ABSTRACT
Saturday, July 15th, 1922. Reached Max Gate about four; Mrs Hardy immediately introduced me to T.H. An artist, Mr Hill,1 was present, commissioned to make a portrait for John Lane’s new edition of Lionel Johnson’s book on Thomas Hardy. T.H. had been sitting all day, but did not appear fatigued. The pleasant, large sittingroom was dominated, grandfather clock and all, by a small portrait of Shelley. Tea and war reminiscences. T.H. recalled his visits to the commandant of a local camp for German prisoners. Said (with enjoyable gravity) that the commandant and he moved freely among the thousands of prisoners, ‘and yet they might have turned on us at any time and neither of us had arms’.
