Author: David Spiech Page 2 of 283

To John Hall Wheelock
Via Santo Stefano Rotondo, 6
Rome. January 16, 1947.

From Ezra Pound I continue to receive communications: the last was stark mad: a few scattered unintelligible abbreviations on a large sheet of paper, and nothing else. Yet the address, although fantastically scrawled, was quite correct and intelligible. His madness may be spasmodic only.

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Seven, 1941-1947.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2006.
Location of manuscript: Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Libraries, Princeton NJ.

To Bertrand Arthur William Russell
Cambridge, Massachusetts. January 15, 1911.

It is a great bond to dislike the same things, and dislike is perhaps a deeper indication of our real nature than explicit affections, since the latter may be effects of circumstances, while dislike is a reaction against them.

I had hoped to go to Cambridge in June, but, now it is arranged that I shall go instead to California, where I have never been. I am both glad and sorry for this, but it seemed as well to see the Far West once in one’s life, especially as I hope soon to turn my face resolutely in the opposite direction.

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Two, 1910-1920.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2001.
Location of manuscript: Mills Memorial Library, Bertrand Russell Archives, McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.

To Lino S. Lipinsky de Orlov
Via Santo Stefano Rotondo, 6
Rome. January 14, 1949

Dear Mr Lipinski

I shall be very glad to sit for you any afternoon for the sketch that you wish to make of me. I have not sat for anyone since 1896, when Andreas Andersen did a charcoal drawing of me by the firelight in my room in Staughton Hall at Harvard, which to me seems the only real portrait that was ever taken of me.

I do not usually see the Atlantic Monthly, and should be glad, not that it is necessary as an introduction, to see a photograph of anything that you have drawn.

Yours sincerely

G Santayana

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Eight, 1948-1952.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2008.
Location of manuscript:Collection of Lino S. Lipinsky de Orlov.

To Charles Augustus Strong
Address: C/o Brown Shipley & Co.
Polstreath,Megairssey,
Cornwall, England.  Jan. 13, 1917

I wish I could talk with you about the war and the glimmerings of peace: apart from Boylston Beal . . . I am still pursued by the fatality of having only radical or pro-German friends, and it tries my patience sorely. Why will clever people be so frivolous, captious, and pert-minded? Hooker said “nothing is so malapert as a splenetic religion”, but nothing makes me so splenetic as a malapert judgment in politics. After all, religion is congenitally the sphere of fancy and passion: but people ought to be serious in their views of this world. Don’t you think the Allies have made most happy replies to the German and the American notes?

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Two, 1910-1920.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2001.
Location of manuscript: Rockefeller Archive Center, Sleepy Hollow NY.

To Charles Augustus Strong
22 Beaumont St. Oxford
Oxford, England. January 12, 1919

Dear Strong

It is quite true that in my comments on your book I haven’t come to close quarters with your arguments. I think your metaphysical system, as sketched in your last chapter, is very attractive, and that if I could grasp it, I should have no difficulty in embracing it as at least one of the possible accounts of substance, or perhaps as a part of the true account of it, for I suppose if “attentive vividness” were widely diffused in matter, your axiom that it could not arise by evolution would be less plausible. But the difficulty I find is not in believing but in conceiving your position, and I hark back to other conceptions because I can’t frame those you propose. You see that I can’t comprehend “attentive vividness”, nor “feeling”, nor “introspection”, and I am not sure that “sensation” is intelligible to me, because while you say it ought to be distinguished from the object (the sensibile?) you also say that you can see a sensation move. This drives me to distraction, and my only resource is to unknit my brow and try to see the thing for myself in my own terms. Sometimes I think I have caught your meaning: e.g. I flattered myself that “attentive vividness” was simply a new name for awareness, and therefore I went on to say that it must be intuition of an essence, since awareness of nothing would not be awareness, I suppose. But now you tell me this is wrong, that “attentive vividness” is an entirely different thing, and I confess I am simply lost again. I have reread your last chapter and carefully studied your letter, but I don’t feel able to make any pertinent comments at present, because I am too much in doubt about your meaning.

My brother in Boston has lost his wife, who was the youngest (except my youthful self) of our generation. Their boy is still in France, and writes very interesting accounts of his experiences as a soldier. My brother is naturally much affected and writes despondently about his own approaching end: but I believe there is no ground for this foreboding, Yours ever

G Santayana

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Two, 1910-1920.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2001.
Location of manuscript: Rockefeller Archive Center, Sleepy Hollow NY.