It is but right you should know the important life concerns of the Island, and therefore I shall not hesitate to insert the following facts.… Madam Vitalis the Greek Consul’s wife has purchased a large red maccaw. Mrs. Macfarlane’s female domestic has fallen downstairs, by which precipitate act Mrs. M’s baby has been killed. Sir Gorgeous Figginson Blowing has had an attack of fever. Colonel Campbell dined with Mr. Lear the artist on Thursday. On Friday that accomplished person entertained Mr. Bunsen & Mr. Justice Lushington. Capt. R. has purchased a Cornopeon, & practises, on it, (Mrs. G. invariably calls it a cornicopean.) but it is not heard generally, on account of the superior row made by Mrs. Vitalis’ maccaw, Capt. P’s howling dogs, & about 400 turkeys who live at ease about the terrace and adopt a remarkable gobble at certain periods. Lady H. has astonished the multitude by a pink satin dress stuffed with pearls.
8
1.18.1858
I meant to have written a lot about priests & signori, and the good peasantry & the orange-trees, and seagulls, and geraniums, & the Ionian Ball, & Jerusalem Artichokes, & Colonel Paterson, & old Dandolo’s palm-tree, & my spectacles and the Eastwind, & Zambelli’s nasty little dogs, & fishermen, & Scarpe’s cats, & whatnot, but I am too sleepy.
9
3.9.1858
O! here is bit of queerness in my life. Brought up by women—& badly besides—& ill always, I have never had any chance of manly improvement & exercise, etc.—and never touched firearms in all my days—But you can’t do work at the Dead Sea without them. So Lushington who is always very kind and good—makes me take a 5-barelled revolver, & I have been practising shooting at a mark (I can hardly write for laughing), & have learned all the occult nature of pistols. Don’t grin. My progress is slow—but always (I trust) somewhat. At 103 I may marry possibly.
10
7.5.1858
You will be sorry to hear I have had a bad eye, a sty, only more like an abscess: My brain is confused between cause & effect, & I don’t know if my being a pig has produced the sty, or whether the sty makes me a pig. But I know I am a pig.
I will send you such a funny book, “The Tempest,” H TPIKYMIA. It is extremely well translated, Caliban & Ariel are delightful. Isn’t this pretty.
This place is wonderfully lovely. I wish you could see it; if you came I could put you up beautifully, & feed you on Ginger-beer & claret & prawns & figs.
11
1.5.1859
The philosophical silent Suliot is of the greatest comfort to me. His remarks in Greek—by play—kill me. he says of the Romans, who are so slow & odiously indifferent. And of their incessant begging, . ” It is hardly possible to be thankful enough for so good a servant.
12
12.1.1861
Everybody was overwhelmingly hospitable, from the Palace downwards—but as the balls, & small monotonous whist or tea-parties are wholly out of my line in this very very very small tittletattle place, & as moreover night walks from this side of the city to the other don’t suit me, not to speak of late hours & a multitude of new & uninteresting acquaintance, I decline all visiting on the plea of health & antiquity or what not. The Woolfe’s have very amiably asked me several times—they seem very justly popular—but the only point which Greeks, Germans, French, Italians & English in such a place as this, can amalgamate being balls and the smallest gossip—this tone of social life bores me even more than total loneliness—tho’ that is very bad for me I know: only the alternative is wusser.
And so, the aspect spiritual of this little piggywiggy island is much as a very little village in Ireland would be—peopled by Orangemen & papists—& having all the extra fuss & ill-will produced by a Court & small officials—more or less with or against a resident crowded garrison.
The aspect material meanwhile—(with which I have most to do—tho’ unhappily no man can be quite independent of the others, ) is—so far as climate & country goes, lovelier than ever. Yet seeing it has never rained since April last, & that it is now daily perfectly clear & fine—the wise anticipate 3 months rain at once & continual.
O! if I could but come back to London, bringing with me the gold & blue & lilac & pink of the air, sun, hills & snow.
13
12.17.1861
I wish I had more time for Greek—if I had it my way & wor an axiom maker & Lawgiver, I would cause it to be understood that Greek is (or a knowledge of it) the first of virtues: cleanliness the 2nd., and Godliness—as held up by parsons generally—the 3rd. O mi hi!—here is a new table—six feet too—by 2 feet high! I shall dine at one end of it—write at the other, & “open out” in the middle.
14
1.21.1862
The woes of painters: just now I looked out of windows at the time the 2nd were marching by—I having a full palate & brushes in my hand: whereat Col. Bruce saw me & saluted; & I not liking to make a formillier nod in presence of the hole harmy, I put up my hand to salute,—& thereby transferred all my colors into my hair and whiskers—which I must now wash in Turpentine or shave off.
15
2.2.1862
There is a man in a boat here under the window—who catches fish all & every day with a long 5 pronged fork: a waistcoat & drawers being his dress. Why should I not do the same?
16
4.14.1862
Here’s a bit of news to wind up with. After I had written the letter which encloses this, I heard a great noise and saw 4 carts full of furniture, all being brought into this house—proceeding which disturbed me with fears of being less quiet—seeing that a 6th added to the 5 families in this house, would not add to my peace. So I asked a servant going upstairs what the row was. “It comes from Kozziris,” says the man. “Mrs. K. is going to leave him and come and live here.” I said nothing, but I did not believe it: the Lord forbid such a thing should happen. But when George came, says he “these things are to be sold by auction, for Sig. Kozziris is going to leave his ‘Posto’ as keeper of the prison, and they are going to England, where they say Signora Kozziris is of a familia grande e ricca assai—and she will keep him.”
17
Easter Sunday, 4.20.1862
I wish you were here for a day, at least today.… I have been wondering if on the whole the being influenced to an extreme by everything in natural or physical life, i.e., atmosphere, light, shadow, and all the varieties of day and night,—is a blessing or the contrary—and the end of my speculations has been that “things must be as they may,” and the best is to make the best of what happens.
I should however have added “quiet and repose” to my list of influences, for at this beautiful place there is just now perfect quiet, except only a dim hum of myriad ripples 500 feet below me, all round the giant rocks which rise perpendicularly from the sea—which sea, perfectly calm and blue stretches right out westward unbrokenly to the sky, cloudless that, save a streak of lilac cloud on the horizon. On my left is the convent of Paleokastrizza, and happily, as the monkey had functions at 2 a.m. they are all fast asleep now and to my left is one of the many peacock-tail-hued bays here, reflecting the vast red cliffs and their crowning roofs of Lentish Prinari, myrtle and sage—far above them—higher and higher, the immense rock of St. Angelo rising into the air, on whose summit the old castle still is seen a ruin, just 1,400 feet above the water. It half seems to me that such life as this must be wholly another from the drumbeating bothery frivolity of the town of Corfu, and I seem to grow a year younger every hour. Not that it will last. Accursed picnic parties with miserable scores of asses male and female are coming tomorrow, and peace flies—as I shall too …
18
4.27.1862
I returned here on the 22nd—much the better for my stay.
I wish I was married to a clever good nice fat little Greek girl—and had 25 olive trees, some goats and a house. But the above girl, happily for herself, likes somebody else.
19
5.7.1862
A more gritty vexation is that I have done so little in Greek or in Greek topography this winter. Neverthe
less I shall bring away the most part of this Island I fancy.…
20
11.30.1862
Of society—more another thyme. Of balls—of moons—offish and other vegetables—and of all the future and past events as things may be. I have got a piano. Also a carpet. Also a tame redbreast: also a hearth rug and two doormats.
21
3.1.1863
About the 20th I finished that last of 60 drawings—all of 10 or 12 guineas each in price—and last week the frames came, and then two day’s insertion of the drawings, measuring and nail knocking, I have made a really remarkable gallery … but I doubt my success in selling the drawings. Cheap photographs are the order of the day now.… Among those who most enjoy seeing what I have done, Sir H. Storks is eminent. His delight in looking over the drawings was very marked—at once he bought one of Jerusalem and one of Corfu. Lady Wolff also examines everything minutely and with an eye evidently used to look at nature heartily. Others will irritate me—Sir C. Sargent to wit—who saw all 60 drawings in 19 minutes, calling over the names of each and saying “£700! why you must give a ball!” Fool! As yet I have sold £120 worth—but have not received one farthing—for great people generally suppose that art ists gnaw their colors and brushes for food.…
Last Sunday I insisted (as Sir C. Sargent and Wolff wanted me to walk) on not pottering to the one-gun battery—which is like walking up and down Rotten Row—so we walked round Potamo; it was one of the most lovely of afternoons, and the color and the scenery were enough to delight a dead man. These two live ones however never once looked at or spoke of it: their talk was of money and politics only and made me sick for the three hours.
22
3.15.1863
My life here has gone on very sklombionbiously on the whole—though I go out very little, not being, as you know, of a gregarious nature … Sir Henry Storks very often asks me to dine on Sunday, and I find the evening there very agreeable:—he is so full of anecdote and information that you would suppose he had nothing to do but flâner all his life—instead of being soldier, governor, and what not. Heaps of Gonfiati continue to rush about here at intervals: a surprising duchess came to my rooms 2 days ago—(M – )—though I don’t think she looked at anything very much. But the people whose acquaintance has most delighted me are the Shelley’s—who are here in a yott. Think of my music to “O world, O life, O time!”—Shelley’s words—being put down in notes by Shelley’s own son! At the present I have pulled down my Eggzibission, but my principal effort just now is towards the production of 24 views to illustrate the Ionian Islands.
23
3.23.1863
The sklimjimfiousness of the situation increases: Sir H. Drummond Wolff has been gone and bought 2 of my drawings—and Captain Stocker is to buy another, so that I shall have enough tin to pay rent and shut up house for 8 weeks or thereabouts. Whereupon, I shall first make some studies of what Lady Young used to call “Awnge trees” and then I shall go to Paxo.
There was an old person of Paxo
Which complained when the fleas bit his back so,
But they gave him a chair.
And impelled him to swear,
Which relieved that old person of Paxo.
24
6.8.1863
The farther I go from Corfu—the more I look back to the delight its beautiful quiet has so long given me, and I am by no means approaching the filth and horror and noise of London life with a becoming spirit.
25
9.6.1863
I want you to write to Lord Palmerstone to ask him to ask the Queen to ask the King of Greece to give me a “place.” As I never asked anything of you before, I think I may rely on your doing this for me. I wish the place to be created a-purpos for me, and the title to be with permission to wear a fool’s cap (or mitre)—3 pounds of butter yearly and a little pig,—and a small donkey to ride on. Please don’t forget all this, as I have set my heart on it.
26
3.31.1864
Thunderstorms and violent squalls make life disgusting: add also that a gas company has turned up all the streets for pipes, and as I fall into the beastly trenches, I can say truly “you have piped unto me, but I have not danced.”… Goodbye, my last furniture is going. I shall sit upon an eggcup and eat my breakfast with a pen.…
27
4.8.1864
I hope you got a letter from me just before I left Corfu—of which place I am now cut adrift, though I cannot write the name without a sort of pang.
Notes on the Letters
Letter No 1. The Ascension festa is still celebrated where Lear painted it; on the flat top of a hill out side the town of Corfu. Though it has lost much of its colorfulness, it still preserves some of its old features: dancing, lambs roasting on spits and a pil grimage to the little church of Ascension.
Yannina was then part of Albania, which itself was the domain of Ali Pasha.
Letter No 3. One of the happy acquisitions of Lear in Corfu was Giorgio Kokali who was to remain his faithful servant and friend until his death in San Remo in 1888. The Kokali family escaped from Suli on the Greek mainland and the persecution of Ali Pasha, to Corfu where Giorgio was born. Lear’s letters are full of allusions to his devoted Giorgio who was a source of constant delight as well as of sporadic annoyance to him.
Sir John Young was Lord High Commissioner in the Ionian Islands from 1855 to 1859.
Letter No 4. During the winters of 1856, ’57 and ’58, Lear rented rooms in a house which was in the part of the town then known as Condi Terrace. “Condi Terrace,” writes Lear, “is the “West End’ of Corfu and we are all more or less swells as lives in it.” The house where Lear lived was destroyed during an air raid in 1943.
Lear’s letters are peppered with the names of persons who came out from the British Isles, often with their whole families, on various functions, rarely for holidays. He scarcely ever mentions a Greek name and he certainly must never have met any of the Corfu intellectuals who formed an active circle of their own at the time. The Cortazzis were an Italian family living in Corfu with an English mother. Lear greatly admired the daughter Helena for her charm and musical talents. At one time he even toyed with the idea of asking her to marry him, but refrained from doing so because of his bad health and possibly also because of the fear of being refused. “‘O “My old master comes and we work together on the ancient Greek language.” Lear had a peculiar way of his own of writing and using nonsense words. In both the English and the Greek text the exact spelling and punctuation have been preserved.
Letter No 6. It must be remembered that Christmas was celebrated by the Greeks of the time, according to the Gregorian Calendar, 14 days later. January 3 would have been 4 days before the Greek Christmas, so that the mention of turkeys coming into town to be eaten would be quite normal.
Letter No 8. Dandolo and Zambelli were extreme radicals in the Ionian Parliament and both lived in Condi Terrace. Scarpe probably was Lear’s landlord.
Letter No 9. Shortly after his practicing shooting at a mark, Lear left for Palestine, accompanied by the faithful Giorgio. Hence his allusion to the Dead Sea.
Letter No 10. “Come unto these yellows sands,” etc. The Tempest, Act I, sc. II. The translation is by Iakovos Polylas, an eminent writer, critic and politician of Corfu at the time.
Letter No 11. “These men are dead.”— “These men are Arabs, but they have more clothes on.”
Letter No 15. By this time, Lear had taken up rooms in a house on what he calls the “Line Walk” and from which he enjoyed a view of the sea, Mount Pandokrator and the seagulls. The 5-storey house still stands, much as it must have been at the time Lear lived in it, next to the National Bank of Greece.
Letter No 18. “ “In the country.”
Letter No 21. Sir Henry Storks was appointed in 1859. He was the last of the 10 Lord High Commissioners who served in the Ionian Islands during the 50 years of the British Protectorate (1814-1864).
Sir Charles Sargent was a mem
ber of the supreme Court of Justice of the Ionian Islands.
The one-gun battery is Kanoni today and still a favorite walk of the townfolk of Corfu.
Letter No 23. Sir Henry Drummond Wolfe, was appointed Secretary to Sir Henry Storks, Lord High Commissioner, in 1860.
Lear’s “Views of the Seven Ionian Islands” includes a drawing of the town and the harbor of Paxo, the small island south of Corfu. The album, which was published in 1863, consists of 8 drawings of Corfu, 3 of Lefkas, 3 of Cephalonia, 3 of Zante, 1 of Kithira, 1 of Ithaca and 2 of Paxo.
Letter No 25. “First nonsense chatter maker.”
*‘ Lear’s Corfu, as published by Corfu Travel at 76 Capodistria Street in that town, included eight views of Corfu reproduced from the original lithographs. Some of these views appear in Prospero’s Cell.
The Plates
CORFU
THE EASTERN ADRIATIC
VIEW FROM THE HILL OF SANTI DEKA, CORFU
PALEOCASTRIZZA, CORFU
VIEW FROM THE VILLAGE OF THE ASCENSION, CORFU
CASTEL SANT’ANGELO, CORFU
VIEW FROM THE BENIZZA ROAD, NEAR GASTOURI, CORFU
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements for material used in this book must be made to:
Dr. Theodore Stephanides, R.A.M.C., who has placed five unpublished monographs at my disposal containing the fruits of ten years’ research; Mr. Jean Tricoglou of Cairo for helpful matter; Mr. Theodore Moschonas for valuable suggestions; and to Miss Y. Cohen for invaluable aid in copying out manuscripts.
Brief Bibliography
in English