March 21, 1910
Yesterday, Palm Sunday, the Rev. Mr. Mortimer took tea with us. My sisters had arranged a pretty table. We had a pleasant talk intime.
Bought at Tiffany’s a wedding gift for Miss Katharine W. Hardenbergh, whose marriage takes place next week. Miss H. is an attractive brunette. The man in the case is Mr. Philip W. von Saltza, tall, fair, athletic, and said to be a Swedish baron.
March 24, 1910
To-night at the Carteret Club I attended the first annual banquet of the local Princeton Alumni Association. President Woodrow Wilson was the principal guest and speaker. Before the dinner I had a brief talk with him. He had recently been to Bermuda and I inquired after Mark Twain who is there invalided. He recounted one of Twain’s stories. He made an incisive, strong address at the dinner, much of it convincing and of studious insight, and yet in any exposition of education, as of life, there are so many differentiating individual problems and varying factors, that something is necessarily wanting to a full and comprehensive treatment. It is wise to be sympathetic rather than dogmatic, and permit some undetermined things to work out their own distinctive way. With all his apparent breadth Dr. Wilson’s educational viewpoint is too limited. It ignores or does not sufficiently account for culture and criticism – invaluable devotions. Service to the state, to be sure, but not confined to politicians or the more patent offices and professions only in a very comprehensive sense is service as a university object acceptable. The appropriate aim and higher reach should be the production of great and ripe scholars, and these are none less democratic, because they require some protection or seclusion for the maturing of their thoughts in “the quiet and still act of delightful studies”. But of necessity there must be some natural nobility in this separateness and devotion. It is the principal way to bring forth great and profound scholars and he serves the state best who serves it where it is most deficient. Chancellor Pitney talked at some length about the Procter controversy. Mr. ((Imbrie)) commented on the university’s business concerns. Mr. Roper’s remarks on athletics were of that rugged character that seems to befit an athletic trainer. Mr. Joseph A. Dear presided. There were college songs and cheers galore.
March 28, 1910
Sunday was a bright Easter, and I accompanied my sisters to St. Mark’s. The church was in gala array and the service fitting and edifying. We made our offerings, and came away thankful for the renewals of another year.
April 5, 1910
At the concert of the Schubert Glee Club to-night; I went alone. How often I am alone or amongst comparative strangers, yet not so often in relation as in spiritual attitude and perception. I find in music a friendly atmosphere of mystical correspondences and soul echoes and on its related sounds can more readily scale the heights and widely explore.
April 7, 1910
The masses seem to be moving up, whilst the classes, their monitors and inspiration, are in a measure being sacrificed. Yet there is a wide perceptible gain, and there will always be light-bearers, certain choice spirits of culture to carry on the nobler traditions and best thoughts. Perhaps they are commonly not prized, but they have their secret recompense. They are the very salt of society and do indeed savor and retrieve the mass. Alas when one looks afield! Such a general level and aspect, such a rush for the necessary and obvious; so little appreciation of pause, envisagement and personal distinction! Yet these things are but phases and relative; the whole is divinely moved and needs but the sounding mood, the penetrating eye, to divine its high and sufficient purposes. The life is justified of its being.
April 14, 1910
Marie and I were at the Christ Hospital concert tonight. It was given in the auditorium of Grand View Park under the auspices of the Arion Society of Jersey City. The orchestra recruited from the Metropolitan Opera House was excellent and some of the singing good. We enjoyed the evening. It made a festival occasion of brightness, spirit stirrings and tonal memories.
April 21, 1910
Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens) died today in the early evening – or rather Samuel died and Mark lives. Mark was a serious man, and it is too bad that the cap and bells once assumed should go with a man throughout his life and tag him to his grave. M. T. had an original native force, albeit its indices are somewhat vulgar. Finn and Sawyer place him well up amongst the robust creators of literature. The work most popularly and intimately associated with his name is “The Innocents Abroad”, and I fancy it has elements that will give it the freshest and longest life.
April 27, 1910
At Montclair this afternoon on business, and looked around a town of spacious comfort and high reliefs – an inviting place with a quiet dignity of its own.
May 3, 1910
Attended a concert in Elks Hall to-night; accompanied Miss Stewart, who is on a visit, and my sisters Marie and Blanche.
May 4, 1910
At the theatre; a bright little comedy.
May 7, 1910
King Edward VII died last night, and to-day the Prince of Wales took the oath as George V. Thackeray should return and write another Roundabout Paper on the Fifth George. This is a critical period for monarchies and other fine things. They have their attraction and upward shaping influence, if small real potentiality. Victoria probably reigned somewhat too long: we could have stood more of Edward, a soul of natural royalty and wide beneficience.
May 12, 1910
This evening I was present at an entertainment in Hasbrouck Hall, in behalf of the Alumni Benefit Fund. A pleasant skit or playlet came first, enacted by three recent graduates of the Institute, then a young Russian, Mirzah ((Cheslia)), gave some Indo-Persian dances, interpretive and poetic. The social dancing that followed struck me as somewhat gauche. Different styles, if artistically controlled, add interest. I like character and individuality, if shown with grace and harmony; but here were awkward gyrations and crudity of effect. It was a sort of hopping and romping in whatever degree, - not the lope and the glide scarcely entered. Such violence may serve its purpose, if the harness stays on, but it is not art. How complacently some people exhibit themselves in kinds of which they know so little!
May 14, 1910
Friday afternoon Marie, Blanche and I saw the exhibited work of the New York School of Fine and Applied Arts, at Broadway and Eightieth street. We went on invitation of Miss Helen McGee, one of the students – and some of whose sketches appeared. Her Titian head looked out of several portraits.
In the “life” rooms I felt no sense of furtive dalliance and loveliness disclosed, but rather a realizing sense that I was amid the primitive cave-dwellers and anthropoid apes. Such, alas, was the odd success of nudity in the hands of amateurs!
An attractive girl-student with unstudied simplicity conducted us through the crafts and applied arts department. I remarked on the significance of art and the satisfactions, more rewarding than gold, of its pursuit, of the fashioning of artistic things, of beautiful things. She mentioned, with a smile of assent, the toil of art, the skill and patience bestowed, and wondered whether it met with full appreciation, the appreciation that comes with practice and experience. I preferred to accept the result achieved without questioning the means or picturing the pale artist with his uncertain struggles, - that was to enjoy the occasion.
The work varied in merit, some of it being indifferent and naturally immature, some of it making a graceful or refreshing appeal.
