The papers are full of stories of old people who have lived in three centuries; we who were born in the fifties haven’t that chance.
January 7. Gave a talk upon my Roman experiences before the New England Woman’s Club. I sounded a blast for the American School for Classical Study in Rome and for Richard Norton, who made it the vital place it now is. The school was dead-alive till he took it, breathed upon it and made it alive with his life. A greater transformation I never saw, nor a more striking illustration of how a man can work his vitality into a stodgy institution like yeast into heavy dough, and see it rise, almost overnight.
1902 was a year filled with the absorbing interests of travel. We had for our companions two young friends, Gladys and Marion Lawson. As I write, vingt ans après, my clearest memories are of our visit to Greece, and of London in this the coronation year.
[To my Mother.]
Athens, March 29. We arrived yesterday at Piraeus, more dead than alive, on the Prince Abbas, a cockleshell that brought us from Alexandria. Things are no better to-day on the Mediterranean boats than when Lord Byron made his memorable trip on board the Lisbon packet! Mr. Cook, or his agent, plucked us and our baggage out of that dark hold where we had languished many days and seated us, a demoralized party, in a comfortable landau. We each drooped languidly in our corner, our spines damp macaroni. Gradually limp vertebrae stiffened up, heads lifted, eyes opened. We were restored by the elixir of the air, the color of the sky and fields. At a turn in the road, before we were quite prepared for it, came the first view of the Acropolis. Half a lifetime had passed since I had left it, and it has only grown in beauty. Athens is much improved. The roads are better, the streets cleaner, the whole city better kept than I remembered it. The people look prosperous; there is a general air of well-being in all classes.
We hurried to the Acropolis, where we found the old immortal glories and much that was new and interesting in the small museum behind the Parthenon. The two most precious objects of Greek art which the last twenty years’ research has brought to light, you are familiar with,—the Victory untying her sandal and the Hermes of Olympia. The museum contains curious archaic statues discovered buried in a deep trench. The theory is that in the age of Pericles and the consummate art of the sculptors of that time, these earlier sacred statues of earthenware and painted stone were dethroned and decorously interred in the sacred soil of the Acropolis. It does seem a little shabby to unearth these poor discarded gods and tuck them away as curiosities in a little shed behind the temple of Athena Parthena, where they once reigned supreme! We sat on the steps of the Parthenon and watched the sky change from blue to purple and gold, waiting for the moment when the violet mist rose up out of the sea and draped Mount Hymettus with a veil.
My audience with Queen Olga was rather sad. The palace was positively shabby and badly in need of fresh paint. The Queen was kind and gracious. She had been well coached for the visit and spoke of what Greece owes to Papa. In spite of all this, I took away a melancholy impression, the Queen seemed so grave and preoccupied. She was tastefully dressed in heliotrope serge with amethyst ornaments of the same color. I learned afterwards that she has lately had a trying experience. As an act of devotion she had a new translation of the Greek Scriptures made at her own expense by eminent scholars, inspired doubtless by the English revised edition of the Bible. This act of grace was taken very ill by the people, and she was made to feel their displeasure bitterly. The Crown Princess, the Kaiser’s sister, is more popular.
The Richardsons at the American School of Archaeology were most kind and told us of the latest amazing discoveries. Dr. Evans, an Englishman, has found in Crete the palace of the Minotaur, that must have been four stories in height. We saw at the Museum some of the small gold double axes and the beautiful gold Vappie cups found there. Miss Boyd, an American girl, has discovered and excavated a prehistoric village in Crete. It was cruel we could only stay a matter of days in Greece when there is so much of absorbing interest to see and learn!
Ye Miller of Manchester, Goring, England, June 30, 1902. The disappointment of the postponement of the Coronation fêtes on account of King Edward’s illness was so dire that to compensate I brought my young people to this lovely spot. The inn is like one on the stage, with tiny diamond-paned windows, climbing roses and honeysuckles. The life is of the waterside; all the hours when we are not asleep are passed in boats, canoes or punts. ’Tis the most beautiful bit of the Thames I have seen. To-day is gloriously filled by the joyous vitality of the two young creatures, who are drinking deep from the cup of life. It is very stimulating to go about with them; my bones are being well rattled and I hope I am getting very much up to date. If you haven’t young people of your own, you must borrow them from time to time or fall hopelessly out of the running.
Cornish, New Hampshire, August 15, 1903. In spite of the untold tedium of rainy days, doubtless no more here than elsewhere, we are in an ecstasy over the beauty of this place. I never could describe the world I see from this hilltop. The mountain opposite is a sort of Fujiyama; people become magnetized by its beauty. Every morning we watch for the moment when the veil of mist is dropped and the dark-blue beauty of Mount Ascutney shines out on us. I am reading with deep interest William James’ “Varieties of Religious Experience.” Very illuminating and coördinating to my mixed and scattered thoughts. Nothing new yet, even to me, but the orderliness of the ideas is useful. Yesterday Clara Potter Davidge (one of the Bishop’s twins) called; we are to have supper with her to-night, and to-morrow with St. Gaudens. The people here are all painters, sculptors or “literary fellers.” Lucia Fuller comes back to-morrow. Her house is picturesque, her children ditto.