To Guy Murchie
Cambridge, Massachusetts. March, 12 ’96
It is hard for a young man like you to distinguish the charm of a particular woman from that of woman in general, to distinguish affinity from proximity. Russell’s misfortunes all sprang from his inexperience in this respect, so that the danger of it is very present to my mind. If you could weather this storm, the very experience would strengthen you and enlighten you for the future; and after a few years of life among men and women you could go to the woman you would be proudest to call your own, and say, “I love you with my whole soul and my whole mind; I have chosen you from all the world.” That is a man’s love, which is a better and safer one than a boy’s, and a kind you could offer, very likely, to this same girl when you came back to her with your character formed and your resolution made. It is the kind of love I should now feel for the woman of my choice, and the kind I feel for you too, dear Guy, who are a great deal more to me than any of my friends could be when I was a young fellow, and could not really know either myself or other men. There is resolution in this sort of love, it is the expression of character and not of chance. And I should wish you to come to it some day; it is worth waiting for. You will forgive this long sermon, and forget it if your mind is already made up. I have written all this because, if it happens to be in the line of your own reflections, it might help you a little towards clearness. If not, it will do no harm since you will pay no attention to it.
From The Letters of George Santayana: Book One, [1868]-1909. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2001.
Location of manuscript: Collection of Guy Murchie, Jr.