* * * * *
I'm glad you like London; I've heard he is a fine fellow and have read
one of his books--"The Son of the Wolf," I think is the title--and it
seemed clever work mostly. The general impression that remains with me
is that it is always winter and always night in Alaska.
* * * * *
* * * will probably be glad to sell his scrap-book later, to get
bread. He can't make a living out of the labor unions alone. I wish he
were not a demgagoue and would not, as poor Doyle put it, go a-whoring
after their Muse. When he returns to truth and poetry I'll receive him
back into favor and he may kick me if he wants to.
No, I can't tell you how to get "Prattle"; if I could I'd not be
without it myself. You ask me when I began it in the "Examiner." Soon
after Hearst got the paper--I don't know the date--they can tell you
at the office and will show you the bound volumes.
I have the bound volumes of the "Argonaut" and "Wasp" during the years
when I was connected with them, but my work in the "Examiner" (and
previously in the "News Letter" and the London "Fun" and "Figaro" and
other papers) I kept only in a haphazard and imperfect way.
I don't recollect giving Scheff any "epigram" on woman or anything
else. So I can't send it to you. I amuse myself occasionally with that
sort of thing in the "Journal" ("American") and suppose Hearst's other
papers copy them, but the "environment" is uncongenial and
uninspiring.
Do I think extracts from "Prattle" would sell? I don't think anything
of mine will sell. I could make a dozen books of the stuff that I have
"saved up"--have a few ready for publication now--but all is vanity so
far as profitable publication is concerned. Publishers want nothing
from me but novels--and I'll die first.
Who is * * *--and why? It is good of London to defend me against him.
I fancy all you fellows have a-plenty of defending me to do, though
truly it is hardly worth while. All my life I have been hated and
slandered by all manner of persons except good and intelligent ones;
and I don't greatly mind. I knew in the beginning what I had to
expect, and I know now that, like spanking, it hurts (sometimes) but
does not harm. And the same malevolence that has surrounded my life
will surround my memory if I am remembered. Just run over in your mind
the names of men who have told the truth about their unworthy fellows
and about human nature "as it was given them to see it." They are
the bogie-men of history. None of them has escaped vilification. Can
poor little I hope for anything better? When you strike you are
struck. The world is a skunk, but it has rights; among them that of
retaliation. Yes, you deceive yourself if you think the little fellows
of letters "like" you, or rather if you think they will like you when
they know how big you are. They will lie awake nights to invent new
lies about you and new means of spreading them without detection. But
you have your revenge: in a few years they'll all be dead--just the
same as if you had killed them. Better yet, you'll be dead yourself.
So--you have my entire philosophy in two words: "Nothing matters."
Reverting to Scheff. What he has to fear (if he cares) is not
incompetent criticism, but public indifference. That does not bite,
but poets are an ambitious folk and like the limelight and the center
of the stage. Maybe Scheff is different, as I know you are. Try to
make him so if he isn't. * * * Wise poets write for one another. If
the public happens to take notice, well and good. Sometimes it
does--and then the wise poet would a blacksmith be. But this screed is
becoming an essay.
Please give my love to all good Sterlings--those by birth and those by
marriage. * * *
My friends have returned to Washington, and I'm having great times
climbing peaks (they are knobs) and exploring gulches and canyons--for
which these people have no names--poor things. My dreamland is still
unrevisited. They found a Confederate soldier over there the other
day, with his rifle alongside. I'm going over to beg his pardon.
Ever yours,
AMBROSE BIERCE.
[Washington, D. C.
[Postmarked October 12, 1903.]]