I am sorry to learn that you have not been able to break your
commercial chains, since you wish to, though I don't at all know that
they are bad for you. I've railed at mine all my life, but don't
remember that I ever made any good use of leisure when I had
it--unless the mere "having a good time" is such. I remember once
writing that one's career, or usefulness, was about ended when one
thought less about how best to do his work than about the hardship of
having to do it. I might have said the hardship of having so little
leisure to do it. As I grow older I see more and more clearly the
advantages of disadvantage, the splendid urge of adverse conditions,
the uplifting effect of repression. And I'm ashamed to note how little
_I_ profited by them. I wasn't the right kind, that is all; but I
indulge the hope that _you_ are.
No I don't think it of any use, your trying to keep * * * and me
friends. But don't let that interfere with your regard for him if you
have it. We are not required to share one another's feelings in such
matters. I should not expect you to like my friends nor hate my
enemies if they seemed to you different from what they seem to me; nor
would I necessarily follow _your_ lead. For example, I loathe your
friend * * * and expect his safe return because the ocean will refuse
to swallow him.
* * * * *
I congratulate you on the Gilder acceptance of your sonnet, and on
publication of the "Tasso to Leonora." I don't think it your best work
by much--don't think any of your blank verse as good as most of your
rhyme--but it's not a thing to need apology.
Certainly, I shall be pleased to see Hopper. Give me his address, and
when I go to New York--this month or the next--I'll look him up. I
think well of Hopper and trust that he will not turn out to be an 'ist
of some kind, as most writers and artists do. That is because they are
good feelers and poor thinkers. It is the emotional element in them,
not the logical, that makes them writers and artists. They have, as a
rule, sensibility and no sense. Except the _big_ fellows.
* * * * *
Neale has in hand already three volumes of the "Collected Works," and
will have two more in about a month; and all (I hope) this year. I'm
revising all the stuff and cutting it about a good deal, taking from
one book stuff for another, and so forth. If Neale gets enough
subscriptions he will put out all the ten volumes next year; if not I
shall probably not be "here" to see the final one issued.
* * * * *
Glad you think better of my part in the Hunter-Hillquit "symposium."
_I_ think I did very well considering, first, that I didn't care a
damn about the matter; second, that I knew nothing of the men I was to
meet, nor what we were to talk about, whereas they came cocked and
primed for the fray; and, third, that the whole scheme was to make a
Socialist holiday at my expense. Of all 'ists the Socialist is perhaps
the damnedest fool for (in this country) he is merely the cat that
pulls chestnuts from the fire for the Anarchist. His part of the
business is to talk away the country's attention while the Anarchist
places the bomb. In some countries Socialism is clean, but not in
this. And everywhere the Socialist is a dreamer and futilitarian.
But I guess I'll call a halt on this letter, the product of an idle
hour in garrulous old age.
* * * * *
Sincerely yours,
AMBROSE BIERCE.
[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C.,
August 7, 1908.]