Ebbene, caro mio Stefano! You will be able to tell your grandchildren that you once knew a man who for twenty years was convinced that he would die on the day when he was fifty-two years and twelve days old and who lived to be fifty-two and thirteen....
Bottomley has turned against the new government and is adumbrating his ideal government. He retains the present foreign secretary, but nominates H. H. A. as lord chancellor and Sir Edward Holden as chancellor of the exchequer. He wants Beresford as minister of blockade. Oof!
Robbie Ross has a story of a German poet, one Oskar Schmidt, “a charming fellow,” who, armed with the best letters of recommendation, went to Oxford and spent several agreeable weeks there. The fine flower of his observations was:
“Der Oxfort oontercratuades, dey go apout between a melangolly and a flegma.”...
24 April, 1917.
Your name appeared in the Times yesterday; and I am now able to read daily, or I hope, shall be, how Mr. McKenna bowed, raised his hat and, escorted by cavalry, took his first cocktail on American soil. I do hope that you are not only having the time of your life but feeling amazingly well. J. pictures you a victim of indigestion; but I, knowing your justly celebrated strength of character, have no fears on that score. Cura ut valeas.
4 May, 1917.
This is a private-view day. The sun is blazing truculently. I am wearing a new shirt, white with black and yellow lines (the Teixeira colours), and the white hat and all’s well in God’s dear world.
That these sartorial efforts were not wasted is shewn by the next entry:
5 May, 1917.