to land passengers for the mail train, and then changed to the coaling shed on the other side of the harbour. Fully two thirds left here, only nine [passengers] remaining for Venice.

Feb. 18.  Cloudy morning, but cleared by noon. Passed Lissa[26] ab[ou]t. 11 o’clock a.m.

Feb. 19.   About 7 o’clock Venice was in sight, gradually rising out of the haze, and getting clearer as we came nearer & nearer, going slowing through the winding deep water channel between the bunches of piles, at one point actually having to swing the ship round a sharp corner by the aid of a hawser. The view fr[om]. the sea is not to be described. First the campanile [bell tower], then the doge’s palace and the cupolas of St. Mark became recognizable; then we seemed to pass & repass them, until at last we passed right down from the public garden by the Arsenal, along the Riva dei Schiavoni [water front], the Palace itself and then swung across to the S. side of the Giudecca canal across St. Maria della Salute, and slowly down to the Riva delle Zattere, where we were moored about noon. Got into a gondola with my baggage, and was punted to the Hotel Victoria. These hearselike fairyformed boats move with surprising swiftness and are extremely comfortable. The skill of the gondoliers in turning them round the sharpest corners without touching is most surprising: one expects to be smashed in against the angle, but you glide past without touching it. Found letters from many persons, and postcards to say I might expect Joe & Mary [Allen][27] on the following day. Wrote several replies & posted them. Went to a bookseller just thro’ the clocktower on the Piazza and bought a new-to-me life of Blavier and Mendoza’s Dell’ Historia della China in which alittle[28] mention is made of Japan. Left letter & card on Berchet,[29] the Japanese consul here. Fondamenta dell’ Arsenale, wandered inside St. Mark’s, w[hi]ch. at 5 o’clock was too dark for anything to be seen, and then on returning to the hotel for dinner, found a note from Mary to say that they had arrived at the Grand Hotel. So rushed round to see them, and found them there at tea, not a whit altered from six years ago. We went out afterwards as far as the Ponte della Paglia in the brilliant moonlight, and looked up to the Bridge of Sighs, then back again round the shops on the Piazza and separated late.   Mrs. Macdonald, wife of the Daily Telegraph & News correspondent in Cairo, returned me St Mark’s Rest which I had lent her, but kept by mistake my part III, giving me her Part II as well as my own, w[hi]ch. was a pity, as it contained just the part I wanted.

Feb. 20. After breakfast we went over St. Mark’s with a guide who spoke English, and read Ruskin’s[30] explanation of the intention of the mosaics in the 3 main cupolas. Repairs being made to the Zeno chapel and the Baptistry prevented our going into that part of it. The bronze reliefs by Sansovino[31] representing incidents in the life of St. Mark are wonderfully executed, also the bronze door of the sacristy. The mosaic ceiling of the baptistery is also extremely fine.

Afterwards we went over the Doge’s Palace in a perfunctory manner, for it was too cold to stand about in the marble pavemented rooms examining pictures, and it was not possible to carry away any clear recollection of what we saw in so hurried a manner, except a vague impression of general magnificence. The dungeons however produced a profound effect, especially when the guide put the light outside the door and showed how the wretched prisoner was confined in utter darkness. It must have been a brave spirit that would resist such torture. Some of them are extremely damp, then we went half over the bridge of sighs and looked through the curious stonework lattice of the windows down the canal. We had first of all ascended the campanile which commands such a fine view of the island and lagoons, but the parapet is rather low and I could not bear to look over. 

We lunched at Florian’s, and then went over a glass factory near the corner of the Piazza [San Marco]. Afterwards down the Grand Canal in a gondola, landing at the Ponte di Rialto, and right round up the Canale di Giudecca, once more to the Piazza, where they [Joe and Mary] ascended the Campanile once more, while I went through the Merceria, and at a secondhand booksellers found a tiny edition of the Institutes, printed at Amsterdam in 1622.

Feb. 21.  In the forenoon we took a gondola over to San Georgio Maggiore. Here we particularly admired the excellent woodcarvings of the choir stalls representing the life of St. Benedict, beginning with his birth & that of his twin-sister. Then we ascended the campanile & were rewarded by a much finer view than from the bell-tower of Saint Mark’s, the horizon being clear enough towards the N. to show us the mountains near Udine covered with snow, and the different islands of the group, and all the numerous other churches and bell-towers. From this past the Madhouse to San Lazaro, the Armenian convent where Byron resided. The Library contains a large number of fine old folios in different languages, such as one sees only in public collections, and a number of curiosities from all parts of the world. Refectory & church. We were shown round by a monk who spoke excellent English. He gave me the name of a collector of old books Z. Colbacchini, S.Vio Sottoportico Centani N. 716, not far from our hotel. Mary gave me a book of prayers printed there in 33 languages, including Sanskrit & Chinese. Fr[om]. there to the Lido, w[hi]ch. we crossed to the Baths, walking a short way along the sandy shore of the Adriatic. Back again, & lunched at the Restaurant Bauer et Grünwald, attentive people, but the room rather too large. Exchanged visits with Berchet during the course of the day, missing each other.  After lunch bought some photographs,