Author: David Spiech Page 203 of 283

To Morton Dauwen Zabel
Via Santo Stefano Rotondo, 6
Rome. July 12, 1951

Dear Mr. Zabel,

The doctor’s advice not to see visitors is not a moral imperative for me, and if you will excuse my invalid’s quarters and costume, I shall be glad to see you any day between 5 and 7 p.m. all the more that you have been inspecting Spanish America which I have never seen (preferring both Spain and America neat) but which nevertheless I am curious about, as a variation on the question of human uprootings replantings, and racial graftings about which I have some family experience and many doubts.

Looking forward to the pleasure of hearing something of your impressions on that subject, I am Sincerely yours,

GSantayana

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Eight, 1948-1952.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2008.
Location of manuscript: The Newberry Library, Chicago IL

To George Sturgis
Hotel Miramonti
Cortina d’Ampezzo, July 11, 1933

Thank you for telling me about my income for this last half-year. It is just what I wanted to know, to reassure me in the midst of this financial confusion. If the dollar comes down to 50 cents (and that I believe is about the Mexican or silver standard to which the Democrats have always looked with envy) I shall be deprived, practically, of half my income: but as I spent less than half, I shall still have enough. What Roosevelt says and thinks (to judge by what I have read of his in the papers) seems to me rubbish. He talks like a professor of economics with a bee in his bonnet.

What is a “dollar in harmony with the needs of production” (or something of that nature? Any dollar, any agreed value or coin, if it is worth anything in itself and moderately steady in value, is equally harmonious with the values of other things and equally good as a common denominator and nominal medium of exchange. What is the use, then, of changing from one sort of dollar, or one weight of gold, to another? There is a use: and though I laugh at what Roosevelt says, I see a very clear reason for what he does. By halving the value of the dollar he will not only make prices go up (double them, in fact, other things being equal)—which is pure foolishness, since things will remain really of exactly the same intrinsic and relative and exchange value–but he will halve the government expenditure for pensions, salaries, and interest on the debt—unless these payments are expressly increased by law: and at the same time he will halve the real income of idle persons like myself, living on the interest of floating capital. So that, whether Roosevelt means it or not, he is driving a nail into the coffin of capitalism; and at the same time (what is strangely undemocratic) diminishing enormously the purchasing power of wages, pensions, and all incomes fixed in quantity of money.

But I see a possible complication and mitigation of this result. In so far as my property, for instance, includes definite objects–land, factories, merchandise–its value expressed in dollars will rise at the same time that the purchasing power of the interest diminishes. To this extent, the change will be just as futile in killing  capitalism (I mean especially, in killing this system of living on mere money out at interest) as it is futile in “harmonizing” currency with real values.

Cortina is pleasant, as usual, and I am passing the time quite contentedly and doing a little work on the novel–saving, too, because this excellent hotel is cheaper than the Bristol. It is true I have no sitting room.

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Five, 1933-1936.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2003.
Location of manuscript: The Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge MA

To Mr. Rubin
C/o Brown Shipley & Co, 123
Pall Mall, London
Paris. July 10, 1928

Dear Mr Rubin,

Thank you for this new batch of sonnets. I have just been reading hard words written by Mr Ezra Pound on the subject of the Sonnets, in The Dial for this month: but I see that some of you rebel against the tyranny of tradition, and don’t always have ten syllables to your lines. You are all much impressed, like Homer, with the instability of earthly things, with dead leaves, and with “dark halls”; these things are impressive and have impressed everybody; so that I am driven back to my feeling about antecedent rightness in your poetic flights, with subsequent inadequacy; because unless you can say these things better than Homer & Co people will prefer to read about them in them rather than in you. I see a marked improvement in the richness of your own (Rubin’s) vocabulary: also evidence that you have been reading

Shakespeare’s sonnets. Words, words, words are the foundation of everything–in literature. If you feel the force of each word, and its penumbra of associations, the rest will take care of itself, and if ever you have anything to say, it will say itself for you magnificently.

Yours sincerely,

GSantayana

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Four, 1928–1932.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2003.
Location of manuscript: Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, University of Texas at Austin

To George Sturgis
Fiesole, Italy. July 9th 1934

I am glad to see by your letter of June 28th that my income for this last half-year has kept up to the same figure, practically, as last year. That I have spent so much more is due, as you say, to the fall in the exchange and in my earned income: the $2000 you have sent me to London (one thousand I think, last year) would just cover my added expenditure. But I see there is still a surplus of $3323.27, so that economy is not pressing.

This is lucky as I have found, after a fortnight or three weeks at Strong’s that I can’t stand the heat, mosquitoes, confinement, and food; also a certain monotony and dryness in our personal relations, and I am leaving next week for Cortina. In September I shall go down for a month to Venice, before returning as usual to Rome.

I am sorry, because what Strong is allowing me to contribute to his household expenses is so little, that I should have saved a lot by remaining here. But after all, my health, work, and pleasure matter more than an economy which is not really required. . . .

What you tell me about your domestic affairs is not very satisfactory, one way or the other; but I suppose it is better to worry along, if possible, and especially to let the boys have a normal background, especially if they are not going to boarding-schools.

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Five, 1933-1936.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2003.
Location of manuscript: The Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge MA

To Rafael Sastre González
Hotel Savoia
Cortina d’Ampezzo, Italia. 8 de Julio, 1940

Querido Rafael:

tu cariñosa carta me encuentra en Cortina, lugar ahora mas tranquilo que nunca, pues no hay extranyeros, y los italianos se contentan con pocas semanas de veraneo. No eres tú el único que se acuerda de mí en las circumstancias de este momento, y es verdad que estoy algo aislado. Mi antiguo amigo Strong, con quien vivía yo en otros tiempos en Paris, ha muerto, y las demas conocidos americanos e ingleses que vivían en Italia se han marchado; pero yo estoy bien de salud y muy a gusto haciendo vida de hermitaño con sala de baño. Sigo trabajando, en parte por tener ocupación y en parte por compromisos con varios editores, y esta guerra no me pesa como la otra, de hace veinte años. Me parece que leo historias antiguas, ilustrando las mismas verdades eternas. Mercedes, que tiene 83 años, tambien me anima a volver á España y me ofrece su casa, o sus casas, pues tiene dos, y yo ninguna; pero eso es por ser yo filósofo. Y en los Estados Unidos aún quedan algunas personas que se agitan, pensando que lo debo pasar muy mal aquí, entre invasiones y bombas: pero ocurre todo lo contrario. Sería allí que no me dejarían vivir en paz. Ademas los viajes por ahora son imposibles, y en Italia nadie me molesta, y los proprietarios de las fondas en donde acostumbro a parar, tanto aquí como en Venecia y en Roma, estan muy atentos, y hasta ofrecen fiarme el pago de la cuenta hasta que se haga la paz, si fuese necesario. No creo que lo sea, pues no faltaría medio de girar dinero de los Estados Unidos indirectamente, aunque éstos no permanecieran neutrales, cosa poco probable. Sí llegase el caso de tener que marcharme, sería sin duda a España que me dirigiría, y a tu casa; no olvido las largas temporadas que he pasado entre vosotros, y aunque falten personas queridas quedan otras que lo son tambien, y gente jóven para recordarnos que no se acaba el mundo con nosotros.

Cariñosos recuerdos a todos, y un abrazo de tu tío que te quiere   Jorge Santayana

(Pongo el apellido por la censura)

Translation:

Dear Rafael:

your affectionate letter finds me in Cortina, a place that is now more peaceful than ever, for there are no foreigners, and the Italians are satisfied with a few weeks of summer vacation. You are not the only one who remembers me in the circumstances of the moment, and it is true that I am somewhat isolated. My old friend Strong, with whom I lived in Paris in another era, has died, and the rest of my American and English acquaintances who lived in Italy have left, but I am well and very happy leading a hermit’s life with a bathroom. I continue to work, partly to keep busy and partly because of commitments to various publishers, and this war does not weigh on me like the other one, twenty years ago. It seems to me that I am reading old stories, illustrating the same eternal truths. Mercedes, who is 83, is also urging me to return to Spain and offers me her house, or her houses, for she has two, and I have none; but that’s because I am a philosopher. And in the United States there are still a few people who fuss, thinking that I must be having a very difficult time of it here, with invasions and bombs, but just the opposite happens. It’s there that they wouldn’t let me live in peace. Besides, for now trips are impossible, and in Italy no one bothers me, and the owners of the hotels where I usually stay, here as well as in Venice and in Rome, are very attentive, and even offer to give me credit until peace comes, if necessary. I don’t think it will be, for there would be a way of transferring money from the United States indirectly, even if it did not remain neutral, which is improbable. If it turned out that I had to leave, it is no doubt for Spain that I would head, and your house; I haven’t forgotten the long periods of time that I spent among you, and although some loved ones are missing there are others, and young people to remind us that the world doesn’t end with us.

Fond regards to all, and an embrace from your uncle who loves you George Santayana

(I put my last name because of the censorship)

From The Letters of George Santayana:  Book Six, 1937-1940.  Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2004. Location of manuscript: Collection of Sra. Rafael (Adelaida Hernandez) Sastre, Avila, Spain