To George Sturgis
Hotel Bristol
Rome. February 1, 1925
My existence here runs on in its usual course and so agreeably that I am seriously inclined to make some permanent arrangement by which I should have a little establishment of my own in this hotel or in some other like it–a sittingroom where I can have my books and mementoes about me, a bedroom and a bathroom. Of course in summer it would hardly be possible to stay in Rome–although the Pope does–and in old age one is much less oppressed by warm weather. But I discovered last year what nice places Venice and Cortina are in summer, and there are of course many resorts in the Apennines and by the sea, if ever I felt that the journey to Paris was too much for me. In this way I should be settled comfortably for the rest of my days. A hotel is expensive, because they don’t like to give more than one room to one person; but it has great advantages in the matter of service and heating and food on the premises; and it is also a very convenient way of having friends to stay with one, as there is nothing to do but to engage another bedroom. I have actually had a guest, Reichhardt from Hamburg, for ten days and expect Onderdonk later in the season. It gave me no trouble and was hardly an interruption to my work, while I had the pleasure of a little congenial society.
. . . .
I am very well, but lazy and fat. My literary work goes forward slowly; I have been reading more than writing of late; I let my instinct and mood govern me in these matters, as after all I have already written a lot, and there is no occasion to force myself to be loquacious at the expense of the public unless I have something important aching to be told.
. . . . It is a great convenience to have money, if it isn’t so much (as in the case of my friend Strong) as to let one in for all sorts of luxuries which are in one’s way.
From The Letters of George Santayana: Book Three, 1921-1927. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2002.
Location of manuscript: The Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge MA