Emma

Abstract

The privacy of Thomas Hardy was jealously guarded, and increasingly so during the final decades. It was entirely to be expected: much as he enjoyed social life, dinner parties, conversations among friends, and the chances to encourage younger writers, still, he was ageing; he did not always feel well; he had his own work to do; and there was the continual sorting through the detritus of a lifetime, the discarding of what was no longer wanted. He needed more time to lock himself away from a prying public than even four score and upward might allow.