This view became a recurring motif, used several times in his later life as an image for lines from Tennyson’s “The Palace of Art,” slightly misquoted: Later he reworked this in a rosy wash, adding no date. In July 1847, exploring Calabria, he sketched the great rock of Pentedattillo (“Pentedattilo,” as Lear writes it) looming like a giant hand against the sky.
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& then came the golden sunset, calm, & with one long purple, orange-lighted cloud above, & many a golden flecked streak at the water edge – the sun going down one full orb of sublimity: above the delicate new moon, & one star. But I lay & held on – as the vessel swooped & circled. The waves are really a wonderful sight! – deep blue-black, with silver crests – valley-making, gulfing – vast, forcible, opal-vitriol hued above, solemn inky below, – gull-abounding – ever-moving – terrible. One winter, sailing from Marseilles to Civitavecchia, he braced himself to leave “the infernal Hole-cabin”:
He hated the fuss at customs, the packed decks, the vomit and wailing of the sea-sick, the dread of wreck. These are safe havens, gazing at the ocean, but there is often a threat beneath the still reflections, a swell below the calm. In his many coastal sketches, ports fling their arms around harbors, hill towns tumble to the shore, monasteries cling like limpets above thundering surf.
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