* * * * *
If your neighbor Carmelites are really "normal" and respectable I'm
sorry for you. They will surely (remaining cold sober themselves)
drive you to drink. Their sort affects _me_ that way. God bless the
crank and the curio!--what would life in this desert be without its
mullahs and its dervishes? A matter of merchants and camel drivers--no
one to laugh with and at.
Did you see Gorky's estimate of us in "Appleton's"? Having been a few
weeks in the land, whose language he knows not a word of, he knows (by
intuition of genius and a wee-bit help from Gaylord Wilshire and his
gang) all about us, and tells it in generalities of vituperation as
applicable to one country as to another. He's a dandy bomb-thrower,
but he handles the stink-pot only indifferently well. He should write
(for "The Cosmopolitan") on "The Treason of God."
Sorry you didn't like my remarks in that fool "symposium." If I said
enough to make it clear that I don't care a damn for any of the
matters touched upon, nor for the fellows who _do_ care, I satisfied
my wish. It was not intended to be an "argument" at all--at least not
on my part; I don't argue with babes and sucklings. Hunter is a
decentish fellow, for a dreamer, but the Hillquit person is a
humorless anarchist. When I complimented him on the beauty of his neck
and expressed the hope of putting a nice, new rope about it he nearly
strangled on the brandy that I was putting down it at the hotel bar.
And it wasn't with merriment. His anarchist sentiments were all cut
out.
I'm not familiar with the poetry of William Vaughan Moody. Can you
"put me on"?
I'm sending you an odd thing by Eugene Wood, of Niagara Falls, where I
met him two or three years ago. I'm sure you will appreciate it. The
poor chap died the other day and might appropriately--as he doubtless
will--lie in a neglected grave. You may return the book when you have
read it enough. I'm confident you never heard of it.
Enclosed is your sonnet, with a few suggestions of no importance. I
had not space on it to say that the superfluity of superlatives noted,
is accentuated by the words "west" and "quest" immediately following,
making a lot of "ests." The verses are pleasing, but if any villain
prefer them to "In Extremis" may he bite himself with a Snake!
If you'll send me that shuddery thing on Fear--with the "clangor of
ascending chains" line--and one or two others that you'd care to have
in a magazine, I'll try them on Maxwell. I suspect he will fall dead
in the reading, or possibly dislocate the jaw of him with a yawn, but
even so you will not have written in vain.
Have you tried anything on "Munsey"? Bob Davis is the editor, and we
talked you over at dinner (where would you could have been). I think
he values my judgment a little. * * *
I wish I could be blown upon by your Carmel sea-breeze; the weather
here is wicked! I don't even canoe.
My "Cynic" book is due in October. Shall send it to you.
Sincerely yours,
AMBROSE BIERCE.
[Washington, D. C.,
September 28, 1906.]