To Daniel MacGhie Cory
Rome. November 13, 1933
An idea has occurred to me that I submit to you, not as a desire exactly on my part, but simply to see if it pleases you. Would you like to join me in the Spring in the Riviera or even at Rapallo, with a view of looking for quarters—either in a small hotel or in an apartment, where I might establish myself for good—somewhere where I could remain all the year round, and have all my books with me? Strong, who seems to have understood that I don’t mean to go often again to the villa (especially now that he is hard up and has his grandchildren with him) actually suggested that I should remove the books I have at his house: and I shouldn’t be sorry to have them back, if I had where to put them. It is a part of my idea that you should spend as much of your time with me in these proposed quarters as you chose or found convenient: and for that reason, as well as for your judgement about particular places, I should like your advice. For instance, does Rapallo really appeal to you, is it warm enough in winter for my catarrh, and wouldn’t it be too small and tiresome for living in for ever? My own feeling is that Nice or Monaco (almost Monte Carlo but just not quite) would be best: because I could still amuse myself in cafés and even at the opera, and pass from monastic solitude to the vulgar world at five minutes notice. Besides, French after all is an easier language for me than Italian, though ideally I prefer Italy.
From The Letters of George Santayana: Book Five, 1933-1936. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2003.
Location of manuscript: Butler Library, Columbia University, New York NY