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a puttering old woman. But altogether the life;
His deafness made the seclusion at the Pines even more desirable...
 

      We know more about his existence at the Pines than about his life at any other period. The memoirs of Watts-Dunton and [346] his wife, and of numerous others who were continually dropping in to see the celebrated poet have given us a detailed picture of the ménage, and of the slightest details about Swinburne’s routine. At times the picture strikes us as being very beautiful and perfect; at times it is tinged with the tragedy of old age, and again Watts-Dunton is a puttering old woman. But altogether the life of the two men, first alone, and then with Clara Watts-Dunton, is a pleasant thought. And Swinburne’s little whims and his great flashes of wit flourished as they would. It was, above all, an intellectual household.
      Of course Watts-Dunton was the secret of it all. His hand was the guiding hand; it was he who was even so careful as to regulate the smallest thing of the poet's life. With infinite patience and understanding he treated the poet as a child physically — carefully reducing his wine, guardedly regulating his habits, watching to see that no disturbing elements came into the quiet of his environment. He worked patiently and well, and although, on the whole, he treated the poet like a child, and in order to do so necessarily influenced his mind, yet he kept him intellectually alive, and active, and, save for the mellowing of age, Swinburne was still Swinburne. But he was now undeniably inseparable from Watts-Dunton. He made no significant new friends for the remainder of his life; most of his old ones corresponded, and came down to see him now and then. His deafness made the seclusion at the Pines even more desirable...

A. H. Olmstead, “Swinburne’s Friendships,” in The Yale Literary Magazine 91:8 (May 1926) : 338-349 (346) : link
 

13 August 2025