To Charles Augustus Strong
Hotel Bauer-Grünwald
Venice. May 16, 1924
I came here ten days ago—sooner than I expected—and under strange though (as it has turned out) very pleasant circumstances. Until this morning I have been accompanied by two of the Chetwynds, Philip and Betty, aged respectively eighteen and sixteen. Randolph had gone back to Oxford and Joan, the youngest, was in a private hospital with scarlet fever, and as I saw that the others were much disappointed at having to stay in Rome and miss their intended tour, I suggested that they might come with me to Venice. They and their mother jumped at the idea, and there was nothing left for me but to carry it out. I have had a nice time, keeping in my room as usual in the morning, and sometimes leaving them to do their sight-seeing alone in the afternoon as well: but we had our meals together, and spent the evenings in the piazza or in a gondola or in talk. They are very nice children—Betty quiet and Philip lively, and they have very nice manners and have behaved very well. The only unpleasant part was having to dine in this German hotel in a hot room on not very good fare: but that is now over, and I have made an arrangement by which I can have both my meals out, and have already begun to make trial of the Venetian restaurants, which seem to promise well. I have a curious little room on the ground floor, looking out on the terrace and the Grand Canal, where in spite of some passing and voices in the morning, I enjoy great inner privacy, and find I am able to work well.
Venice is lovely, but warm and suggestive of swells: I don’t know how long I shall like to stay, but there is no need of deciding until the time comes. For the present I am quite happy.
From The Letters of George Santayana: Book Three, 1921-1927. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2002.
Location of manuscript: Rockefeller Archive Center, Sleepy Hollow NY