Blanche Yurka's '07 Blog

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My Daily Entries This Week

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Mon-Sat July 29-Aug 3

Here it is once more Saturday and I have a whole week to write up.  A curious way to keep a diary!  Well it rained after all, and my mackintosh at the bottom of the trunk! Ella came over to say goodbye and Duras came down to the boat together with Mila and Chas, and to our utter amazement, when the others had left the boat, he stayed on, and said he was going to Boston.  He looked so foolish and I was not entirely pleased, tho' it was rather a relief not to have the whole trip alone.  We sat about on deck till about 8.  He scarcely has the gift of charming a woman for he read a little guide book most of the way, till I felt like throwing it overboard and told him to put away the stupid thing.  We had supper at 8 in a charming dining room and then I retired, not to sleep; for the foghorn tooted all night.  I was up at 5, and rushed about the boat looking for Mr. D. No sign of him, so I resigned him to his fate, and  boarded the train.  When he finally strolled in, all the double seats were taken and he secured seats in the parlor car.  A man is a convenience sometimes.  We really managed to be decent to one another all the way to Boston, where we had breakfast and found the town all decorated for "Home Week''.  At nine I left for Portsmouth, Mr. D. remaining in Boston. I arrived at Greenacre without mishap; it is a beautiful countryside and I shall be very happy, I am sure.  The air is sweet and strong as a draught of spring water.  Miss Hughes, with whom I am to room, was slightly ill and in bed, but she was very cordial and I am sure we shall get on very well.  I began my stay strenuously, by listening to a lecture by a Hindu philosopher on "Evolution of the Soul'' in the P.M. and on "Italian Art'' in the evening.  It is a curious and rather wonderful collection of people here, and it will be interesting to learn more of them.

The two most striking figures are the Hindu lecturer, who has a mind like steel; brilliant, penetrating, with a learning which simply appalls me by its depth and breadth, and whose English I wish I could emulate.  So beautiful and clear! and his speaking voice as liquid as syrup.  He is also very human and simple without a trace of affectation.  In complete contrast to him is Mirza Ali Kuli Khan, a charming young Persian, who has married a beautiful American girl and has been in America for 5 yrs.  He is an enthusiast pur et simple, altho' of a brilliant intellect and of a learning which makes our college graduates seem almost uneducated.  His French is very good, as is his English.  His great charm however is his utter boyishness; he is a perfect child of nature and says anything which comes to his mind; controlled however by an exquisite Oriental courtesy and tact, which save him from any "faux pas.'' Having lived in a family of American girls, he has acquired a lot of American slang, which is very amusing.  He always speaks of his little princeling son (for Khan is a descendant of 37 kings of Persia -- no, his 37th father back, was King of -- as "the Kid'' and to hear him describe his wife is a joy.  He is here in America spreading the Bahai religion, the Persian revelation, which has gained many followers, Miss Farmer among them.

All of us "celebrities'' who do anything, sit at one table and to say I feel honored is putting it mildly.  If I do not evolute into something quite wonderful in these 6 weeks of Greenacre, it will be strange.  I have never dreamed such an intellectual community would be possible.  Of course there are a number of old ladies who are queer; and "higher thought'' sometimes proves amusing; and when Miss Hughes begins imitating them, I scream with laughter.  She is a Southern girl, and we have so much fun together that our neighbors have christened us the "Gigglemeiers.'' I sang at the lecture today for the first time, and everyone liked my voice, tho' I was "indis-\'{e}e'' and did not do my very best.  People seem to like me, and I am so glad of that.

Yesterday at noon, a scene which could only occur at Greenacre occurred.  Miss Hughes and I were having luncheon down at the cottage, dressed a la Kimono, when suddenly the Khan's voice was heard, asking if he might use our hammock.  Then in a few moments he became inspired by Omar Khayam, and began chanting quatrains in Persian while we listened from behind drawn blinds, in correct persian style. Well it made N.Y. seem ten thousand miles away.

Miss Farmer, the spirit of Greenacre, is quite the most idealistic woman I could conceive of.  She was formerly a beauty and a belle, Miss Hughes tells me, and conceived this beautiful idea of bringing together people from all corners of the Earth who could discuss their differences and similarities, and make a step toward bringing about universal brotherhood.  It is 14 years since Greenacre was founded, and, as Khan says, it is the beauty of the spirit which animates the place which has made it live, for money could never bring about such results.  And the utter freedom of the place delights me.  One can do just as he pleases; attend the lectures if he chooses; if not, take a book and wander off among the pines, and follow entirely his own sweet will. And to think that I, just twenty, have the opportunity of being a part of this community, of having something to give them which they feel it a joy to receive -- and then who can say that money will buy  everything?  If it were not for the friends that I have made -- I can't imagine where I should be or what I should be doing.-- This afternoon Miss H. and I took Alfred De Musset to the Pines, and there, lying on the fragrant pine needles, we read "Andrea del Sarte.'' It was entirely delightful.  It seems to me that the play would act wonderfully; each line seems to live.  Mansfield could do it perfectly, altho' a translation must needs suffer, since it is De Musset's French which gives the melody to the language of the play.

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