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diff --git a/36218.txt b/36218.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1846c78 --- /dev/null +++ b/36218.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9138 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Letters of Ambrose Bierce, by Ambrose Bierce + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Letters of Ambrose Bierce + With a Memoir by George Sterling + +Author: Ambrose Bierce + +Editor: Bertha Clark Pope + +Release Date: May 25, 2011 [EBook #36218] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LETTERS OF AMBROSE BIERCE *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, Melissa McDaniel and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + The two introductory sections, "The Introduction," and + "A Memoir of Ambrose Bierce," were originally printed + in italics with non-italicized text used for emphasis. + This convention has been reversed for ease of reading the + e-text. + + Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. + Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the original + document have been preserved. + + + + + The Letters of Ambrose Bierce + + [Illustration] + + + The + Letters of Ambrose Bierce + + EDITED BY + BERTHA CLARK POPE + + WITH A MEMOIR BY + GEORGE STERLING + + [Illustration] + + SAN FRANCISCO + THE BOOK CLUB OF CALIFORNIA + 1922 + + +In reproducing these letters we have followed as nearly as possible +the original manuscripts. This inevitably has caused a certain lack of +uniformity throughout the volume, as in the case of the names of +magazines and newspapers, which are sometimes italicized and sometimes +in quotation marks.--THE EDITOR. + + COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY THE CALIFORNIA BOOK CLUB + + + + + The Introduction + + by BERTHA CLARK POPE + + +"The question that starts to the lips of ninety-nine readers out of a +hundred," says Arnold Bennett, in a review in the London _NEW AGE_ in +1909, "even the best informed, will assuredly be: 'Who is Ambrose +Bierce?' I scarcely know, but I will say that among what I may term +'underground reputations' that of Ambrose Bierce is perhaps the most +striking example. You may wander for years through literary circles +and never meet anybody who has heard of Ambrose Bierce, and then you +may hear some erudite student whisper in an awed voice: 'Ambrose +Bierce is the greatest living prose writer.' I have heard such an +opinion expressed." + +Bierce himself shows his recognition of the "underground" quality of +his reputation in a letter to George Sterling: "How many times, and +during a period of how many years must one's unexplainable obscurity +be pointed out to constitute fame? Not knowing, I am almost disposed +to consider myself the most famous of authors. I have pretty nearly +ceased to be 'discovered,' but my notoriety as an obscurian may be +said to be worldwide and everlasting." + +Anything which would throw light on such a figure, at once obscure +and famous, is valuable. These letters of Ambrose Bierce, here printed +for the first time, are therefore of unusual interest. They are the +informal literary work--the term is used advisedly--of a man esteemed +great by a small but acutely critical group, read enthusiastically by +a somewhat larger number to whom critical examination of what they +read seldom occurs, and ignored by the vast majority of readers; a man +at once more hated and more adored than any on the Pacific Coast; a +man not ten years off the scene yet already become a tradition and a +legend; whose life, no less than his death, held elements of mystery, +baffling contradictions, problems for puzzled conjecture, motives and +meanings not vouchsafed to outsiders. + +Were Ambrose Bierce as well known as he deserves to be, the +introduction to these letters could be slight; we should not have to +stop to inquire who he was and what he did. As it is, we must. + +Ambrose Bierce, the son of Marcus Aurelius and Laura (Sherwood) +Bierce, born in Meiggs County, Ohio, June 24, 1842, was at the +outbreak of the Civil War a youth without formal education, but with a +mind already trained. "My father was a poor farmer," he once said to a +friend, "and could give me no general education, but he had a good +library, and to his books I owe all that I have." He promptly +volunteered in 1861 and served throughout the war. Twice, at the risk +of his life, he rescued wounded companions from the battlefield, and +at Kenesaw Mountain was himself severely wounded in the head. He was +brevetted Major for distinguished services; but in after life never +permitted the title to be used in addressing him. There is a story +that when the war was over he tossed up a coin to determine what +should be his career. Whatever the determining auguries, he came at +once to San Francisco to join his favorite brother Albert--there were +ten brothers and sisters to choose from--and for a short time worked +with him in the Mint; he soon began writing paragraphs for the +weeklies, particularly the _ARGONAUT_ and the _NEWS LETTER_. + +"I was a slovenly writer in those days," he observes in a letter forty +years later, "though enough better than my neighbors to have attracted +my own attention. My knowledge of English was imperfect 'a whole lot.' +Indeed, my intellectual status (whatever it may be, and God knows it's +enough to make me blush) was of slow growth--as was my moral. I mean, +I had not literary sincerity." Apparently, attention other than his +own was attracted, for he was presently editing the _NEWS LETTER_. + +In 1872 he went to London and for four years was on the staff of +_FUN_. In London Bierce found congenial and stimulating associates. +The great man of his circle was George Augustus Sala, "one of the most +skilful, finished journalists ever known," a keen satiric wit, and the +author of a ballad of which it is said that Swift might have been +proud. Another notable figure was Tom Hood the younger, mordantly +humorous. The satiric style in journalism was popular then; and +"personal" journals were so personal that one "Jimmy" Davis, editor of +the _CUCKOO_ and the _BAT_ successively, found it healthful to remain +some years in exile in France. Bierce contributed to several of these +and to _FIGARO_, the editor of which was James Mortimer. To this +gentleman Bierce owed what he designated as the distinction of being +"probably the only American journalist who was ever employed by an +Empress in so congenial a pursuit as the pursuit of another +journalist." This other journalist was M. Henri Rochefort, communard, +formerly editor of _LA LANTERNE_ in Paris, in which he had made +incessant war upon the Empire and all its personnel, particularly the +Empress. When, an exile, Rochefort announced his intention of renewing +_LA LANTERNE_ in London, the exiled Empress circumvented him by +secretly copyrighting the title, _THE LANTERN_, and proceeding to +publish a periodical under that name with the purpose of undermining +his influence. Two numbers were enough; M. Rochefort fled to Belgium. +Bierce said that in "the field of chromatic journalism" it was the +finest thing that ever came from a press, but of the literary +excellence of the twelve pages he felt less qualified for judgment as +he had written every line. + +This was in 1874. Two years earlier, under his journalistic pseudonym +of "Dod Grile," he had published his first books--two small volumes, +largely made up of his articles in the San Francisco _NEWS LETTER_, +called _The Fiend's Delight_, and _Nuggets And Dust Panned Out In +California_. Now, he used the same pseudonym on the title-page of a +third volume, _Cobwebs from an Empty Skull_. The _Cobwebs_ were +selections from his work in _FUN_--satirical tales and fables, often +inspired by weird old woodcuts given him by the editors with the +request that he write something to fit. His journalistic associates +praised these volumes liberally, and a more distinguished admirer was +Gladstone, who, discovering the _Cobwebs_ in a second-hand bookshop, +voiced his delight in their cleverness, and by his praise gave a +certain currency to Bierce's name among the London elect. But despite +so distinguished a sponsor, the books remained generally unknown. + +Congenial tasks and association with the brilliant journalists of the +day did not prevent Bierce from being undeniably hard up at times. In +1876 he returned to San Francisco, where he remained for twenty-one +years, save for a brief but eventful career as general manager of a +mining company near Deadwood, South Dakota. All this time he got his +living by writing special articles--for the _WASP_, a weekly whose +general temper may be accurately surmised from its name, and, +beginning in 1886, for the _EXAMINER_, in which he conducted every +Sunday on the editorial page a department to which he gave the title +he had used for a similar column in _THE LANTERN_--_Prattle_. A partial +explanation of a mode of feeling and a choice of themes which Bierce +developed more and more, ultimately to the practical exclusion of all +others, is to be found in the particular phase through which +California journalism was just then passing. + +In the evolution of the comic spirit the lowest stage, that of delight +in inflicting pain on others, is clearly manifest in savages, small +boys, and early American journalism. It was exhibited in all parts of +America--Mark Twain gives a vivid example in his _Journalistic Wild +Oats_ of what it was in Tennessee--but with particular intensity in +San Francisco. As a community, San Francisco exalted personal courage, +directness of encounter, straight and effective shooting. The social +group was so small and so homogeneous that any news of importance +would be well known before it could be reported, set up in type, +printed, and circulated. It was isolated by so great distances from +the rest of the world that for years no pretense was made of +furnishing adequate news from the outside. So the newspapers came to +rely on other sorts of interest. They were pamphlets for the +dissemination of the opinions of the groups controlling them, and +weapons for doing battle, if need be, for those opinions. And there +was abundant occasion: municipal affairs were corrupt, courts weak or +venal, or both. Editors and readers enjoyed a good fight; they also +wanted humorous entertainment; they happily combined the two. In the +creative dawn of 1847 when the foundations of the journalistic earth +were laid and those two morning stars, the _CALIFORNIAN_ of Monterey +and the _CALIFORNIA STAR_ of San Francisco, sang together, we find the +editors attacking the community generally, and each other +particularly, with the utmost ferocity, laying about them right and +left with verbal broad-axes, crow-bars, and such other weapons as +might be immediately at hand. The _CALIFORNIA STAR'S_ introduction to +the public of what would, in our less direct day, be known as its +"esteemed contemporary" is typical: + + "We have received two late numbers of the _CALIFORNIAN_, a dim, + dirty little paper printed in Monterey on the worn-out materials + of one of the old California _WAR PRESSES_. It is published and + edited by Walter Colton and Robert Semple, the one a _WHINING + SYCOPHANT_, and the other an _OVER-GROWN LICK-SPITTLE_. At the + top of one of the papers we find the words 'please exchange.' + This would be considered in almost any other country a bare-faced + attempt to swindle us. We should consider it so now were it not + for the peculiar situation of our country which induces us to do + a great deal for others in order for them to do us a little + good.... We have concluded to give our paper to them this year, + so as to afford them some insight into the manner in which a + Republican newspaper should be conducted. They appear now to be + awfully verdant." + +Down through the seventies and eighties the tradition persisted, +newspapers being bought and read, as a historian of journalism +asserts, not so much for news as to see who was getting "lambasted" +that day. It is not strange, then, that journals of redoubtable +pugnacity were popular, or that editors favored writers who were +likely to excel in the gladiatorial style. It is significant that +public praise first came to Bierce through his articles in the caustic +_NEWS LETTER_, widely read on the Pacific Coast during the seventies. +Once launched in this line, he became locally famous for his fierce +and witty articles in the _ARGONAUNT_ and the _WASP_, and for many +years his column _Prattle_ in the _EXAMINER_ was, in the words of Mr. +Bailey Millard, "the most wickedly clever, the most audaciously +personal, and the most eagerly devoured column of _causerie_ that ever +was printed in this country." + +In 1896 Bierce was sent to Washington to fight, through the Hearst +newspapers, the "refunding bill" which Collis P. Huntington was trying +to get passed, releasing his Central Pacific Railroad from its +obligations to the government. A year later he went again to +Washington, where he remained during the rest of his journalistic +career, as correspondent for the New York _AMERICAN_, conducting also +for some years a department in the _COSMOPOLITAN_. + +Much of Bierce's best work was done in those years in San Francisco. +Through the columns of the _WASP_ and the _EXAMINER_ his wit played +free; he wielded an extraordinary influence; his trenchant criticism +made and unmade reputations--literary and otherwise. But this to +Bierce was mostly "journalism, a thing so low that it cannot be +mentioned in the same breath with literature." His real interest lay +elsewhere. Throughout the early eighties he devoted himself to writing +stories; all were rejected by the magazine editors to whom he offered +them. When finally in 1890 he gathered these stories together into +book form and offered them to the leading publishers of the country, +they too, would have none of them. "These men," writes Mr. Bailey +Millard, "admitted the purity of his diction and the magic of his +haunting power, but the stories were regarded as revolting." + +At last, in 1891, his first book of stories, _Tales of Soldiers and +Civilians_, saw the reluctant light of day. It had this for foreword: + + "Denied existence by the chief publishing houses of the country, + this book owes itself to Mr. E. L. G. Steele, merchant, of this + city, [San Francisco]. In attesting Mr. Steele's faith in his + judgment and his friend, it will serve its author's main and best + ambition." + +There is Biercean pugnacity in these words; the author flings down the +gauntlet with a confident gesture. But it cannot be said that anything +much happened to discomfit the publishing houses of little faith. +Apparently, Bierce had thought to appeal past the dull and unjust +verdict of such lower courts to the higher tribunal of the critics and +possibly an elect group of general readers who might be expected to +recognize and welcome something rare. But judgment was scarcely +reversed. Only a few critics were discerning, and the book had no +vogue. When _The Monk and the Hangman's Daughter_ was published by F. +J. Schulte and Company, Chicago, the next year, and _Can Such Things +Be_ by The Cassell Publishing Company, the year following, a few +enthusiastic critics could find no words strong enough to describe +Bierce's vivid imagination, his uncanny divination of atavistic +terrors in man's consciousness, his chiseled perfection of style; but +the critics who disapproved had even more trouble in finding words +strong enough for their purposes and, as before, there was no general +appreciation. + +For the next twenty years Ambrose Bierce was a prolific writer but, +whatever the reason, no further volumes of stories from his pen were +presented to the world. _Black Beetles in Amber_, a collection of +satiric verse, had appeared the same year as _The Monk and the +Hangman's Daughter_; then for seven years, with the exception of a +republication by G. P. Putnam's Sons of _Tales of Soldiers and +Civilians_ under the title, _In the Midst of Life_, no books by +Bierce. In 1899 appeared _Fantastic Fables_; in 1903 _Shapes of Clay_, +more satiric verse; in 1906 _The Cynic's Word Book_, a dictionary of +wicked epigrams; in 1909 _Write it Right_, a blacklist of literary +faults, and _The Shadow on the Dial_, a collection of essays covering, +to quote from the preface of S. O. Howes, "a wide range of subjects, +embracing among other things, government, dreams, writers of dialect +and dogs"--Mr. Howes might have heightened his crescendo by adding +"emancipated woman"; and finally--1909 to 1912--_The Collected Works +of Ambrose Bierce_, containing all his work previously published in +book form, save the two last mentioned, and much more besides, all +collected and edited by Bierce himself. + +On October 2, 1913, Ambrose Bierce, having settled his business +affairs, left Washington for a trip through the southern states, +declaring in letters his purpose of going into Mexico and later on to +South America. The fullest account of his trip and his plans is +afforded by a newspaper clipping he sent his niece in a letter dated +November 6, 1913; through the commonplaceness of the reportorial +vocabulary shines out the vivid personality that was making its final +exit: + + "Traveling over the same ground that he had covered with General + Hazen's brigade during the Civil War, Ambrose Bierce, famed + writer and noted critic, has arrived in New Orleans. Not that + this city was one of the places figuring in his campaigns, for he + was here after and not during the war. He has come to New Orleans + in a haphazard, fancy-free way, making a trip toward Mexico. The + places that he has visited on the way down have become famous in + song and story--places where the greatest battles were fought, + where the moon shone at night on the burial corps, and where in + day the sun shone bright on polished bayonets and the smoke + drifted upward from the cannon mouths. + + "For Mr. Bierce was at Chickamauga; he was at Shiloh; at + Murfreesboro; Kenesaw Mountain, Franklin and Nashville. And then + when wounded during the Atlanta campaign he was invalided home. + He 'has never amounted to much since then,' he said Saturday. But + his stories of the great struggle, living as deathless + characterizations of the bloody episodes, stand for what he 'has + amounted to since then.' + + "Perhaps it was in mourning for the dead over whose battlefields + he has been wending his way toward New Orleans that Mr. Bierce + was dressed in black. From head to foot he was attired in this + color, except where the white cuffs and collar and shirt front + showed through. He even carried a walking cane, black as ebony + and unrelieved by gold or silver. But his eyes, blue and piercing + as when they strove to see through the smoke at Chickamauga, + retained all the fire of the indomitable fighter. + + "'I'm on my way to Mexico, because I like the game,' he said, 'I + like the fighting; I want to see it. And then I don't think + Americans are as oppressed there as they say they are, and I want + to get at the true facts of the case. Of course, I'm not going + into the country if I find it unsafe for Americans to be there, + but I want to take a trip diagonally across from northeast to + southwest by horseback, and then take ship for South America, go + over the Andes and across that continent, if possible, and come + back to America again. + + "'There is no family that I have to take care of; I've retired + from writing and I'm going to take a rest. No, my trip isn't for + local color. I've retired just the same as a merchant or business + man retires. I'm leaving the field for the younger authors.' + + "An inquisitive question was interjected as to whether Mr. Bierce + had acquired a competency only from his writings, but he did not + take offense. + + "'My wants are few, and modest,' he said, 'and my royalties give + me quite enough to live on. There isn't much that I need, and I + spend my time in quiet travel. For the last five years I haven't + done any writing. Don't you think that after a man has worked as + long as I have that he deserves a rest? But perhaps after I have + rested I might work some more--I can't tell, there are so many + things--' and the straightforward blue eyes took on a faraway + look, 'there are so many things that might happen between now and + when I come back. My trip might take several years, and I'm an + old man now.' + + "Except for the thick, snow-white hair no one would think him + old. His hands are steady, and he stands up straight and + tall--perhaps six feet." + +In December of that same year the last letter he is known to have +written was received by his daughter. It is dated from Chihuahua, and +mentions casually that he has attached himself unofficially to a +division of Villa's army, and speaks of a prospective advance on +Ojinaga. No further word has ever come from or of Ambrose Bierce. +Whether illness overtook him, then an old man of seventy-one, and +death suddenly, or whether, preferring to go foaming over a precipice +rather than to straggle out in sandy deltas, he deliberately went +where he knew death was, no one can say. His last letters, dauntless, +grave, tender, do not say, though they suggest much. "You must try to +forgive my obstinacy in not 'perishing' where I am," he wrote as he +left Washington. "I want to be where something worth while is going +on, or where nothing whatever is going on." "Good-bye--if you hear of +my being stood up against a Mexican stone wall and shot to rags please +know that I think that a pretty good way to depart this life. It beats +old age, disease, or falling down the cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in +Mexico--ah, that is euthanasia!" Whatever end Ambrose Bierce found in +Mexico, the lines of George Sterling well express what must have been +his attitude in meeting it: + + "Dream you he was afraid to live? + Dream you he was afraid to die? + Or that, a suppliant of the sky, + He begged the gods to keep or give? + Not thus the shadow-maker stood, + Whose scrutiny dissolved so well + Our thin mirage of Heaven or Hell-- + The doubtful evil, dubious good.... + + "If now his name be with the dead, + And where the gaunt agaves flow'r, + The vulture and the wolf devour + The lion-heart, the lion-head, + Be sure that heart and head were laid + In wisdom down, content to die; + Be sure he faced the Starless Sky + Unduped, unmurmuring, unafraid." + +In any consideration of the work of Ambrose Bierce, a central question +must be why it contains so much that is trivial or ephemeral. Another +question facing every critic of Bierce, is why the fundamentally +original point of view, the clarity of workmanship of his best +things--mainly stories--did not win him immediate and general +recognition. + +A partial answer to both questions is to be found in a certain discord +between Bierce and his setting. Bierce, paradoxically, combined the +bizarre in substance, the severely restrained and compressed in form. +An ironic mask covered a deep-seated sensibility; but sensibility and +irony were alike subject to an uncompromising truthfulness; he would +have given deep-throated acclaim to Clough's + + "But play no tricks upon thy soul, O man, + Let truth be truth, and life the thing it can." + +He had the aristocrat's contempt for mass feeling, a selectiveness +carried so far that he instinctively chose for themes the picked +person and experience, the one decisive moment of crisis. He viewed +his characters not in relation to other men and in normal activities; +he isolated them--often amid abnormalities. + +All this was in sharp contrast to the literary fashion obtaining when +he dipped his pen to try his luck as a creative artist. The most +popular novelist of the day was Dickens; the most popular poet, +Tennyson. Neither looked straight at life; both veiled it: one in +benevolence, the other in beauty. Direct and painful verities were +best tolerated by the reading public when exhibited as instances of +the workings of natural law. The spectator of the macrocosm in action +could stomach the wanton destruction of a given human atom; one so +privileged could and did excuse the Creator for small mistakes like +harrying Hetty Sorrell to the gallow's foot, because of the conviction +that, taking the Universe by and large, "He was a good fellow, and +'twould all be well." This benevolent optimism was the offspring of a +strange pair, evangelicism and evolution; and in the minds of the +great public whom Bierce, under other circumstances and with a +slightly different mixture of qualities in himself, might have +conquered, it became a large, soft insincerity that demanded "happy +endings," a profuse broadness of treatment prohibitive of harsh +simplicity, a swathing of elemental emotion in gentility or moral +edification. + +But to Bierce's mind, "noble and nude and antique," this mid-Victorian +draping and bedecking of "unpleasant truths" was abhorrent. Absolutely +direct and unafraid--not only in his personal relations but, what is +more rare, in his thinking--he regarded easy optimism, sure that God +is in his heaven with consequently good effects upon the world, as +blindness, and the hopefulness that demanded always the "happy +ending," as silly. In many significant passages Bierce's attitude is +the ironic one of Voltaire: "'Had not Pangloss got himself hanged,' +replied Candide, 'he would have given us most excellent advice in this +emergency; for he was a profound philosopher.'" Bierce did not fear to +bring in disconcerting evidence that _a priori_ reasoning may prove a +not infallible guide, that causes do not always produce the effects +complacently pre-argued, and that the notion of this as the best of +all possible worlds is sometimes beside the point. + +The themes permitted by such an attitude were certain to displease +the readers of that period. In _Tales of Soldiers and Civilians_, his +first book of stories, he looks squarely and grimly at one much +bedecked subject of the time--war; not the fine gay gallantry of war, +the music and the marching and the romantic episodes; but the ghastly +horror of it; through his vivid, dramatic passages beats a hatred of +war, not merely "unrighteous" war, but all war, the more disquieting +because never allowed to become articulate. With bitter but beautiful +truth he brings each tale to its tragic close, always with one last +turn of the screw, one unexpected horror more. And in this book--note +the solemn implication of the title he later gave it, _In the Midst of +Life_--as well as in the next, _Can Such Things Be_, is still another +subject which Bierce alone in his generation seemed unafraid to +consider curiously: "Death, in warfare and in the horrid guise of the +supernatural, was painted over and over. Man's terror in the face of +death gave the artist his cue for his wonderful physical and +psychologic microscopics. You could not pin this work down as realism, +or as romance; it was the greatest human drama--the conflict between +life and death--fused through genius. Not Zola, in the endless pages +of his _Debacle_, not the great Tolstoi in his great _War and Peace_ +had ever painted war, horrid war, more faithfully than any of the +stories of this book; not Maupassant had invented out of war's +terrible truths more dramatically imagined plots.... There painted an +artist who had seen the thing itself, and being a genius, had made it +an art still greater. + +Death of the young, the beautiful, the brave, was the closing note of +every line of the ten stories of war in this book. The brilliant, +spectacular death that came to such senseless bravery as Tennyson +hymned for the music-hall intelligence in his _Charge of the Light +Brigade_; the vision-starting, slow, soul-drugging death by hanging; +the multiplied, comprehensible death that makes rivers near +battlefields run red; the death that comes by sheer terror; death +actual and imagined--every sort of death was on these pages, so +painted as to make Pierre Loti's _Book of Pity and Death_ seem but +feeble fumbling." + +Now death by the mid-Victorian was considered almost as undesirable an +element in society as sex itself. Both must be passed over in silence +or presented decently draped. In the eighties any writer who dealt +unabashed with death was regarded as an unpleasant person. +"Revolting!" cried the critics when they read Bierce's _Chickamauga_ +and _The Affair at Coulter's Notch_. + +Bierce's style, too, by its very fineness, alienated his public. +Superior, keen, perfect in detail, finite, compressed--such was his +manner in the free and easy, prolix, rambling, multitudinous +nineteenth century. + +Bierce himself knew that although it is always the fashion to jeer at +fashion, its rule is absolute for all that, whether it be fashion in +boots or books. + +"A correspondent of mine," he wrote in 1887 in his _EXAMINER_ column, +"a well-known and clever writer, appears surprised because I do not +like the work of Robert Louis Stevenson. I am equally hurt to know +that he does. If he was ever a boy he knows that the year is +divided, not into seasons and months, as is vulgarly supposed, but +into 'top time,' 'marble time,' 'kite time,' et cetera, and woe to the +boy who ignores the unwritten calendar, amusing himself according to +the dictates of an irresponsible conscience. I venture to remind my +correspondent that a somewhat similar system obtains in matters of +literature--a word which I beg him to observe means fiction. There +are, for illustration--or rather, there were--James time, Howells +time, Crawford time, Russell time and Conway time, each epoch--named +for the immortal novelist of the time being--lasting, generally +speaking, as much as a year.... All the more rigorous is the law of +observance. It is not permitted to admire Jones in Smith time. I must +point out to my heedless correspondent that this is not Stevenson +time--that was last year." It was decidedly not Bierce time when +Bierce's stories appeared. + +And there was in him no compromise--or so he thought. "A great +artist," he wrote to George Sterling, "is superior to his world and +his time, or at least to his parish and his day." His practical +application of that belief is shown in a letter to a magazine editor +who had just rejected a satire he had submitted: + +"Even _you_ ask for literature--if my stories are literature, as you +are good enough to imply. (By the way, all the leading publishers of +the country turned down that book until they saw it published without +them by a merchant in San Francisco and another sort of publishers in +London, Leipsig and Paris.) Well, you wouldn't do a thing to one of my +stories! + +"No, thank you; if I have to write rot, I prefer to do it for the +newspapers, which make no false pretenses and are frankly rotten, and +in which the badness of a bad thing escapes detection or is forgotten +as soon as it is cold. + +"I know how to write a story (of 'happy ending' sort) for magazine +readers for whom literature is too good, but I will not do so, so long +as stealing is more honorable and interesting. I have offered you ... +the best that I am able to make; and now you must excuse me." In these +two utterances we have some clue to the secret of his having ceased, +in 1893, to publish stories. Vigorously refusing to yield in the +slightest degree to the public so far as his stories were concerned, +he abandoned his best field of creative effort and became almost +exclusively a "columnist" and a satirist; he put his world to rout, +and left his "parish and his day" resplendently the victors. + +All this must not be taken to mean that the "form and pressure of the +time" put into Bierce what was not there. Even in his creative work he +had a satiric bent; his early training and associations, too, had been +in journalistic satire. Under any circumstances he undoubtedly would +have written satire--columns of it for his daily bread, books of it +for self-expression; but under more favorable circumstances he would +have kept on writing other sort of books as well. Lovers of literature +may well lament that Bierce's insistence on going his way and the +demands of his "parish" forced him to overdevelop one power to the +almost complete paralysis of another and a perhaps finer. + +As a satirist Bierce was the best America has produced, perhaps the +best since Voltaire. But when he confined himself to "exploring the +ways of hate as a form of creative energy," it was with a hurt in his +soul, and with some intellectual and spiritual confusion. There +resulted a kink in his nature, a contradiction that appears +repeatedly, not only in his life, but in his writings. A striking +instance is found in his article _To Train a Writer_: + + "He should, for example, forget that he is an American and + remember that he is a man. He should be neither Christian nor + Jew, nor Buddhist, nor Mahometan, nor Snake Worshiper. To local + standards of right and wrong he should be civilly indifferent. In + the virtues, so-called, he should discern only the rough notes of + a general expediency; in fixed moral principles only time-saving + predecisions of cases not yet before the court of conscience. + Happiness should disclose itself to his enlarging intelligence as + the end and purpose of life; art and love as the only means to + happiness. He should free himself of all doctrines, theories, + etiquettes, politics, simplifying his life and mind, attaining + clarity with breadth and unity with height. To him a continent + should not seem wide nor a century long. And it would be needful + that he know and have an ever-present consciousness that this is + a world of fools and rogues, blind with superstition, tormented + with envy, consumed with vanity, selfish, false, cruel, cursed + with illusions--frothing mad!" + +Up to that last sentence Ambrose Bierce beholds this world as one +where tolerance, breadth of view, simplicity of life and mind, clear +thinking, are at most attainable, at least worthy of the effort to +attain; he regards life as purposive, as having happiness for its end, +and art and love as the means to that good end. But suddenly the +string from which he has been evoking these broad harmonies snaps with +a snarl. All is evil and hopeless--"frothing mad." Both views cannot +be held simultaneously by the same mind. Which was the real belief of +Ambrose Bierce? The former, it seems clear. But he has been hired to +be a satirist. + +On the original fabric of Bierce's mind the satiric strand has +encroached more than the design allows. There results not only +considerable obliteration of the main design, but confusion in the +substituted one. For it is significant that much of the work of Bierce +seems to be that of what he would have called a futilitarian, that he +seldom seems able to find a suitable field for his satire, a foeman +worthy of such perfect steel as he brings to the encounter; he fights +on all fields, on both sides, against all comers; ubiquitous, +indiscriminate, he is as one who screams in pain at his own futility, +one who "might be heard," as he says of our civilization, "from afar +in space as a scolding and a riot." That Bierce would have spent so +much of his superb power on the trivial and the ephemeral, breaking +magnificent vials of wrath on Oakland nobodies, preserving +insignificant black beetles in the amber of his art, is not merely, as +it has long been, cause of amazement to the critics; it is cause of +laughter to the gods, and of weeping among Bierce's true admirers. + +Some may argue that Bierce's failure to attain international or even +national fame cannot be ascribed solely to a lack of concord between +the man and his time and to the consequent reaction in him. It is true +that in Bierce's work is a sort of paucity--not a mere lack of +printed pages, but of the fulness of creative activity that makes +Byron, for example, though vulgar and casual, a literary mountain +peak. Bierce has but few themes, few moods; his literary river runs +clear and sparkling, but confined--a narrow current, not the opulent +stream that waters wide plains of thought and feeling. Nor has Bierce +the power to weave individual entities and situations into a broad +pattern of existence, which is the distinguishing mark of such writers +as Thackeray, Balzac, and Tolstoi among the great dead, and Bennett +and Wells among the lesser living. Bierce's interest does not lie in +the group experience nor even in the experience of the individual +through a long period. His unit of time is the minute, not the month. +It is significant that he never wrote a novel--unless _The Monk and +the Hangman's Daughter_ be reckoned one--and that he held remarkable +views of the novel as a literary form, witness this passage from +_Prattle_, written in 1887: + + "English novelists are not great because the English novel is + dead--deader than Queen Anne at her deadest. The vein is worked + out. It was a thin one and did not 'go down.' A single century + from the time when Richardson sank the discovery shaft it had + already begun to 'pinch out.' The miners of today have abandoned + it altogether to search for 'pockets,' and some of the best of + them are merely 'chloriding the dumps.' To expect another good + novel in English is to expect the gold to 'grow' again." + +It may well be that at the bottom of this sweeping condemnation was an +instinctive recognition of his own lack of constructive power on a +large scale. + +But an artist, like a nation, should be judged not by what he cannot +do, but by what he can. That Bierce could not paint the large canvas +does not make him negligible or even inconsiderable. He is by no means +a second-rate writer; he is a first-rate writer who could not +consistently show his first-rateness. + +When he did show his first-rateness, what is it? In all his best work +there is originality, a rare and precious idiosyncracy; his point of +view, his themes are rich with it. Above all writers Bierce can +present--brilliantly present--startling fragments of life, carved out +from attendant circumstance; isolated problems of character and +action; sharply bitten etchings of individual men under momentary +stresses and in bizarre situations. Through his prodigious emotional +perceptivity he has the power of feeling and making us feel some +strange, perverse accident of fate, destructive of the individual--of +making us feel it to be real and terrible. This is not an easy thing +to do. De Maupassant said that men were killed every year in Paris by +the falling of tiles from the roof, but if he got rid of a principal +character in that way, he should be hooted at. Bierce can make us +accept as valid and tragic events more odd than the one de Maupassant +had to reject. "In the line of the startling,--half Poe, half +Merimee--he cannot have many superiors," says Arnold Bennett.... "A +story like _An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge_--well, Edgar Allan Poe +might have deigned to sign it. And that is something. + +"He possesses a remarkable style--what Kipling's would have been had +Kipling been born with any significance of the word 'art'--and a quite +strangely remarkable perception of beauty. There is a feeling for +landscape in _A Horseman in the Sky_ which recalls the exquisite +opening of that indifferent novel, _Les Freres Zemganno_ by Edmond de +Goncourt, and which no English novelist except Thomas Hardy, and +possibly Charles Marriott, could match." The feeling for landscape +which Bennett notes is but one part of a greater power--the power to +make concrete and visible, action, person, place. Bierce's +descriptions of Civil War battles in his _Bits of Autobiography_ are +the best descriptions of battle ever written. He lays out the field +with map-like clearness, marshals men and events with precision and +economy, but his account never becomes exposition--it is drama. Real +battles move swiftly; accounts make them seem labored and slow. What +narrator save Bierce can convey the sense of their being lightly +swift, and, again and again the shock of surprise the event itself +must have given? + +This could not be were it not for his verbal restraint. In his +descriptions is no welter of adjectives and adverbs; strong exact +nouns and verbs do the work, and this means that the veritable object +and action are brought forward, not qualifying talk around and about +them. And this, again, could not be were it not for what is, beyond +all others, his greatest quality--absolute precision. "I sometimes +think," he once wrote playfully about letters of his having been +misunderstood, "I sometimes think that I am the only man in the world +who understands the meaning of the written word. Or the only one who +does not." A reader of Ambrose Bierce comes almost to believe that not +till now has he found a writer who understands--completely--the +meaning of the written word. He has the power to bring out new +meanings in well-worn words, so setting them as to evoke brilliant +significances never before revealed. He gives to one phrase the +beauty, the compressed suggestion of a poem; his titles--_Black +Beetles in Amber_, _Ashes of the Beacon_, _Cobwebs from an Empty +Skull_ are masterpieces in miniature. That he should have a gift of +coining striking words naturally follows: in his later years he has +fallen into his "anecdotage," a certain Socialist is the greatest +"futilitarian" of them all, "femininies"--and so on infinitely. Often +the smaller the Biercean gem, the more exquisite the workmanship. One +word has all the sparkle of an epigram. + +In such skill Ambrose Bierce is not surpassed by any writer, ancient +or modern; it gives him rank among the few masters who afford that +highest form of intellectual delight, the immediate recognition of a +clear idea perfectly set forth in fitting words--wit's twin brother, +evoking that rare joy, the sudden, secret laughter of the mind. So +much for Bierce the artist; the man is found in these letters. If +further clue to the real nature of Ambrose Bierce were needed it is to +be found in a conversation he had in his later years with a young +girl: "You must be very proud, Mr. Bierce, of all your books and your +fame?" "No," he answered rather sadly, "you will come to know that all +that is worth while in life is the love you have had for a few people +near to you." + + + + + A Memoir of Ambrose Bierce + + by GEORGE STERLING + + +Though from boyhood a lover of tales of the terrible, it was not until +my twenty-second year that I heard of Ambrose Bierce, I having then +been for ten months a resident of Oakland, California. But in the fall +of the year 1891 my friend Roosevelt Johnson, newly arrived from our +town of birth, Sag Harbor, New York, asked me if I were acquainted +with his work, adding that he had been told that Bierce was the author +of stories not inferior in awesomeness to the most terrible of Poe's. + +We made inquiry and found that Bierce had for several years been +writing columns of critical comment, satirically named _Prattle_, for +the editorial page of the Sunday _EXAMINER_, of San Francisco. As my +uncle, of whose household I had been for nearly a year a member, did +not subscribe to that journal, I had unfortunately overlooked these +weekly contributions to the wit and sanity of our western +literature--an omission for which we partially consoled ourselves by +subsequently reading with great eagerness each installment of +_Prattle_ as it appeared. But, so far as his short stories were +concerned, we had to content ourselves with the assurance of a +neighbor that "they'd scare an owl off a tombstone." + +However, later in the autumn, while making a pilgrimage to the home of +our greatly worshipped Joaquin Miller, we became acquainted with +Albert, an elder brother of Bierce's, a man who was to be one of my +dearest of friends to the day of his death, in March, 1914. From him +we obtained much to gratify our not unnatural curiosity as to this +mysterious being, who, from his isolation on a lonely mountain above +the Napa Valley, scattered weekly thunderbolts on the fool, the +pretender, and the knave, and cast ridicule or censure on many that +sat in the seats of the mighty. For none, however socially or +financially powerful, was safe from the stab of that aculeate pen, the +venom of whose ink is to gleam vividly from the pages of literature +for centuries yet to come. + +For Bierce is of the immortals. That fact, known, I think, to him, and +seeming then more and more evident to some of his admirers, has become +plainly apparent to anyone who can appraise the matter with eyes that +see beyond the flimsy artifices that bulk so large and so briefly in +the literary arena. Bierce was a sculptor who wrought in hardest +crystal. + +I was not to be so fortunate as to become acquainted with him until +after the publication of his first volume of short stories, entitled +_Tales of Soldiers and Civilians_. That mild title gives scant +indication of the terrors that await the unwarned reader. I recall +that I hung fascinated over the book, unable to lay it down until the +last of its printed dooms had become an imperishable portion of the +memory. The tales are told with a calmness and reserve that make most +of Poe's seem somewhat boyish and melodramatic by comparison. The +greatest of them seems to me to be _An Occurrence at Owl Creek +Bridge_, though I am perennially charmed by the weird beauty of _An +Inhabitant of Carcosa_, a tale of unique and unforgettable quality. + +Bierce, born in Ohio in 1842, came to San Francisco soon after the +close of the Civil War. It is amusing to learn that he was one of a +family of eleven children, male and female, the Christian name of each +of whom began with the letter "A!" Obtaining employment at first in +the United States Mint, whither Albert, always his favorite brother, +had preceded him, he soon gravitated to journalism, doing his first +work on the San Francisco _NEWS LETTER_. His brother once told me that +he (Ambrose) had from boyhood been eager to become a writer and was +expectant of success at that pursuit. + +Isolated from most men by the exalted and austere habit of his +thought, Bierce finally suffered a corresponding exile of the body, +and was forced to live in high altitudes, which of necessity are +lonely. This latter banishment was on account of chronic and utterly +incurable asthma, an ailment contracted in what might almost be termed +a characteristic manner. Bierce had no fear of the dead folk and their +marble city. From occasional strollings by night in Laurel Hill +Cemetery, in San Francisco, his spirit "drank repose," and was able to +attain a serenity in which the cares of daytime existence faded to +nothingness. It was on one of those strolls that he elected to lie for +awhile in the moonlight on a flat tombstone, and awakening late in the +night, found himself thoroughly chilled, and a subsequent victim of +the disease that was to cast so dark a shadow over his following +years. For his sufferings from asthma were terrible, arising often to +a height that required that he be put under the influence of +chloroform. + +So afflicted, he found visits to the lowlands a thing not to be +indulged in with impunity. For many years such trips terminated +invariably in a severe attack of his ailment, and he was driven back +to his heights shaken and harassed. But he found such visits both +necessary and pleasant on occasion, and it was during one that he made +in the summer of 1892 that I first made his acquaintance, while he was +temporarily a guest at his brother Albert's camp on a rocky, +laurel-covered knoll on the eastern shore of Lake Temescal, a spot now +crossed by the tracks of the Oakland, Antioch and Eastern Railway. + +I am not likely to forget his first night among us. A tent being, for +his ailment, insufficiently ventilated, he decided to sleep by the +campfire, and I, carried away by my youthful hero-worship, must +partially gratify it by occupying the side of the fire opposite to +him. I had a comfortable cot in my tent, and was unaccustomed at the +time to sleeping on the ground, the consequence being that I awoke at +least every half-hour. But awake as often as I might, always I found +Bierce lying on his back in the dim light of the embers, his gaze +fixed on the stars of the zenith. I shall not forget the gaze of those +eyes, the most piercingly blue, under yellow shaggy brows, that I have +ever seen. + +After that, I saw him at his brother's home in Berkeley, at irregular +intervals, and once paid him a visit at his own temporary home at +Skylands, above Wrights, in Santa Clara County, whither he had moved +from Howell Mountain, in Napa County. It was on this visit that I was +emboldened to ask his opinion on certain verses of mine, the ambition +to become a poet having infected me at the scandalously mature age of +twenty-six. He was hospitable to my wish, and I was fortunate enough +to be his pupil almost to the year of his going forth from among us. +During the greater part of that time he was a resident of Washington, +D. C., whither he had gone in behalf of the San Francisco _EXAMINER_, +to aid in defeating (as was successfully accomplished) the Funding +Bill proposed by the Southern Pacific Company. It was on this occasion +that he electrified the Senate's committee by repeatedly refusing to +shake the hand of the proponent of that measure, no less formidable an +individual than Collis P. Huntington. + +For Bierce carried into actual practice his convictions on ethical +matters. Secure in his own self-respect, and valuing his friendship or +approval to a high degree, he refused to make, as he put it, "a harlot +of his friendship." Indeed, he once told me that it was his rule, on +subsequently discovering the unworth of a person to whom a less +fastidious friend had without previous warning introduced him, to +write a letter to that person and assure him that he regarded the +introduction as a mistake, and that the twain were thenceforth to +"meet as strangers!" He also once informed me that he did not care +to be introduced to persons whom he had criticized, or was about to +criticize, in print. "I might get to like the beggar," was his +comment, "and then I'd have one less pelt in my collection." + +In his criticism of my own work, he seldom used more than suggestion, +realizing, no doubt, the sensitiveness of the tyro in poetry. It has +been hinted to me that he laid, as it were, a hand of ice on my +youthful enthusiasms, but that, to such extent as it may be true, was, +I think, a good thing for a pupil of the art, youth being apt to gush +and become over-sentimental. Most poets would give much to be able to +obliterate some of their earlier work, and he must have saved me a +major portion of such putative embarrassment. Reviewing the +manuscripts that bear his marginal counsels, I can now see that such +suggestions were all "indicated," though at the time I dissented from +some of them. It was one of his tenets that a critic should "keep his +heart out of his head" (to use his own words), when sitting in +judgment on the work of writers whom he knew and liked. But I cannot +but think that he was guilty of sad violations of that rule, +especially in my own case. + +Bierce lived many years in Washington before making a visit to his old +home. That happened in 1910, in which year he visited me at Carmel, +and we afterwards camped for several weeks together with his brother +and nephew, in Yosemite. I grew to know him better in those days, and +he found us hospitable, in the main degree, to his view of things, +socialism being the only issue on which we were not in accord. It +led to many warm arguments, which, as usual, conduced nowhere but to +the suspicion that truth in such matters was mainly a question of +taste. + +I saw him again in the summer of 1911, which he spent at Sag Harbor. +We were much on the water, guests of my uncle in his power-yacht "La +Mascotte II." He was a devotee of canoeing, and made many trips on the +warm and shallow bays of eastern Long Island, which he seemed to +prefer to the less spacious reaches of the Potomac. He revisited +California in the fall of the next year, a trip on which we saw him +for the last time. An excursion to the Grand Canyon was occasionally +proposed, but nothing came of it, nor did he consent to be again my +guest at Carmel, on the rather surprising excuse that the village +contained too many anarchists! And in November, 1913, I received my +last letter from him, he being then in Laredo, Texas, about to cross +the border into warring Mexico. + +Why he should have gone forth on so hazardous an enterprise is for the +most part a matter of conjecture. It may have been in the spirit of +adventure, or out of boredom, or he may not, even, have been jesting +when he wrote to an intimate friend that, ashamed of having lived so +long, and not caring to end his life by his own hand, he was going +across the border and let the Mexicans perform for him that service. +But he wrote to others that he purposed to extend his pilgrimage as +far as South America, to cross the Andes, and return to New York by +way of a steamer from Buenos Ayres. At any rate, we know, from letters +written during the winter months, that he had unofficially attached +himself to a section of Villa's army, even taking an active part in +the fighting. He was heard from until the close of 1913; after that +date the mist closes in upon his trail, and we are left to surmise +what we may. Many rumors as to his fate have come out of Mexico, one +of them even placing him in the trenches of Flanders. These rumors +have been, so far as possible, investigated: all end in nothing. The +only one that seems in the least degree illuminative is the tale +brought by a veteran reporter from the City of Mexico, and published +in the San Francisco _BULLETIN_. It is the story of a soldier in +Villa's army, one of a detachment that captured, near the village of +Icamole, an ammunition train of the Carranzistas. One of the prisoners +was a sturdy, white-haired, ruddy-faced Gringo, who, according to the +tale, went before the firing squad with an Indian muleteer, as sole +companion in misfortune. The description of the manner--indifferent, +even contemptuous--with which the white-haired man met his death seems +so characteristic of Bierce that one would almost be inclined to give +credence to the tale, impossible though it may be of verification. But +the date of the tragedy being given as late in 1915, it seems +incredible that Bierce could have escaped observation for so long a +period, with so many persons in Mexico eager to know of his fate. It +is far more likely that he met his death at the hands of a roving band +of outlaws or guerrilla soldiery. + +I have had often in mind the vision of his capture by such a squad, +their discovery of the considerable amount of gold coin that he was +known to carry on his person, and his immediate condemnation and +execution as a spy in order that they might retain possession of the +booty. Naturally, such proceedings would not have been reported, from +fear of the necessity of sharing with those "higher up." And so the +veil would have remained drawn, and impenetrable to vision. Through +the efforts of the War Department, all United States Consuls were +questioned as to Bierce's possible departure from the country; all +Americans visiting or residing in Mexico were begged for +information--even prospectors. But the story of the reporter is the +sole one that seems partially credible. To such darkness did so +shining and fearless a soul go forth. + +It is now over eight years since that disappearance, and though the +likelihood of his existence in the flesh seems faint indeed, the storm +of detraction and obloquy that he always insisted would follow his +demise has never broken, is not even on the horizon. Instead, he seems +to be remembered with tolerance by even those whom he visited with a +chastening pen. Each year of darkness but makes the star of his fame +increase and brighten, but we have, I think, no full conception as yet +of his greatness, no adequate realization of how wide and permanent a +fame he has won. It is significant that some of the discerning admire +him for one phase of his work, some for another. For instance, the +clear-headed H. L. Mencken acclaims him as the first wit of America, +but will have none of his tales; while others, somewhat disconcerted +by the cynicism pervading much of his wit, place him among the +foremost exponents of the art of the short story. Others again prefer +his humor (for he was humorist as well as wit), and yet others like +most the force, clarity and keen insight of his innumerable essays and +briefer comments on mundane affairs. Personally, I have always +regarded Poe's _Fall of the House of Usher_ as our greatest tale; +close to that come, in my opinion, at least a dozen of Bierce's +stories, whether of the soldier or civilian. He has himself stated in +_Prattle_: "I am not a poet." And yet he wrote poetry, on occasion, of +a high order, his _Invocation_ being one of the noblest poems in the +tongue. Some of his satirical verse seems to me as terrible in its +withering invective as any that has been written by classic satirists, +not excepting Juvenal and Swift. Like the victims of their merciless +pens, his, too, will be forgiven and forgotten. Today no one knows, +nor cares, whether or not those long-dead offenders gave just offense. +The grave has closed over accuser and accused, and the only thing that +matters is that a great mind was permitted to function. One may smile +or sigh over the satire, but one must also realize that even the +satirist had his own weaknesses, and could have been as savagely +attacked by a mentality as keen as his own. Men as a whole will never +greatly care for satire, each recognizing, true enough, glimpses of +himself in the invective, but sensing as well its fundamental bias and +cruelty. However, Bierce thought best of himself as a satirist. + +Naturally, Bierce carried his wit and humor into his immediate human +relationships. I best recall an occasion, when, in my first year of +acquaintance with him, we were both guests at the home of the painter, +J. H. E. Partington. It happened that a bowl of nasturtiums adorned +the center table, and having been taught by Father Tabb, the poet, to +relish that flower, I managed to consume most of them before the close +of the evening, knowing there were plenty more to be had in the garden +outside. Someone at last remarked: "Why, George has eaten all the +nasturtiums! Go out and bring some more." At which Bierce dryly and +justly remarked: "No--bring some thistles!" It is an indication, +however, of his real kindness of heart that, observing my confusion, +he afterwards apologized to me for what he termed a thoughtless jest. +It was, nevertheless, well deserved. + +I recall even more distinctly a scene of another setting. This +concerns itself with Bierce's son, Leigh, then a youth in the early +twenties. At the time (_circa_ 1894) I was a brother lodger with them +in an Oakland apartment house. Young Bierce had contracted a liaison +with a girl of his own age, and his father, determined to end the +affair, had appointed an hour for discussion of the matter. The youth +entered his father's rooms defiant and resolute: within an hour he +appeared weeping, and cried out to me, waiting for him in his own +room: "My father is a greater man than Christ! He has suffered more +than Christ!" And the affair of the heart was promptly terminated. + +One conversant with Bierce only as a controversionalist and _censor +morum_ was, almost of necessity, constrained to imagine him a +misanthrope, a soured and cynical recluse. Only when one was +privileged to see him among his intimates could one obtain glimpses of +his true nature, which was considerate, generous, even affectionate. +Only the waving of the red flag of Socialism could rouse in him what +seemed to us others a certain savageness of intolerance. Needless to +say, we did not often invoke it, for he was an ill man with whom to +bandy words. It was my hope, at one time, to involve him and Jack +London in a controversy on the subject, but London declined the oral +encounter, preferring one with the written word. Nothing came of the +plan, which is a pity, as each was a supreme exponent of his point of +view. Bierce subsequently attended one of the midsummer encampments of +the Bohemian Club, of which he was once the secretary, in their +redwood grove near the Russian river. Hearing that London was present, +he asked why they had not been mutually introduced, and I was forced +to tell him that I feared that they'd be, verbally, at each other's +throats, within an hour. "Nonsense!" exclaimed Bierce. "Bring him +around! I'll treat him like a Dutch Uncle." He kept his word, and +seemed as much attracted to London as London was to him. But I was +always ill at ease when they were conversing. I do not think the two +men ever met again. + +Bierce was the cleanest man, personally, of whom I have +knowledge--almost fanatically so, if such a thing be possible. Even +during our weeks of camping in the Yosemite, he would spend two hours +on his morning toilet in the privacy of his tent. His nephew always +insisted that the time was devoted to shaving himself from face to +foot! He was also a most modest man, and I still recall his decided +objections to my bathing attire when at the swimming-pool of the +Bohemian Club, in the Russian River. Compared to many of those +visible, it seemed more than adequate; but he had another opinion of +it. He was a good, even an eminent, tankard-man, and retained a clear +judgment under any amount of potations. He preferred wine (especially +a dry _vin du pays_, usually a sauterne) to "hard likker," in this +respect differing in taste from his elder brother. In the days when I +first made his acquaintance, I was accustomed to roam the hills beyond +Oakland and Berkeley from Cordonices Creek to Leona Heights, in +company with Albert Bierce, his son Carlton, R. L. ("Dick") +Partington, Leigh Bierce (Ambrose's surviving son) and other youths. +On such occasions I sometimes hid a superfluous bottle of port or +sherry in a convenient spot, and Bierce, afterwards accompanying us on +several such outings, pretended to believe that I had such flagons +concealed under each bush or rock in the reach and breadth of the +hills, and would, to carry out the jest, hunt zealously in such +recesses. I could wish that he were less often unsuccessful in the +search, now that he has had "the coal-black wine" to drink. + +Though an appreciable portion of his satire hints at misanthropy, +Bierce, while profoundly a pessimist, was, by his own confession to +me, "a lover of his country and his fellowmen," and was ever ready to +proffer assistance in the time of need and sympathy in the hour of +sorrow. His was a great and tender heart, and giving of it greatly, he +expected, or rather hoped for, a return as great. It may have been +by reason of the frustration of such hopes that he so often broke with +old and, despite his doubts, appreciative friends. His brother Albert +once told me that he (Ambrose) had never been "quite the same," after +the wound in the head that he received in the battle of Kenesaw +Mountain, but had a tendency to become easily offended and to show +that resentment. Such estrangements as he and his friends suffered are +not, therefore, matters on which one should sit in judgment. It is sad +to know that he went so gladly from life, grieved and disappointed. +But the white flame of Art that he tended for nearly half a century +was never permitted to grow faint nor smoky, and it burned to the last +with a pure brilliance. Perhaps, he bore witness to what he had found +most admirable and enduring in life in the following words, the +conclusion of the finest of his essays: + +"Literature and art are about all that the world really cares for in +the end; those who make them are not without justification in +regarding themselves as masters in the House of Life and all others as +their servitors. In the babble and clamor, the pranks and antics of +its countless incapables, the tremendous dignity of the profession of +letters is overlooked; but when, casting a retrospective eye into 'the +dark backward and abysm of time' to where beyond these voices is the +peace of desolation, we note the majesty of the few immortals and +compare them with the pygmy figures of their contemporary kings, +warriors and men of action generally--when across the silent +battle-fields and hushed _fora_ where the dull destinies of nations +were determined, nobody cares how, we hear + + like ocean on a western beach + The surge and thunder of the Odyssey, + +then we appraise literature at its true value, and how little worth +while seems all else with which Man is pleased to occupy his fussy +soul and futile hands!" + + + + + The Letters of Ambrose Bierce + + +[Angwin, + July 31, 1892.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +You will not, I hope, mind my saying that the first part of your +letter was so pleasing that it almost solved the disappointment +created by the other part. For _that_ is a bit discouraging. Let me +explain. + +You receive my suggestion about trying your hand * * * at writing, +with assent and apparently pleasure. But, alas, not for love of the +art, but for the purpose of helping God repair his botchwork world. +You want to "reform things," poor girl--to rise and lay about you, +slaying monsters and liberating captive maids. You would "help to +alter for the better the position of working-women." You would be a +missionary--and the rest of it. Perhaps I shall not make myself +understood when I say that this discourages me; that in such aims +(worthy as they are) I would do nothing to assist you; that such +ambitions are not only impracticable but incompatible with the spirit +that gives success in art; that such ends are a prostitution of art; +that "helpful" writing is dull reading. If you had had more experience +of life I should regard what you say as entirely conclusive against +your possession of any talent of a literary kind. But you are so young +and untaught in that way--and I have the testimony of little +felicities and purely literary touches (apparently unconscious) in +your letters--perhaps your unschooled heart and hope should not be +held as having spoken the conclusive word. But surely, my child--as +surely as anything in mathematics--Art will laurel no brow having a +divided allegiance. Love the world as much as you will, but serve it +otherwise. The best service you can perform by writing is to write +well with no care for anything but that. Plant and water and let God +give the increase if he will, and to whom it shall please him. + +Suppose your father were to "help working-women" by painting no +pictures but such (of their ugly surroundings, say) as would incite +them to help themselves, or others to help them. Suppose you should +play no music but such as--but I need go no further. Literature (I +don't mean journalism) is an _art_;--it is not a form of benevolence. +It has nothing to do with "reform," and when used as a means of reform +suffers accordingly and justly. Unless you can _feel_ that way I +cannot advise you to meddle with it. + +It would be dishonest in me to accept your praise for what I wrote of +the Homestead Works quarrel--unless you should praise it for being +well written and true. I have no sympathies with that savage fight +between the two kinds of rascals, and no desire to assist +either--except to better hearts and manners. The love of truth is good +enough motive for me when I write of my fellowmen. I like many things +in this world and a few persons--I like you, for example; but after +they are served I have no love to waste upon the irreclaimable mass of +brutality that we know as "mankind." Compassion, yes--I am sincerely +sorry that they are brutes. + +Yes, I wrote the article "The Human Liver." Your criticism is +erroneous. My opportunities of knowing women's feelings toward Mrs. +Grundy are better than yours. They hate her with a horrible +antipathy; but they cower all the same. The fact that they are a part +of her mitigates neither their hatred nor their fear. + + * * * * * + +After next Monday I shall probably be in St. Helena, but if you will +be so good as still to write to me please address me here until I +apprise you of my removal; for I shall intercept my letters at St. +Helena, wherever addressed. And maybe you will write before Monday. I +need not say how pleasant it is for me to hear from you. And I shall +want to know what you think of what I say about your "spirit of +reform." + +How I should have liked to pass that Sunday in camp with you all. And +to-day--I wonder if you are there to-day. I feel a peculiar affection +for that place. + +Please give my love to all your people, and forgive my intolerably +long letters--or retaliate in kind. + + Sincerely your friend, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[St. Helena, + August 15, 1892.] + +I KNOW, DEAR BLANCHE, of the disagreement among men as to the nature +and aims of literature; and the subject is too "long" to discuss. I +will only say that it seems to me that men holding Tolstoi's view are +not properly literary men (that is to say, artists) at all. They are +"missionaries," who, in their zeal to lay about them, do not scruple +to seize any weapon that they can lay their hands on; they would grab +a crucifix to beat a dog. The dog is well beaten, no doubt (which +makes him a worse dog than he was before) but note the condition of +the crucifix! The work of these men is better, of course, than the +work of men of truer art and inferior brains; but always you see the +possibilities--possibilities to _them_--which they have missed or +consciously sacrificed to their fad. And after all they do no good. +The world does not wish to be helped. The poor wish only to be rich, +which is impossible, not to be better. They would like to be rich in +order to be worse, generally speaking. And your working woman (also +generally speaking) does not wish to be virtuous; despite her +insincere deprecation she would not let the existing system be altered +if she could help it. Individual men and women can be assisted; and +happily some are worthy of assistance. No _class_ of mankind, no +tribe, no nation is worth the sacrifice of one good man or woman; for +not only is their average worth low, but they like it that way; and in +trying to help them you fail to help the good individuals. Your +family, your immediate friends, will give you scope enough for all +your benevolence. I must include your _self_. + +In timely illustration of some of this is an article by Ingersoll in +the current _North American Review_--I shall send it you. It will be +nothing new to you; the fate of the philanthropist who gives out of +his brain and heart instead of his pocket--having nothing in that--is +already known to you. It serves him richly right, too, for his low +taste in loving. He who dilutes, spreads, subdivides, the love which +naturally _all_ belongs to his family and friends (if they are good) +should not complain of non-appreciation. Love those, help those, whom +from personal knowledge you know to be worthy. To love and help others +is treason to _them_. But, bless my soul! I did not mean to say all +this. + +But while you seem clear as to your own art, you seem undecided as to +the one you wish to take up. I know the strength and sweetness of the +illusions (that is, _de_lusions) that you are required to forego. I +know the abysmal ignorance of the world and human character which, +as a girl, you necessarily have. I know the charm that inheres in the +beckoning of the Britomarts, as they lean out of their dream to +persuade you to be as like them as is compatible with the fact that +you exist. But I believe, too, that if you are set thinking--not +reading--you will find the light. + +You ask me of journalism. It is so low a thing that it _may_ be +legitimately used as a means of reform or a means of anything deemed +worth accomplishing. It is not an art; art, except in the greatest +moderation, is damaging to it. The man who can write well must not +write as well as he can; the others may, of course. Journalism has +many purposes, and the people's welfare _may_ be one of them; though +that is not the purpose-in-chief, by much. + +I don't mind your irony about my looking upon the unfortunate as +merely "literary material." It is true in so far as I consider them +_with reference to literature_. Possibly I might be willing to help +them otherwise--as your father might be willing to help a beggar with +money, who is not picturesque enough to go into a picture. As you +might be willing to give a tramp a dinner, yet unwilling to play "The +Sweet Bye-and-Bye," or "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," to tickle his ear. + +You call me "master." Well, it is pleasant to think of you as a pupil, +but--you know the young squire had to watch his arms all night before +the day of his accolade and investiture with knighthood. I think I'll +ask you to contemplate yours a little longer before donning them--not +by way of penance but instruction and consecration. When you are quite +sure of the nature of your _call_ to write--quite sure that it is +_not_ the voice of "duty"--then let me do you such slight, poor +service as my limitations and the injunctions of circumstance +permit. In a few ways I can help you. + + * * * * * + +Since coming here I have been ill all the time, but it seems my duty +to remain as long as there is a hope that I _can_ remain. If I get +free from my disorder and the fear of it I shall go down to San +Francisco some day and then try to see your people and mine. Perhaps +you would help me to find my brother's new house--if he is living in +it. + +With sincere regards to all your family, I am most truly your friend, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +Your letters are very pleasing to me. I think it nice of you to write +them. + + +[St. Helena, + August 17, 1892.] + +DEAR BLANCHE, + +It was not that I forgot to mail you the magazine that I mentioned; I +could not find it; but now I send it. + +My health is bad again, and I fear that I shall have to abandon my +experiment of living here, and go back to the mountain--or some +mountain. But not directly. + +You asked me what books would be useful to you--I'm assuming that +you've repented your sacrilegious attitude toward literature, and will +endeavor to thrust your pretty head into the crown of martyrdom +otherwise. I may mention a few from time to time as they occur to me. +There is a little book entitled (I think) simply "English +Composition." It is by Prof. John Nichol--elementary, in a few places +erroneous, but on the whole rather better than the ruck of books on +the same subject. + +Read those of Landor's "Imaginary Conversations" which relate to +literature. + +Read Longinus, Herbert Spencer on Style, Pope's "Essay on Criticism" +(don't groan--the detractors of Pope are not always to have things +their own way), Lucian on the writing of history--though you need not +write history. Read poor old obsolete Kames' notions; some of them are +not half bad. Read Burke "On the Sublime and Beautiful." + +Read--but that will do at present. And as you read don't forget that +the rules of the literary art are deduced from the work of the masters +who wrote in ignorance of them or in unconsciousness of them. That +fixes their value; it is secondary to that of _natural_ +qualifications. None the less, it is considerable. Doubtless you have +read many--perhaps most--of these things, but to read them with a view +to profit _as a writer_ may be different. If I could get to San +Francisco I could dig out of those artificial memories, the catalogues +of the libraries, a lot of titles additional--and get you the books, +too. But I've a bad memory, and am out of the Book Belt. + +I wish you would write some little thing and send it me for +examination. I shall not judge it harshly, for this I _know_: the good +writer (supposing him to be born to the trade) is not made by reading, +but by observing and experiencing. You have lived so little, seen so +little, that your range will necessarily be narrow, but within its +lines I know no reason why you should not do good work. But it is all +conjectural--you may fail. Would it hurt if I should tell you that I +thought you had failed? Your absolute and complete failure would not +affect in the slightest my admiration of your intellect. I have always +half suspected that it is only second rate minds, and minds below the +second rate, that hold their cleverness by so precarious a tenure that +they can detach it for display in words. + + God bless you, + A. B. + + +[St. Helena, + August 28, 1892.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I positively shall not bore you with an interminated screed this time. +But I thought you might like to know that I have recovered my health, +and hope to be able to remain here for a few months at least. And if I +remain well long enough to make me reckless I shall visit your town +some day, and maybe ask your mother to command you to let me drive you +to Berkeley. It makes me almost sad to think of the camp at the lake +being abandoned. + +So you liked my remarks on the "labor question." That is nice of you, +but aren't you afraid your praise will get me into the disastrous +literary habit of writing for some _one_ pair of eyes?--your eyes? Or +in resisting the temptation I may go too far in the opposite error. +But you do not see that it is "Art for Art's sake"--hateful phrase! +Certainly not, it is not Art at all. Do you forget the distinction I +pointed out between journalism and literature? Do you not remember +that I told you that the former was of so little value that it might +be used for anything? My newspaper work is in _no_ sense literature. +It is nothing, and only becomes something when I give it the very use +to which I would put nothing literary. (Of course I refer to my +editorial and topical work.) + +If you want to learn to write that kind of thing, so as to do good +with it, you've an easy task. _Only_ it is not worth learning and the +good that you can do with it is not worth doing. But literature--the +desire to do good with _that_ will not help you to your means. It is +not a sufficient incentive. The Muse will not meet you if you have any +work for her to do. Of course I sometimes like to do good--who does +not? And sometimes I am glad that access to a great number of minds +every week gives me an opportunity. But, thank Heaven, I don't make +a business of it, nor use in it a tool so delicate as to be ruined by +the service. + +Please do not hesitate to send me anything that you may be willing to +write. If you try to make it perfect before you let me see it, it will +never come. My remarks about the kind of mind which holds its thoughts +and feelings by so precarious a tenure that they are detachable for +use by others were not made with a forethought of your failure. + +Mr. Harte of the New England Magazine seems to want me to know his +work (I asked to) and sends me a lot of it cut from the magazine. I +pass it on to you, and most of it is just and true. + +But I'm making another long letter. + +I wish I were not an infidel--so that I could say: "God bless you," +and mean it literally. I wish there _were_ a God to bless you, and +that He had nothing else to do. + +Please let me hear from you. Sincerely, + + A. B. + + +[St. Helena, + September 28, 1892.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I have been waiting for a full hour of leisure to write you a letter, +but I shall never get it, and so I'll write you anyhow. Come to think +of it, there is nothing to say--nothing that _needs_ be said, rather, +for there is always so much that one would like to say to you, best +and most patient of _sayees_. + +I'm sending you and your father copies of my book. Not that I think +you (either of you) will care for that sort of thing, but merely +because your father is my co-sinner in making the book, and you in +sitting by and diverting my mind from the proof-sheets of a part of +it. Your part, therefore, in the work is the typographical errors. So +you are in literature in spite of yourself. + +I appreciate what you write of my girl. She is the best of girls to +me, but God knoweth I'm not a proper person to direct her way of life. +However, it will not be for long. A dear friend of mine--the widow of +another dear friend--in London wants her, and means to come out here +next spring and try to persuade me to let her have her--for a time at +least. It is likely that I shall. My friend is wealthy, childless and +devoted to both my children. I wish that in the meantime she (the +girl) could have the advantage of association with _you_. + +Please say to your father that I have his verses, which I promise +myself pleasure in reading. + +_You_ appear to have given up your ambition to "write things." I'm +sorry, for "lots" of reasons--not the least being the selfish one that +I fear I shall be deprived of a reason for writing you long dull +letters. Won't you _play_ at writing things? + +My (and Danziger's) book, "The Monk and the Hangman's Daughter," is to +be out next month. The Publisher--I like to write it with a reverent +capital letter--is unprofessional enough to tell me that he regards it +as the very best piece of English composition that he ever saw, and he +means to make the world know it. Now let the great English classics +hide their diminished heads and pale their ineffectual fires! + +So you begin to suspect that books do not give you the truth of life +and character. Well, that suspicion is the beginning of wisdom, and, +so far as it goes, a preliminary qualification for writing--books. Men +and women are certainly not what books represent them to be, nor what +_they_ represent--and sometimes believe--themselves to be. They are +better, they are worse, and far more interesting. + +With best regards to all your people, and in the hope that we may +frequently hear from you, I am very sincerely your friend, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +Both the children send their _love_ to you. And they mean just that. + + +[St. Helena, + October 6, 1892.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I send you by this mail the current _New England Magazine_--merely +because I have it by me and have read all of it that I shall have +leisure to read. Maybe it will entertain you for an idle hour. + +I have so far recovered my health that I hope to do a little +pot-boiling to-morrow. (Is that properly written with a hyphen?--for +the life o' me I can't say, just at this moment. There is a story of +an old actor who having played one part half his life had to cut out +the name of the person he represented wherever it occurred in his +lines: he could never remember which syllable to accent.) My illness +was only asthma, which, unluckily, does not kill me and so should not +alarm my friends. + +Dr. Danziger writes that he has ordered your father's sketch sent me. +And I've ordered a large number of extra impressions of it--if it is +still on the stone. So you see I like it. + +Let me hear from you and about you. + + Sincerely your friend, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + I enclose Bib. + + +[St. Helena, + October 7, 1892.] + +DEAR MR. PARTINGTON, + +I've been too ill all the week to write you of your manuscripts, or +even read them understandingly. + +I think "Honest Andrew's Prayer" far and away the best. _It_ is +witty--the others hardly more than earnest, and not, in my judgment, +altogether fair. But then you know you and I would hardly be likely +to agree on a point of that kind,--I refuse my sympathies in some +directions where I extend my sympathy--if that is intelligible. You, I +think, have broader sympathies than mine--are not only sorry for the +Homestead strikers (for example) but approve them. I do not. But we +are one in detesting their oppressor, the smug-wump, Carnegie. + +If you had not sent "Honest Andrew's Prayer" elsewhere I should try to +place it here. It is so good that I hope to see it in print. If it is +rejected please let me have it again if the incident is not then +ancient history. + +I'm glad you like some things in my book. But you should not condemn +me for debasing my poetry with abuse; you should commend me for +elevating my abuse with a little poetry, here and there. I am not a +poet, but an abuser--that makes all the difference. It is "how you +look at it." + +But I'm still too ill to write. With best regards to all your family, +I am sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +I've been reading your pamphlet on Art Education. You write best when +you write most seriously--and your best is very good. + + +[St. Helena, + October 15, 1892.] + +DEAR BLANCHE, + +I send you this picture in exchange for the one that you have--I'm +"redeeming" all those with these. But I asked you to return that a +long time ago. Please say if you like this; to me it looks like a +dude. But I hate the other--the style of it. + +It is very good of your father to take so much trouble as to go over +and work on that stone. I want the pictures--lithographs--only for +economy: so that when persons for whom I do not particularly care want +pictures of me I need not bankrupt myself in orders to the +photographer. And I do not like photographs anyhow. How long, O Lord, +how long am I to wait for that sketch of _you_? + +My dear girl, I do not see that folk like your father and me have any +just cause of complaint against an unappreciative world; nobody +compels us to make things that the world does not want. We merely +choose to because the pay, _plus_ the satisfaction, exceeds the pay +alone that we get from work that the world does want. Then where is +our grievance? We get what we prefer when we do good work; for the +lesser wage we do easier work. It has never seemed to me that the +"unappreciated genius" had a good case to go into court with, and I +think he should be promptly non-suited. Inspiration from Heaven is all +very fine--the mandate of an attitude or an instinct is good; but when +A works for B, yet insists on taking his orders from C, what can he +expect? So don't distress your good little heart with compassion--not +for me, at least; whenever I tire of pot-boiling, wood-chopping is +open to me, and a thousand other honest and profitable employments. + +I have noted Gertrude's picture in the Examiner with a peculiar +interest. That girl has a bushel of brains, and her father and brother +have to look out for her or she will leave them out of sight. I would +suggest as a measure of precaution against so monstrous a perversion +of natural order that she have her eyes put out. The subjection of +women must be maintained. + + * * * * * + +Bib and Leigh send love to you. Leigh, I think, is expecting Carlt. +I've permitted Leigh to join the band again, and he is very peacocky +in his uniform. God bless you. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[St. Helena, + November 6, 1892.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I am glad you will consent to tolerate the new photograph--all my +other friends are desperately delighted with it. I prefer your +tolerance. + +But I don't like to hear that you have been "ill and blue"; that is a +condition which seems more naturally to appertain to me. For, after +all, whatever cause you may have for "blueness," you can always +recollect that you are _you_, and find a wholesome satisfaction in +your identity; whereas I, alas, am _I_! + +I'm sure you performed your part of that concert creditably despite +the ailing wrist, and wish that I might have added myself to your +triumph. + +I have been very ill again but hope to get away from here (back to my +mountain) before it is time for another attack from my friend the +enemy. I shall expect to see you there sometime when my brother and +his wife come up. They would hardly dare to come without you. + +No, I did not read the criticism you mention--in the _Saturday +Review_. Shall send you all the _Saturdays_ that I get if you will +have them. Anyhow, they will amuse (and sometimes disgust) your +father. + +I have awful arrears of correspondence, as usual. + +The children send love. They had a pleasant visit with Carlt, and we +hope he will come again. + +May God be very good to you and put it into your heart to write to +your uncle often. + +Please give my best respects to all Partingtons, jointly and +severally. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + November 29, 1892.] + +DEAR BLANCHE, + +Only just a word to say that I have repented of my assent to your +well-meant proposal for your father to write of _me_. If there is +anything in my work in letters that engages his interest, or in my +_literary_ history--that is well enough, and I shall not mind. But +"biography" in the other sense is distasteful to me. I never read +biographical "stuff" of other writers--of course you know "stuff" is +literary slang for "matter"--and think it "beside the question." +Moreover, it is distinctly mischievous to letters. It throws no light +on one's work, but on the contrary "darkens counsel." The only reason +that posterity judges work with some slight approach to accuracy is +that posterity knows less, and cares less, about the author's +personality. It considers his work as impartially as if it had found +it lying on the ground with no footprints about it and no initials on +its linen. + +My brother is not "fully cognizant" of my history, anyhow--not of the +part that is interesting. + +So, on the whole, I'll ask that it be not done. It was only my wish to +please that made me consent. That wish is no weaker now, but I would +rather please otherwise. + +I trust that you arrived safe and well, and that your memory of those +few stormy days is not altogether disagreeable. Sincerely your friend, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + December 25, 1892.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +Returning here from the city this morning, I find your letter. And I +had not replied to your last one before that! But _that_ was because I +hoped to see you at your home. I was unable to do so--I saw no one +(but Richard) whom I really wanted to see, and had not an hour +unoccupied by work or "business" until this morning. And then--it was +Christmas, and my right to act as skeleton at anybody's feast by even +so much as a brief call was not clear. I hope my brother will be as +forgiving as I know you will be. + +When I went down I was just recovering from as severe an attack of +illness as I ever had in my life. Please consider unsaid all that I +have said in praise of this mountain, its air, water, and everything +that is its. + + * * * * * + +It was uncommonly nice of Hume to entertain so good an opinion of me; +if you had seen him a few days later you would have found a different +state of affairs, probably; for I had been exhausting relays of vials +of wrath upon him for delinquent diligence in securing copyright for +my little story--whereby it is uncopyrighted. I ought to add that he +has tried to make reparation, and is apparently contrite to the limit +of his penitential capacity. + +No, there was no other foundation for the little story than its +obvious naturalness and consistency with the sentiments "appropriate +to the season." When Christendom is guzzling and gorging and clowning +it has not time to cease being cruel; all it can do is to augment its +hypocrisy a trifle. + +Please don't lash yourself and do various penances any more for your +part in the plaguing of poor Russell; he is quite forgotten in the +superior affliction sent upon James Whitcomb Riley. _That_ seems a +matter of genuine public concern, if I may judge by what I heard in +town (and I heard little else) and by my letters and "esteemed" +(though testy) "contemporaries." Dear, dear, how sensitive people are +becoming! + +Richard has promised me the Blanchescape that I have so patiently +waited for while you were practicing the art of looking pretty in +preparation for the sitting, so now I am happy. I shall put you +opposite Joaquin Miller, who is now framed and glazed in good shape. I +have also your father's sketch of me--that is, I got it and left it in +San Francisco to be cleaned if possible; it was in a most unregenerate +state of dirt and grease. + +Seeing Harry Bigelow's article in the _Wave_ on women who write (and +it's unpleasantly near to the truth of the matter) I feel almost +reconciled to the failure of my gorgeous dream of making a writer of +_you_. I wonder if you would have eschewed the harmless, necessary tub +and danced upon the broken bones of the innocuous toothbrush. Fancy +you with sable nails and a soiled cheek, uttering to the day what God +taught in the night! Let us be thankful that the peril is past. + +The next time I go to "the Bay" I shall go to 1019 _first_. + +God bless you for a good girl. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[First part of this letter missing.] + + * * * * * + +Yes, I know Blackburn Harte has a weakness for the proletariat of +letters * * * and doubtless thinks Riley good _because_ he is "of the +people," peoply. But he will have to endure me as well as he can. You +ask my opinion of Burns. He has not, I think, been translated into +English, and I do not (that is, I can but _will_ not) read that +gibberish. I read Burns once--that was once too many times; but +happily it was before I knew any better, and so my time, being +worthless, was not wasted. + +I wish you could be up here this beautiful weather. But I dare say it +would rain if you came. In truth, it is "thickening" a trifle just +because of my wish. And I wish I _had_ given you, for your father, +all the facts of my biography from the cradle--downward. When you come +again I shall, if you still want them. For I'm worried half to death +with requests for them, and when I refuse am no doubt considered surly +or worse. And my refusal no longer serves, for the biography men are +beginning to write my history from imagination. So the next time I see +you I shall give you (orally) that "history of a crime," my life. +Then, if your father is still in the notion, he can write it from your +notes, and I can answer all future inquiries by enclosing his article. + +Do you know?--you will, I think, be glad to know--that I have many +more offers for stories at good prices, than I have the health to +accept. (For I am less nearly well than I have told you.) Even the +_Examiner_ has "waked up" (I woke it up) to the situation, and now +pays me $20 a thousand words; and my latest offer from New York is +$50. + +I hardly know why I tell you this unless it is because you tell me of +any good fortune that comes to your people, and because you seem to +take an interest in my affairs such as nobody else does in just the +same unobjectionable and, in fact, agreeable way. I wish you were my +"real, sure-enough" niece. But in that case I should expect you to +pass all your time at Howell Mountain, with your uncle and cousin. +Then I should teach you to write, and you could expound to me the +principles underlying the art of being the best girl in the world. +Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + January 4, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +Not hearing from [you] after writing you last week, I fear you are +ill--may I not know? I am myself ill, as I feared. On Thursday last I +was taken violently ill indeed, and have but just got about. In +truth, I'm hardly able to write you, but as I have to go to work on +Friday, _sure_, I may as well practice a little on you. And the +weather up here is Paradisaical. Leigh and I took a walk this morning +in the woods. We scared up a wild deer, but I did not feel able to run +it down and present you with its antlers. + +I hope you are well, that you are all well. And I hope Heaven will put +it into your good brother's heart to send me that picture of the +sister who is so much too good for him--or anybody. + +In the meantime, and always, God bless you. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +My boy (who has been an angel of goodness to me in my illness) sends +his love to you and all your people. + + +[Angwin, Cal., + January 14, 1893.] + +MY DEAR PARTINGTON, + +You see the matter is this way. You can't come up here and go back the +same day--at least that would give you but about an hour here. You +must remain over night. Now I put it to you--how do you think I'd feel +if you came and remained over night and I, having work to do, should +have to leave you to your own devices, mooning about a place that has +nobody to talk to? When a fellow comes a long way to see me I want to +see a good deal of him, however _he_ may feel about it. It is not the +same as if he lived in the same bailiwick and "dropped in." That is +why, in the present state of my health and work, I ask all my friends +to give me as long notice of their coming as possible. I'm sure you'll +say I am right, inasmuch as certain work if undertaken must be done by +the time agreed upon. + +My relations with Danziger are peculiar--as any one's relations with +him must be. In the matter of which you wished to speak I could say +nothing. For this I must ask you to believe there are reasons. It +would not have been fair not to let you know, before coming, that I +would not talk of him. + +I thought, though, that you would probably come up to-day if I wrote +you. Well, I should like you to come and pass a week with me. But if +you come for a day I naturally want it to be an "off" day with me. +Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + January 23, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I should have written you sooner; it has been ten whole days since the +date of your last letter. But I have not been in the mood of letter +writing, and am prepared for maledictions from all my neglected +friends but you. My health is better. Yesterday I returned from +Napa, where I passed twenty-six hours, buried, most of the time, in +fog; but apparently it has not harmed me. The weather here remains +heavenly. * * * + +If I grow better in health I shall in time feel able to extend my next +foray into the Lowlands as far as Oakland and Berkeley. + +Here are some fronds of maiden-hair fern that I have just brought in. +The first wild flowers of the season are beginning to venture out and +the manzanitas are a sight to see. + +With warmest regards to all your people, I am, as ever, your most +unworthy uncle, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + February 5, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +What an admirable reporter you would be! Your account of the meeting +with Miller in the restaurant and of the "entertainment" are amusing +no end. * * * By the way, I observe a trooly offle "attack" on me in +the Oakland _Times_ of the 3rd (I think) * * * (I know of course it +means me--I always know that when they pull out of their glowing minds +that old roasted chestnut about "tearing down" but not "building +up"--that is to say, effacing one imposture without giving them +another in place of it.) The amusing part of the business is that he +points a contrast between me and Realf (God knows there's unlikeness +enough) quite unconscious of the fact that it is I and no other who +have "built up" Realf's reputation as a poet--published his work, and +paid him for it, when nobody else would have it; repeatedly pointed +out its greatness, and when he left that magnificent crown of sonnets +behind him protested that posterity would know California better by +the incident of his death than otherwise--not a soul, until now, +concurring in my view of the verses. Believe me, my trade is not +without its humorous side. + +Leigh and I went down to the waterfall yesterday. It was almost +grand--greater than I had ever seen it--and I took the liberty to wish +that you might see it in that state. My wish must have communicated +itself, somehow, though imperfectly, to Leigh, for as I was indulging +it he expressed the same wish with regard to Richard. + +I wish too that you might be here to-day to see the swirls of snow. It +is falling rapidly, and I'm thinking that this letter will make its +way down the mountain to-morrow morning through a foot or two of it. +Unluckily, it has a nasty way of turning to rain. + +My health is very good now, and Leigh and I take long walks. And after +the rains we look for Indian arrow-heads in the plowed fields and on +the gravel bars of the creek. My collection is now great; but I fear I +shall tire of the fad before completing it. One in the country must +have a fad or die of dejection and oxidation of the faculties. How +happy is he who can make a fad of his work! + +By the way, my New York publishers (The United States Book Company) +have failed, owing me a pot of money, of which I shall probably get +nothing. I'm beginning to cherish an impertinent curiosity to know +what Heaven means to do to me next. If your function as one of the +angels gives you a knowledge of such matters please betray your trust +and tell me where I'm to be hit, and how hard. + +But this is an intolerable deal of letter. + +With best regards to all good Partingtons--and I think there are no +others--I remain your affectionate uncle by adoption, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +Leigh has brought in some manzanita blooms which I shall try to +enclose. But they'll be badly smashed. + + +[Angwin, + February 14, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I thank you many times for the picture, which is a monstrous good +picture, whatever its shortcomings as a portrait may be. On the +authority of the great art critic, Leigh Bierce, I am emboldened to +pronounce some of the work in it equal to Gribayedoff at his best; and +that, according to the g. a. c. aforesaid, is to exhaust eulogium. +But--it isn't altogether the Blanche that I know, as I know her. Maybe +it is the hat--I should prefer you hatless, and so less at the mercy +of capricious fortune. Suppose hats were to "go out"--I tremble to +think of what would happen to that gorgeous superstructure which now +looks so beautiful. O, well, when I come down I shall drag you to the +hateful photographer and get something that looks quite like you--and +has no other value. + +And I mean to "see Oakland and die" pretty soon. I have not dared go +when the weather was bad. It promises well now, but I am to have +visitors next Sunday, so must stay at home. God and the weather bureau +willing, you may be bothered with me the Saturday or Sunday after. We +shall see. + +I hope your father concurs in my remarks on picture "borders"--I did +not think of him until the remarks had been written, or I should have +assured myself of his practice before venturing to utter my mind o' +the matter. If it were not for him and Gertrude and the _Wave_ I +should snarl again, anent "half-tones," which I abhor. Hume tried to +get me to admire his illustrations, but I would not, so far as the +process is concerned, and bluntly told him he would not get your +father's best work that way. + +If you were to visit the Mountain now I should be able to show you a +redwood forest (newly discovered) and a picturesque gulch to match. + +The wild flowers are beginning to put up their heads to look for you, +and my collection of Indian antiquities is yearning to have you see +it. + +Please convey my thanks to Richard for the picture--the girlscape--and +my best regards to your father and all the others. + + Sincerely your friend, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + February 21, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I'm very sorry indeed that I cannot be in Oakland Thursday evening to +see you "in your glory," arrayed, doubtless, like a lily of the field. +However glorious you may be in public, though, I fancy I should like +you better as you used to be out at camp. + +Well, I mean to see you on Saturday afternoon if you are at home, and +think I shall ask you to be my guide to Grizzlyville; for surely I +shall never be able to find the wonderful new house alone. So if your +mamma will let you go out there with me I promise to return you to her +instead of running away with you. And, possibly, weather permitting, +we can arrange for a Sunday in the redwoods or on the hills. Or don't +your folks go out any more o' Sundays? + +Please give my thanks to your mother for the kind invitation to put up +at your house; but I fear that would be impossible. I shall have to be +where people can call on me--and such a disreputable crowd as my +friends are would ruin the Partingtonian reputation for +respectability. In your new neighborhood you will all be very +proper--which you could hardly be with a procession of pirates and +vagrants pulling at your door-bell. + +So--if God is good--I shall call on you Saturday afternoon. In the +meantime and always be thou happy--thou and thine. Your unworthy +uncle, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + March 18, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +It is good to have your letters again. If you will not let me teach +you my trade of writing stories it is right that you practice your own +of writing letters. You are mistress of that. Byron's letters to Moore +are dull in comparison with yours to me. Some allowance, doubtless, +must be made for my greater need of your letters than of Byron's. For, +truth to tell, I've been a trifle dispirited and noncontent. In that +mood I peremptorily resigned from the _Examiner_, for one thing--and +permitted myself to be coaxed back by Hearst, for another. My other +follies I shall not tell you. * * * + +We had six inches of snow up here and it has rained steadily ever +since--more than a week. And the fog is of superior opacity--quite +peerless that way. It is still raining and fogging. Do you wonder that +your unworthy uncle has come perilously and alarmingly near to +loneliness? Yet I have the companionship, at meals, of one of your +excellent sex, from San Francisco. * * * + +Truly, I should like to attend one of your at-homes, but I fear it +must be a long time before I venture down there again. But when this +brumous visitation is past I can _look_ down, and that assists the +imagination to picture you all in your happy (I hope) home. But if +that woolly wolf, Joaquin Miller, doesn't keep outside the fold I +_shall_ come down and club him soundly. I quite agree with your mother +that his flattery will spoil you. You said I would spoil Phyllis, and +now, you bad girl, you wish to be spoiled yourself. Well, you can't +eat four Millerine oranges.--My love to all your family. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + March 26, 1893.] + +MY DEAR PARTINGTON, + +I am very glad indeed to get the good account of Leigh that you give +me. I've feared that he might be rather a bore to you, but you make me +easy on that score. Also I am pleased that you think he has a +sufficient "gift" to do something in the only direction in which he +seems to care to go. + +He is anxious to take the place at the _Examiner_, and his uncle +thinks that would be best--if they will give it him. I'm a little +reluctant for many reasons, but there are considerations--some of them +going to the matter of character and disposition--which point to that +as the best arrangement. The boy needs discipline, control, and work. +He needs to learn by experience that life is not all beer and +skittles. Of course you can't quite know him as I do. As to his +earning anything on the _Examiner_ or elsewhere, that cuts no +figure--he'll spend everything he can get his fingers on anyhow; but I +feel that he ought to have the advantage of a struggle for existence +where the grass is short and the soil stony. + +Well, I shall let him live down there somehow, and see what can be +done with him. There's a lot of good in him, and a lot of the other +thing, naturally. + +I hope Hume has, or will, put you in authority in the _Post_ and give +you a decent salary. He seems quite enthusiastic about the _Post_ +and--about you. + +With sincere regards to Mrs. Partington and all the Partingtonettes, I +am very truly yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + April 10, 1893.] + +MY DEAR PARTINGTON, + +If you are undertaking to teach my kid (which, unless it is entirely +agreeable to you, you must not do) I hope you will regard him as a +pupil whose tuition is to be paid for like any other pupil. And you +should, I think, name the price. Will you kindly do so? + +Another thing. Leigh tells me you paid him for something he did for +the _Wave_. That is not right. While you let him work with you, and +under you, his work belongs to you--is a part of yours. I mean the +work that he does in your shop for the _Wave_. + +I don't wish to feel that you are bothering with him for nothing--will +you not tell me your notion of what I should pay you? + +I fancy you'll be on the _Examiner_ pretty soon--if you wish. + +With best regards to your family I am sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + April 10, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +As I was writing to your father I was, of course, strongly impressed +with a sense of _you_; for you are an intrusive kind of creature, +coming into one's consciousness in the most lawless way--Phyllis-like. +(Phyllis is my "type and example" of lawlessness, albeit I'm devoted +to her--a Phyllistine, as it were.) + +Leigh sends me a notice (before the event) of your concert. I hope it +was successful. Was it? + +It rains or snows here all the time, and the mountain struggles in +vain to put on its bravery of leaf and flower. When this kind of thing +stops I'm going to put in an application for you to come up and get +your bad impressions of the place effaced. It is insupportable that my +earthly paradise exist in your memory as a "bad eminence," like +Satan's primacy. + +I'm sending you the _New England Magazine_--perhaps I have sent it +already--and a _Harper's Weekly_ with a story by Mrs. * * *, who is a +sort of pupil of mine. She used to do bad work--does now sometimes; +but she will do great work by-and-by. + +I wish you had not got that notion that you cannot learn to write. You +see I'd like you to do _some_ art work that I can understand and +enjoy. I wonder why it is that no note or combination of notes can be +struck out of a piano that will touch me--give me an emotion of any +kind. It is not wholly due to my ignorance and bad ear, for other +instruments--the violin, organ, zither, guitar, etc., sometimes affect +me profoundly. Come, read me the riddle if you know. What have I done +that I should be inaccessible to your music? I know it is good; I can +hear that it is, but not feel that it is. Therefore to me it is not. + +Now that, you will confess, is a woeful state--"most tolerable and not +to be endured." Will you not cultivate some art within the scope of my +capacity? Do you think you could learn to walk on a wire (if it lay on +the ground)? Can you not ride three horses at once if they are +suitably dead? Or swallow swords? Really, you should have some way to +entertain your uncle. + +True, you can talk, but you never get the chance; I always "have the +floor." Clearly you must learn to write, and I mean to get Miller to +teach you how to be a poet. + +I hope you will write occasionally to me,--letter-writing is an art +that you do excel in--as I in "appreciation" of your excellence in it. + +Do you see my boy? I hope he is good, and diligent in his work. + + * * * * * + +You must write to me or I shall withdraw my avuncular relation to you. + +With good will to all your people--particularly Phyllis--I am +sincerely your friend, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, Calif., + April 16, 1893.] + +MY DEAR PARTINGTON, + +I think you wrong. On your own principle, laid down in your letter, +that "every man has a right to the full value of his labor"--pardon +me, good Englishman, I meant "laboUr"--you have a right to your wage +for the labo_u_r of teaching Leigh. And what work would _he_ get to do +but for you? + +I can't hold you and inject shekels into your pocket, but if the voice +of remonstrance has authority to enter at your ear without a ticket I +pray you to show it hospitality. + +Leigh doubtless likes to see his work in print, but I hope you will +not let him put anything out until it is as good as he can make +it--nor then if it is not good _enough_. And that whether he signs it +or not. I have talked to him about the relation of conscience to +lab-work, but I don't know if my talk all came out at the other ear. + +O--that bad joke o' mine. Where do you and Richard expect to go when +death do you part? You were neither of you present that night on the +dam, nor did I know either of you. Blanche, thank God, retains the +old-time reverence for truth: it was to her that I said it. Richard +evidently dreamed it, and you--you've been believing that confounded +_Wave_! Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, + April 18, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I take a few moments from work to write you in order (mainly) to say +that your letter of March 31st did not go astray, as you seem to +fear--though why _you_ should care if it did I can't conjecture. The +loss to me--that is probably what would touch your compassionate +heart. + +So you _will_ try to write. That is a good girl. I'm almost sure you +can--not, of course, all at once, but by-and-by. And if not, what +matter? You are not of the sort, I am sure, who would go on despite +everything, determined to succeed by dint of determining to succeed. + + * * * * * + +We are blessed with the most amiable of all conceivable weathers up +here, and the wild flowers are putting up their heads everywhere to +look for you. Lying in their graves last autumn, they overheard +(_under_heard) your promise to come in the spring, and it has +stimulated and cheered them to a vigorous growth. + +I'm sending you some more papers. Don't think yourself obliged to read +all the stuff I send you--_I_ don't read it. + +Condole with me--I have just lost another publisher--by failure. +Schulte, of Chicago, publisher of "The Monk" etc., has "gone under," I +hear. Danziger and I have not had a cent from him. I put out three +books in a year, and lo! each one brings down a publisher's gray hair +in sorrow to the grave! for Langton, of "Black Beetles," came to +grief--that is how Danziger got involved. "O that mine enemy would +_publish_ one of my books!" + +I am glad to hear of your success at your concert. If I could have +reached you you should have had the biggest basket of pretty +vegetables that was ever handed over the footlights. I'm sure you +merited it all--what do you _not_ merit? + +Your father gives me good accounts of my boy. He _must_ be doing well, +I think, by the way he neglects all my commissions. + +Enclosed you will find my contribution to the Partington art gallery, +with an autograph letter from the artist. You can hang them in any +light you please and show them to Richard. He will doubtless be +pleased to note how the latent genius of his boss has burst into +bloom. + +I have been wading in the creek this afternoon for pure love of it; +the gravel looked so clean under the water. I was for the moment at +least ten years younger than your father. To whom, and to all the rest +of your people, my sincere regards, Your uncle, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Angwin, Cala., + April 26, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + + * * * * * + +I accept your sympathy for my misfortunes in publishing. It serves me +right (I don't mean the sympathy does) for publishing. I should have +known that if a publisher cannot beat an author otherwise, or is too +honest to do so, he will do it by failing. Once in London a publisher +gave me a check dated two days ahead, and then (the only thing he +could do to make the check worthless)--ate a pork pie and died. That +was the late John Camden Hotten, to whose business and virtues my +present London publishers, Chatto and Windus, have succeeded. They +have not failed, and they refuse pork pie, but they deliberately +altered the title of my book. + +All this for your encouragement in "learning to write." Writing books +is a noble profession; it has not a shade of selfishness in +it--nothing worse than conceit. + +O yes, you shall have your big basket of flowers if ever I catch you +playing in public. I wish I could give you the carnations, +lilies-of-the-valley, violets, and first-of-the-season sweet peas now +on my table. They came from down near you--which fact they are trying +triumphantly and as hard as they can to relate in fragrance. + +I trust your mother is well of her cold--that you are all well and +happy, and that Phyllis will not forget me. And may the good Lord +bless you regularly every hour of every day for your merit, and every +minute of every hour as a special and particular favor to Your uncle, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Berkeley, + October 2, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I accept with pleasure your evidence that the Piano is not as black as +I have painted, albeit the logical inference is that I'm pretty black +myself. Indubitably I'm "in outer darkness," and can only say to you: +"Lead, kindly light." Thank you for the funny article on the luxury +question--from the funny source. But you really must not expect me +to answer it, nor show you wherein it is "wrong." I cannot discern the +expediency of you having any "views" at all in those matters--even +correct ones. If I could have my way you should think of more +profitable things than the (conceded) "wrongness" of a world which is +the habitat of a wrongheaded and wronghearted race of irreclaimable +savages. * * * When woman "broadens her sympathies" they become +annular. Don't. + +Cosgrave came over yesterday for a "stroll," but as he had a dinner +engagement to keep before going home, he was in gorgeous gear. So I +kindly hoisted him atop of Grizzly Peak and sent him back across the +Bay in a condition impossible to describe, save by the aid of a wet +dishclout for illustration. + +Please ask your father when and where he wants me to sit for the +portrait. If that picture is not sold, and ever comes into my +possession, I shall propose to swap it for yours. I have always wanted +to lay thievish hands on that, and would even like to come by it +honestly. But what under the sun would I do with either that or mine? +Fancy me packing large paintings about to country hotels and places of +last resort! + +Leigh is living with me now. Poor chap, the death of his aunt has made +him an orphan. I feel a profound compassion for any one whom an +untoward fate compels to live with _me_. However, such a one is sure +to be a good deal alone, which is a mitigation. + +With good wishes for all your people, I am sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Berkeley, + December 27, 1893.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +I'm sending you (by way of pretext for writing you) a magazine that I +asked Richard to take to you last evening, but which he forgot. +There's an illustrated article on gargoyles and the like, which will +interest you. Some of the creatures are delicious--more so than I had +the sense to perceive when I saw them alive on Notre Dame. + +I want to thank you too for the beautiful muffler before I take to my +willow chair, happy in the prospect of death. For at this hour, 10:35 +p. m., I "have on" a very promising case of asthma. If I come out of +it decently alive in a week or so I shall go over to your house and +see the finished portrait if it is "still there," like the flag in our +national anthem. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Oakland, + July 31, 1894.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +If you are not utterly devoured by mosquitoes perhaps you'll go to the +postoffice and get this. In that hope I write, not without a strong +sense of the existence of the clerks in the Dead Letter Office at +Washington. + +I hope you are (despite the mosquitoes) having "heaps" of rest and +happiness. As to me, I have only just recovered sufficiently to be +out, and "improved the occasion" by going to San Francisco yesterday +and returning on the 11:15 boat. I saw Richard, and he seemed quite +solemn at the thought of the dispersal of his family to the four +winds. + +I have a joyous letter from Leigh dated "on the road," nearing +Yosemite. He has been passing through the storied land of Bret Harte, +and is permeated with a sense of its beauty and romance. When shall +you return? May I hope, then, to see you? + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S. Here are things that I cut out for memoranda. On second thought +_I_ know all that; so send them to you for the betterment of your mind +and heart. + + B. + + +[San Jose, + October 17, 1894.] + +MY DEAR BLANCHE, + +Your kindly note was among a number which I put into my pocket at the +postoffice and forgot until last evening when I returned from Oakland. +(I dared remain up there only a few hours, and the visit did me no +good.) + +Of course I should have known that your good heart would prompt the +wish to hear from your patient, but I fear I was a trifle misanthropic +all last week, and indisposed to communicate with my species. + +I came here on Monday of last week, and the change has done me good. I +have no asthma and am slowly getting back my strength. + +Leigh and Ina Peterson passed Sunday with me, and Leigh recounted his +adventures in the mountains. I had been greatly worried about him; it +seems there was abundant reason. The next time he comes I wish he +would bring you. It is lovely down here. Perhaps you and Katie can +come some time, and I'll drive you all over the valley--if you care to +drive. + +If I continue well I shall remain here or hereabout; if not I don't +know where I shall go. Probably into the Santa Cruz mountains or to +Gilroy. If I could have my way I'd live at Piedmont. + +Do you know I lost Pin the Reptile? I brought him along in my bicycle +bag (I came the latter half of the way bike-back) and the ungrateful +scoundrel wormed himself out and took to the weeds just before we got +to San Jose. So I've nothing to lavish my second-childhoodish +affection upon--nothing but just myself. + +My permanent address is Oakland, as usual, but _you_ may address me +here at San Jose if you will be so good as to address me anywhere. +Please do, and tell me of your triumphs and trials at the Conservatory +of Music. I do fervently hope it may prove a means of prosperity to +you, for, behold, you are The Only Girl in the World Who Merits +Prosperity! + +Please give my friendly regards to your people; and so--Heaven be good +to you. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[San Jose, + October 28, 1894.] + +O, BEST OF POETS, + +How have you the heart to point out what you deem an imperfection in +those lines. Upon my soul, I swear they are faultless, and "moonlight" +is henceforth and forever a rhyme to "delight." Also, likewise, +moreover and furthermore, a ---- is henceforth ----; and ---- are +forever ----; and to ---- shall be ----; and so forth. You have +established new canons of literary criticism--more liberal ones--and +death to the wretch who does not accept them! Ah, I always knew you +were a revolutionist. + +Yes, I am in better health, worse luck! For I miss the beef-teaing +expeditions more than you can by trying. + +By the way, if you again encounter your fellow practitioner, Mrs. +Hirshberg, please tell her what has become of her patient, and that I +remember her gratefully. + +It is not uninteresting to me to hear of your progress in your art, +albeit I am debarred from entrance into the temple where it is +worshiped. After all, art finds its best usefulness in its reaction +upon the character; and in that work I can trace your proficiency in +the art that you love. As you become a better artist you grow a nicer +girl, and if your music does not cause my tympana to move themselves +aright, yet the niceness is not without its effect upon the soul o' +me. So I'm not so _very_ inert a clod, after all. + +No, Leigh has not infected me with the exploring fad. I exhausted my +capacity in that way years before I had the advantage of his +acquaintance and the contagion of his example. But I don't like to +think of that miserable mountain sitting there and grinning in the +consciousness of having beaten the Bierce family. + +So--apropos of my brother--_I_ am "odd" after a certain fashion! My +child, that is blasphemy. You grow hardier every day of your life, and +you'll end as a full colonel yet, and challenge Man to mortal combat +in true Stetsonian style. Know thy place, thou atom! + +Speaking of colonels reminds me that one of the most eminent of the +group had the assurance to write me, asking for an "audience" to +consult about a benefit that she--_she!_--is getting up for my friend +Miss * * *, a glorious writer and eccentric old maid whom you do not +know. * * * evidently wants more notoriety and proposes to shine by +Miss * * * light. I was compelled to lower the temperature of the +situation with a letter curtly courteous. Not even to assist Miss * * * +shall my name be mixed up with those of that gang. But of course all +that does not amuse you. + +I wish I could have a chat with you. I speak to nobody but my +chambermaid and the waiter at my restaurant. By the time I see you I +shall have lost the art of speech altogether and shall communicate +with you by the sign language. + +God be good to you and move you to write to me sometimes. + + Sincerely your friend, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[First part of this letter missing.] + + * * * * * + +You may, I think, expect my assistance in choosing between (or among) +your suitors next month, early. I propose to try living in Oakland +again for a short time beginning about then. But I shall have much to +do the first few days--possibly in settling my earthly affairs for it +is my determination to be hanged for killing all those suitors. That +seems to me the simplest way of disembarrassing you. As to me--it is +the "line of least resistance"--unless they fight. + + * * * * * + +So you have been ill. You must not be ill, my child--it disturbs my +Marcus Aurelian tranquillity, and is most selfishly inconsiderate of +you. + +Mourn with me: the golden leaves of my poplars are now underwheel. I +sigh for the perennial eucalyptus leaf of Piedmont. + +I hope you are all well. Sincerely your friend, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[San Jose, + November 20, 1894.] + +Since writing you yesterday, dear Blanche, I have observed that the +benefit to * * * is not abandoned--it is to occur in the evening of +the 26th, at Golden Gate Hall, San Francisco. I recall your kind offer +to act for me in any way that I might wish to assist Miss * * *. Now, +I will not have my name connected with anything that the * * * woman +and her sister-in-evidence may do for their own glorification, but I +enclose a Wells, Fargo & Co. money order for all the money I can +presently afford--wherewith you may do as you will; buy tickets, or +hand it to the treasurer in your own name. I know Miss * * * must be +awfully needy to accept a benefit--you have no idea how sensitive and +suspicious and difficult she is. She is almost impossible. But there +are countless exactions on my lean purse, and I must do the rest with +my pen. So--I thank you. + + Sincerely your friend, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[18 Iowa Circle, Washington, D. C., + January 1, 1901.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +This is just a hasty note to acknowledge receipt of your letter and +the poems. I hope to reach those pretty soon and give them the +attention which I am sure they will prove to merit--which I cannot do +now. By the way, I wonder why most of you youngsters so persistently +tackle the sonnet. For the same reason, I suppose, that a fellow +always wants to make his first appearance on the stage in the role of +"Hamlet." It is just the holy cheek of you. + +Yes, Leigh prospers fairly well, and I--well, I don't know if it is +prosperity; it is a pretty good time. + +I suppose I shall have to write to that old scoundrel Grizzly,[1] to +give him my new address, though I supposed he had it; and the old one +would do, anyhow. Now that his cub has returned he probably doesn't +care for the other plantigrades of his kind. + +[1] Albert Bierce. + +Thank you for telling me so much about some of our companions and +companionesses of the long ago. I fear that not all my heart was in my +baggage when I came over here. There's a bit of it, for example, out +there by that little lake in the hills. + +So I may have a photograph of one of your pretty sisters. Why, of +course I want it--I want the entire five of them; their pictures, I +mean. If you had been a nice fellow you would have let me know them +long ago. And how about that other pretty girl, your infinitely better +half? You might sneak into the envelope a little portrait of _her_, +lest I forget, lest I forget. But I've not yet forgotten. + +The new century's best blessings to the both o' you. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S.--In your studies of poetry have you dipped into Stedman's new +"American Anthology"? It is the most notable collection of American +verse that has been made--on the whole, a book worth having. In saying +so I rather pride myself on my magnanimity; for of course I don't +think he has done as well by me as he might have done. That, I +suppose, is what every one thinks who happens to be alive to think it. +So I try to be in the fashion. + + A. B. + + +[18 Iowa Circle, Washington, D. C., + January 19, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I've been a long while getting to your verses, but there were many +reasons--including a broken rib. They are pretty good verses, with +here and there _very_ good lines. I'd a strong temptation to steal one +or two for my "Passing Show," but I knew what an avalanche of verses +it would bring down upon me from other poets--as every mention of a +new book loads my mail with new books for a month. + +If I ventured to advise you I should recommend to you the simple, +ordinary meters and forms native to our language. + +I await the photograph of the pretty sister--don't fancy I've +forgotten. + +It is 1 a. m. and I'm about to drink your health in a glass of +Riesling and eat it in a pate. + +My love to Grizzly if you ever see him. Yours ever, + + A. B. + + +[Washington, D. C., + January 23, 1901.] + +MY DEAR DOYLE, + +Your letter of the 16th has just come and as I am waiting at my office +(where I seldom go) I shall amuse myself by replying "to onct." See +here, I don't purpose that your attack on poor Morrow's book shall +become a "continuous performance," nor even an "annual ceremony." It +is not "rot." It is not "filthy." It does not "suggest bed-pans,"--at +least it did not to me, and I'll wager something that Morrow never +thought of them. Observe and consider: If his hero and heroine had +been man and wife, the bed-pan would have been there, just the same; +yet you would not have thought of it. Every reader would have been +touched by the husband's devotion. A physician has to do with many +unpleasant things; whom do his ministrations disgust? A trained nurse +lives in an atmosphere of bed-pans--to whom is her presence or work +suggestive of them? I'm thinking of the heroic Father Damien and his +lepers; do you dwell upon the rotting limbs and foul distortions of +his unhappy charges? Is not his voluntary martyrdom one of the sanest, +cleanest, most elevating memories in all history? Then it is _not_ the +bed-pan necessity that disgusts you; it is something else. It is the +fact that the hero of the story, being neither physician, articled +nurse, nor certificated husband, nevertheless performed _their_ work. +He ministered to the helpless in a natural way without authority from +church or college, quite irregular and improper and all that. My noble +critic, there speaks in your blood the Untamed Philistine. You were +not caught young enough. You came into letters and art with all your +beastly conventionalities in full mastery of you. Take a purge. Forget +that there are Philistines. Forget that they have put their abominable +pantalettes upon the legs of Nature. Forget that their code of +morality and manners (it stinks worse than a bed-pan) does _not_ exist +in the serene altitude of great art, toward which you have set your +toes and into which I want you to climb. I know about this thing. I, +too, tried to rise with all that dead weight dragging at my feet. +Well, I could not--now I could if I cared to. In my mind I do. It is +not freedom of act--not freedom of living, for which I contend, but +freedom of thought, of mind, of spirit; the freedom to see in the +horrible laws, prejudices, custom, conventionalities of the multitude, +something good for them, but of no value to you _in your art._ In your +life and conduct defer to as much of it as you will (you'll find it +convenient to defer to a whole lot), but in your mind and art let not +the Philistine enter, nor even speak a word through the keyhole. My +own chief objection to Morrow's story is (as I apprised him) its +unnaturalness. He did not dare to follow the logical course of his +narrative. He was too cowardly (or had too keen an eye upon his market +of prudes) to make hero and heroine join in the holy bonds of +_bed_lock, as they naturally, inevitably and rightly would have done +long before she was able to be about. I daresay that, too, would have +seemed to you "filthy," without the parson and his fee. When you +analyze your objection to the story (as I have tried to do for you) +you will find that it all crystallizes into that--the absence of the +parson. I don't envy you your view of the matter, and I really don't +think you greatly enjoy it yourself. I forgot to say: Suppose they had +been two men, two partners in hunting, mining, or exploring, as +frequently occurs. Would the bed-pan suggestion have come to you? Did +it come to you when you read of the slow, but not uniform, starvation +of Greeley's party in the arctic? Of course not. Then it is a matter, +not of bed-pans, but of sex-exposure (unauthorized by the church), of +prudery--of that artificial thing, the "sense of shame," of which the +great Greeks knew nothing; of which the great Japanese know nothing; +of which Art knows nothing. Dear Doctor, do you really put trousers on +your piano-legs? Does your indecent intimacy with your mirror make you +blush? + +There, there's the person whom I've been waiting for (I'm to take her +to dinner, and I'm not married to even so much of her as her little +toe) has come; and until you offend again, you are immune from the +switch. May all your brother Philistines have to "Kiss the place to +make it well." + +Pan is dead! Long live Bed-Pan! + + Yours ever, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, + February 17, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I send back the poems, with a few suggestions. You grow great so +rapidly that I shall not much longer dare to touch your work. I mean +that. + +Your criticisms of Stedman's Anthology are just. But equally just ones +can be made of any anthology. None of them can suit any one. I fancy +Stedman did not try to "live up" to his standard, but to make +_representative_, though not always the _best_, selections. It would +hardly do to leave out Whitman, for example. _We_ may not like him; +thank God, we don't; but many others--the big fellows too--do; and in +England he is thought great. And then Stedman has the bad luck to know +a lot of poets personally--many bad poets. Put yourself in his place. +Would you leave out me if you honestly thought my work bad? + +In any compilation we will all miss some of our favorites--and find +some of the public's favorites. You miss from Whittier "Joseph +Sturge"--I the sonnet "Forgiveness," and so forth. Alas, there is no +universal standard! + +Thank you for the photographs. Miss * * * is a pretty girl, truly, and +has the posing instinct as well. She has the place of honor on my +mantel. * * * But what scurvy knave has put the stage-crime into her +mind? If you know that life as I do you will prefer that she die, poor +girl. + +It is no trouble, but a pleasure, to go over your verses--I am as +proud of your talent as if I'd made it. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +[over] + +About the rhymes in a sonnet: + + "Regular", or "English" Modern + Italian form form English + (Petrarch): (Shakspear's): 1 + 1 1 2 + 2 2 2 + 2 1 1 + 1 2 1 + 1 3 2 + 2 4 2 + 2 3 1 + 1 4 Two or three + 3 5 rhymes; any + 4 6 arrangement + 5 5 + 3 6 + 4 7 + 5 7 + +There are good reasons for preferring the regular Italian form created +by Petrarch--who knew a thing or two; and sometimes good reasons for +another arrangement--of the sestet rhymes. If one should sacrifice a +great thought to be like Petrarch one would not resemble him. + + A. B. + + +[Washington, D. C., + May 2, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I am sending to the "Journal" your splendid poem on Memorial Day. Of +course I can't say what will be its fate. I am not even personally +acquainted with the editor of the department to which it goes. But if +he has not the brains to like it he is to send it back and I'll try to +place it elsewhere. It is great--great!--the loftiest note that you +have struck and _held_. + +Maybe I owe you a lot of letters. I don't know--my correspondence all +in arrears and I've not the heart to take it up. + +Thank you for your kind words of sympathy.[2] I'm hit harder than any +one can guess from the known facts--am a bit broken and gone gray of +it all. + +[2] Concerning the death of his son Leigh. + +But I remember you asked the title of a book of synonyms. It is +"Roget's Thesaurus," a good and useful book. + +The other poems I will look up soon and consider. I've made no +alterations in the "Memorial Day" except to insert the omitted stanza. +Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, + May 9, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I send the poems with suggestions. There's naught to say about 'em +that I've not said of your other work. Your "growth in grace" (and +other poetic qualities) is something wonderful. You are leaving my +other "pupils" so far behind that they are no longer "in it." +Seriously, you "promise" better than any of the new men in our +literature--and perform better than all but Markham in his lucid +intervals, alas, too rare. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, + May 22, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I enclose a proof of the poem[3]--all marked up. The poem was offered +to the Journal, but to the wrong editor. I would not offer it to him +in whose department it could be used, for he once turned down some +admirable verses of my friend Scheffauer which I sent him. I'm glad +the Journal is _not_ to have it, for it now goes into the Washington +Post--and the Post into the best houses here and elsewhere--a good, +clean, unyellow paper. I'll send you some copies with the poem. + +[3] "Memorial Day." + +I think my marks are intelligible--I mean my _re_marks. Perhaps you'll +not approve all, or anything, that I did to the poem; I'll only ask +you to endure. When you publish in covers you can restore to the +original draft if you like. I had not time (after my return from New +York) to get your approval and did the best and the least I could. + + * * * * * + +My love to your pretty wife and sister. Let me know how hard you hate +me for monkeying with your sacred lines. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +Yes, your poem recalled my "Invocation" as I read it; but it is +better, and not too much like--hardly like at all except in the +"political" part. Both, in that, are characterized, I think, by decent +restraint. How * * * would, at those places, have ranted and chewed +soap!--a superior quality of soap, I confess. + + A. B. + + +[1825 Nineteenth St., N. W., Washington, D. C., + June 30, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I am glad my few words of commendation were not unpleasing to you. I +meant them all and more. You ought to have praise, seeing that it is +all you got. The "Post," like most other newspapers, "don't pay for +poetry." What a damning confession! It means that the public is as +insensible to poetry as a pig to--well, to poetry. To any sane mind +such a poem as yours is worth more than all the other contents of a +newspaper for a year. + +I've not found time to consider your "bit of blank" yet--at least not +as carefully as it probably merits. + +My relations with the present editor of the Examiner are not +unfriendly, I hope, but they are too slight to justify me in +suggesting anything to him, or even drawing his attention to anything. +I hoped you would be sufficiently "enterprising" to get your poem into +the paper if you cared to have it there. I wrote Dr. Doyle about you. +He is a dear fellow and you should know each other. As to Scheffauer, +he is another. If you want him to see your poem why not send it to +him? But the last I heard he was very ill. I'm rather anxious to hear +more about him. + +It was natural to enclose the stamps, but I won't have it so--so +there! as the women say. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[1825 Nineteenth St., N. W., Washington, D. C., + July 15, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +Here is the bit of blank. When are we to see the book? Needless +question--when you can spare the money to pay for publication, I +suppose, if by that time you are ambitious to achieve public +inattention. That's my notion of encouragement--I like to cheer up the +young author as he sets his face toward "the peaks of song." + +Say, that photograph of the pretty sister--the one with a downward +slope of the eyes--is all faded out. That is a real misfortune: it +reduces the sum of human happiness hereabout. Can't you have one done +in fast colors and let me have it? The other is all right, but that is +not the one that I like the better for my wall. Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Olympia, Washington, D. C., + December 16, 1901.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I enclose the poems with a few suggestions. They require little +criticism of the sort that would be "helpful." As to their merit I +think them good, but not great. I suppose you do not expect to write +great things every time. Yet in the body of your letter (of Oct. 22) +you do write greatly--and say that the work is "egoistic" and +"unprintable." If it[4] were addressed to another person than myself I +should say that it is "printable" exceedingly. Call it what you will, +but let me tell you it will probably be long before you write anything +better than some--many--of these stanzas. + +[4] "Dedication" poem to Ambrose Bierce. + +You ask if you have correctly answered your own questions. Yes; in +four lines of your running comment: + +"I suppose that I'd do the greater good in the long run by making my +work as good poetry as possible." + + * * * * * + +Of course I deplore your tendency to dalliance with the demagogic +muse. I hope you will not set your feet in the dirty paths--leading +nowhither--of social and political "reform".... I hope you will not +follow * * * in making a sale of your poet's birthright for a mess of +"popularity." If you do I shall have to part company with you, as I +have done with him and at least _one_ of his betters, for I draw the +line at demagogues and anarchists, however gifted and however +beloved. + +Let the "poor" alone--they are oppressed by nobody but God. Nobody +hates them, nobody despises. "The rich" love them a deal better than +they love one another. But I'll not go into these matters; your own +good sense must be your salvation if you are saved. I recognise the +temptations of environment: you are of San Francisco, the paradise of +ignorance, anarchy and general yellowness. Still, a poet is not +altogether the creature of his place and time--at least not of his +to-day and his parish. + +By the way, you say that * * * is your only associate that knows +anything of literature. She is a dear girl, but look out for her; she +will make you an anarchist if she can, and persuade you to kill a +President or two every fine morning. I warrant you she can pronounce +the name of McKinley's assassin to the ultimate zed, and has a little +graven image of him next her heart. + +Yes, you can republish the Memorial Day poem without the _Post's_ +consent--could do so in "book form" even if the _Post_ had copyrighted +it, which it did not do. I think the courts have held that in +purchasing work for publication in his newspaper or magazine the +editor acquires no right in it, _except for that purpose_. Even if he +copyright it that is only to protect him from other newspapers or +magazines; the right to publish in a book remains with the author. +Better ask a lawyer though--preferably without letting him know +whether you are an editor or an author. + +I ought to have answered (as well as able) these questions before, but +I have been ill and worried, and have written few letters, and even +done little work, and that only of the pot-boiling sort. + +My daughter has recovered and returned to Los Angeles. + +Please thank Miss * * * for the beautiful photographs--I mean for +being so beautiful as to "take" them, for doubtless I owe their +possession to you. + +I wrote Doyle about you and he cordially praised your work as +incomparably superior to his own and asked that you visit him. He's a +lovable fellow and you'd not regret going to Santa Cruz and boozing +with him. + +Thank you for the picture of Grizzly and the cub of him. + +Sincerely yours, with best regards to the pretty ever-so-much-better +half of you, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S. * * * * * * * * * * * + + +[The Olympia, Washington, D. C., + March 15, 1902.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +Where are you going to stop?--I mean at what stage of development? I +presume you have not a "whole lot" of poems really writ, and have not +been feeding them to me, the least good first, and not in the order of +their production. So it must be that you are advancing at a stupendous +rate. This last[5] beats any and all that went before--or I am +bewitched and befuddled. I dare not trust myself to say what I think +of it. In manner it is great, but the greatness of the theme!--that is +beyond anything. + +[5] "The Testimony of the Suns." + +It is a new field, the broadest yet discovered. To paraphrase +Coleridge, + + You are the first that ever burst + Into that silent [unknown] sea-- + +a silent sea _because_ no one else has burst into it in full song. +True, there have been short incursions across the "border," but only +by way of episode. The tremendous phenomena of Astronomy have never +had adequate poetic treatment, their meaning adequate expression. You +must make it your own domain. You shall be the poet of the skies, +the prophet of the suns. Don't fiddle-faddle with such infinitesimal +and tiresome trivialities as (for example) the immemorial squabbles of +"rich" and "poor" on this "mote in the sun-beam." (Both "classes," +when you come to that, are about equally disgusting and +unworthy--there's not a pin's moral difference between them.) Let them +cheat and pick pockets and cut throats to the satisfaction of their +base instincts, but do thou regard them not. Moreover, by that great +law of change which you so clearly discern, there can be no permanent +composition of their nasty strife. "Settle" it how they will--another +beat of the pendulum and all is as before; and ere another, Man will +again be savage, sitting on his naked haunches and gnawing raw bones. + +Yes, circumstances make the "rich" what they are. And circumstances +make the poor what _they_ are. I have known both, long and well. The +rich--_while_ rich--are a trifle better. There's nothing like poverty +to nurture badness. But in this country there are no such "classes" as +"rich" and "poor": as a rule, the wealthy man of to-day was a poor +devil yesterday; the poor devils of to-day have an equal chance to be +rich to-morrow--or would have if they had equal brains and providence. +The system that gives them the chance is not an oppressive one. Under +a really oppressive system a salesman in a village grocery could not +have risen to a salary of one million dollars a year because he was +worth it to his employers, as Schwab has done. True, some men get rich +by dishonesty, but the poor commonly cheat as hard as they can and +remain poor--thereby escaping observation and censure. The moral +difference between cheating to the limit of a small opportunity and +cheating to the limit of a great one is to me indiscernable. The +workman who "skimps his work" is just as much a rascal as the +"director" who corners a crop. + +As to "Socialism." I am something of a Socialist myself; that is, I +think that the principle, which has always coexisted with competition, +each safeguarding the other, may be advantageously extended. But those +who rail against "the competitive system," and think they suffer from +it, really suffer from their own unthrift and incapacity. For the +competent and provident it is an ideally perfect system. As the other +fellows are not of those who effect permanent reforms, or reforms of +any kind, pure Socialism is the dream of a dream. + +But why do I write all this. One's opinions on such matters are +unaffected by reason and instance; they are born of feeling and +temperament. There is a Socialist diathesis, as there is an Anarchist +diathesis. Could you teach a bulldog to retrieve, or a sheep to fetch +and carry? Could you make a "born artist" comprehend a syllogism? As +easily persuade a poet that black is not whatever color he loves. +Somebody has defined poetry as "glorious nonsense." It is not an +altogether false definition, albeit I consider poetry the flower and +fruit of speech and would rather write gloriously than sensibly. But +if poets saw things as they are they would write no more poetry. + +Nevertheless, I venture to ask you: _Can't_ you see in the prosperity +of the strong and the adversity of the weak a part of that great +beneficent law, "the survival of the fittest"? Don't you see that such +evils as inhere in "the competitive system" are evils only to +individuals, but blessings to the race by gradually weeding out the +incompetent and their progeny? + +I've done, i' faith. Be any kind of 'ist or 'er that you will, but +don't let it get into your ink. Nobody is calling you to deliver your +land from Error's chain. What we want of you is poetry, not politics. +And if you care for fame just have the goodness to consider if any +"champion of the poor" has ever obtained it. From the earliest days +down to Massanielo, Jack Cade and Eugene Debs the leaders and prophets +of "the masses" have been held unworthy. And with reason too, however +much injustice is mixed in with the right of it. Eventually the most +conscientious, popular and successful "demagogue" comes into a +heritage of infamy. The most brilliant gifts cannot save him. That +will be the fate of Edwin Markham if he does not come out o' that, and +it will be the fate of George Sterling if he will not be warned. + +You think that "the main product of that system" (the "competitive") +"is the love of money." What a case of the cart before the horse! The +love of money is not the product, but the root, of the system--not the +effect, but the cause. When one man desires to be better off than +another he competes with him. You can abolish the system when you can +abolish the desire--when you can make man as Nature did _not_ make +him, content to be as poor as the poorest. Do away with the desire to +excel and you may set up your Socialism at once. But what kind of a +race of sloths and slugs will you have? + +But, bless me, I shall _never_ have done if I say all that comes to +me. + +Why, of course my remarks about * * * were facetious--playful. She +really is an anarchist, and her sympathies are with criminals, whom +she considers the "product" of the laws, but--well, she inherited the +diathesis and can no more help it than she can the color of her pretty +eyes. But she is a child--and except in so far as her convictions +make her impossible they do not count. She would not hurt a fly--not +even if, like the toad, it had a precious jewel in its head that it +did not work for. But I am speaking of the * * * that _I_ knew. If I +did not know that the anarchist leopard's spots "will wash," your +words would make me think that she might have changed. It does not +matter what women think, if thinking it may be called, and * * * will +never be other than lovable. + +Lest you have _not_ a copy of the verses addressed to me I enclose one +that I made myself. Of course their publication could not be otherwise +than pleasing to me if you care to do it. You need not fear the +"splendid weight" expression, and so forth--there is nothing +"conceited" in the poem. As it was addressed to me, I have not +criticised it--I _can't_. And I guess it needs no criticism. + +I fear for the other two-thirds of this latest poem. If you descend +from Arcturus to Earth, from your nebulae to your neighbors, from Life +to lives, from the measureless immensities of space to the petty +passions of us poor insects, won't you incur the peril of anti-climax? +I doubt if you can touch the "human interest" after those high themes +without an awful tumble. I should be sorry to see the poem "peter +out," or "soak in." It would be as if Goethe had let his "Prologue in +Heaven" expire in a coon song. You have reached the "heights of dream" +all right, but how are you to stay there to the end? By the way, you +must perfect yourself in Astronomy, or rather get a general knowledge +of it, which I fear you lack. Be sure about the pronunciation of +astronomical names. + +I have read some of Jack London's work and think it clever. Of +Whitaker I never before heard, I fear. If London wants to criticise +your "Star poem" what's the objection? I should not think, though, +from his eulogism of * * *, that he is very critical. * * * + +Where are you to place Browning? Among thinkers. In his younger days, +when he wrote in English, he stood among the poets. I remember writing +once--of the thinker: "There's nothing more obscure than Browning +except blacking." I'll stand to that. + +No, don't take the trouble to send me a copy of these verses: I expect +to see them in a book pretty soon. * * * + + Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Olympia, Washington, D. C., + March 31, 1902.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +I am glad to know that you too have a good opinion of that poem.[6] +One should know about one's own work. Most writers think their work +good, but good writers know it. Pardon me if I underrated your +astronomical knowledge. My belief was based on your use of those +names. I never met with the spelling "Betelgeux"; and even if it is +correct and picturesque I'd not use it if I were you, for it does not +quite speak itself, and you can't afford to jolt the reader's +attention from your thought to a matter of pronunciation. In my +student days we, I am sure, were taught to say Procy'on. I don't think +I've heard it pronounced since, and I've no authority at hand. If you +are satisfied with Pro'cyon I suppose it is that. But your +pronunciation was Aldeb'aran or your meter very crazy indeed. I asked +(with an interrogation point) if it were not Aldeba'ran--and I think +it is. Fomalhaut I don't know about; I thought it French and +masculine. In that case it would, I suppose, be "ho," not "hote." + +[6] "The Testimony of the Suns." + +Don't cut out that stanza, even if "clime" doesn't seem to me to have +anything to do with duration. The stanza is good enough to stand a +blemish. + +"Ye stand rebuked by suns who claim"--I was wrong in substituting +"that" for "who," not observing that it would make it ambiguous. I +merely yielded to a favorite impulse: to say "that" instead of "who," +and did not count the cost. + +Don't cut out _any_ stanza--if you can't perfect them let them go +imperfect. + + "Without or genesis or end." + "Devoid of birth, devoid of end." + +These are not so good as + +"Without beginning, without end";--I submit them to suggest a way to +overcome that identical rhyme. All you have to do is get rid of the +second "without." I should not like "impend." + +Yes, I vote for Orion's _sword_ of suns. "Cimetar" sounds better, but +it is more specific--less generic. It is modern--or, rather, less +ancient than "sword," and makes one think of Turkey and the Holy Land. +But "sword"--there were swords before Homer. And I don't think the man +who named this constellation ever saw a curved blade. And yet, and +yet--"cimetar of suns" is "mighty catchin'." + +No, indeed, I could not object to your considering the heavens in a +state of war. I have sometimes fancied I could hear the rush and roar +of it. Why, a few months ago I began a sonnet thus: + + "Not as two erring spheres together grind, + With monstrous ruin, in the vast of space, + Destruction born of that malign embrace-- + Their hapless peoples all to death consigned--" etc. + +I've been a star-gazer all my life--from my habit of being "out late," +I guess; and the things have always seemed to me _alive_. + +The change in the verses _ad meum_, from "_thy_ clearer light" to +"_the_ clearer light" may have been made modestly or inadvertently--I +don't recollect. It is, of course, no improvement and you may do as +you please. I'm uniformly inadvertent, but intermittently modest. + + * * * * * + +A class of stuff that I can't (without "trouble in the office") write +my own way I will not write at all. So I'm writing very little of +anything but nonsense. * * * + +With best regards to Mrs. Sterling and Miss Marian I am + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +Leigh died a year ago this morning. I wish I could stop counting the +days. + + +[The Olympia, Washington, D. C., + April 15, 1902.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +All right--I only wanted you to be _sure_ about those names of stars; +it would never do to be less than sure. + +After all our talk (made by me) I guess that stanza would better stand +as first written. "Clime"--climate--connotes temperature, weather, and +so forth, in ordinary speech, but a poet may make his own definitions, +I suppose, and compel the reader to study them out and accept them. + +Your misgiving regarding your inability to reach so high a plane again +as in this poem is amusing, but has an element of the pathetic. It +certainly is a misfortune for a writer to do his _best_ work early; +but I fancy you'd better trust your genius and do its bidding whenever +the monkey chooses to bite. "The Lord will provide." Of course you +have read Stockton's story "His Wife's Deceased Sister." But Stockton +gets on very well, despite "The Lady or the Tiger." I've a notion that +you'll find other tragedies among the stars if earth doesn't supply +you with high enough themes. + +Will I write a preface for the book? Why, yes, if you think me +competent. Emerson commands us to "hitch our wagon to a star?" and, +egad! here's a whole constellation--a universe--of stars to draw mine! +It makes me blink to think of it. + +O yes, I'd like well enough to "leave the Journal," but-- + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Olympia, Washington, D. C., + July 10, 1902.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +If rejection wounded, all writers would bleed at every pore. +Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done. Of course I shall be glad +to go over your entire body of work again and make suggestions if any +occur to me. It will be no trouble--I could not be more profitably +employed than in critically reading you, nor more agreeably. + + * * * * * + +Of course your star poem has one defect--if it is a defect--that +limits the circle of understanding and admiring readers--its lack of +"_human_ interest." We human insects, as a rule, care for nothing but +ourselves, and think that is best which most closely touches such +emotions and sentiments as grow out of our relations, the one with +another. I don't share the preference, and a few others do not, +believing that there are things more interesting than men and women. +The Heavens, for example. But who knows, or cares anything about +them--even knows the name of a single constellation? Hardly any one +but the professional astronomers--and there are not enough of them to +buy your books and give you fame. I should be sorry not to have that +poem published--sorry if you did not write more of the kind. But while +it may impress and dazzle "the many" it will not win them. They want +you to finger their heart-strings and pull the cord that works their +arms and legs. So you must finger and pull--too. + +The Chateau Yquem came all right, and is good. Thank you for +it--albeit I'm sorry you feel that you must do things like that. It is +very conventional and, I fear, "proper." However, I remember that you +used to do so when you could not by any stretch of imagination have +felt that you were under an "obligation." So I guess it is all +right--just your way of reminding me of the old days. Anyhow, the wine +is so much better than my own that I've never a scruple when drinking +it. + +Has "Maid Marian" a photograph of me?--I don't remember. If not I'll +send her one; I've just had some printed from a negative five or six +years old. I've renounced the photograph habit, as one renounces other +habits when age has made them ridiculous--or impossible. + +Send me the typewritten book when you have it complete. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, + August 19, 1902.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I suppose you are in Seattle, but this letter will keep till your +return. + +I am delighted to know that I am to have "the book" so soon, and will +give it my best attention and (if you still desire) some prefatory +lines. Think out a good title and I shall myself be hospitable to any +suggestion of my daemon in the matter. He has given me nothing for the +star poem yet. + + * * * * * + +You'll "learn in suffering what you teach in song," all right; but let +us hope the song will be the richer for it. It _will_ be. For that +reason I never altogether "pity the sorrows" of a writer--knowing they +are good for him. He needs them in his business. I suspect you must +have shed a tear or two since I knew you. + +I'm sending you a photograph, but you did not tell me if Maid Marian +the Superb already has one--that's what I asked you, and if you don't +answer I shall ask her. + + * * * * * + +Yes, I am fairly well, and, though not "happy," content. But I'm +dreadfully sorry about Peterson. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +I am about to break up my present establishment and don't know where +my next will be. Better address me "Care N. Y. American and Journal +Bureau, Washington, D. C." + +You see I'm still chained to the oar of yellow journalism, but it is a +rather light servitude. + + +[Address me at 1321 Yale Street, Washington, D. C., + December 20, 1902.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +I fancy you must fear by this time that I did not get the poems, but I +did. I'll get at them, doubtless, after awhile, though a good deal of +manuscript--including a couple of novels!--is ahead of them; and one +published book of bad poems awaits a particular condemnation. + +I'm a little embarrassed about the preface which I'm to write. I fear +you must forego the preface or I the dedication. That kind of +"cooperation" doesn't seem in very good taste: it smacks of "mutual +admiration" in the bad sense, and the reviewers would probably call it +"log-rolling." Of course it doesn't matter too much what the reviewers +say, but it matters a lot what the intelligent readers think; and your +book will have no others. I really shouldn't like to write the preface +of a book dedicated to me, though I did not think of that at first. + +The difficulty could be easily removed by _not_ dedicating the book to +me were it not that that would sacrifice the noble poem with my name +atop of it. That poem is itself sufficiently dedicatory if printed by +itself in the forepages of the book and labeled "Dedication--To +Ambrose Bierce." I'm sure that vanity has nothing to do, or little to +do, with my good opinion of the verses. And, after all, they _show_ +that I have said _to you_ all that I could say to the reader in your +praise and encouragement. What do you think? + +As to dedicating individual poems to other fellows, I have not the +slightest hesitancy in advising you against it. The practice smacks of +the amateur and is never, I think, pleasing to anybody but the person +so honored. The custom has fallen into "innocuous desuetude" and there +appears to be no call for its revival. Pay off your obligations (if +such there be) otherwise. You may put it this way if you like: The +whole book being dedicated to me, no part of it _can_ be dedicated to +another. Or this way: Secure in my exalted position I don't purpose +sharing the throne with rival (and inferior) claimants. They be gam +doodled! + +Seriously--but I guess it is serious enough as it stands. It occurs to +me that in saying: "no part of it _can_ be dedicated to another" I +might be understood as meaning: "no part of it _must_ be," etc. No; I +mean only that the dedication to another would contradict the +dedication to me. The two things are (as a matter of fact) +incompatible. + +Well, if you think a short preface by me preferable to the verses with +my name, all right; I will cheerfully write it, and that will leave +you free to honor your other friends if you care to. But those are +great lines, and implying, as they do, all that a set preface could +say, it seems to me that they ought to stand. + + * * * * * + +Maid Marian shall have the photograph. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[1321 Yale Street, Washington, D. C., + March 1, 1903.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +You are a brick. You shall do as you will. My chief reluctance is that +if it become known, or _when_ it becomes known, there may ensue a +suspicion of my honesty in praising you and _your_ book; for critics +and readers are not likely to look into the matter of dates. For your +sake I should be sorry to have it thought that my commendation was +only a log-rolling incident; for myself, I should care nothing about +it. This eel is accustomed to skinning. + +It is not the least pleasing of my reflections that my friends have +always liked my work--or me--well enough to want to publish my books +at their own expense. Everything that I have written could go to the +public that way if I would consent. In the two instances in which I +did consent they got their money back all right, and I do not doubt +that it will be so in this; for if I did not think there was at least +a little profit in a book of mine I should not offer it to a +publisher. "Shapes of Clay" _ought_ to be published in California, +and it would have been long ago if I had not been so lazy and so +indisposed to dicker with the publishers. Properly advertised--which +no book of mine ever has been--it should sell there if nowhere else. +Why, then, do _I_ not put up the money? Well, for one reason, I've +none to put up. Do you care for the other reasons? + +But I must make this a condition. If there is a loss, _I_ am to bear +it. To that end I shall expect an exact accounting from your Mr. Wood, +and the percentage that Scheff. purposes having him pay to me is to go +to you. The copyright is to be mine, but nothing else until you are +entirely recouped. But all this I will arrange with Scheff., who, I +take it, is to attend to the business end of the matter, with, of +course, your assent to the arrangements that he makes. + +I shall write Scheff. to-day to go ahead and make his contract with +Mr. Wood on these lines. Scheff. appears not to know who the "angel" +in the case is, and he need not, unless, or until, you want him to. + +I've a pretty letter from Maid Marian in acknowledgment of the +photograph. I shall send one to Mrs. Sterling at once, in the sure and +certain hope of getting another. It is good of her to remember my +existence, considering that your scoundrelly monopoly of her permitted +us to meet so seldom. I go in for a heavy tax on married men who live +with their wives. + +"She holds no truce with Death _or_ Peace" means that with _one_ of +them she holds no truce; "nor" makes it mean that she holds no truce +with _either_. The misuse of "or" (its use to mean "nor") is nearly +everybody's upsetting sin. So common is it that "nor" instead usually +sounds harsh. + +I omitted the verses on "Puck," not because Bunner is dead, but +because his work is dead too, and the verses appear to lack intrinsic +merit to stand alone. I shall perhaps omit a few more when I get the +proofs (I wish you could see the bushels I've left out already) and +add a few serious ones. + +I'm glad no end that you and Scheff. have met. I'm fond of the boy and +he likes me, I think. He too has a book of verses on the ways, and I +hope for it a successful launching. I've been through it all; some of +it is great in the matter of thews and brawn; some fine. + +Pardon the typewriter; I wanted a copy of this letter. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The New York "American" Bureau, Washington, D. C., + June 13, 1903.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +It is good to hear from you again and to know that the book is so +nearly complete as to be in the hands of the publishers. I dare say +they will not have it, and you'll have to get it out at your own +expense. When it comes to that I shall hope to be of service to you, +as you have been to me. + +So you like Scheff. Yes, he is a good boy and a good friend. I wish +you had met our friend Dr. Doyle, who has now gone the long, lone +journey. It has made a difference to me, but that matters little, for +the time is short in which to grieve. I shall soon be going his way. + +No, I shall not put anything about the * * * person into "Shapes of +Clay." His offence demands another kind of punishment, and until I +meet him he goes unpunished. I once went to San Francisco to punish +him (but that was in hot blood) but * * * of "The Wave" told me the +man was a hopeless invalid, suffering from locomotor ataxia. I have +always believed that until I got your letter and one from Scheff. Is +it not so?--or _was_ it not? If not he has good reason to think me a +coward, for his offence was what men are killed for; but of course +one does not kill a helpless person, no matter what the offence is. +If * * * lied to me I am most anxious to know it; he has always +professed himself a devoted friend. + +The passage that you quote from Jack London strikes me as good. I +don't dislike the word "penetrate"--rather like it. It is in frequent +use regarding exploration and discovery. But I think you right about +"rippling"; it is too lively a word to be outfitted with such an +adjective as "melancholy." I see London has an excellent article in +"The Critic" on "The Terrible and Tragic in Fiction." He knows how to +think a bit. + +What do I think of Cowley-Brown and his "Goosequill"? I did not know +that he had revived it; it died several years ago. I never met him, +but in both Chicago and London (where he had "The Philistine," or "The +Anti-Philistine," I do not at the moment remember which) he was most +kind to me and my work. In one number of his magazine--the London +one--he had four of my stories and a long article about me which +called the blushes to my maiden cheek like the reflection of a red +rose in the petal of a violet. Naturally I think well of Cowley-Brown. + +You make me sad to think of the long leagues and the monstrous +convexity of the earth separating me from your camp in the redwoods. +There are few things that I would rather do than join that party; and +I'd be the last to strike my tent and sling my swag. Alas, it cannot +be--not this year. My outings are limited to short runs along this +coast. I was about to set out on one this morning; and wrote a hasty +note to Scheff in consequence of my preparations. In five hours I was +suffering from asthma, and am now confined to my room. But for eight +months of the year here I am immune--as I never was out there. + + * * * * * + +You will have to prepare yourself to endure a good deal of praise when +that book is out. One does not mind when one gets accustomed to it. It +neither pleases nor bores; you will have just no feeling about it at +all. But if you really care for _my_ praise I hope you have quoted a +bit of it at the head of those dedicatory verses, as I suggested. That +will give them a _raison d'etre_. + +With best regards to Mrs. Sterling and Katie I am sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S.--If not too much trouble you may remind Dick Partington and wife +that I continue to exist and to remember them pleasantly. + + +[N. Y. "American" Bureau, Washington, D. C., + [July, 1903].] + +DEAR SCHEFF: + +I got the proofs yesterday, and am returning them by this mail. The +"report of progress" is every way satisfactory, and I don't doubt that +a neat job is being done. + +The correction that you made is approved. I should have wanted and +expected you to make many corrections and suggestions, but that I have +had a purpose in making this book--namely, that it should represent my +work at its average. In pursuance of this notion I was not hospitable +even to suggestions, and have retained much work that I did not myself +particularly approve; some of it trivial. You know I have always been +addicted to trifling, and no book from which trivialities were +excluded would fairly represent me. + +I could not commend this notion in another. In your work and +Sterling's I have striven hard to help you to come as near to +perfection as we could, because perfection is what you and he want, +and as young writers ought to want, the character of your work being +higher than mine. I reached my literary level long ago, and seeing +that it is not a high one there would seem to be a certain +affectation, even a certain dishonesty, in making it seem higher than +it is by republication of my best only. Of course I have not carried +out this plan so consistently as to make the book dull: I had to "draw +the line" at that. + +I say all this because I don't want you and Sterling to think that I +disdain assistance: I simply decided beforehand not to avail myself of +its obvious advantages. You would have done as much for the book in +one way as you have done in another. + +I'll have to ask you to suggest that Mr. Wood have a man go over all +the matter in the book, and see that none of the pieces are +duplicated, as I fear they are. Reading the titles will not be enough: +I might have given the same piece two titles. It will be necessary to +compare first lines, I think. That will be drudgery which I'll not ask +you to undertake: some of Wood's men, or some of the printer's men, +will do it as well; it is in the line of their work. + +The "Dies Irae" is the most earnest and sincere of religious poems; my +travesty of it is mere solemn fooling, which fact is "given away" in +the prose introduction, where I speak of my version being of possible +service in the church! The travesty is not altogether unfair--it was +inevitably suggested by the author's obvious inaccessibility to humor +and logic--a peculiarity that is, however, observable in all religious +literature, for it is a fundamental necessity to the religious mind. +Without logic and a sense of the ludicrous a man is religious as +certainly as without webbed feet a bird has the land habit. + +It is funny, but I am a "whole lot" more interested in seeing your +cover of the book than my contents of it. I don't at all doubt--since +you dared undertake it--that your great conception will find a fit +interpreter in your hand; so my feeling is not anxiety. It is just +interest--pure interest in what is above my powers, but in which _you_ +can work. By the way, Keller, of the old "Wasp" was _not_ the best of +its cartoonists. The best--the best of _all_ cartoonists if he had not +died at eighteen--was another German, named Barkhaus. I have all his +work and have long cherished a wish to republish it with the needed +explanatory text--much of it being "local" and "transient." Some day, +perhaps--most likely not. But Barkhaus was a giant. + +How I envy you! There are few things that would please me so well as +to "drop in" on you folks in Sterling's camp. Honestly, I think all +that prevents is the (to me) killing journey by rail. And two months +would be required, going and returning by sea. But the rail trip +across the continent always gives me a horrible case of asthma, which +lasts for weeks. I shall never take _that_ journey again if I can +avoid it. What times you and they will have about the campfire and the +table! I feel like an exile, though I fear I don't look and act the +part. + +I did not make the little excursion I was about to take when I wrote +you recently. Almost as I posted the letter I was taken ill and have +not been well since. + +Poor Doyle! how thoughtful of him to provide for the destruction of my +letters! But I fear Mrs. Doyle found some of them queer reading--if +she read them. + + * * * * * + +Great Scott! if ever they begin to publish mine there will be a +circus! For of course the women will be the chief sinners, +and--well, they have material a-plenty; they can make many volumes, +and your poor dead friend will have so bad a reputation that you'll +swear you never knew him. I dare say, though, you have sometimes been +indiscreet, too. _My_ besetting sin has been in writing to my girl +friends as if they were sweethearts--the which they'll doubtless not +be slow to affirm. The fact that they write to me in the same way will +be no defense; for when I'm worm's meat I can't present the proof--and +wouldn't if I could. Maybe it won't matter--if I don't turn in my +grave and so bother the worms. + +As Doyle's "literary executor" I fear your duties will be light: he +probably did not leave much manuscript. I judge from his letters that +he was despondent about his work and the narrow acceptance that it +had. So I assume that he did not leave much more than the book of +poems, which no publisher would (or will) take. + +You are about to encounter the same stupid indifference of the +public--so is Sterling. I'm sure of Sterling, but don't quite know how +it will affect _you_. You're a pretty sturdy fellow, physically and +mentally, but this _may_ hurt horribly. I pray that it do not, and +could give you--perhaps have given you--a thousand reasons why it +_should_ not. You are still young and your fame may come while you +live; but you must not expect it now, and doubtless do not. To me, and +I hope to you, the approval of one person who knows is sweeter than +the acclaim of ten thousand who do not--whose acclaim, indeed, I would +rather not have. If you do not _feel_ this in every fibre of your +brain and heart, try to learn to feel it--practice feeling it, as one +practices some athletic feat necessary to health and strength. + +Thank you very much for the photograph. You are growing too +infernally handsome to be permitted to go about unchained. If I had +your "advantages" of youth and comeliness I'd go to the sheriff and +ask him to lock me up. That would be the honorable thing for you to +do, if you don't mind. God be with you--but inattentive. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Aurora, Preston Co., West Virginia, + August 15, 1903.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +I fear that among the various cares incident to my departure from +Washington I forgot, or neglected, to acknowledge the Joaquin Miller +book that you kindly sent me. I was glad to have it. It has all his +characteristic merits and demerits--among the latter, his interminable +prolixity, the thinness of the thought, his endless repetition of +favorite words and phrases, many of them from his other poems, his +mispronunciation, his occasional flashes of prose, and so forth. + +Scheff tells me his book is out and mine nearly out. But what of +yours? I do fear me it never will be out if you rely upon its +"acceptance" by any American publisher. If it meets with no favor +among the publisher tribe we must nevertheless get it out; and you +will of course let me do what I can. That is only tit for tat. But +tell me about it. + +I dare say Scheff, who is clever at getting letters out of me--the +scamp!--has told you of my being up here atop of the Alleghenies, and +why I _am_ here. I'm having a rather good time. * * * Can you fancy me +playing croquet, cards, lawn--no, thank God, I've escaped lawn tennis +and golf! In respect of other things, though, I'm a glittering +specimen of the Summer Old Man. + +Did _you_ have a good time in the redwoods? + +Please present my compliments to Madame (and Mademoiselle) Sterling. +Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Aurora, West Virginia, + September 8, 1903.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +I return the verses with a few suggestions. + +I'm sorry your time for poetry is so brief. But take your pencil and +figure out how much you would write in thirty years (I hope you'll +live that long) at, say, six lines a day. You'll be surprised by the +result--and encouraged. Remember that 50,000 words make a fairly long +book. + +You make me shudder when you say you are reading the "Prattle" of +years. I haven't it and should hardly dare to read it if I had. There +is so much in it to deplore--so much that is not wise--so much that +was the expression of a mood or a whim--so much was not altogether +sincere--so many half-truths, and so forth. Make allowances, I beg, +and where you cannot, just forgive. + +Scheff has mentioned his great desire that you join the Bohemian Club. +I know he wants me to advise you to do so. So I'm between two fires +and would rather not advise at all. There are advantages (obvious +enough) in belonging; and to one of your age and well grounded in +sobriety and self-restraint generally, the disadvantages are not so +great as to a youngster like Scheff. (Of course he is not so young as +he seems to me; but he is younger by a few years and a whole lot of +thought than you.) + +The trouble with that kind of club--with any club--is the temptation +to waste of time and money; and the danger of the drink habit. If one +is proof against these a club is all right. I belong to one myself in +Washington, and at one time came pretty near to "running" it. + + * * * * * + +No, I don't think Scheff's view of Kipling just. He asked me about +putting that skit in the book. It _was_ his view and, that being so, I +could see no reason for suppressing it in deference to those who do +not hold it. I like free speech, though I'd not accord it to my +enemies if I were Dictator. I should not think it for the good of the +State to let * * * write verses, for example. The modern fad Tolerance +does not charm me, but since it is all the go I'm willing that my +friends should have their fling. + +I dare say Scheff is unconscious of Kipling's paternity in the fine +line in "Back, back to Nature": + + "Loudly to the shore cries the surf upon the sea." + +But turn to "The Last Chanty," in "The Seven Seas," fill your ears +with it and you'll write just such a line yourself. + + * * * * * + +God be decent to you, old man. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Aurora, West Virginia, + September 12, 1903.] + +DEAR STERLING, + +I have yours of the 5th. Before now you have mine of _some_ date. + + * * * * * + +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.]] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I have Jack London's books--the one from you and the one from him. I +thank you and shall find the time to read them. I've been back but a +few days and find a brace of dozen of books "intitualed" "Shapes of +Clay." That the splendid work done by Scheff and Wood and your other +associates in your labor of love is most gratifying to me should "go +without saying." Surely _I_ am most fortunate in having so good +friends to care for my interests. Still, there will be an aching void +in the heart of me until _your_ book is in evidence. Honest, I feel +more satisfaction in the work of you and Scheff than in my own. It is +through you two that I expect my best fame. And how generously you +accord it!--unlike certain others of my "pupils," whom I have assisted +far more than I did you. + +My trip through the mountains has done my health good--and my heart +too. It was a "sentimental journey" in a different sense from +Sterne's. Do you know, George, the charm of a new emotion? Of course +you do, but at my age I had thought it impossible. Well, I had it +repeatedly. Bedad, I think of going again into my old "theatre of +war," and setting up a cabin there and living the few days that remain +to me in meditation and sentimentalizing. But I should like you to be +near enough to come up some Saturday night with some'at to drink. +Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[N. Y. Journal Office, Washington, D. C., + October 21, 1903.] + +MY DEAR STERLING, + +I'm indebted to you for two letters--awfully good ones. In the last +you tell me that your health is better, and I can see for myself that +your spirits are. This you attribute to exercise, correctly, no doubt. +You need a lot of the open air--we all do. I can give myself +hypochondria in forty-eight hours by staying in-doors. The sedentary +life and abstracted contemplation of one's own navel are good for +Oriental gods only. We spirits of a purer fire need sunlight and the +hills. My own recent wanderings afoot and horseback in the mountains +did me more good than a sermon. And you have "the hills back of +Oakland"! God, what would I not give to help you range them, the dear +old things! Why, I know every square foot of them from Walnut Creek to +Niles Canyon. Of course they swarm with ghosts, as do all places out +there, even the streets of San Francisco; but I and my ghosts always +get on well together. With the female ones my relations are sometimes +a bit better than they were with the dear creatures when they lived. + +I guess I did not acknowledge the splendidly bound "Shapes" that you +kindly sent, nor the Jack London books. Much thanks. + +I'm pleased to know that Wood expects to sell the whole edition of my +book, but am myself not confident of that. + +So we are to have your book soon. Good, but I don't like your +indifference to its outward and visible aspect. Some of my own books +have offended, and continue to offend, in that way. At best a book is +not too beautiful; at worst it is hideous. Be advised a bit by Scheff +in this matter; his taste seems to me admirable and I'm well pleased +by his work on the "Shapes"; even his covers, which I'm sorry to learn +do not please Wood, appear to me excellent. I approved the design +before he executed it--in fact chose it from several that he +submitted. Its only fault seems to me too much gold leaf, but that is +a fault "on the right side." In that and all the rest of the work +(except my own) experts here are delighted. I gave him an absolutely +free hand and am glad I did. I don't like the ragged leaves, but he +does not either, on second thought. The public--the reading public--I +fear does, just now. + +I'll get at your new verses in a few days. It will be, as always it +is, a pleasure to go over them. + +About "Prattle." I should think you might get help in that matter from +Oscar T. Schuck, 2916 Laguna St. He used to suffer from "Prattle" a +good deal, but is very friendly, and the obtaining it would be in the +line of his present business. + +How did you happen to hit on Markham's greatest two lines--but I need +not ask that--from "The Wharf of Dreams"? + +Well, I wish I could think that those lines of mine in "Geotheos" were +worthy to be mentioned with Keats' "magic casements" and Coleridge's +"woman wailing for her demon lover." But I don't think any lines of +anybody are. I laugh at myself to remember that Geotheos, never before +in print I believe, was written for E. L. G. Steele to read before a +"young ladies' seminary" somewhere in the cow counties! Like a man of +sense he didn't read it. I don't share your regret that I have not +devoted myself to serious poetry. I don't think of myself as a poet, +but as a satirist; so I'm entitled to credit for what little gold +there may be in the mud I throw. But if I professed gold-throwing, the +mud which I should surely mix with the missiles would count against +me. Besides, I've a preference for being the first man in a village, +rather than the second man in Rome. Poetry is a ladder on which there +is now no room at the top--unless you and Scheff throw down some of +the chaps occupying the upper rung. It looks as if you might, but I +could not. When old Homer, Shakspeare and that crowd--building +better than Ozymandias--say: "Look on my works, ye mighty, and +despair!" I, considering myself specially addressed, despair. The +challenge of the wits does not alarm me. + + * * * * * + +As to your problems in grammar. + +If you say: "There is no hope _or_ fear" you say that _one_ of them +does not exist. In saying: "There is no hope _nor_ fear" you say that +_both_ do not exist--which is what you mean. + +"Not to weary you, I shall say that I fetched the book from his +cabin." Whether that is preferable to "I will say" depends on just +what is meant; both are grammatical. The "shall" merely indicates an +intention to say; the "will" implies a certain shade of concession in +saying it. + +It is no trouble to answer such questions, _nor_ to do anything else +to please you. I only hope I make it clear. + +I don't know if all my "Journal" work gets into the "Examiner," for I +don't see all the issues of either paper. I'm not writing much anyhow. +They don't seem to want much from me, and their weekly check is about +all that I want from them. + + * * * * * + +No, I don't know any better poem of Kipling than "The Last Chanty." +Did you see what stuff of his Prof. Harry Thurston Peck, the Hearst +outfit's special literary censor, chose for a particular commendation +the other day? Yet Peck is a scholar, a professor of Latin and a +writer of merited distinction. Excepting the ability to write poetry, +the ability to understand it is, I think, the rarest of intellectual +gifts. Let us thank "whatever gods may be" that we have it, if we +haven't so very much else. + +I've a lovely birch stick a-seasoning for you--cut it up in the +Alleghanies. + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + October 29, 1903.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I return the verses--with apology for tardiness. I've been "full up" +with cares. + + * * * * * + +I would not change "Religion" to "Dogma" (if I were you) for all "the +pious monks of St. Bernard." Once you begin to make concessions to the +feelings of this person or that there is no place to stop and you may +as well hang up the lyre. Besides, Dogma does not "seek"; it just +impudently declares something to have been found. However, it is a +small matter--nothing can destroy the excellence of the verses. I only +want to warn you against yielding to a temptation which will assail +you all your life--the temptation to "edit" your thought for somebody +whom it may pain. Be true to Truth and let all stand from under. + +Yes, I think the quatrain that you wrote in Col. Eng's book good +enough to go in your own. But I'd keep "discerning," instead of +substituting "revering." In art discernment _carries_ reverence. + +_Of course_ I expect to say something of Scheff's book, but in no +paper with which I have a present connection can I regularly "review" +it. Hearst's papers would give it incomparably the widest publicity, +but they don't want "reviews" from me. They have Millard, who has +already reviewed it--right well too--and Prof. Peck--who possibly +might review it if it were sent to him. "Prof. Harry Thurston Peck, +care of 'The American,' New York City." Mention it to Scheff. I'm +trying to find out what I can do. + +I'm greatly pleased to observe your ability to estimate the relative +value of your own poems--a rare faculty. "To Imagination" is, _I_ +think, the best of all your short ones. + +I'm impatient for the book. It, too, I shall hope to write something +about. Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Navarre Hotel and Importation Co., Seventh Avenue and 38th St., + New York, + December 26, 1903.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +A thousand cares have prevented my writing to you--and Scheff. And +this is to be a "busy day." But I want to say that I've not been +unmindful of your kindness in sending the book--which has hardly left +my pocket since I got it. And I've read nothing in it more than once, +excepting the "Testimony." _That_ I've studied, line by line--and +"precept by precept"--finding in it always "something rich and +strange." It is greater than I knew; it is the greatest "ever"! + +I'm saying a few words about it in tomorrow's "American"--would that I +had a better place for what I say and more freedom of saying. But they +don't want, and won't have, "book reviews" from me; probably because I +will not undertake to assist their advertising publishers. So I have +to disguise my remarks and work up to them as parts of another topic. +In this case I have availed myself of my favorite "horrible example," +Jim Riley, who ought to be proud to be mentioned on the same page with +you. After all, the remarks may not appear; I have the _littlest_ +editor that ever blue-penciled whatever he thought particularly dear +to the writer. I'm here for only a few days, I hope. + + * * * * * + +I want to say that you seem to me greatest when you have the greatest +subject--not flowers, women and all that,--but something above the +flower-and-woman belt--something that you see from altitudes from +which _they_ are unseen and unsmelled. Your poetry is incomparable +with that of our other poets, but your thought, philosophy,--that is +greater yet. But I'm writing this at a desk in the reading room of a +hotel; when I get home I'll write you again. + +I'm concerned about your health, of which I get bad reports. Can't you +go to the mesas of New Mexico and round up cattle for a year or +two--or do anything that will permit, or compel, you to sleep +out-of-doors under your favorite stars--something that will _not_ +permit you to enter a house for even ten minutes? You say no. Well, +some day you'll _have_ to--when it is too late--like Peterson, my +friend Charley Kaufman and so many others, who might be living if they +had gone into that country in time and been willing to make the +sacrifice when it would have done good. You can go _now_ as well as +_then_; and if now you'll come back well, if then, you'll not only +sacrifice your salary, "prospects," and so forth, but lose your life +as well. I _know_ that kind of life would cure you. I've talked with +dozens of men whom it did cure. + +You'll die of consumption if you don't. Twenty-odd years ago I was +writing articles on the out-of-doors treatment for consumption. +Now--only just now--the physicians are doing the same, and +establishing out-of-door sanitaria for consumption. + +You'll say you haven't consumption. I don't say that you have. But you +will have if you listen to yourself saying: "I can't do it." * * * + +Pardon me, my friend, for this rough advice as to your personal +affairs: I am greatly concerned about you. Your life is precious to me +and to the world. Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + January 8, 1904.] + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +Thank you so much for the books and the inscription--which (as do all +other words of praise) affects me with a sad sense of my shortcomings +as writer and man. Things of that kind from too partial friends point +out to me with a disquieting significance what I ought to be; and the +contrast with what I am hurts. Maybe you feel enough that way +sometimes to understand. You are still young enough to profit by the +pain; _my_ character is made--_my_ opportunities are gone. But it does +not greatly matter--nothing does. I have some little testimony from +you and Scheff and others that I have not lived altogether in vain, +and I know that I have greater satisfaction in my slight connection +with your and their work than in my own. Also a better claim to the +attention and consideration of my fellow-men. + +Never mind about the "slow sale" of my book; I did not expect it to be +otherwise, and my only regret grows out of the fear that some one may +lose money by the venture. _It is not to be you._ You know I am still +a little "in the dark" as to what _you_ have really done in the +matter. I wish you would tell me if any of your own money went into +it. The contract with Wood is all right; it was drawn according to my +instructions and I shall not even accept the small royalty allowed me +if anybody is to be "out." If _you_ are to be out I shall not only not +accept the royalty, but shall reimburse you to the last cent. Do you +mind telling me about all that? In any case don't "buy out Wood" and +don't pay out anything for advertising nor for anything else. + +The silence of the reviewers does not trouble me, any more than it +would you. Their praise of my other books never, apparently, did me +any good. No book published in this country ever received higher +praise from higher sources than my first collection of yarns. But the +book was never a "seller," and doubtless never will be. That _I_ like +it fairly well is enough. You and I do not write books to sell; we +write--or rather publish--just because we like to. We've no right to +expect a profit from fun. + +It is odd and amusing that you could have supposed that I had any +other reason for not writing to you than a fixed habit of +procrastination, some preoccupation with my small affairs and a very +burdensome correspondence. Probably you _could_ give me a grievance by +trying hard, but if you ever are conscious of not having tried you may +be sure that I haven't the grievance. + +I should have supposed that the author of "Viverols" and several +excellent monographs on fish would have understood your poems. (O no; +I don't mean that your Muse is a mermaid.) Perhaps he did, but you +know how temperate of words men of science are by habit. Did you send +a book to Garrett Serviss? I should like to know what he thinks of the +"Testimony." As to Joaquin, it is his detestable habit, as it was +Longfellow's, to praise all poetry submitted to him, and he said of +Madge Morris's coyote poem the identical thing that he says of your +work. Sorry to disillusionize you, but it is so. + +As to your health. You give me great comfort. * * * But it was not only +from Scheff that I had bad accounts of you and "your cough." Scheff, +indeed, has been reticent in the matter, but evidently anxious; and +you yourself have written despondently and "forecasted" an early +passing away. If nothing is the matter with you and your lungs some of +your friends are poor observers. I'm happy to have your testimony, and +beg to withdraw my project for your recovery. You whet my appetite for +that new poem. The lines + + "The blue-eyed vampire, sated at her feast, + Smiles bloodily against the leprous moon" + +give me the shivers. Gee! they're awful! Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + February 5, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +You should not be irritated by the "conspiracy of silence" about me on +the part of the "Call," the "Argonaut" and other papers. Really my +enemies are under no obligation to return good for evil; I fear I +should not respect them if they did. * * *, his head still sore from +my many beatings of that "distracted globe," would be a comic figure +stammering his sense of my merit and directing attention to the +excellence of the literary wares on my shelf. + +As to the pig of a public, its indifference to a diet of pearls--_our_ +pearls--was not unknown to me, and truly it does not trouble me +anywhere except in the pocket. _That_ pig, too, is not much beholden +to me, who have pounded the snout of it all my life. Why should it +assist in the rite? Its indifference to _your_ work constitutes a new +provocation and calls for added whacks, but not its indifference to +mine. + +The Ashton Stevens interview was charming. His finding you and Scheff +together seems too idyllic to be true--I thought it a fake. He put in +quite enough--too much--about me. As to Joaquin's hack at me--why, +that was magnanimity itself in one who, like most of us, does not +offset blame against praise, subtract the latter from the former and +find matter for thanks in the remainder. You know "what fools we +mortals be"; criticism that is not all honey is all vinegar. Nobody +has more delighted than I in pointing out the greatness of Joaquin's +great work; but nobody than I has more austerely condemned * * *, +his vanity and the general humbugery that makes his prose so +insupportable. Joaquin is a good fellow, all the same, and you should +not demand of him impossible virtues and a reach of reasonableness +that is alien to him. + + * * * * * + +I have the books you kindly sent and have planted two or three in what +I think fertile soil which I hope will produce a small crop of +appreciation. + + * * * * * + +And the poem![7] I hardly know how to speak of it. No poem in English +of equal length has so bewildering a wealth of imagination. Not +Spenser himself has flung such a profusion of jewels into so small a +casket. Why, man, it takes away the breath! I've read and reread--read +it for the expression and read it for the thought (always when I speak +of the "thought" in your work I mean the meaning--which is another +thing) and I shall read it many times more. And pretty soon I'll get +at it with my red ink and see if I can suggest anything worth your +attention. I fear not. + +[7] "A Wine of Wizardry." + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +["New York American" Office, Washington, D. C., + February 29, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I wrote you yesterday. Since then I have been rereading your letter. I +wish you would not say so much about what I have done for you, and how +much it was worth to you, and all that. I should be sorry to think +that I did not do a little for you--I tried to. But, my boy, you +should know that I don't keep that kind of service _on sale_. +Moreover, I'm amply repaid by what _you_ have done for _me_--I mean +with your pen. Do you suppose _I_ do not value such things? Does it +seem reasonable to think me unpleasured by those magnificent +dedicatory verses in your book? Is it nothing to me to be called +"Master" by such as you? Is my nature so cold that I have no pride in +such a pupil? There is no obligation in the matter--certainly none +that can be suffered to satisfy itself out of your pocket. + +You greatly overestimate the sums I spend in "charity." I sometimes +help some poor devil of an unfortunate over the rough places, but not +to the extent that you seem to suppose. I couldn't--I've too many +regular, constant, _legitimate_ demands on me. Those, mostly, are what +keep me poor. + + * * * * * + +Maybe you think it odd that I've not said a word in print about any of +your work except the "Testimony." It is not that I don't appreciate +the minor poems--I do. But I don't like to scatter; I prefer to hammer +on a single nail--to push one button until someone hears the bell. +When the "Wine" is published I'll have another poem that is not only +great, but striking--notable--to work on. However good, or even great, +a short poem with such a title as "Poesy," "Music," "To a Lily," "A +White Rose," and so forth, cannot be got into public attention. Some +longer and more notable work, of the grander manner, may _carry_ it, +but of itself it will not go. Even a bookful of its kind will not. Not +till you're famous. + +Your letter regarding your brother (who has not turned up) was +needless--I could be of no assistance in procuring him employment. +I've tried so often to procure it for others, and so vainly, that +nobody could persuade me to try any more. I'm not fond of the +character of suppliant, nor of being "turned down" by the little men +who run this Government. Of course I'm not in favor with this +Administration, not only because of my connection with Democratic +newspapers, but because, also, I sometimes venture to dissent +openly from the doctrine of the divinity of those in high +station--particularly Teddy. + +I'm sorry you find your place in the office intolerable. That is "the +common lot of all" who work for others. I have chafed under the yoke +for many years--a heavier yoke, I think, than yours. It does not fit +my neck anywhere. Some day perhaps you and I will live on adjoining +ranches in the mountains--or in adjoining caves--"the world +forgetting, by the world forgot." I have really been on the point of +hermitizing lately, but I guess I'll have to continue to live like a +reasonable human being a little longer until I can release myself with +a conscience void of offense to my creditors and dependents. But "the +call of the wild" sounds, even in my dreams. + +You ask me if you should write in "A Wine of Wizardry" vein, or in +that of "The Testimony of the Suns." Both. I don't know in which you +have succeeded the better. And I don't know anyone who has succeeded +better in either. To succeed in both is a marvelous performance. You +may say that the one is fancy, the other imagination, which is true, +but not the whole truth. The "Wine" has as true imagination as the +other, and fancy into the bargain. I like your grandiose manner, and I +like the other as well. In terms of another art I may say--rear great +towers and domes. Carve, also, friezes. But I'd not bother to cut +single finials and small decorations. However exquisite the +workmanship, they are not worth your present attention. If you were a +painter (as, considering your wonderful sense of color, you doubtless +could have been) your large canvases would be your best. + + * * * * * + +I don't care if that satire of Josephare refers to me or not; it was +good. He may jump on me if he wants to--I don't mind. All I ask is +that he do it well. + + * * * * * + +I passed yesterday with Percival Pollard, viewing the burnt district +of Baltimore. He's a queer duck whom I like, and he likes your work. +I'm sending you a copy of "The Papyrus," with his "rehabilitation" of +the odious Oscar Wilde. Wilde's work is all right, but what can one do +with the work of one whose name one cannot speak before women? + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + April 19, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +The "belatedness" of your letter only made _me_ fear that _I_ had +offended _you_. Odd that we should have such views of each other's +sensitiveness. + +About Wood. No doubt that he is doing all that he can, but--well, he +is not a publisher. For example: He sent forty or fifty "Shapes" here. +They lie behind a counter at the bookseller's--not even _on_ the +counter. There are probably not a dozen persons of my acquaintance in +Washington who know that I ever wrote a book. Now _how_ are even these +to know about _that_ book? The bookseller does not advertise the books +he has on sale and the public does not go rummaging behind his +counters. A publisher's methods are a bit different, naturally. + +Only for your interest I should not care if my books sold or not; they +exist and will not be destroyed; every book will eventually get to +_somebody_. + + * * * * * + +It seems to be a matter for you to determine--whether Wood continues +to try to sell the book or it is put in other hands if he is ever +tired of it. Remember, I don't care a rap what happens to the book +except as a means of reimbursing you; I want no money and I want no +glory. If you and Wood can agree, do in all things as you please. + +I return Wood's letters; they show what I knew before: that the public +and the librarians would not buy that book. Let us discuss this matter +no more, but at some time in the future you tell me how much you are +out of pocket. + +_Your_ book shows that a fellow can get a good deal of glory with very +little profit. You are now famous--at least on the Pacific Coast; but +I fancy you are not any "for'arder" in the matter of wealth than you +were before. I too have some reputation--a little wider, as yet, than +yours. Well, my work sells tremendously--in Mr. Hearst's newspapers, +at the price of a small fraction of one cent! Offered by itself, in +one-dollar and two-dollar lots, it tempts nobody to fall over his own +feet in the rush to buy. A great trade, this of ours! + +I note with interest the "notices" you send. The one by Monahan is +amusing with its gabble about your "science." To most men, as to him, +a mention of the stars suggests astronomy, with its telescopes, +spectroscopes and so forth. Therefore it is "scientific." To tell such +men that there is nothing of science in your poem would puzzle them +greatly. + +I don't think poor Lang meant to do anything but his best and +honestest. He is a rather clever and rather small fellow and not to be +blamed for the limitations of his insight. I have repeatedly pointed +out in print that it requires genius to discern genius at first hand. +Lang has written almost the best, if not quite the best, sonnet in the +language--yet he is no genius. + + * * * * * + +Why, of course--why should you not help the poor devil, * * *; I used +to help him myself--introduced him to the public and labored to +instruct him. Then--but it is unspeakable and so is he. He will bite +your hand if you feed him, but I think I'd throw a crust to him +myself. + + * * * * * + +No, I don't agree with you about Homer, nor "stand for" your implied +view that narrative poetry is not "pure poetry." Poetry seems to me to +speak with a thousand voices--"a various language." The miners have a +saying: "Gold is where you find it." So is poetry; I'm expecting to +find it some fine day in the price list of a grocery store. I fancy +_you_ could put it there. + + * * * * * + +As to Goethe, the more you read him, the better you will love Heine. + +Thank you for "A Wine of Wizardry"--amended. It seems to me that the +fake dictum of "Merlin-sage" (I don't quite perceive the necessity of +the hyphen) is better than the hackneyed Scriptural quotation. It is +odd, but my recollection is that it was the "sick enchantress" who +cried "unto Betelgeuse a mystic word." Was it not so in the copy that +I first had, or do I think so merely because the cry of one is more +lone and awful than the cry of a number? + +I am still of the belief that the poem should have at least a few +breaks in it, for I find myself as well as the public more or less--I, +doubtless, less than the public--indisposed to tackle solid columns +of either verse or prose. I told you this poem "took away one's +breath,"--give a fellow, can't you, a chance to recover it now and +again. + + "Space to breathe, how short soever." + +Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done, on earth as it is in San +Francisco. Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + May 11, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +To begin at the beginning, I shall of course be pleased to meet +Josephare if he come this way; if only to try to solve the problem of +what is in a fellow who started so badly and in so short a time was +running well, with a prospect of winning "a place." Byron, you know, +was the same way and Tennyson not so different. Still their start was +not so bad as Josephare's. I freely confess that I thought him a fool. +It is "one on me." + + * * * * * + +I wonder if a London house would publish "Shapes of Clay." +Occasionally a little discussion about me breaks out in the London +press, blazes up for a little while and "goes up in smoke." I enclose +some evidences of the latest one--which you may return if you remember +to do so. The letter of "a deeply disappointed man" was one of +rollicking humor suggested by some articles of Barr about me and a +private intimation from him that I should publish some more books in +London. + +Yes, I've dropped "The Passing Show" again, for the same old +reason--wouldn't stand the censorship of my editor. I'm writing for +the daily issues of The American, mainly, and, as a rule, anonymously. +It's "dead easy" work. + + * * * * * + +It is all right--that "cry unto Betelgeuse"; the "sick enchantress" +passage is good enough without it. I like the added lines of the poem. +Here's another criticism: The "Without" and "Within," beginning the +first and third lines, respectively, _seem_ to be antithetic, when +they are not, the latter having the sense of "into," which I think +might, for clearness, be substituted for it without a displeasing +break of the metre--a trochee for an iambus. + +Why should I not try "The Atlantic" with this poem?--if you have not +already done so. I could write a brief note about it, saying what +_you_ could not say, and possibly winning attention to the work. If +you say so I will. It is impossible to imagine a magazine editor +rejecting that amazing poem. I have read it at least twenty times with +ever increasing admiration. + +Your book, by the way, is still my constant companion--I carry it in +my pocket and read it over and over, in the street cars and +everywhere. _All_ the poems are good, though the "Testimony" and +"Memorial Day" are supreme--the one in grandeur, the other in feeling. + +I send you a criticism in a manuscript letter from a friend who +complains of your "obscurity," as many have the candor to do. It +requires candor to do that, for the fault is in the critic's +understanding. Still, one who understands Shakspeare and Milton is not +without standing as a complaining witness in the court of literature. + + * * * * * + +My favorite translation of Homer is that of Pope, of whom it is the +present fashion to speak disparagingly, as it is of Byron. I know all +that can be said against them, and say _some_ of it myself, but I wish +their detractors had a little of their brains. I know too that Pope's +translations of The Iliad and The Odyssey are rather paraphrases than +translations. But I love them just the same, while wondering (with +you, doubtless) what so profoundly affected Keats when he "heard +Chapman speak out loud and bold." Whatever it was, it gave us what +Coleridge pronounced the best sonnet in our language; and Lang's +admiration of Homer has given us at least the next best. Of course +there must be something in poems that produce poems--in a poet whom +most poets confess their king. I hold (with Poe) that there is no such +thing as a _long_ poem--a poem of the length of an Epic. It must +consist of poetic passages connected by _recitativo_, to use an opera +word; but it is perhaps better for that. If the writer cannot write +"sustained" poetry the reader probably could not read it. Anyhow, I +vote for Homer. + +I am passing well, but shall soon seek the mountains, though I hope to +be here when Scheff points his prow this way. Would that you were +sailing with him! + +I've been hearing all about all of you, for Eva Crawford has been +among you "takin' notes," and Eva's piquant comments on what and whom +she sees are delicious reading. I should suppose that _you_ would +appreciate Eva--most persons don't. She is the best letter writer of +her sex--who are all good letter writers--and she is much beside. I +may venture to whisper that you'd find her estimate of your work and +personality "not altogether displeasing." + +Now that I'm about such matters, I shall enclose a note to my friend +Dr. Robertson, who runs an insanery at Livermore and is an interesting +fellow with a ditto family and a library that will make you pea-green +with envy. Go out and see him some day and take Scheff, or any friend, +along--he wants to know you. You won't mind the facts that he thinks +all poetry the secretion of a diseased brain, and that the only +reason he doesn't think all brains (except his own) diseased is the +circumstance that not all secrete poetry. + + * * * * * + +Seriously, he is a good fellow and full of various knowledges that +most of us wot not of. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + June 14, 1904.] + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +I have a letter from * * *, who is in St. Louis, to which his progress +has been more leisurely than I liked, considering that I am remaining +away from my mountains only to meet him. However, he intimates an +intention to come in a week. I wish you were with him. + +I am sending the W. of W. to Scribner's, as you suggest, and if it is +not taken shall try the other mags in the order of your preference. +But it's funny that you--_you_--should prefer the "popular" magazines +and wish the work "illustrated." Be assured the illustrations will +shock you if you get them. + + * * * * * + +I understand what you say about being bored by the persons whom your +work in letters brings about your feet. The most _contented_ years of +my life lately were the two or three that I passed here before +Washington folk found out that I was an author. The fact has leaked +out, and although not a soul of them buys and reads my books some of +them bore me insupportably with their ignorant compliments and +unwelcome attentions. I fancy I'll have to "move on." + +Tell Maid Marian to use gloves when modeling, or the clay will enter +into her soul through her fingers and she become herself a Shape of +Clay. My notion is that she should work in a paste made of +ashes-of-roses moistened with nectar. + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S. Does it bore you that I like you to know my friends? Professor +* * *'s widow (and daughter) are very dear to me. She knows about you, +and I've written her that I'd ask you to call on her. You'll like them +all right, but I have another purpose. I want to know how they +prosper; and they are a little reticent about that. Maybe you could +ascertain indirectly by seeing how they live. I asked Grizzly to do +this but of course he didn't, the shaggy brute that he is. + + A. B. + + +[Haines' Falls, Greene Co., N. Y., + August 4, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I haven't written a letter, except on business, since leaving +Washington, June 30--no, not since Scheff's arrival there. I now +return to earth, and my first call is on you. + +You'll be glad to know that I'm having a good time here in the +Catskills. I shall not go back so long as I can find an open hotel. + + * * * * * + +I should like to hear from you about our--or rather your--set in +California, and especially about _you_. Do you still dally with the +Muse? Enclosed you will find two damning evidences of additional +incapacity. _Harper's_ now have "A Wine of Wizardry," and they too +will indubitably turn it down. I shall then try _The Atlantic_, where +it should have gone in the first place; and I almost expect its +acceptance. + +I'm not working much--just loafing on my cottage porch; mixing an +occasional cocktail; infesting the forests, knife in hand, in pursuit +of the yellow-birch sapling that furnishes forth the walking stick +like yours; and so forth. I knocked off work altogether for a month +when Scheff came, and should like to do so for _you_. Are you never +going to visit the scenes of your youth? + + * * * * * + +It is awfully sad--that latest visit of Death to the heart and home of +poor Katie Peterson. Will you kindly assure her of my sympathy? + +Love to all the Piedmontese. Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Haines' Falls, Greene Co., N. Y., + August 27, 1904.] + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +First, thank you for the knife and the distinction of membership in +the Ancient and Honorable Order of Knifers. I have made little use of +the blades and other appliances, but the corkscrew is in constant use. + +I'm enclosing a little missive from the editor of _Harper's_. Please +reserve these things awhile and sometime I may ask them of you to +"point a moral or adorn a tale" about that poem. If we can't get it +published I'd like to write for some friendly periodical a review of +an unpublished poem, with copious extracts and a brief history of it. +I think that would be unique. + +I find the pictures of Marian interesting, but have the self-denial to +keep only one of them--the prettiest one of course. Your own is rather +solemn, but it will do for the title page of the Testimony, which is +still my favorite reading. + +Scheff showed me your verses on Katie's baby, and Katie has since sent +them. They are very tender and beautiful. I would not willingly spare +any of your "personal" poems--least of all, naturally, the one +personal to me. Your success with them is exceptional. Yet the habit +of writing them is perilous, as the many failures of great poets +attest--Milton, for example, in his lines to Syriack Skinner, his +lines to a baby that died a-bornin' and so forth. The reason is +obvious, and you have yourself, with sure finger, pointed it out: + + "Remiss the ministry they bear + Who serve her with divided heart; + She stands reluctant to impart + Her strength to purpose, end, or care." + +When one is intent upon pleasing some mortal, one is less intent upon +pleasing the immortal Muse. All this is said only by way of admonition +for the future, not in criticism of the past. I'm a sinner myself in +that way, but then I'm not a saint in any way, so my example doesn't +count. + +I don't mind * * * calling me a "dignified old gentleman"--indeed, +that is what I have long aspired to be, but have succeeded only in the +presence of strangers, and not always then. * * * + +(I forgot to say that your poem is now in the hands of the editor of +the Atlantic.) + +Your determination to "boom" me almost frightens me. Great Scott! +you've no notion of the magnitude of the task you undertake; the +labors of Hercules were as nothing to it. Seriously, don't make any +enemies that way; it is not worth while. And you don't know how +comfortable I am in my obscurity. It is like being in "the shadow of a +great rock in a weary land." + +How goes the no sale of Shapes of Clay? I am slowly saving up a bit of +money to recoup your friendly outlay. That's a new thing for me to +do--the saving, I mean--and I rather enjoy the sensation. If it +results in making a miser of me you will have to answer for it to +many a worthy complainant. + +Get thee behind me, Satan!--it is not possible for me to go to +California yet. For one thing, my health is better here in the East; I +have utterly escaped asthma this summer, and summer is my only "sickly +season" here. In California I had the thing at any time o' year--even +at Wright's. But it is my hope to end my days out there. + +I don't think Millard was too hard on Kipling; it was no "unconscious" +plagiarism; just a "straight steal." + +About Prentice Mulford. I knew him but slightly and used to make mild +fun of him as "Dismal Jimmy." That expressed my notion of his +character and work, which was mostly prose platitudes. I saw him last +in London, a member of the Joaquin Miller-Charles Warren +Stoddard-Olive Harper outfit at 11 Museum Street, Bloomsbury Square. +He married there a fool girl named Josie--forget her other name--with +whom I think he lived awhile in hell, then freed himself, and some +years afterward returned to this country and was found dead one +morning in a boat at Sag Harbor. Peace to the soul of him. No, he was +not a faker, but a conscientious fellow who mistook his vocation. + +My friends have returned to Washington, but I expect to remain here a +few weeks yet, infesting the woods, devastating the mountain larders, +supervising the sunsets and guiding the stars in their courses. Then +to New York, and finally to Washington. Please get busy with that fame +o' yours so as to have the wealth to come and help me loaf. + +I hope you don't mind the typewriter--_I_ don't. + +Convey my love to all the sweet ladies of your entourage and make my +compliments also to the Gang. Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, + October 5, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Your latest was dated Sept. 10. I got it while alone in the mountains, +but since then I have been in New York City and at West Point +and--here. New York is too strenuous for me; it gets on my nerves. + + * * * * * + +Please don't persuade me to come to California--I mean don't _try_ to, +for I can't, and it hurts a little to say nay. There's a big bit of my +heart there, but--O never mind the reasons; some of them would not +look well on paper. One of them I don't mind telling; I would not live +in a state under union labor rule. There is still one place where the +honest American laboring man is not permitted to cut throats and strip +bodies of women at his own sweet will. That is the District of +Columbia. + +I am anxious to read Lilith; please complete it. + +I have another note of rejection for you. It is from * * *. Knowing +that you will not bank on what he says about the Metropolitan, I +enclose it. I've acted on his advising and sent the poem. It is about +time for it to come back. Then I shall try the other magazines until +the list is exhausted. + +Did I return your Jinks verses? I know I read them and meant to send +them back, but my correspondence and my papers are in such hopeless +disorder that I'm all at sea on these matters. For aught I know I may +have elaborately "answered" the letter that I think myself to be +answering now. I liked the verses very temperately, not madly. + +Of course you are right about the magazine editors not knowing poetry +when they see it. But who does? I have not known more than a +half-dozen persons in America that did, and none of them edited a +magazine. + + * * * * * + +No, I did not write the "Urus-Agricola-Acetes stuff," though it was +written _for_ me and, I believe, at my suggestion. The author was +"Jimmy" Bowman, of whose death I wrote a sonnet which is in Black +Beetles. He and I used to have a lot of fun devising literary +mischiefs, fighting sham battles with each other and so forth. He was +a clever chap and a good judge of whiskey. + +Yes, in The Cynic's Dictionary I did "jump from A to M." I had +previously done the stuff in various papers as far as M, then lost the +beginning. So in resuming I re-did that part (quite differently, of +course) in order to have the thing complete if I should want to make a +book of it. I guess the Examiner isn't running much of it, nor much of +anything of mine. + + * * * * * + +I like your love of Keats and the early Coleridge. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The N. Y. American Office, Washington, D. C., + October 12, 1904.] + +MY DEAR DAVIS, + +The "bad eminence" of turning down Sterling's great poem is one that +you will have to share with some of your esteemed fellow +magazinists--for examples, the editors of the Atlantic, Harper's, +Scribner's, The Century, and now the Metropolitan, all of the elite. +All of these gentlemen, I believe, profess, as you do not, to know +literature when they see it, and to deal in it. + +Well I profess to deal in it in a small way, and if Sterling will let +me I propose some day to ask judgment between them and me. + +Even _you_ ask for literature--if my stories are literature, as you +are good enough to imply. (By the way, all the leading publishers of +the country turned down that book until they saw it published without +them by a merchant in San Francisco and another sort of publishers in +London, Leipzig and Paris.) Well, you wouldn't do a thing to one of my +stories! + +No, thank you; if I have to write rot, I prefer to do it for the +newspapers, which make no false pretences and are frankly rotten, and +in which the badness of a bad thing escapes detection or is forgotten +as soon as it is cold. + +I know how to write a story (of the "happy ending" sort) for magazine +readers for whom literature is too good, but I will not do so so long +as stealing is more honorable and interesting. + +I've offered you the best stuff to be had--Sterling's poem--and the +best that I am able to make; and now you must excuse me. I do not +doubt that you really think that you would take "the kind of fiction +that made 'Soldiers and Civilians' the most readable book of its kind +in this country," and it is nice of you to put it that way; but +neither do I doubt that you would find the story sent a different kind +of fiction and, like the satire which you return to me, "out of the +question." An editor who has a preformed opinion of the kind of stuff +that he is going to get will always be disappointed with the stuff +that he does get. + +I know this from my early experience as an editor--before I learned +that what I needed was, not any particular kind of stuff, but just the +stuff of a particular kind of writer. + +All this without any feeling, and only by way of explaining why I must +ask you to excuse me. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + December 6, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +Yes, I got and read that fool thing in the August Critic. I found in +it nothing worse than stupidity--no malice. Doubtless you have not +sounded the deeper deeps of stupidity in critics, and so are driven to +other motives to explain their unearthly errors. I know from my own +experience of long ago how hard it is to accept abominable criticism, +obviously (to the criticee) unfair, without attributing a personal +mean motive; but the attribution is nearly always erroneous, even in +the case of a writer with so many personal enemies as I. You will do +well to avoid that weakness of the tyro. * * * has the infirmity in an +apparently chronic form. Poets, by reason of the sensibilities that +_make_ them poets, are peculiarly liable to it. I can't see any +evidence that the poor devil of the Critic knew better. + +The Wine of Wizardry is at present at the Booklovers'. It should have +come back ere this, but don't you draw any happy augury from that: I'm +sure they'll turn it down, and am damning them in advance. + +I had a postal from * * * a few days ago. He was in Paris. I've +written him only once, explaining by drawing his attention to the fact +that one's reluctance to write a letter increases in the ratio of the +square of the distance it has to go. I don't know why that is so, but +it is--at least in my case. + + * * * * * + +Yes, I'm in perfect health, barring a bit of insomnia at times, and +enjoy life as much as I ever did--except when in love and the love +prospering; that is to say, when it was new. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + December 8, 1904.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +This is the worst yet! This jobbernowl seems to think "The Wine of +Wizardry" a story. It should "arrive" and be "dramatic"--the +denouement being, I suppose, a particularly exciting example of the +"happy ending." + +My dear fellow, I'm positively ashamed to throw your pearls before any +more of these swine, and I humbly ask your pardon for having done it +at all. I guess the "Wine" will have to await the publication of your +next book. + +But I'd like to keep this fellow's note if you will kindly let me have +it. Sometime, when the poem is published, I shall paste it into a +little scrap book, with all the notes of rejection, and then if I know +a man or two capable of appreciating the humor of the thing I can make +merry over it with them. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + My permanent address, + February 18, 1905.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +It's a long time since the date of your latest letter, but I've been +doing two men's work for many weeks and have actually not found the +leisure to write to my friends. As it is the first time that I've +worked really hard for several years I ought not to complain, and +don't. But I hope it will end with this session of Congress. + +I think I did not thank you for the additional copies of your new +book--the new edition. I wish it contained the new poem, "A Wine of +Wizardry." I've given up trying to get it into anything. I related my +failure to Mackay, of "Success," and he asked to be permitted to see +it. "No," I replied, "you too would probably turn it down, and I will +take no chances of losing the respect that I have for you." And I'd +not show it to him. He declared his intention of getting it, +though--which was just what I wanted him to do. But I dare say he +didn't. + +Yes, you sent me "The Sea Wolf." My opinion of it? Certainly--or a +part of it. It is a most disagreeable book, as a whole. London has a +pretty bad style and no sense of proportion. The story is a perfect +welter of disagreeable incidents. Two or three (of the kind) would +have sufficed to _show_ the character of the man Larsen; and his own +self-revealings by word of mouth would have "done the rest." Many of +these incidents, too, are impossible--such as that of a man mounting a +ladder with a dozen other men--more or less--hanging to his leg, and +the hero's work of rerigging a wreck and getting it off a beach where +it had stuck for weeks, and so forth. The "love" element, with its +absurd suppressions and impossible proprieties, is awful. I confess to +an overwhelming contempt for both the sexless lovers. + +Now as to the merits. It is a rattling good story in one way; +something is "going on" all the time--not always what one would wish, +but _something_. One does not go to sleep over the book. But the great +thing--and it is among the greatest of things--is that tremendous +creation, Wolf Larsen. If that is not a permanent addition to +literature, it is at least a permanent figure in the memory of the +reader. You "can't lose" Wolf Larsen. He will be with you to the end. +So it does not really matter how London has hammered him into you. You +may quarrel with the methods, but the result is almost incomparable. +The hewing out and setting up of such a figure is enough for a man to +do in one life-time. I have hardly words to impart my good judgment of +_that_ work. + + * * * * * + +That is a pretty picture of Phyllis as Cleopatra--whom I think you +used to call "the angel child"--as the Furies were called Eumenides. + + * * * * * + +I'm enclosing a review of your book in the St. Louis "Mirror," a paper +always kindly disposed toward our little group of gifted obscurians. I +thought you might not have seen it; and it is worth seeing. Percival +Pollard sends it me; and to him we owe our recognition by the +"Mirror." + +I hope you prosper apace. I mean mentally and spiritually; all other +prosperity is trash. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + April 17, 1905.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I've reached your letter on my file. I wonder that I did, for truly +I'm doing a lot of work--mostly of the pot-boiler, newspaper sort, +some compiling of future--probably _very_ future--books and a little +for posterity. + +Valentine has not returned the "Wine of Wizardry," but I shall tell +him to in a few days and will then try it on the magazines you +mention. If that fails I can see no objection to offering it to the +English periodicals. + +I don't know about Mackay. He has a trifle of mine which he was going +to run months ago. He didn't and I asked it back. He returned it and +begged that it go back to him for immediate publication. It went back, +but publication did not ensue. In many other ways he has been +exceedingly kind. Guess he can't always have his way. + + * * * * * + +I read that other book to the bitter end--the "Arthur Sterling" thing. +He is the most disagreeable character in fiction, though Marie +Bashkirtseff and Mary McLean in real life could give him cards and +spades. Fancy a poet, or any kind of writer, whom it hurts to think! +What the devil are his agonies all about--his writhings and twistings +and foaming at all his mouths? What would a poem by an intellectual +epileptic like that be? Happily the author spares us quotation. I +suppose there are Arthur Sterlings among the little fellows, but if +genius is not serenity, fortitude and reasonableness I don't know what +it is. One cannot even imagine Shakespeare or Goethe bleeding over his +work and howling when "in the fell clutch of circumstance." The great +ones are figured in my mind as ever smiling--a little sadly at times, +perhaps, but always with conscious inaccessibility to the pinpricking +little Titans that would storm their Olympus armed with ineffectual +disasters and pop-gun misfortunes. Fancy a fellow wanting, like Arthur +Sterling, to be supported by his fellows in order that he may write +what they don't want to read! Even Jack London would gag at such +Socialism as _that_. + + * * * * * + +I'm going to pass a summer month or two with the Pollards, at +Saybrook, Conn. How I wish you could be of the party. But I suppose +you'll be chicken-ranching then, and happy enough where you are. I +wish you joy of the venture and, although I fear it means a meagre +living, it will probably be more satisfactory than doubling over a +desk in your uncle's office. The very name Carmel Bay is enchanting. +I've a notion I shall see that ranch some day. I don't quite recognize +the "filtered-through-the-emasculated-minds-of-about-six-fools" +article from which you say I quote--don't remember it, nor remember +quoting from it. + +I don't wonder at your surprise at my high estimate of Longfellow in a +certain article. It is higher than my permanent one. I was thinking +(while writing for a newspaper, recollect) rather of his fame than of +his genius--I had to have a literary equivalent to Washington or +Lincoln. Still, we must not forget that Longfellow wrote "Chrysaor" +and, in narrative poetry (which you don't care for) "Robert of +Sicily." Must one be judged by his average, or may he be judged, on +occasion, by his highest? He is strongest who can lift the greatest +weight, not he who habitually lifts lesser ones. + +As to your queries. So far as I know, Realf _did_ write his great +sonnets on the night of his death. Anyhow, they were found with the +body. Your recollection that I said they were written before he came +to the Coast is faulty. Some of his other things were in print when he +submitted them to me (and took pay for them) as new; but not the "De +Mortuis." + +I got the lines about the echoes (I _think_ they go this way: + + "the loon + Laughed, and the echoes, huddling in affright, + Like Odin's hounds went baying down the night") + +from a poem entitled, I think, "The Washers of the Shroud." I found it +in the "Atlantic," in the summer of 1864, while at home from the war +suffering from a wound, and--disgraceful fact!--have never seen nor +heard of it since. If the magazine was a current number, as I suppose, +it should be easy to find the poem. If you look it up tell me about +it. I don't even know the author--had once a vague impression that it +was Lowell but don't know. + +The compound "mulolatry," which I made in "Ashes of the Beacon," would +not, of course, be allowable in composition altogether serious. I used +it because I could not at the moment think of the right word, +"gyneolatry," or "gynecolatry," according as you make use of the +nominative or the accusative. I once made "caniolatry" for a similar +reason--just laziness. It's not nice to do things o' that kind, even +in newspapers. + + * * * * * + +I had intended to write you something of "beesness," but time is up +and it must wait. This letter is insupportably long already. + +My love to Carrie and Katie. Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + May 16, 1905.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Bailey Millard is editor of "The Cosmopolitan Magazine," which Mr. +Hearst has bought. I met him in New York two weeks ago. He had just +arrived and learning from Hearst that I was in town looked me up. I +had just recommended him to Hearst as editor. He had intended him for +associate editor. I think that will give you a chance, such as it is. +Millard dined with me and I told him the adventures of "A Wine of +Wizardry." I shall send it to him as soon as he has warmed his seat, +unless you would prefer to send it yourself. He already knows my whole +good opinion of it, and he shares my good opinion of you. + +I suppose you are at your new ranch, but I shall address this letter +as usual. + + * * * * * + +If you hear of my drowning know that it is the natural (and desirable) +result of the canoe habit. I've a dandy canoe and am tempting fate and +alarming my friends by frequenting, not the margin of the upper river, +but the broad reaches below town, where the wind has miles and miles +of sweep and kicks up a most exhilarating combobbery. If I escape I'm +going to send my boat up to Saybrook, Connecticut, and navigate Long +Island Sound. + +Are you near enough to the sea to do a bit of boating now and then? +When I visit you I shall want to bring my canoe. + +I've nearly given up my newspaper work, but shall do something each +month for the Magazine. Have not done much yet--have not been in the +mind. Death has been striking pretty close to me again, and you know +how that upsets a fellow. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, + June 16, 1905.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I'm your debtor for two good long letters. You err in thinking your +letters, of whatever length and frequency, can be otherwise than +delightful to me. + +No, you had not before sent me Upton Sinclair's article explaining why +American literature is "bourgeois." It is amusingly grotesque. The +political and economical situation has about as much to do with it as +have the direction of our rivers and the prevailing color of our hair. +But it is of the nature of the faddist (and of all faddists the ultra +socialist is the most untamed by sense) to see in everything his +hobby, with its name writ large. He is the humorist of observers. When +Sinclair transiently forgets his gospel of the impossible he can see +well enough. + +I note what you say of * * * and know that he did not use to like me, +though I doubt if he ever had any antipathy to you. Six or eight years +ago I tackled him on a particularly mean fling that he had made at me +while I was absent from California. (I think I had not met him +before.) I told him, rather coarsely, what I thought of the matter. He +candidly confessed himself in the wrong, expressed regret and has +ever since, so far as I know, been just and even generous to me. I +think him sincere now, and enclose a letter which seems to show it. +You may return it if you will--I send it mainly because it concerns +your poem. The trouble--our trouble--with * * * is that he has +voluntarily entered into slavery to the traditions and theories of the +magazine trade, which, like those of all trades, are the product of +small men. The big man makes his success by ignoring them. Your +estimate of * * * I'm not disposed to quarrel with, but do think him +pretty square. + + * * * * * + +Bless you, don't take the trouble to go through the Iliad and Odyssey +to pick out the poetical parts. I grant you they are brief and +infrequent--I mean in the translation. I hold, with Poe, that there +are no long poems--only bursts of poetry in long spinnings of metrical +prose. But even the "recitativo" of the translated Grecian poets has a +charm to one that it may not have to another. I doubt if anyone who +has always loved "the glory that was Greece"--who has been always in +love with its jocund deities, and so forth, can say accurately just +how much of his joy in Homer (for example) is due to love of poetry, +and how much to a renewal of mental youth and young illusions. Some +part of the delight that we get from verse defies analysis and +classification. Only a man without a memory (and memories) could say +just what pleased him in poetry and be sure that it was the poetry +only. For example, I never read the opening lines of the Pope +Iliad--and I don't need the book for much of the first few hundred, I +guess--without seeming to be on a sunny green hill on a cold windy +day, with the bluest of skies above me and billows of pasture below, +running to a clean-cut horizon. There's nothing in the text +warranting that illusion, which is nevertheless to me a _part_ of the +Iliad; a most charming part, too. It all comes of my having first read +the thing under such conditions at the age of about ten. I _remember_ +that; but how many times I must be powerfully affected by the poets +_without_ remembering why. If a fellow could cut out all that +extrinsic interest he would be a fool to do so. But he would be a +better critic. + +You ought to be happy in the contemplation of a natural, wholesome +life at Carmel Bay--the "prospect pleases," surely. But I fear, I +fear. Maybe you can get a newspaper connection that will bring you in +a small income without compelling you to do violence to your literary +conscience. I doubt if you can get your living out of the ground. But +I shall watch the experiment with sympathetic interest, for it +"appeals" to me. I'm a trifle jaded with age and the urban life, and +maybe if you can succeed in that other sort of thing I could. + + * * * * * + +As to * * * the Superb. Isn't Sag Harbor somewhere near Saybrook, +Connecticut, at the mouth of the river of that name? I'm going there +for a month with Percival Pollard. Shall leave here about the first of +July. If Sag Harbor is easily accessible from there, and * * * would +care to see me, I'll go and call on her. * * * But maybe I'd fall in +love with her and, being now (alas) eligible, just marry her +alive!--or be turned down by her, to the unspeakable wrecking of my +peace! I'm only a youth--63 on the 24th of this month--and it would be +too bad if I got started wrong in life. But really I don't know about +the good taste of being jocular about * * *. I'm sure she must be a +serious enough maiden, with the sun of a declining race yellow on her +hair. Eva Crawford thinks her most lovable--and Eva has a clear, +considering eye upon you all. + + * * * * * + +I'm going to send up my canoe to Saybrook and challenge the rollers of +the Sound. Don't you fear--I'm an expert canoeist from boyhood. * * * + + Sincerely, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + December 3, 1905.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I have at last the letter that I was waiting for--didn't answer the +other, for one of mine was on the way to you. + + * * * * * + +You need not worry yourself about your part of the business. You have +acted "mighty white," as was to have been expected of you; and, caring +little for any other feature of the matter, I'm grateful to you for +giving my pessimism and growing disbelief in human disinterestedness a +sound wholesome thwack on the mazzard. + + * * * * * + +Yes, I was sorry to whack London, for whom, in his character as +author, I have a high admiration, and in that of publicist and +reformer a deep contempt. Even if he had been a personal friend, I +should have whacked him, and doubtless much harder. I'm not one of +those who give their friends carte blanche to sin. If my friend +dishonors himself he dishonors me; if he makes a fool of himself he +makes a fool of me--which another cannot do. + + * * * * * + +Your description of your new environment, in your other letter, makes +me "homesick" to see it. I cordially congratulate you and Mrs. +Sterling on having the sense to do what I have always been too +indolent to do--namely as you please. Guess I've been always too busy +"warming both hands before the fire of life." And now, when + + "It sinks and I am ready to depart," + +I find that the damned fire was in _me_ and ought to have been +quenched with a dash of cold sense. I'm having my canoe decked and +yawl-rigged for deep water and live in the hope of being drowned +according to the dictates of my conscience. + +By way of proving my power of self-restraint I'm going to stop this +screed with a whole page unused. + + Sincerely yours, as ever, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + February 3, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I don't know why I've not written to you--that is, I don't know why +God made me what I have the misfortune to be: a sufferer from +procrastination. + + * * * * * + +I have read Mary Austin's book with unexpected interest. It is +pleasing exceedingly. You may not know that I'm familiar with the +_kind_ of country she writes of, and reading the book was like +traversing it again. But the best of her is her style. That is +delicious. It has a slight "tang" of archaism--just enough to suggest +"lucent sirups tinct with cinnamon," or the "spice and balm" of +Miller's sea-winds. And what a knack at observation she has! Nothing +escapes her eye. Tell me about her. What else has she written? What is +she going to write? If she is still young she will do great work; if +not--well, she _has_ done it in that book. But she'll have to hammer +and hammer again and again before the world will hear and heed. + +As to me I'm pot-boiling. My stuff in the N. Y. American (I presume +that the part of it that you see is in the Examiner) is mere piffle, +written without effort, purpose or care. My department in the +Cosmopolitan is a failure, as I told Millard it would be. It is +impossible to write topical stuff for a magazine. How can one discuss +with heart or inspiration a thing that happens two months or so before +one's comments on it will be read? The venture and the title were +Hearst's notion, but the title so handicaps me that I can do nothing +right. I shall drop it. + +I've done three little stories for the March number (they may be +postponed) that are ghastly enough to make a pig squeal. + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + March 12, 1906.] + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +First, about the "Wine," I dislike the "privately printed" racket. Can +you let the matter wait a little longer? Neale has the poem, and Neale +is just now inaccessible to letters, somewhere in the South in the +interest of his magazine-that-is-to-be. I called when in New York, but +he had flown and I've been unable to reach him; but he is due here on +the 23rd. Then if his mag is going to hold fire, or if he doesn't want +the poem for it, let Robertson or Josephare have a hack at it. + +Barr is amusing. I don't care to have a copy of his remarks. + +About the pirating of my stories. That is a matter for Chatto and +Windus, who bought the English copyright of the book from which that +one story came. I dare say, though, the publication was done by +arrangement with them. Anyhow my interests are not involved. + +I was greatly interested in your account of Mrs. Austin. She's a +clever woman and should write a good novel--if there is such a thing +as a good novel. I won't read novels. + +Yes, the "Cosmopolitan" cat-story is Leigh's and is to be credited to +him if ever published in covers. I fathered it as the only way to get +it published at all. Of course I had to rewrite it; it was very crude +and too horrible. A story may be terrible, but must not be +horrible--there is a difference. I found the manuscript among his +papers. + +It is disagreeable to think of the estrangement between * * * and his +family. Doubtless the trouble arises from his being married. Yes, it +is funny, his taking his toddy along with you old soakers. I remember +he used to kick at my having wine in camp and at your having a bottle +hidden away in the bushes. + +I had seen that group of you and Joaquin and Stoddard and laughed at +your lifelike impersonation of the Drowsy Demon. + +I passed the first half of last month in New York. Went there for a +dinner and stayed to twelve. Sam Davis and Homer Davenport were of the +party. + +Sam was here for a few days--but maybe you don't know Sam. He's a +brother to Bob, who swears you got your Dante-like solemnity of +countenance by coming into his office when he was editing a newspaper. + +You are not to think I have thrown * * * over. There are only two or +three matters of seriousness between us and they cannot profitably be +discussed in letters, so they must wait until he and I meet if we ever +do. I shall mention them to no one else and I don't suppose he will to +anyone but me. Apart from these--well, our correspondence was +disagreeable, so the obvious thing to do was to put an end to it. To +unlike a friend is not an easy thing to do, and I've not attempted to +do it. + +Of course I approve the new lines in the "Wine" and if Neale or +anybody else will have the poem I shall insert them in their place. +That "screaming thing" stays with one almost as does "the blue-eyed +vampire," and is not only visible, as is she, but audible as well. If +you go on adding lines to the poem I shall not so sharply deplore our +failure to get it into print. As Mark Twain says: "Every time you draw +you fill." + +The "Night in Heaven" is fine work in the grand style and its swing is +haunting when one gets it. I get a jolt or two in the reading, but I +dare say you purposely contrived them and I can't say they hurt. Of +course the rhythm recalls Kipling's "The Last Chanty" (I'm not sure I +spell the word correctly--if there's a correct way) but that is +nothing. Nobody has the copyright of any possible metre or rhythm in +English prosody. It has been long since anybody was "first." When are +you coming to Washington to sail in my canoe? + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + April 5, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I've been in New York again but am slowly recovering. I saw Neale. He +assures me that the magazine will surely materialize about June, and +he wants the poem, "A Wine of Wizardry," with an introduction by me. I +think he means it; if so that will give it greater publicity than what +you have in mind, even if the mag eventually fail. Magazines if well +advertised usually sell several hundred thousand of the first issue; +the trick is to keep them going. Munsey's "Scrap Book" disposed of a +half-million. * * * + +* * * was to start for a few weeks in California about now. I hope +you will see him. He is not a bad lot when convinced that one respects +him. He has been treated pretty badly in this neck o' the woods, as is +every Western man who breaks into this realm of smugwumps. + +My benediction upon Carmelites all and singular--if any are all. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +Doubleday, Page & Co. are to publish my "Cynic's Dictionary." + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + April 20, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I write in the hope that you are alive and the fear that you are +wrecked.[8] + +[8] The San Francisco earthquake and fire had occurred April 18, 1906. + +Please let me know if I can help--I need not say how glad I shall be +to do so. "Help" would go with this were I sure about you and the +post-office. It's a mighty bad business and one does not need to own +property out there to be "hit hard" by it. One needs only to have +friends there. + +We are helpless here, so far as the telegraph is concerned--shall not +be able to get anything on the wires for many days, all private +dispatches being refused. + +Pray God you and yours may be all right. Of course anything that you +may be able to tell me of my friends will be gratefully received. +Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + May 6, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Your letter relieves me greatly. I had begun to fear that you had +"gone before." Thank you very much for your news of our friends. I had +already heard from Eva Croffie. Also from Grizzly. + + * * * * * + +Thank you for Mr. Eddy's review of "Shapes." But he is misinformed +about poor Flora Shearer. Of course I helped her--who would not help a +good friend in adversity? But she went to Scotland to a brother long +ago, and at this time I do not know if she is living or dead. + +But here am I forgetting (momentarily) that awful wiping out of San +Francisco. It "hit" me pretty hard in many ways--mostly indirectly, +through my friends. I had rather hoped to have to "put up" for you and +your gang, and am a trifle disappointed to know that you are all +right--except the chimneys. I'm glad that tidal wave did not come, but +don't you think you'd better have a canoe ready? You could keep it on +your veranda stacked with provisions and whiskey. + +My letter from Ursus (written during the conflagration) expresses a +keen solicitude for the Farallones, as the fire was working westward. + +If this letter is a little disconnected and incoherent know, O King, +that I have just returned from a dinner in Atlantic City, N. J. I saw +Markham there, also Bob Davis, Sam Moffett, Homer Davenport, Bob +Mackay and other San Franciscans. (Can there be a San Franciscan when +there is no San Francisco? I don't want to go back. Doubtless the new +San Francisco--while it lasts--will be a finer town than the old, but +it will not be _my_ San Francisco and I don't want to see it. It has +for many years been, to me, full of ghosts. Now it is itself a ghost.) + +I return the sonnets. Destruction of "Town Talk" has doubtless saved +you from having the one on me turned down. Dear old fellow, don't take +the trouble to defend my memory when--or at least until-- + + "I am fled + From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell." + +I'm not letting my enemies' attitude trouble me at all. On the +contrary, I'm rather sorry for them and their insomnia--lying awake o' +nights to think out new and needful lies about me, while I sleep +sweetly. O, it is all right, truly. + +No, I never had any row (nor much acquaintance) with Mark Twain--met +him but two or three times. Once with Stoddard in London. I think +pretty well of him, but doubt if he cared for me and can't, at the +moment, think of any reason why he _should_ have cared for me. + +"The Cynic's Dictionary" is a-printing. I shall have to call it +something else, for the publishers tell me there is a "Cynic's +Dictionary" already out. I dare say the author took more than my +title--the stuff has been a rich mine for a plagiarist for many a +year. They (the publishers) won't have "The Devil's Dictionary." Here +in the East the Devil is a sacred personage (the Fourth Person of the +Trinity, as an Irishman might say) and his name must not be taken in +vain. + +No, "The Testimony of the Suns" has not "palled" on me. I still read +it and still think it one of the world's greatest poems. + + * * * * * + +Well, God be wi' ye and spare the shack at Carmel, + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + June 11, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Your poem, "A Dream of Fear" was so good before that it needed no +improvement, though I'm glad to observe that you have "the passion for +perfection." Sure--you shall have your word "colossal" applied to a +thing of two dimensions, an you will. + +I have no objection to the publication of that sonnet on me. It may +give my enemies a transient feeling that is disagreeable, and if I can +do that without taking any trouble in the matter myself it is worth +doing. I think they must have renewed their activity, to have provoked +you so--got up a new and fascinating lie, probably. Thank you for +putting your good right leg into action themward. + +What a "settlement" you have collected about you at Carmel! All manner +of cranks and curios, to whom I feel myself drawn by affinity. Still I +suppose I shall not go. I should have to see the new San +Francisco--when it has foolishly been built--and I'd rather not. One +does not care to look upon either the mutilated face of one's mashed +friend or an upstart imposter bearing his name. No, _my_ San Francisco +is gone and I'll have no other. + + * * * * * + +You are wrong about Gorky--he has none of the "artist" in him. He is +not only a peasant, but an anarchist and an advocate of +assassination--by others; like most of his tribe, he doesn't care to +take the risk himself. His "career" in this country has been that of a +yellow dog. Hearst's newspapers and * * * are the only friends that +remain to him of all those that acclaimed him when he landed. And all +the sturdy lying of the former cannot rehabilitate him. It isn't +merely the woman matter. You'd understand if you were on this side of +the country. I was myself a dupe in the matter. He had expressed high +admiration of my books (in an interview in Russia) and when his +Government released him from prison I cabled him congratulations. O, +my! + +Yes, I've observed the obviously lying estimates of the San Franciscan +dead; also that there was no earthquake--just a fire; also the +determination to "beat" the insurance companies. Insurance is a hog +game, and if they (the companies) can be beaten out of their dishonest +gains by superior dishonesty I have no objection; but in my judgment +they are neither legally nor morally liable for the half that is +claimed of them. Those of them that took no earthquake risks don't owe +a cent. + +Please don't send * * *'s verses to me if you can decently decline. I +should be sorry to find them bad, and my loathing of the Whitmaniacal +"form" is as deep as yours. Perhaps I should find them good otherwise, +but the probability is so small that I don't want to take the chance. + + * * * * * + +I've just finished reading the first proofs of "The Cynic's Word +Book," which Doubleday, Page & Co. are to bring out in October. My +dealings with them have been most pleasant and one of them whom I met +the other day at Atlantic City seems a fine fellow. + +I think I told you that S. O. Howes, of Galveston, Texas, is compiling +a book of essays and sich from some of my stuff that I sent him. I've +left the selection entirely to him and presented him with the profits +if there be any. He'll probably not even find a publisher. He has the +work about half done. By the way, he is an enthusiastic admirer of +you. For that I like him, and for much else. + +I mean to stay here all summer if I die for it, as I probably shall. +Luck and love to you. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + June 20, 1906.] + +DEAR MR. CAHILL, + +I am more sorry than I can say to be unable to send you the copy of +the Builder's Review that you kindly sent _me_. But before receiving +your note I had, in my own interest, searched high and low for it, in +vain. Somebody stole it from my table. I especially valued it after +the catastrophe, but should have been doubly pleased to have it for +you. + +It was indeed a rough deal you San Franciscans got. I had always +expected to go back to the good old town some day, but I have no +desire to see the new town, if there is to be one. I fear the fire +consumed even the ghosts that used to meet me at every street +corner--ghosts of dear dead friends, oh, so many of them! + +Please accept my sympathy for your losses. I too am a "sufferer," a +whole edition of my latest book, plates and all, having gone up in +smoke and many of my friends being now in the "dependent class." It +hit us all pretty hard, I guess, wherever we happened to be. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C, + August 11, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +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.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Both your letters at hand. + + * * * * * + +Be a "magazine poet" all you can--that is the shortest road to +recognition, and all our greater poets have travelled it. You need not +compromise with your conscience, however, by writing "magazine +poetry." You couldn't. + +What's your objection to * * *? I don't observe that it is greatly +worse than others of its class. But a fellow who has for nigh upon +twenty years written for yellow newspapers can't be expected to say +much that's edifying on that subject. So I dare say I'm wrong in my +advice about the _kind_ of swine for your pearls. There are probably +more than the two kinds of pigs--live ones and dead ones. + +Yes, I'm a colonel--in Pennsylvania Avenue. In the neighborhood of my +tenement I'm a Mister. At my club I'm a major--which is my real title +by an act of Congress. I suppressed it in California, but couldn't +here, where I run with the military gang. + +You need not blackguard your poem, "A Visitor," though I could wish +you had not chosen blank verse. That form seems to me suitable (in +serious verse) only to lofty, not lowly, themes. Anyhow, I always +expect something pretty high when I begin an unknown poem in blank. +Moreover, it is not your best "medium." Your splendid poem, "Music," +does not wholly commend itself to me for that reason. May I say that +it is a little sing-songy--the lines monotonously alike in their +caesural pauses and some of their other features? + +By the way, I'd like to see what you could do in more unsimple meters +than the ones that you handle so well. The wish came to me the other +day in reading Lanier's "The Marshes of Glynn" and some of his other +work. Lanier did not often equal his master, Swinburne, in getting the +most out of the method, but he did well in the poem mentioned. Maybe +you could manage the dangerous thing. It would be worth doing and is, +therefore, worth trying. + +Thank you for the Moody book, which I will return. He pleaseth me +greatly and I could already fill pages with analyses of him for the +reasons therefore. But for you to say that he has _you_ +"skinned"--that is magnanimity. An excellent thing in poets, I grant +you, and a rare one. There is something about him and his book in the +current "Atlantic," by May Sinclair, who, I dare say, has never heard +of _you_. Unlike you, she thinks his dramatic work the best of what he +does. I've not seen that. To be the best it must be mighty good. + +Yes, poor White's poetry is all you say--and worse, but, faith! he +"had it in him." What struck me was his candid apotheosis of piracy on +the high seas. I'd hate the fellow who hadn't some sneaking sympathy +with that--as Goethe confessed to some sympathy with every vice. +Nobody'll ever hear of White, but (pray observe, ambitious bard!) he +isn't caring. How wise are the dead! + + * * * * * + +My friend Howes, of Galveston, has, I think, nearly finished compiling +his book of essaylets from my stuff. Neale has definitely decided to +bring out "The Monk and the Hangman's Daughter." He has the plates of +my two luckless Putnam books, and is figuring on my "complete works," +to be published by subscription. I doubt if he will undertake it right +away. + +_Au reste_, I'm in good health and am growing old not altogether +disgracefully. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, + October 30, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I'm pained by your comments on my book. I always feel that way when +praised--"just plunged in a gulf of dark despair" to think that I took +no more trouble to make the commendation truer. I shall try harder +with the Howes book. + + * * * * * + +I can't supply the missing link between pages 101 and 102 of the "Word +Book," having destroyed the copy and proofs. Supply it yourself. + +You err: the book is getting me a little glory, but that will be +all--it will have no sale, for it has no slang, no "dialect" and no +grinning through a horse-collar. By the, way, please send me any +"notices" of it that you may chance to see out there. + + * * * * * + +I've done a ghost story for the January "Cosmopolitan," which I think +pretty well of. That's all I've done for more than two months. + +I return your poem and the Moody book. Sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, + December 5, 1906.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Your letter of Nov. 28 has just come to my breakfast table. It is the +better part of the repast. + + * * * * * + +No, my dictionary will not sell. I so assured the publishers. + +I lunched with Neale the other day--he comes down here once a month. +His magazine (I think he is to call it "The Southerner," or something +like that) will not get out this month, as he expected it to. And for +an ominous reason: He had relied largely on Southern writers, and +finds that they can't write! He assures me that it _will_ appear this +winter and asked me not to withdraw your poem and my remarks on it +unless you asked it. So I did not. + + * * * * * + +In your character of bookseller carrying a stock of my books you have +a new interest. May Heaven promote you to publisher! + +Thank you for the Moody books--which I'll return soon. "The Masque of +Judgment" has some great work in its final pages--quite as great as +anything in Faust. The passages that you marked are good too, but some +of them barely miss being entirely satisfying. It would trouble you to +find many such passages in the other book, which is, moreover, not +distinguished for clarity. I found myself frequently prompted to ask +the author: "What the devil are you driving at?" + +I'm going to finish this letter at home where there is less talk of +the relative military strength of Japan and San Francisco and the +latter power's newest and most grievous affliction, Teddy Roosevelt. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S. Guess the letter is finished. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + January 27, 1907.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I suppose I owe you letters and letters--but you don't particularly +like to write letters yourself, so you'll understand. + + * * * * * + +Hanging before me is a water-color of a bit of Carmel Beach, by Chris +Jorgensen, for which I blew in fifty dollars the other day. He had a +fine exhibition of his Californian work here. I wanted to buy it all, +but compromised with my desire by buying what I could. The picture has +a sentimental value to me, apart from its artistic. + + * * * * * + +I am to see Neale in a few days and shall try to learn definitely when +his magazine is to come out--if he knows. If he does not I'll withdraw +your poem. Next month he is to republish "The Monk and the Hangman's +Daughter," with a new preface which somebody will not relish. I'll +send you a copy. The Howes book is on its travels among the +publishers, and so, doubtless, will long continue. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + February 5, 1907.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Our letters "crossed"--a thing that "happens" oftener than not in my +correspondence, when neither person has written for a long time. I +have drawn some interesting inferences from this fact, but have no +time now to state them. Indeed, I have no time to do anything but send +you the stuff on the battle of Shiloh concerning which you inquire. + +I should write it a little differently now, but it may entertain you +as it is. + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + * * * * * + +[Washington, + February 21, 1907] + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +If you desert Carmel I shall destroy my Jorgensen picture, build a +bungalow in the Catskills and cut out California forever. (Those are +the footprints of my damned canary, who will neither write himself nor +let me write. Just now he is perched on my shoulder, awaiting the +command to sing--then he will deafen me with a song without sense. O +he's a poet all right.) + +I entirely approve your allegiance to Mammon. If I'd had brains enough +to make a decision like that I could now, at 65, have the leisure to +make a good book or two before I go to the waste-dump. * * * Get +yourself a fat bank account--there's no such friend as a bank account, +and the greatest book is a check-book; "You may lay to that!" as one +of Stevenson's pirates puts it. + + * * * * * + +No, sir, your boss will not bring you East next June; or if he does +you will not come to Washington. How do I know? I don't know how I +know, but concerning all (and they are many) who were to come from +California to see me I have never once failed in my forecast of their +coming or not coming. Even in the case of * * *, although I wrote to +you, and to her, as if I expected her, I _said_ to one of my friends: +"She will not come." I don't think it's a gift of divination--it just +happens, somehow. Yours is not a very good example, for you have not +said you were coming, "sure." + +So your colony of high-brows is re-establishing itself at the old +stand--Piedmont. * * * But Piedmont--it must be in the heart of +Oakland. I could no longer shoot rabbits in the gulch back of it and +sleep under a tree to shoot more in the morning. Nor could I traverse +that long ridge with various girls. I dare say there's a boulevard +running the length of it, + + "A palace and a prison on each hand." + +If I could stop you from reading that volume of old "Argonauts" I'd do +so, but I suppose an injunction would not "lie." Yes, I was a slovenly +writer in those days, though enough better than my neighbors to have +attracted my own attention. My knowledge of English was imperfect "a +whole lot." Indeed, my intellectual status (whatever it may be, and +God knows it's enough to make me blush) was of slow growth--as was my +moral. I mean, I had not literary sincerity. + +Yes, I wrote of Swinburne the distasteful words that you quote. But +they were not altogether untrue. He used to set my teeth on +edge--could _not_ stand still a minute, and kept you looking for the +string that worked his legs and arms. And he had a weak face that gave +you the memory of chinlessness. But I have long renounced the views +that I once held about his poetry--held, or thought I held. I don't +remember, though, if it was as lately as '78 that I held them. + +You write of Miss Dawson. Did she survive the 'quake? And do you know +about her? Not a word of her has reached me. Notwithstanding your +imported nightingale (upon which I think you should be made to pay a +stiff duty) your Ina Coolbrith poem is so good that I want to keep it +if you have another copy. I find no amendable faults in it. * * * + +The fellow that told you that I was an editor of "The Cosmopolitan" +has an impediment in his veracity. I simply write for it, * * *, and +the less of my stuff the editor uses the better I'm pleased. + + * * * * * + +O, you ask about the "Ursus-Aborn-Gorgias-Agrestis-Polyglot" stuff. It +was written by James F. ("Jimmie") Bowman--long dead. (See a pretty +bad sonnet on page 94, "Shapes of Clay.") My only part in the matter +was to suggest the papers and discuss them with him over many mugs of +beer. + + * * * * * + +By the way, Neale says he gets almost enough inquiries for my books +(from San Francisco) to justify him in republishing them. + + * * * * * + +That's all--and, as George Augustus Sala wrote of a chew of tobacco as +the price of a certain lady's favors, "God knows it's enough!" + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + April 23, 1907.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I have your letter of the 13th. The enclosed slip from the Pacific +Monthly (thank you for it) is amusing. Yes, * * * is an insufferable +pedant, but I don't at all mind his pedantry. Any critic is welcome to +whack me all he likes if he will append to his remarks (as * * * had +the thoughtfulness to do) my definition of "Critic" from the "Word +Book." + +Please don't bother to write me when the spirit does not move you +thereto. You and I don't need to write to each other for any other +reason than that we want to. As to coming East, abstain, O, abstain +from promises, lest you resemble all my other friends out there, who +promise always and never come. It would be delightful to see you here, +but I know how those things arrange themselves without reference to +our desires. We do as we must, not as we will. + +I think that uncle of yours must be a mighty fine fellow. Be good to +him and don't kick at his service, even when you feel the chain. It +beats poetry for nothing a year. + +Did you get the "Shiloh" article? I sent it to you. I sent it also to +Paul Elder & Co. (New York branch) for their book of "Western +Classics," and hope it will meet their need. They wanted something, +and it seemed to me as good, with a little revision, as any of my +stuff that I control. Do you think it would be wise to offer them for +republication "In the Midst of Life"? It is now "out of print" and on +my hands. + + * * * * * + +I'm glad of your commendation of my "Cosmopolitan" stuff. They don't +give me much of a "show"--the editor doesn't love me personally as he +should, and lets me do only enough to avert from himself the attention +of Mr. Hearst and that gentleman's interference with the mutual +admiration game as played in the "Cosmopolitan" office. As I'm rather +fond of light work I'm not shrieking. + + * * * * * + +You don't speak of getting the book that I sent, "The Monk and the +Hangman's Daughter"--new edition. 'Tisn't as good as the old. * * * + +I'm boating again. How I should like to put out my prow on Monterey +Bay. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + June 8, 1907.] + +DEAR LORA, + +Your letter, with the yerba buena and the spray of redwood, came like +a breeze from the hills. And the photographs are most pleasing. I note +that Sloot's moustache is decently white at last, as becomes a fellow +of his years. I dare say his hair is white too, but I can't see under +his hat. And I think he never removes it. That backyard of yours is a +wonder, but I sadly miss the appropriate ash-heaps, tin cans, old +packing-boxes, and so forth. And that palm in front of the +house--gracious, how she's grown! Well, it has been more than a day +growing, and I've not watched it attentively. + +I hope you'll have a good time in Yosemite, but Sloots is an idiot not +to go with you--nineteen days is as long as anybody would want to stay +there. + +I saw a little of Phyllis Partington in New York. She told me much of +you and seems to be fond of you. That is very intelligent of her, +don't you think? + +No, I shall not wait until I'm rich before visiting you. I've no +intention of being rich, but do mean to visit you--some day. Probably +when Grizzly has visited _me_. Love to you all. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + June 25, 1907.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +So * * * showed you his article on me. He showed it to me also, and +some of it amused me mightily, though I didn't tell him so. That +picture of me as a grouchy and disappointed old man occupying the +entire cave of Adullam is particularly humorous, and so poetic that I +would not for the world "cut it out." * * * seems incapable (like a +good many others) of estimating success in other terms than those of +popularity. He gives a rather better clew to his own character than to +mine. The old man is fairly well pleased with the way that he has +played the game, and with his share of the stakes, thank'ee. + +I note with satisfaction _your_ satisfaction with my article on you +and your poem. I'll correct the quotation about the "timid +sapphires"--don't know how I happened to leave out the best part of +it. But I left out the line about "harlot's blood" because I didn't +(and don't) think a magazine would "stand for it" if I called the +editor's attention to it. You don't know what magazines are if you +haven't tested them. However, I'll try it on Chamberlain if you like. +And I'll put in "twilight of the year" too. + + * * * * * + +It's pleasing to know that you've "cut out" your clerical work if you +can live without it. Now for some great poetry! Carmel has a +fascination for me too--because of your letters. If I did not fear +illness--a return of my old complaint--I'd set out for it at once. +I've nothing to do that would prevent--about two day's work a month. +But I'd never set foot in San Francisco. Of all the Sodoms and +Gomorrahs in our modern world it is the worst. There are not ten +righteous (and courageous) men there. It needs another quake, another +whiff of fire, and--more than all else--a steady tradewind of +grapeshot. When * * * gets done blackguarding New York (as it +deserves) and has shaken the dung of San Francisco from his feet I'm +going to "sick him onto" that moral penal colony of the world. * * * + +I've two "books" seeking existence in New York--the Howes book and +some satires. Guess they are cocks that will not fight. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +I was sixty-five yesterday. + + +[Washington, D. C., + July 11, 1907.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I've just finished reading proofs of my stuff about you and your poem. +Chamberlain, as I apprised you, has it slated for September. But for +that month also he has slated a longish spook story of mine, besides +my regular stuff. Not seeing how he can run it all in one issue, I +have asked him to run your poem (with my remarks) and hold the spook +yarn till some other time. I _hope_ he'll do so, but if he doesn't, +don't think it my fault. An editor never does as one wants him to. I +inserted in my article another quotation or two, and restored some +lines that I had cut out of the quotations to save space. + +It's grilling hot here--I envy you your Carmel. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I guess several of your good letters are unanswered, as are many +others of other correspondents. I've been gadding a good deal +lately--to New York principally. When I want a royal good time I go to +New York; and I get it. + + * * * * * + +As to Miller being "about the same age" as I, why, no. The rascal is +long past seventy, although nine or ten years ago he wrote from Alaska +that he was "in the middle fifties." I've known him for nearly thirty +years and he can't fool me with his youthful airs and tales. May he +live long and repent. + +Thank you for taking the trouble to send Conan Doyle's opinion of me. +No, it doesn't turn my head; I can show you dozens of "appreciations" +from greater and more famous men. I return it to you corrected--as he +really wrote it. Here it is: + +"Praise from Sir Hugo is praise indeed." In "Through the Magic Door," +an exceedingly able article on short stories that have interested him, +Conan Doyle pays the following well-deserved tribute to Ambrose +Bierce, whose wonderful short stories have so often been praised in +these columns: "Talking of weird American stories, have you ever read +any of the works of Ambrose Bierce? I have one of his books before me, +'In the Midst of Life.' This man (has)[9] had a flavor quite his own, +and (is)[9] was a great artist. It is not cheerful reading, but it +leaves its mark upon you, and that is the proof of good work." + +[9] Crossed out by A. B. + +Thank you also for the Jacobs story, which I will read. As a +_humorist_ he is no great thing. + +I've not read your Bohemian play to a finish yet, * * *. By the way, +I've always wondered why they did not "put on" Comus. Properly done it +would be great woodland stuff. Read it with a view to that and see if +I'm not right. And then persuade them to "stage it" next year. + +I'm being awfully pressed to return to California. No San Francisco +for me, but Carmel sounds good. For about how much could I get ground +and build a bungalow--for one? That's a pretty indefinite question; +but then the will to go is a little hazy at present. It consists, as +yet, only of the element of desire. * * * + +The "Cosmopolitan," with your poem, has not come to hand but is nearly +due--I'm a little impatient--eager to see the particular kind of +outrage Chamberlain's artist has wrought upon it. He (C.) asked for +your address the other day; so he will doubtless send you a check. + + * * * * * + +Now please go to work at "Lilith"; it's bound to be great stuff, for +you'll have to imagine it all. I'm sorry that anybody ever invented +Lilith; it makes her too much of an historical character. + + * * * * * + +"The other half of the Devil's Dictionary" is in the fluid state--not +even liquid. And so, doubtless, it will remain. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + September 7, 1907.] + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +I'm awfully glad that you don't mind Chamberlain's yellow nonsense in +coupling Ella's name with yours. But when you read her natural opinion +of your work you'll acquit her of complicity in the indignity. I'm +sending a few things from Hearst's newspapers--written by the +slangers, dialecters and platitudinarians of the staff, and by some of +the swine among the readers. + +Note the deliberate and repeated lying of Brisbane in quoting me as +saying the "Wine" is "the greatest poem ever written in America." Note +his dishonesty in confessing that he has commendatory letters, yet not +publishing a single one of them. But the end is not yet--my inning is +to come, in the magazine. Chamberlain (who professes an enthusiastic +admiration of the poem) promises me a free hand in replying to these +ignorant asses. If he does not give it to me I quit. I've writ a +paragraph or two for the November number (too late now for the +October) by way of warning them what they'll get when December comes. +So you see you must patiently endure the befouling till then. + + * * * * * + +Did you notice in the last line of the "Wine" that I restored the word +"smile" from your earlier draft of the verses? In one of your later (I +don't remember if in the last) you had it "sigh." That was wrong; +"smile" seems to me infinitely better as a definition of the poet's +attitude toward his dreams. So, considering that I had a choice, I +chose it. Hope you approve. + +I am serious in wishing a place in Carmel as a port of refuge from the +storms of age. I don't know that I shall ever live there, but should +like to feel that I can if I want to. Next summer I hope to go out +there and spy out the land, and if I then "have the price" (without +sacrificing any of my favorite stocks) I shall buy. I don't care for +the grub question--should like to try the simple life, for I have +already two gouty finger points as a result of the other kind of life. +(Of course if they all get that way I shan't mind, for I love +uniformity.) Probably if I attempted to live in Carmel I should have +asthma again, from which I have long been free. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + October 9, 1907.] + +MY DEAR MORROW, + +Whether you "prosper" or not I'm glad you write instead of teaching. I +have done a bit of teaching myself, but as the tuition was gratuitous +I could pick my pupils; so it was a labor of love. I'm pretty well +satisfied with the results. + +No, I'm not "toiling" much now. I've written all I care to, and having +a pretty easy berth (writing for The Cosmopolitan only, and having no +connection with Mr. Hearst's newspapers) am content. + +I have observed your story in Success, but as I never never (sic) read +serials shall await its publication in covers before making a meal of +it. + +You seem to be living at the old place in Vallejo Street, so I judge +that it was spared by the fire. I had some pretty good times in that +house, not only with you and Mrs. Morrow (to whom my love, please) but +with the dear Hogan girls. Poor Flodie! she is nearly a sole survivor +now. I wonder if she ever thinks of us. + +I hear from California frequently through a little group of +interesting folk who foregather at Carmel--whither I shall perhaps +stray some day and there leave my bones. Meantime, I am fairly happy +here. + +I wish you would add yourself to the Carmel crowd. You would be a +congenial member of the gang and would find them worth while. You must +know George Sterling: he is the high panjandrum and a gorgeously good +fellow. Go get thee a bungalow at Carmel, which is indubitably the +charmingest place in the State. As to San Francisco, with its +labor-union government, its thieves and other impossibilities, I could +not be drawn into it by a team of behemoths. But California--ah, I +dare not permit myself to remember it. Yet this Eastern country is not +without charm. And my health is good here, as it never was there. +Nothing ails me but age, which brings its own cure. + +God keep thee!--go and live at Carmel. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + October 29, 1907.] + +JAMES D. BLAKE, ESQ., + +DEAR SIR: + +It is a matter of no great importance to me, but the republication of +the foolish books that you mention would not be agreeable to me. They +have no kind of merit or interest. One of them, "The Fiend's Delight," +was published against my protest; the utmost concession that the +compiler and publisher (the late John Camden Hatten, London) would +make was to let me edit his collection of my stuff and write a +preface. You would pretty surely lose money on any of them. + +If you care to republish anything of mine you would, I think, do +better with "Black Beetles in Amber," or "Shapes of Clay." The former +sold well, and the latter would, I think, have done equally well if +the earthquake-and-fire had not destroyed it, including the plates. +Nearly all of both books were sold in San Francisco, and the sold, as +well as the unsold, copies--I mean the unsold copies of the +latter--perished in the fire. There is much inquiry for them (mainly +from those who lost them) and I am told that they bring fancy prices. +You probably know about that better than I. + +I should be glad to entertain proposals from you for their +republication--in San Francisco--and should not be exacting as to +royalties, and so forth. + +But the other books are "youthful indiscretions" and are "better +dead." + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + December 28,1907.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +Please send me a copy of the new edition of "The Testimony." I +borrowed one of the first edition to give away, and want to replace +it. Did you add the "Wine" to it? I'd not leave off the indefinite +article from the title of that; it seems to dignify the tipple +by hinting that it was no ordinary tope. It may have been +witch-fermented. + +I don't "dislike" the line: "So terribly that brilliance shall +enhance"; it seems merely less admirable than the others. Why didn't I +tell you so? I could not tell you _all_ I thought of the poem--for +another example, how I loved the lines: + + "Where Dawn upon a pansy's breast hath laid + A single tear, and _whence the wind hath flown + And left a silence_." + + * * * * * + +I'm returning you, under another cover (as the ceremonial slangers +say) some letters that have come to me and that I have answered. I +have a lot more, most of them abusive, I guess, that I'll dig out +later. But the most pleasing ones I can't send, for I sent them to +Brisbane on his promise to publish them, which the liar did not, nor +has he had the decency to return them. I'm hardly sorry, for it gave +me good reason to call him a peasant and a beast of the field. I'm +always grateful for the chance to prod somebody. + + * * * * * + +I detest the "limited edition" and "autograph copies" plan of +publication, but for the sake of Howes, who has done a tremendous lot +of good work on my book, have assented to Blake's proposal in all +things and hope to be able to laugh at this brilliant example of the +"irony of fate." I've refused to profit in any way by the book. I want +Howes to "break even" for his labor. + +By the way, Pollard and I had a good time in Galveston, and on the +way I took in some of my old battlefields. At Galveston they nearly +killed me with hospitality--so nearly that Pollard fled. I returned +via Key West and Florida. + +You'll probably see Howes next Summer--I've persuaded him to go West +and renounce the bookworm habit for some other folly. Be good to him; +he is a capital fellow in his odd, amusing way. + +I didn't know there was an American edition of "The Fiends' Delight." +Who published it and when? + +Congratulations on acceptance of "Tasso and Leonora." But I wouldn't +do much in blank verse if I were you. It betrays you (somehow) into +mere straightaway expression, and seems to repress in you the glorious +abundance of imagery and metaphor that enriches your rhyme-work. This +is not a criticism, particularly, of "Tasso," which is good enough for +anybody, but--well, it's just _so_. + +I'm not doing much. My stuff in the Cosmo. comes last, and when +advertisements crowd some of it is left off. Most of it gets in later +(for of course I don't replace it with more work) but it is sadly +antiquated. My checks, though, are always up to date. + + Sincerely[10] yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +[10] I can almost say "sinecurely." + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + January 19, 1908.] + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +I have just come upon a letter of yours that I got at Galveston and (I +fear) did not acknowledge. But I've written you since, so I fancy all +is well. + +You mention that sonnet that Chamberlain asked for. You should not +have let him have it--it was, as you say, the kind of stuff that +magazines like. Nay, it was even better. But I wish you'd sent it +elsewhere. You owed it to me not to let the Cosmopolitan's readers +see anything of yours (for awhile, at least) that was less than +_great_. Something as great as the sonnet that you sent to McClure's +was what the circumstances called for. + +"And strict concern of relativity"--O bother! that's not poetry. It's +the slang of philosophy. + +I am still awaiting my copy of the new "Testimony." That's why I'm +scolding. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + April 18, 1908.] + +MY DEAR LORA, + +I'm an age acknowledging your letter; but then you'd have been an age +writing it if you had not done it for "Sloots." And the other day I +had one from him, written in his own improper person. + +I think it abominable that he and Carlt have to work so hard--at +_their_ age--and I quite agree with George Sterling that Carlt ought +to go to Carmel and grow potatoes. I'd like to do that myself, but +for the fact that so many objectionable persons frequent the place: +* * *, * * * and the like. I'm hoping, however, that the ocean will +swallow * * * and be unable to throw him up. + +I trust you'll let Sloots "retire" at seventy, which is really quite +well along in life toward the years of discretion and the age of +consent. But when he is retired I know that he will bury himself in +the redwoods and never look upon the face of man again. That, too, I +should rather like to do myself--for a few months. + +I've laid out a lot of work for myself this season, and doubt if I +shall get to California, as I had hoped. So I shall never, never see +you. But you might send me a photograph. + +God be with you. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + July 11, 1908.] + +N.B. If you follow the pages you'll be able to make _some_ sense of +this screed. + +MY DEAR GEORGE, + +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.] + +MY DEAR MR. CAHILL, + +Your note inquiring about "Ashes of the Beacon" interests me. You +mention it as a "pamphlet." I have no knowledge of its having appeared +otherwise than as an article in the Sunday edition of the "N. Y. +American"--I do not recall the date. If it has been published as a +pamphlet, or in any other form, separately--that is by itself--I +should like "awfully" to know by whom, if _you_ know. + +I should be pleased to send it to you--in the "American"--if I had a +copy of the issue containing it, but I have not. It will be included +in Vol. I of my "Collected Works," to be published by the Neale +Publishing Company, N. Y. That volume will be published probably early +next year. + +But the work is to be in ten or twelve costly volumes, and sold by +subscription only. That buries it fathoms deep so far as the public is +concerned. + +Regretting my inability to assist you, I am sincerely yours, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + August 14, 1908.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I am amused by your attitude toward the spaced sonnet, and by the +docility of Gilder. If I had been your editor I guess you'd have got +back your sonnets. I never liked the space. If the work naturally +divides itself into two parts, as it should, the space is needless; if +not, it is worse than that. The space was the invention of printers of +a comparatively recent period, neither Petrarch nor Dante (as Gilder +points out) knew of it. Every magazine has its own _system_ of +printing, and Gilder's good-natured compliance with your wish, or +rather demand, shows him to be a better fellow, though not a better +poet, than I have thought him to be. As a victory of author over +editor, the incident pleases. + +I've not yet been in New York, but expect to go soon. I shall be glad +to meet Hopper if he is there. + +Thank you for the article from "Town Talk." It suggests this question: +How many times, and covering a period of how many years, must one's +unexplainable obscurity be pointed out to constitute fame? Not +knowing, I am almost disposed to consider myself the most famous of +authors. I have pretty nearly ceased to be "discovered," but my +notoriety as an obscurian may be said to be worldwide and apparently +everlasting. + +The trouble, I fancy, is with our vocabulary--the lack of a word +meaning something intermediate between "popular" and "obscure"--and +the ignorance of writers as to the reading of readers. I seldom meet a +person of education who is not acquainted with some of my work; my +clipping bureau's bills were so heavy that I had to discontinue my +patronage, and Blake tells me that he sells my books at one hundred +dollars a set. Rather amusing all this to one so widely unknown. + +I sometimes wonder what you think of Scheff's new book. Does it +perform the promise of the others? In the dedicatory poem it seems to +me that it does, and in some others. As a good Socialist you are bound +to like _that_ poem because of its political-economic-views. I like it +despite them. + + "The dome of the Capitol roars + With the shouts of the Caesars of crime" + +is great poetry, but it is not true. I am rather familiar with what +goes on in the Capitol--not through the muck-rakers, who pass a few +days here "investigating," and then look into their pockets and write, +but through years of personal observation and personal acquaintance +with the men observed. There are no Caesars of crime, but about a +dozen rascals, all told, mostly very small fellows; I can name them +all. They are without power or influence enough to count in the scheme +of legislation. The really dangerous and mischievous chaps are the +demagogues, friends of the pee-pul. And they do all the "shouting." +Compared with the Congress of our forefathers, the Congress of to-day +is as a flock of angels to an executive body of the Western Federation +of Miners. + +When I showed the "dome" to * * * (who had been reading his own +magazine) the tears came into his voice, and I guess his eyes, as he +lamented the decay of civic virtue, "the treason of the Senate," and +the rest of it. He was so affected that I hastened to brace him up +with whiskey. He, too, was "squirming" about "other persons' +troubles," and with about as good reason as you. + +I think "the present system" is not "frightful." It is all right--a +natural outgrowth of human needs, limitations and capacities, instinct +with possibilities of growth in goodness, elastic, and progressively +better. Why don't you study humanity as you do the suns--not from the +viewpoint of time, but from that of eternity. The middle ages were +yesterday, Rome and Greece the day before. The individual man is +nothing, as a single star is nothing. If this earth were to take fire +you would smile to think how little it mattered in the scheme of the +universe; all the wailing of the egoist mob would not affect you. Then +why do you squirm at the minute catastrophe of a few thousands or +millions of pismires crushed under the wheels of evolution. Must the +new heavens and the new earth of prophecy and science come in _your_ +little instant of life in order that you may not go howling and +damning with Jack London up and down the earth that we happen to have? +Nay, nay, read history to get the long, large view--to learn to think +in centuries and cycles. Keep your eyes off your neighbors and fix +them on the nations. What poetry we shall have when you get, and give +us, The Testimony of the Races! + + * * * * * + +I peg away at compilation and revision. I'm cutting-about my stuff a +good deal--changing things from one book to another, adding, +subtracting and dividing. Five volumes are ready, and Neale is engaged +in a "prospectus" which he says will make me blush. I'll send it to +you when he has it ready. + +Gertrude Atherton is sending me picture-postals of Berchtesgaden and +other scenes of "The Monk and the Hangman's Daughter." She found all +the places "exactly as described"--the lakes, mountains, St. +Bartolomae, the cliff-meadow where the edelweiss grows, and so forth. +The photographs are naturally very interesting to me. + + Good night. + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + September 12, 1908.] + +MY DEAR MR. CAHILL, + +Thank you for your good wishes for the "Collected Works"--an +advertisement of which--with many blushes!--I enclose. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S.--The "ad" is not sent in the hope that you will be so foolish as +to subscribe--merely to "show" you. The "edition de luxe" business is +not at all to my taste--I should prefer a popular edition at a +possible price. + + +[New York, + November 6, 1908.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Your letter has just been forwarded from Washington. I'm here for a +few days only--"few days and full of trouble," as the Scripture hath +it. The "trouble" is mainly owling, dining and booze. I'll not attempt +an answer to your letter till I get home. + + * * * * * + +I'm going to read Hopper's book, and if it doesn't show him to be a +* * * or a * * * I'll call on him. If it does I won't. I'm getting +pretty particular in my old age; the muck-rakers, blood-boilers and +little brothers-of-the-bad are not congenial. + +By the way, why do you speak of my "caning" you. I did not suppose +that _you_ had joined the innumerable caravan of those who find +something sarcastic or malicious in my good natured raillery in +careless controversy. If I choose to smile in ink at your +inconsistency in weeping for the woes of individual "others"--meaning +other _humans_--while you, of course, don't give a damn for the +thousands of lives that you crush out every time you set down your +foot, or eat a berry, why shouldn't _I_ do so? One can't always +remember to stick to trifles, even in writing a letter. Put on your +skin, old man, I may want to poke about with my finger again. + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + December 11, 1908.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +I'm still working at my book. Seven volumes are completed and I've +read the proofs of Vol. I. + +Your account of the "movement" to free the oppressed and downtrodden +river from the tyranny of the sand-bar tickled me in my lonesome rib. +Surely no colony of reformers ever engaged in a more characteristic +crusade against the Established Order and Intolerable Conditions. I +can almost hear you patting yourselves on your aching backs as you +contemplated your encouraging success in beating Nature and promoting +the Cause. I believe that if I'd been there my cold heart and +indurated mind would have caught the contagion of the Great +Reform. Anyhow, I should have appreciated the sunset which +(characteristically) intervened in the interest of Things as They Are. +I feel sure that whenever you Socialers shall have found a way to make +the earth stop "turning over and over like a man in bed" (as Joaquin +might say) you will accomplish all the reforms that you have at heart. +All that you need is plenty of time--a few kalpas, more or less, of +uninterrupted daylight. Meantime I await your new book with impatience +and expectation. + +I have photographs of my brother's shack in the redwoods and feel +strongly drawn in that direction--since, as you fully infer, Carmel is +barred. Probably, though, I shall continue in the complicated life of +cities while I last. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + January 9, 1909.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I've been reading your book--re-reading most of it--"every little +while." I don't know that it is better than your first, but to say +that it is as good is praise enough. You know what I like most in it, +but there are some things that you _don't_ know I like. For an +example, "Night in Heaven." It Kipples a bit, but it is great. But I'm +not going to bore you with a catalogue of titles. The book is _all_ +good. No, not (in my judgment) all, for it contains lines and words +that I found objectionable in the manuscript, and time has not +reconciled me to them. Your retention of them, shows, however, that +you agree with me in thinking that you have passed your 'prentice +period and need no further criticism. So I welcome them. + +I take it that the cover design is Scheff's--perhaps because it is so +good, for the little cuss is clever that way. + + * * * * * + +I rather like your defence of Jack London--not that I think it valid, +but because I like loyalty to a friend whom one does not believe to be +bad. (The "thick-and-thin" loyalty never commended itself to me; it is +too dog-like.) I fail, however, to catch the note of penitence in +London's narratives of his underlife, and my charge of literary +stealing was not based on his primeval man book, "Before Adam." + +As to * * *, as he is not more than a long-range or short-acquaintance +friend of yours, I'll say that I would not believe him under oath on +his deathbed. * * * The truth is, none of these howlers knows the +difference between a million and a thousand nor between truth and +falsehood. I could give you instances of their lying about matters +here at the capital that would make even your hair stand on end. It is +not only that they are all liars--they are mere children; they don't +know anything and don't care to, nor, for prosperity in their +specialties, need to. Veracity would be a disqualification; if they +confined themselves to facts they would not get a hearing. * * * is +the nastiest futilitarian of the gang. + +It is not the purpose of these gentlemen that I find so very +objectionable, but the foul means that they employ to accomplish it. I +would be a good deal of a Socialist myself if they had not made the +word (and the thing) stink. + +Don't imagine that I'll not "enter Carmel" if I come out there. I'll +visit you till you're sick of me. But I'd not _live_ there and be +"identified" with it, as the newspapers would say. I'm warned by +Hawthorne and Brook Farm. + +I'm still working--a little more leisurely--on my books. But I begin +to feel the call of New York on the tympani of my blood globules. I +must go there occasionally, or I should die of intellectual torpor. +* * * "O Lord how long?"--this letter. O well, you need not give it +the slightest attention; there's nothing, I think, that requires a +reply, nor merits one. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + March 6, 1909.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +Did you see Markham's review of the "Wine" in "The N. Y. American"? +Pretty fair, but--if a metrical composition full of poetry is not a +poem what is it? And I wonder what he calls Kubla Khan, which has a +beginning but neither middle nor end. And how about The Faerie Queene +for absence of "unity"? Guess I'll ask him. + +Isn't it funny what happens to critics who would mark out meters and +bounds for the Muse--denying the name "poem," for example, to a work +because it is not like some other work, or like one that is in the +minds of them? + +I hope you are prosperous and happy and that I shall sometimes hear +from you. + +Howes writes me that the "Lone Hand"--Sydney--has been commending you. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + October 9, 1909.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I return the poems with a few random comments and suggestions. + +I'm a little alarmed lest you take too seriously my preference of your +rhyme to your blank--especially when I recall your "Music" and "The +Spirit of Beauty." Perhaps I should have said only that you are not so +_likely_ to write well in blank. (I think always of "Tasso to +Leonora," which I cannot learn to like.) Doubtless I have too great +fondness for _great_ lines--_your_ great lines--and they occur less +frequently in your blank verse than in your rhyme--most frequently in +your quatrains, those of sonnets included. Don't swear off +blank--except as you do drink--but study it more. It's "an hellish +thing." + +It looks as if I _might_ go to California sooner than I had intended. +My health has been wretched all summer. I need a sea voyage--one _via_ +Panama would be just the thing. So if the cool weather of autumn do +not restore me I shall not await spring here. But I'm already somewhat +better. If I had been at sea I should have escaped the Cook-Peary +controversy. We talk nothing but arctic matters here--I enclose my +contribution to its horrors. + +I'm getting many a good lambasting for my book of essays. Also a sop +of honey now and then. It's all the same to me; I don't worry about +what my contemporaries think of me. I made 'em think of _you_--that's +glory enough for one. And the squirrels in the public parks think me +the finest fellow in the world. They know what I have in every pocket. +Critics don't know that--nor nearly so much. + +Advice to a young author: Cultivate the good opinion of squirrels. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + November 1, 1909.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +European criticism of your _bete noir_, old Leopold, is entitled to +attention; American (of him or any other king) is not. It looks as if +the wretch may be guilty of indifference. + +In condemning as "revolutionary" the two-rhyme sestet, I think I could +not have been altogether solemn, for (1) I'm something of a +revolutionist myself regarding the sonnet, having frequently expressed +the view that its accepted forms--even the number of lines--were +purely arbitrary; (2) I find I've written several two-rhyme sestets +myself, and (3), like yours, my ear has difficulty in catching the +rhyme effect in a-b-c, a-b-c. The rhyme is delayed till the end of the +fourth line--as it is in the quatrain (not of the sonnet) with +unrhyming first and third lines--a form of which I think all my +multitude of verse supplies no example. I confess, though, that I did +not know that Petrarch had made so frequent use of the 2-rhyme sestet. + +I learn a little all the time; some of my old notions of poetry seem +to me now erroneous, even absurd. So I _may_ have been at one time a +stickler for the "regular" three-rhymer. Even now it pleases my ear +well enow if the three are not so arranged as to elude it. I'm sorry +if I misled you. You'd better 'fess up to your young friend, as I do +to you--if I really was serious. + + * * * * * + +Of course I should be glad to see Dick, but don't expect to. They +never come, and it has long been my habit to ignore every "declaration +of intention." + +I'm greatly pleased to know that you too like those lines of Markham +that you quote from the "Wharf of Dreams." I've repeatedly told him +that that sonnet was his greatest work, and those were its greatest +lines. By the way, my young poet, Loveman, sends me a letter from +Markham, asking for a poem or two for a book, "The Younger Choir," +that he (M.) is editing. Loveman will be delighted by your good +opinion of "Pierrot"--which still another magazine has returned to me. +Guess I'll have to give it up. + +I'm sending you a booklet on loose locutions. It is vilely gotten +up--had to be so to sell for twenty-five cents, the price that I +favored. I just noted down these things as I found them in my reading, +or remembered them, until I had four hundred. Then I took about fifty +from other books, and boiled down the needful damnation. Maybe I have +done too much boiling down--making the stuff "thick and slab." If +there is another edition I shall do a little bettering. + +I should like some of those mussels, and, please God, shall help you +cull them next summer. But the abalone--as a Christian comestible he +is a stranger to me and the tooth o' me. + +I think you have had some correspondence with my friend Howes of +Galveston. Well, here he is "in his habit as he lives." Of the two +figures in the picture Howes is the one on top.[11] Good night. + +[11] Howes was riding on a burro. + + A. B. + + +[Washington, D. C., + January 29, 1910.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Here are your fine verses--I have been too busy to write to you +before. In truth, I've worked harder now for more than a year than I +ever shall again--and the work will bring me nor gain nor glory. Well, +I shall take a rest pretty soon, partly in California. I thank you for +the picture card. I have succumbed to the post-card fashion myself. + +As to some points in your letter. + +I've no recollection of advising young authors to "leave all heart and +sentiment out of their work." If I did the context would probably show +that it was because their time might better be given to perfect +themselves in form, against the day when their hearts would be less +wild and their sentiments truer. You know it has always been my belief +that one cannot be trusted to feel until one has learned to think--and +few youngsters have learned to do that. Was it not Dr. Holmes who +advised a young writer to cut out every passage that he thought +particularly good? He'd be sure to think the beautiful and sentimental +passages the best, would he not? * * * + +If you mean to write really "vituperative" sonnets (why sonnets?) let +me tell you _one_ secret of success--name your victim and his offense. +To do otherwise is to fire blank cartridges--to waste your words in +air--to club a vacuum. At least your satire must be so personally +applicable that there can be no mistake as to the victim's identity. +Otherwise he is no victim--just a spectator like all others. And that +brings us to Watson. His caddishness consisted, not in satirizing a +woman, which is legitimate, but, first, in doing so without sufficient +reason, and, second, in saying orally (on the safe side of the +Atlantic) what he apparently did not dare say in the verses. * * * + +I'm enclosing something that will tickle you I hope--"The Ballade of +the Goodly Fere." The author's[12] father, who is something in the Mint +in Philadelphia, sent me several of his son's poems that were not +good; but at last came this--in manuscript, like the others. Before I +could do anything with it--meanwhile wearing out the paper and the +patience of my friends by reading it at them--the old man asked it +back rather peremptorily. I reluctantly sent it, with a letter of high +praise. The author had "placed" it in London, where it has made a heap +of talk. + +[12] Ezra Pound. + +It has plenty of faults besides its monotonous rhyme scheme; but tell +me what you think of it. + +God willing, we shall eat Carmel mussels and abalones in May or June. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + March 7, 1910.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +My plan is to leave here before April first, pass a few days in New +York and then sail for Colon. If I find the canal work on the Isthmus +interesting I may skip a steamer from Panama to see it. I've no notion +how long it will take to reach San Francisco, and know nothing of the +steamers and their schedules on the Pacific side. + +I shall of course want to see Grizzly first--that is to say, he will +naturally expect me to. But if you can pull him down to Carmel about +the time of my arrival (I shall write you the date of my sailing from +New York) I would gladly come there. Carlt, whom I can see at once on +arriving, can tell me where he (Grizzly) is. * * * + +I don't think you rightly value "The Goodly Fere." Of course no ballad +written to-day can be entirely good, for it must be an imitation; it +is now an unnatural form, whereas it was once a natural one. We are +no longer a primitive people, and a primitive people's forms and +methods are not ours. Nevertheless, this seems to me an admirable +ballad, as it is given a modern to write ballads. And I think you +overlook the best line: + + "The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue." + +The poem is complete as I sent it, and I think it stops right where +and as it should-- + + "I ha' seen him eat o' the honey comb + Sin' they nailed him to the tree." + +The current "Literary Digest" has some queer things about (and by) +Pound, and "Current Literature" reprints the "Fere" with all the +wrinkles ironed out of it--making a "capon priest" of it. + +Fo' de Lawd's sake! don't apologise for not subscribing for my +"Works." If you did subscribe I should suspect that you were "no +friend o' mine"--it would remove you from that gang and put you in a +class by yourself. Surely you can not think I care who buys or does +not buy my books. The man who expects anything more than lip-service +from his friends is a very young man. There are, for example, a +half-dozen Californians (all loud admirers of Ambrose Bierce) editing +magazines and newspapers here in the East. Every man Jack of them has +turned me down. They will do everything for me but enable me to live. +Friends be damned!--strangers are the chaps for me. + + * * * * * + +I've given away my beautiful sailing canoe and shall never again live +a life on the ocean wave--unless you have boats at Carmel. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + Easter Sunday.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Here's a letter from Loveman, with a kindly reference to you--that's +why I send it. + +I'm to pull out of here next Wednesday, the 30th, but don't know just +when I shall sail from New York--apparently when there are no more +dinners to eat in that town and no more friends to visit. May God in +His infinite mercy lessen the number of both. I should get into your +neck o' woods early in May. Till then God be with you instead. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +Easter Sunday. + +[Why couldn't He stay put?] + + +[Washington, D. C., + March 29, 1910.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I'm "all packed up," even my pens; for to-morrow I go to New +York--whence I shall write you before embarking. + +Neale seems pleased by your "permission to print," as Congressmen say +who can't make a speech yet want one in the Record, for home +consumption. + + Sincerely, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Guerneville, Cal., + May 24, 1910.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +You will probably have learned of my arrival--this is my first leisure +to apprise you. + +I took Carlt and Lora and came directly up here--where we all hope to +see you before I see Carmel. Lora remains here for the week, perhaps +longer, and Carlt is to come up again on Saturday. Of course you do +not need an invitation to come whenever you feel like it. + +I had a pleasant enough voyage and have pretty nearly got the "slosh" +of the sea out of my ears and its heave out of my bones. + +A bushel of letters awaits attention, besides a pair of lizards that I +have undertaken to domesticate. So good morning. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Key Route Inn, Oakland, + June 25, 1910.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +You'll observe that I acted on your suggestion, and am "here." + +Your little sisters are most gracious to me, despite my candid +confession that I extorted your note of introduction by violence and +intimidation. + +Baloo[13] and his cubs went on to Guerneville the day of their return +from Carmel. But I saw them. + +[13] Albert Bierce. + +I'm deep in work, and shall be for a few weeks; then I shall be off to +Carmel for a lungful of sea air and a bellyful of abalones and +mussels. + +I suppose you'll be going to the Midsummer Jinks. Fail not to stop +over here--I don't feel that I have really seen you yet. + +With best regards to Carrie. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Laguna Vista, Oakland, + Sunday, July 24, 1910.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Supposing you to have gone home, I write to send the poem. Of course +it is a good poem. But I begin to want to hear your larger voice +again. I want to see you standing tall on the heights--above the +flower-belt and the bird-belt. I want to hear, + + "like Ocean on a western beach, + The surge and thunder of the Odyssey," + +as you _Odyssate_. + +I _think_ I met that dog * * * to-day, and as it was a choice between +kicking him and avoiding him I chose the more prudent course. + +I've not seen your little sisters--they seem to have tired of me. Why +not?--I have tired of myself. + +Fail not to let me know when to expect you for the Guerneville trip. +* * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Laguna Vista, + October 20, 1910.] + +I go back to the Inn on Saturday. + +DEAR GEORGE, + +It is long since I read the Book of Job, but if I thought it better +than your addition to it I should not sleep until I had read it +again--and again. Such a superb Who's Who in the Universe! Not a +Homeric hero in the imminence of a personal encounter ever did so fine +bragging. I hope you will let it into your next book, if only to show +that the "inspired" scribes of the Old Testament are not immatchable +by modern genius. You know the Jews regard them, not as prophets, in +our sense, but merely as poets--and the Jews ought to know something +of their own literature. + +I fear I shall not be able to go to Carmel while you're a widow--I've +tangled myself up with engagements again. Moreover, I'm just back from +the St. Helena cemetery, and for a few days shall be too blue for +companionship. + +"Shifted" is better, I think (in poetry) than "joggled." You say you +"don't like working." Then write a short story. That's work, but +you'd like it--or so I think. Poetry is the highest of arts, but why +be a specialist? + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + November 11, 1910.] + +DEAR LORA, + +It is nice to hear from you and learn that despite my rude and +intolerant ways you manage to slip in a little affection for me--you +and the rest of the folk. And really I think I left a little piece of +my heart out there--mostly in Berkeley. It is funny, by the way, that +in falling out of love with most of my old sweethearts and +semi-sweethearts I should fall _in_ love with my own niece. It is +positively scandalous! + +I return Sloot's letter. It gave me a bit of a shock to have him say +that he would probably never see me again. Of course that is true, but +I had not thought of it just that way--had not permitted myself to, I +suppose. And, after all, if things go as I'm hoping they will, +Montesano will take me in again some day before he seems likely to +leave it. We four may see the Grand Canyon together yet. I'd like to +lay my bones thereabout. + +The garments that you persuaded me were mine are not. They are +probably Sterling's, and he has probably damned me for stealing them. +I don't care; he has no right to dress like the "filthy rich." Hasn't +he any "class consciousness"? However, I am going to send them back to +you by express. I'll mail you the paid receipt; so don't pay the +charge that the company is sure to make. They charged me again for the +two packages that you paid for, and got away with the money from the +Secretary of my club, where they were delivered. I had to get it back +from the delivery man at the cannon's mouth--34 calibre. + +With love to Carlt and Sloots, + + Affectionately yours, + AMBROSE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + November 14, 1910.] + +DEAR LORA, + + * * * * * + +You asked me about the relative interest of Yosemite and the Grand +Canyon. It is not easy to compare them, they are so different. In +Yosemite only the magnitudes are unfamiliar; in the Canyon nothing is +familiar--at least, nothing would be familiar to you, though I have +seen something like it on the upper Yellowstone. The "color scheme" is +astounding--almost incredible, as is the "architecture." As to +magnitudes, Yosemite is nowhere. From points on the rim of the Canyon +you can see fifty, maybe a hundred, miles of it. And it is never twice +alike. Nobody can describe it. Of course you must see it sometime. I +wish our Yosemite party could meet there, but probably we never will; +it is a long way from here, and not quite next door to Berkeley and +Carmel. + +I've just got settled in my same old tenement house, the Olympia, but +the club is my best address. + + * * * * * + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + November 29, 1910.] + +DEAR LORA, + +Thank you very much for the work that you are doing for me in +photography and china. I know it is great work. But take your time +about it. + +I hope you all had a good Thanksgiving at Upshack. (That is my name +for Sloots' place. It will be understood by anyone that has walked to +it from Montesano, carrying a basket of grub on a hot day.) + +I trust Sterling got his waistcoat and trousers in time to appear at +his uncle's dinner in other outer garments than a steelpen coat. * * * +I am glad you like (or like to have) the books. You would have had all +my books when published if I had supposed that you cared for them, or +even knew about them. I am now encouraged to hope that some day you +and Carlt and Sloots may be given the light to see the truth at the +heart of my "views" (which I have expounded for half a century) and +will cease to ally yourselves with what is most hateful to me, +socially and politically. I shall then feel (in my grave) that +perhaps, after all, I knew how to write. Meantime, run after your +false fool gods until you are tired; I shall not believe that your +hearts are really in the chase, for they are pretty good hearts, and +those of your gods are nests of nastiness and heavens of hate. + +Now I feel better, and shall drink a toddy to the tardy time when +those whom I love shall not think me a perverted intelligence; when +they shall not affirm my intellect and despise its work--confess my +superior understanding and condemn all its fundamental conclusions. +Then we will be a happy family--you and Carlt in the flesh and Sloots +and I in our bones. + + * * * * * + +My health is excellent in this other and better world than California. + +God bless you. + + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + December 22, 1910.] + +DEAR CARLT, + +You had indeed "something worth writing about"--not only the effect +of the impenitent mushroom, but the final and disastrous overthrow of +that ancient superstition, Sloots' infallibility as a mushroomer. As I +had expected to be at that dinner, I suppose I should think myself to +have had "a narrow escape." Still, I wish I could have taken my chance +with the rest of you. + +How would you like three weeks of nipping cold weather, with a foot of +snow? That's what has been going on here. Say, tell Sloots that the +front footprints of a rabbit-track + +[Illustration: Rabbit tracks] + +are made by the animal's hind feet, straddling his forelegs. Could he +have learned that important fact in California, except by hearsay? +Observe (therefore) the superiority of this climate. + + * * * * * + + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + January 26, 1911.] + +DEAR LORA, + +I have just received a very affectionate letter from * * * and now +know that I did her an injustice in what I carelessly wrote to you +about her incivility to me after I had left her. It is plain that she +did not mean to be uncivil in what she wrote me on a postal card which +I did not look at until I was in the train; she just "didn't know any +better." So I have restored her to favor, and hope that you will +consider my unkind remarks about her as unwritten. Guess I'm addicted +to going off at half-cock anyhow. + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + February 3, 1911.] + +DEAR LORA, + +I have the Yosemite book, and Miss Christiansen has the Mandarin coat. +I thank you very much. The pictures are beautiful, but of them all I +prefer that of Nanny bending over the stove. True, the face is not +visible, but it looks like you all over. + +I'm filling out the book with views of the Grand Canyon, so as to have +my scenic treasures all together. Also I'm trying to get for you a +certain book of Canyon pictures, which I neglected to obtain when +there. You will like it--if I get it. + +Sometime when you have nothing better to do--don't be in a hurry about +it--will you go out to Mountain View cemetery with your camera and +take a picture of the grave of Elizabeth (Lily) Walsh, the little deaf +mute that I told you of? I think the man in the office will locate it +for you. It is in the Catholic part of the cemetery--St. Mary's. The +name Lily Walsh is on the beveled top of the headstone which is shaped +like this: + +[Illustration: Headstone] + +You remember I was going to take you there, but never found the time. + +Miss Christiansen says she is writing, or has written you. I think the +coat very pretty. + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + February 15, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +As to the "form of address." A man passing another was halted by the +words: "You dirty dog!" Turning to the speaker, he bowed coldly and +said: "Smith is my name, sir." _My_ name is Bierce, and I find, on +reflection, that I like best those who call me just that. If my +christen name were George I'd want to be called _that_; but "Ambrose" +is fit only for mouths of women--in which it sounds fairly well. + +_How_ are you my master? I never read one of your poems without +learning something, though not, alas, how to make one. + +Don't worry about "Lilith"; it will work out all right. As to the +characters not seeming alive, I've always fancied the men and women of +antiquity--particularly the kings, and great ones generally--should +not be too flesh-and-bloody, like the "persons whom one meets." A +little coldness and strangeness is very becoming to them. I like them +to _stalk_, like the ghosts that they are--our modern passioning seems +a bit anachronous in them. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm sure you will +understand and have some sympathy with the error. + +Hudson Maxim takes medicine without biting the spoon. He had a dose +from me and swallowed it smiling. I too gave him some citations of +great poetry that is outside the confines of his "definition"--poetry +in which are no tropes at all. He seems to lack the _feel_ of poetry. +He even spoils some of the "great lines" by not including enough of +the context. As to his "improvements," fancy his preference for "the +fiercest spirit of _the warrior host_" to "the fiercest spirit _that +fought in Heaven_"! O my! + +Yes, Conrad told me the tale of his rescue by you. He gave me the +impression of hanging in the sky above billows unthinkably huge and +rocks inconceivably hard. + + * * * * * + +Of course I could not but be pleased by your inclusion of that sonnet +on me in your book. And, by the way, I'm including in my tenth volume +my _Cosmopolitan_ article on the "Wine" and my end of the controversy +about it. All the volumes of the set are to be out by June, saith the +publisher. He is certainly half-killing me with proofs--mountains of +proofs! * * * + +Yes, you'll doubtless have a recruit in Carlt for your Socialist +menagerie--if he is not already a veteran exhibit. Your "party" is +recruited from among sore-heads only. There are some twenty-five +thousand of them (sore-heads) in this neck o' woods--all disloyal--all +growling at the Government which feeds and clothes them twice as well +as they could feed and clothe themselves in private employment. They +move Heaven and Earth to get in, and they never resign--just "take it +out" in abusing the Government. If I had my way nobody should remain +in the civil service more than five years--at the end of that period +all are disloyal. Not one of them cares a rap for the good of the +service or the country--as we soldiers used to do on thirteen dollars +a month (with starvation, disease and death thrown in). Their +grievance is that the Government does not undertake to maintain them +in the style to which they choose to accustom themselves. They fix +their standard of living just a little higher than they can afford, +and would do so no matter what salary they got, as all salary-persons +invariably do. Then they damn their employer for not enabling them to +live up to it. + +If they can do better "outside" why don't they go outside and do so; +if they can't (which means that they are getting more than they are +worth) what are they complaining about? + +What this country needs--what every country needs occasionally--is a +good hard bloody war to revive the vice of patriotism on which its +existence as a nation depends. Meantime, you socialers, anarchists and +other sentimentaliters and futilitarians will find the civil-service +your best recruiting ground, for it is the Land of Reasonless +Discontent. I yearn for the strong-handed Dictator who will swat you +all on the mouths o' you till you are "heard to cease." Until +then--How? (drinking.) + + Yours sincerely, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + February 19, 1911.] + +DEAR LORA, + +Every evening coffee is made for me in my rooms, but I have not yet +ventured to take it from _your_ cup for fear of an accident to the +cup. Some of the women in this house are stark, staring mad about that +cup and saucer, and the plate. + +I am very sorry Carlt finds his position in the civil service so +intolerable. If he can do better outside he should resign. If he +can't, why, that means that the Government is doing better for him +than he can do for himself, and you are not justified in your little +tirade about the oppression of "the masses." "The masses" have been +unprosperous from time immemorial, and always will be. A very simple +way to escape that condition (and the _only_ way) is to elevate +oneself out of that incapable class. + +You write like an anarchist and say that if you were a man you'd _be_ +one. I should be sorry to believe that, for I should lose a very +charming niece, and you a most worthy uncle. + +You say that Carlt and Grizzly are not Socialists. Does that mean that +_they_ are anarchists? I draw the line at anarchists, and would put +them all to death if I lawfully could. + +But I fancy your intemperate words are just the babbling of a +thoughtless girl. In any case you ought to know from my work in +literature that I am not the person to whom to address them. I carry +my convictions into my life and conduct, into my friendships, +affections and all my relations with my fellow creatures. So I think +it would be more considerate to leave out of your letters to _me_ some +things that you may have in mind. Write them to others. + +My own references to socialism, and the like, have been jocular--I did +not think you perverted "enough to hurt," though I consider your +intellectual environment a mighty bad one. As to such matters in +future let us make a treaty of silence. + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + March 1, 1911.] + +MY DEAR RUTH, + +It is pleasant to know that the family Robertson is "seeing things" +and enjoying them. I hate travel, but find it delightful when done by +you, instead of me. Believe me, I have had great pleasure in following +you by your trail of words, as in the sport known as the "paper +chase." + +And now about the little story. Your refusal to let your father amend +it is no doubt dreadfully insubordinate, but I brave his wrath by +approval. It is _your_ work that I want to see, not anybody's else. +I've a profound respect for your father's talent: as a literateur, he +is the best physician that I know; but he must not be coaching my +pupil, or he and I (as Mark Twain said of Mrs. Astor) "will have a +falling out." + +The story is not a story. It is not narrative, and nothing occurs. It +is a record of mental mutations--of spiritual vicissitudes--states of +mind. That is the most difficult thing that you could have attempted. +It can be done acceptably by genius and the skill that comes of +practice, as can anything. You are not quite equal to it--yet. You +have done it better than I could have done it at your age, but not +altogether well; as doubtless you did not expect to do it. It would be +better to confine yourself at present to simple narrative. Write of +something done, not of something thought and felt, except +incidentally. I'm sure it is in you to do great work, but in this +writing trade, as in other matters, excellence is to be attained no +otherwise than by beginning at the beginning--the simple at first, +then the complex and difficult. You can not go up a mountain by a leap +at the peak. + +I'm retaining your little sketch till your return, for you can do +nothing with it--nor can I. If it had been written--preferably +typewritten--with wide lines and margins I could do something _to_ it. +Maybe when I get the time I shall; at present I am swamped with +"proofs" and two volumes behind the printers. If I knew that I should +_see_ you and talk it over I should rewrite it and (original in hand) +point out the reasons for each alteration--you would see them quickly +enough when shown. Maybe you will all come this way. + +You are _very_ deficient in spelling. I hope that is not incurable, +though some persons--clever ones, too--never do learn to spell +correctly. You will have to learn it from your reading--noting +carefully all but the most familiar words. + +You have "pet" words--nearly all of us have. One of yours is +"flickering." Addiction to certain words is an "upsetting sin" most +difficult to overcome. Try to overcome it by cutting them out where +they seem most felicitous. + +By the way, your "hero," as you describe him, would not have been +accessible to all those spiritual impressions--it is _you_ to whom +they come. And that confirms my judgment of your imagination. +Imagination is nine parts of the writing trade. With enough of _that_ +all things are possible; but it is the other things that require the +hard work, the incessant study, the tireless seeking, the indomitable +will. It is no "pic-nic," this business of writing, believe me. +Success comes by favor of the gods, yes; but O the days and nights +that you must pass before their altars, prostrate and imploring! They +are exacting--the gods; years and years of service you must give in +the temple. If you are prepared to do this go on to your reward. If +not, you can not too quickly throw away the pen and--well, marry, for +example. + + "Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring." + +_My_ vote is that you persevere. + +With cordial regards to all good Robertsons--I think there are no +others--I am most sincerely your friend, + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + April 20, 1911.] + +DEAR LORA, + +Thank you for the pictures of the Sloots fire-place and "Joe Gans." I +can fancy myself cooking a steak in the one, and the other eating one +better cooked. + +I'm glad I've given you the Grand Canyon fever, for I hope to revisit +the place next summer, and perhaps our Yosemite bunch can meet me +there. My outing this season will be in Broadway in little old New +York. That is not as good as Monte Sano, but the best that I can do. + +You must have had a good time with the Sterlings, and doubtless you +all suffered from overfeeding. + +Carlt's action in denuding the shaggy pelt of his hands meets with my +highest commendation, but you'd better look out. It may mean that he +has a girl--a Jewess descended from Jacob, with an hereditary +antipathy to anything like Esau. Carlt was an Esaurian. + +You'll have to overlook some bad errors in Vol. V of the C. W. I did +not have the page proofs. Some of the verses are unintelligible. +That's the penalty for philandering in California instead of sticking +to my work. + + * * * * * + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + April 28, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I've been having noctes ambrosianae with "The House of Orchids," though +truly it came untimely, for I've not yet done reading your other +books. Don't crowd the dancers, please. I don't know (and you don't +care) what poem in it I like best, but I get as much delight out of +these lines as out of any: + + "Such flowers pale as are + Worn by the goddess of a distant star-- + Before whose holy eyes + Beauty and evening meet." + +And--but what's the use? I can't quote the entire book. + +I'm glad you did see your way to make "Memory" a female. + +To Hades with Bonnet's chatter of gems and jewels--among the minor +poetic properties they are better (to my taste) than flowers. By the +way, I wonder what "lightness" Bonnet found in the "Apothecary" +verses. They seem to me very serious. + +Rereading and rerereading of the Job confirm my first opinion of it. I +find only one "bad break" in it--and that not inconsistent with God's +poetry in the real Job: "ropes of adamant." A rope of stone is +imperfectly conceivable--is, in truth, mixed metaphor. + +I think it was a mistake for you to expound to Ned Hamilton, or +anybody, how you wrote the "Forty-third Chapter," or anything. When +an author explains his methods of composition he cannot expect to be +taken seriously. Nine writers in ten wish to have it thought that they +"dash off" things. Nobody believes it, and the judicious would be +sorry to believe it. Maybe you do, but I guess you work hard and +honestly enough over the sketch "dashed off." If you don't--do. + + * * * * * + +With love to Carrie, I will leave you to your sea-gardens and +abalones. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +I'm off to Broadway next week for a season of old-gentlemanly revelry. + + +[Washington, D. C., + May 2, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +In packing (I'm going to New York) I find this "Tidal" typoscript, and +fear that I was to have returned it. Pray God it was not my neglect to +do so that kept it out of the book. But if not, what did keep it out? +Maybe the fact that it requires in the reader an uncommon acquaintance +with the Scriptures. + +If Robertson publishes any more books for you don't let him use +"silver" leaf on the cover. It is not silver, cannot be neatly put on, +and will come off. The "Wine" book is incomparably better and more +tasteful than either of the others. By the way, I stick to my liking +for Scheff's little vignette on the "Wine." + +In "Duandon" you--_you_, Poet of the Heavens!--come perilously near to +qualifying yourself for "mention" in a certain essay of mine on the +blunders of writers and artists in matters lunar. You must have +observed that immediately after the full o' the moon the light of that +orb takes on a redness, and when it rises after dark is hardly a +"towering glory," nor a "frozen splendor." Its "web" is not +"silver." In truth, the gibbous moon, rising, has something of menace +in its suggestion. Even twenty-four (or rather twenty-five) hours +"after the full" this change in the quality and quantity of its light +is very marked. I don't know what causes the sudden alteration, but it +has always impressed me. + +I feel a little like signing this criticism "Gradgrind," but anyhow it +may amuse you. + +Do you mind squandering ten cents and a postage stamp on me? I want a +copy of _Town Talk_--the one in which you are a "Varied Type." + +I don't know much of some of your poets mentioned in that article, but +could wish that you had said a word about Edith Thomas. Thank you for +your too generous mention of me--who brought you so much vilification! + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + May 29, 1911.] + +MY DEAR RUTH, + +You are a faithful correspondent; I have your postals from Athens and +Syracuse, and now the letter from Rome. The Benares sketch was duly +received, and I wrote you about it to the address that you +gave--Cairo, I think. As you will doubtless receive my letter in due +time I will not now repeat it--further than to say that I liked it. If +it had been accompanied by a few photographs (indispensable now to +such articles) I should have tried to get it into some magazine. True, +Benares, like all other Asiatic and European cities, is pretty +familiar to even the "general reader," but the sketch had something of +the writer's personality in it--the main factor in all good writing, +as in all forms of art. + +May I tell you what you already know--that you are deficient in +spelling and punctuation? It is worth while to know these things--and +all things that you can acquire. Some persons can not acquire +orthography, and I don't wonder, but every page of every good book is +a lesson in punctuation. One's punctuation is a necessary part of +one's style; you cannot attain to precision if you leave that matter +to editors and printers. + +You ask if "stories" must have action. The name "story" is preferably +used of narrative, not reflection nor mental analysis. The +"psychological novel" is in great vogue just now, for example--the +adventures of the mind, it might be called--but it requires a +profounder knowledge of life and character than is possible to a young +girl of whatever talent; and the psychological "short story" is even +more difficult. Keep to narrative and simple description for a few +years, until your wings have grown. These descriptions of foreign +places that you write me are good practice. You are not likely to tell +me much that I do not know, nor is that necessary; but your way of +telling what I do know is sometimes very interesting as a study of +_you_. So write me all you will, and if you would like the letters as +a record of your travels you shall have them back; I am preserving +them. + +I judge from your letter that your father went straight through +without bothering about me. Maybe I should not have seen him anyhow, +for I was away from Washington for nearly a month. + +Please give my love to your mother and sister, whom, of course, you +are to bring here. I shall not forgive you if you do not. + +Yes, I wish that you lived nearer to me, so that we could go over your +work together. I could help you more in a few weeks _that_ way than +in years _this_ way. God never does anything just right. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + July 31, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +Thank you for that Times "review." It is a trifle less malicious than +usual--regarding _me_, that is all. My publisher, Neale, who was here +last evening, is about "taking action" against that concern for +infringement of his copyright in my little book, "Write It Right." The +wretches have been serving it up to their readers for several weeks as +the work of a woman named Learned. Repeatedly she uses my very +words--whole passages of them. They refused even to confess the +misdeeds of their contributrix, and persist in their sin. So they will +have to fight. + +* * * I have never been hard on women whose hearts go with their +admiration, and whose bodies follow their hearts--I don't mean that +the latter was the case in this instance. Nor am I very exacting as to +the morality of my men friends. I would not myself take another man's +woman, any more than I would take his purse. Nor, I trust, would I +seduce the daughter or sister of a friend, nor any maid whom it would +at all damage--and as to _that_ there is no hard and fast rule. + + * * * * * + +A fine fellow, I, to be casting the first stone, or the one-hundredth, +at a lovelorn woman, weak or strong! By the way, I should not believe +in the love of a strong one, wife, widow or maid. + +It looks as if I may get to Sag Harbor for a week or so in the middle +of the month. It is really not a question of expense, but Neale has +blocked out a lot of work for me. He wants two more volumes--even five +more if I'll make 'em. Guess I'll give him two. In a week or so I +shall be able to say whether I can go Sagharboring. If so, I think we +should have a night in New York first, no? You could motor-boat up and +back. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE.[14] + +[14] Addressed to George Sterling at Sag Harbor, Long Island. + + +[Washington, D. C., + Monday, August 7, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +In one of your letters you were good enough to promise me a motorboat +trip from New York to Sag Harbor. I can think of few things more +delightful than navigating in a motorboat the sea that I used to +navigate in an open canoe; it will seem like Progress. So if you are +still in that mind please write me what day _after Saturday next_ you +can meet me in New York and I'll be there. I should prefer that you +come the day before the voyage and dine with me that evening. + +I always stay at the Hotel Navarre, 7th avenue and 38th street. If +unable to get in there I'll leave my address there. Or, tell me where +_you_ will be. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +If the motorboat plan is not practicable let me know and I'll go by +train or steamer; it will not greatly matter. A. B. + + +[Washington, D. C., + Tuesday, August 8, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +Kindly convey to young Smith of Auburn my felicitations on his +admirable "Ode to the Abyss"--a large theme, treated with dignity and +power. It has many striking passages--such, for example, as "The Romes +of ruined spheres." I'm conscious of my sin against the rhetoricians +in liking that, for it jolts the reader out of the Abyss and back to +earth. Moreover, it is a metaphor which belittles, instead of +dignifying. But I like it. + +He is evidently a student of George Sterling, and being in the +formative stage, cannot--why should he?--conceal the fact. + +My love to all good Californians of the Sag Harbor colony. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + November 16, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +It is good to know that you are again happy--that is to say, you are +in Carmel. For your _future_ happiness (if success and a certain +rounding off of your corners would bring it, as I think) I could wish +you in New York or thereabout. As the Scripture hath it: "It is not +good for a man to be in Carmel"--_Revised Inversion_. I note that at +the late election California damned herself to a still lower +degradation and is now unfit for a white man to live in. Initiative, +referendum, recall, employers' liability, woman suffrage--yah! + + * * * * * + +But you are not to take too seriously my dislike of * * *[15] I like +him personally very well; he talks like a normal human being. It is +only that damned book of his. He was here and came out to my tenement +a few evenings ago, finding me in bed and helpless from lumbago, as I +was for weeks. I am now able to sit up and take notice, and there are +even fears for my recovery. My enemies would say, as Byron said of +Lady B., I am becoming "dangerously well again." + +[15] Excised by G. S. + + * * * * * + +As to harlots, there are not ten in a hundred that are such for any +other reason than that they wanted to be. Their exculpatory stories +are mostly lies of magnitude. + +Sloots writes me that he will perhaps "walk over" from the mine to +Yosemite next summer. I can't get there much before July first, but if +there is plenty of snow in the mountains next winter the valley should +be visitable then. Later, I hope to beguest myself for a few days at +the Pine Inn, Carmel. Tell it not to the Point Lobos mussel! + +My love to Carrie. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + December 27, 1911.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +As you do not give me that lady's address I infer that you no longer +care to have me meet her--which is a relief to me. + + * * * * * + +Yes, I'm a bit broken up by the death of Pollard, whose body I +assisted to burn. He lost his mind, was paralyzed, had his head cut +open by the surgeons, and his sufferings were unspeakable. Had he +lived he would have been an idiot; so it is all right-- + + "But O, the difference to me!" + +If you don't think him pretty bright read any of his last three books, +"Their Day in Court," "Masks and Minstrels," and "Vagabond Journeys." +He did not see the last one--Neale brought down copies of it when he +came to Baltimore to attend the funeral. + +I'm hoping that if Carlt and Lora go to Wagner's mine and we go to +Yosemite, Lora, at least, will come to us out there. We shall need +her, though Carrie will find that Misses C. and S. will be "no +deadheads in the enterprise"--to quote a political phrase of long ago. +As to me, I shall leave my ten-pounds-each books at home and, like +St. Jerome, who never traveled with other baggage than a skull, be +"flying light." My love to Carrie. + + Sincerely, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + January 5, 1912.] + +DEAR LORA, + +It is good to hear from you again, even if I did have to give you a +hint that I badly needed a letter. + +I am glad that you are going to the mine (if you go)--though Berkeley +and Oakland will not be the same without you. And where can I have my +mail forwarded?--and be permitted to climb in at the window to get it. +As to pot-steaks, toddies, and the like, I shall simply swear off +eating and drinking. + +If Carlt is a "game sport," and does not require "a dead-sure thing," +the mining gamble is the best bet for him. Anything to get out of that +deadening, hopeless grind, the "Government service." It kills a man's +self-respect, atrophies his powers, unfits him for anything, tempts +him to improvidence and then turns him out to starve. + +It is pleasant to know that there is a hope of meeting you in +Yosemite--the valley would not be the same without you. My girls +cannot leave here till the schools close, about June 20, so we shall +not get into the valley much before July first; but if you have a good +winter, with plenty of snow, that will do. We shall stay as long as we +like. George says he and Carrie can go, and I hope Sloots can. It is +likely that Neale, my publisher, will be of my party. I shall hope to +visit your mine afterward. + + * * * * * + +My health, which was pretty bad for weeks after returning from Sag +Harbor, is restored, and I was never so young in all my life. + +Here's wishing you and Carlt plenty of meat on the bone that the new +year may fling to you. + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + February 14, 1912.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I'm a long time noticing your letter of January fifth, chiefly +because, like Teddy, "I have nothing to say." There's this difference +atwixt him and me--I could say something if I tried. + +* * * I'm hoping that you are at work and doing something worth while, +though I see nothing of yours. Battle against the encroaching abalone +should not engage all your powers. That spearing salmon at night +interests me, though doubtless the "season" will be over before I +visit Carmel. + +Bear Yosemite in mind for latter part of June, and use influence with +Lora and Grizzly, even if Carlt should be inhumed in his mine. + +We've had about seven weeks of snow and ice, the mercury around the +zero mark most of the time. Once it was 13 below. You'd not care for +that sort of thing, I fancy. Indeed, I'm a bit fatigued of it myself, +and on Saturday next, God willing, shall put out my prow to sea and +bring up, I hope, in Bermuda, not, of course, to remain long. + +You did not send me the Weininger article on "Sex and Character"--I +mean the extract that you thought like some of my stuff. + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + April 25, 1912.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + +I did not go to Bermuda; so I'm not "back." But I did go to Richmond, +a city whose tragic and pathetic history, of which one is reminded by +everything that one sees there, always gets on to my nerves with a +particular dejection. True, the history is some fifty years old, but +it is always with me when I'm there, making solemn eyes at me. + +You're right about "this season in the East." It has indeed been +penetential. For the first time I am thoroughly disgusted and +half-minded to stay in California when I go--a land where every +prospect pleases, and only labor unions, progressives, suffragettes +(and socialists) are vile. No, I don't think I could stand California, +though I'm still in the mind to visit it in June. I shall be sorry to +miss Carrie at Carmel, but hope to have the two of you on some +excursion or camping trip. We _want_ to go to Yosemite, which the +girls have not seen, but if there's no water there it may not be +advisable. Guess we'll have to let you natives decide. How would the +Big Trees do as a substitute? + + * * * * * + +Girls is pizen, but not necessarily fatal. I've taken 'em in large +doses all my life, and suffered pangs enough to equip a number of +small Hells, but never has one of them paralyzed the inner working +man. * * * But I'm not a poet. Moreover, as I've not yet put off my +armor I oughtn't to boast. + +So--you've subscribed for the Collected Works. Good! that is what you +ought to have done a long time ago. It is what every personal friend +of mine ought to have done, for all profess admiration of my work in +literature. It is what I was fool enough to permit my publisher to +think that many of them would do. How many do you guess have done +so? I'll leave you guessing. God help the man with many friends, for +_they_ will not. My royalties on the sets sold to my friends are less +than one-fourth of my outlay in free sets for other friends. Tell me +not in cheerful numbers of the value and sincerity of friendships. + + * * * * * + +There! I've discharged my bosom of that perilous stuff and shall take +a drink. Here's to you. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + June 5, 1912.] + +DEAR GEORGE, + + * * * * * + +Thank you for the poems, which I've not had the time to +consider--being disgracefully busy in order to get away. I don't +altogether share your reverence for Browning, but the primacy of your +verses on him over the others printed on the same page is almost +startling. * * * + +Of course it's all nonsense about the waning of your power--though +thinking it so might make it so. My notion is that you've only _begun_ +to do things. But I wish you'd go back to your chain in your uncle's +office. I'm no believer in adversity and privation as a spur to +Pegasus. They are oftener a "hopple." The "meagre, muse-rid mope, +adust and thin" will commonly do better work when tucked out with +three square meals a day, and having the sure and certain hope of +their continuance. + + * * * * * + +I'm expecting to arrive in Oakland (Key Route Inn, probably) late in +the evening of the 22d of this month and dine at Carlt's on the +24th--my birthday. Anyhow, I've invited myself, though it is possible +they may be away on their vacation. Carlt has promised to try to get +his "leave" changed to a later date than the one he's booked for. + + * * * * * + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + +P.S.--Just learned that we can not leave here until the 19th--which +will bring me into San Francisco on the 26th. Birthday dinner served +in diner--last call! + +I've _read_ the Browning poem and I now know why there was a Browning. +Providence foresaw you and prepared him for you--blessed be +Providence! * * * + +Mrs. Havens asks me to come to them at Sag Harbor--and shouldn't I +like to! * * * Sure the song of the Sag Harbor frog would be music to +me--as would that of the indigenous duckling. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + December 19, 1912.] + +MY DEAR MR. CAHILL, + +I thank you for the article from _The Argonaut_, and am glad to get it +for a special reason, as it gives me your address and thereby enables +me to explain something. + +When, several years ago, you sent me a similar article I took it to +the editor of The National Geographical Magazine (I am a member of the +Society that issues it) and suggested its publication. I left it with +him and hearing nothing about it for several months called at his +office _twice_ for an answer, and for the copy if publication was +refused. The copy had been "mislaid"--lost, apparently--and I never +obtained it. Meantime, either I had "mislaid" your address, or it was +only on the copy. So I was unable to write you. Indirectly, afterward, +I heard that you had left California for parts to me unknown. + +Twice since then I have been in San Francisco, but confess that I did +not think of the matter. + +Cahill's projection[16] is indubitably the right one, but you are "up +against" the ages and will be a long time dead before it finds favor, +or I'm no true pessimist. + +[16] The Butterfly Map of the World. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Olympia Apartments, Washington, D. C., + January 17, 1913.] + +MY DEAR RUTH, + +It's "too bad" that I couldn't remain in Oakland and Berkeley another +month to welcome you, but I fear it will "have to go at that," for +I've no expectation of ever seeing California again. I like the +country as well as ever, but I _don't_ like the rule of labor unions, +the grafters and the suffragettes. So far as I am concerned they may +stew in their own juice; I shall not offer myself as an ingredient. + +It is pleasant to know that you are all well, including Johnny, poor +little chap. + +You are right to study philology and rhetoric. Surely there must be +_some_ provision for your need--a university where one cannot learn +one's own language would be a funny university. + +I think your "Mr. Wells" who gave a course of lectures on essay +writing may be my friend Wells Drury, of Berkeley. If so, mention me +to him and he will advise you what to do. + +Another good friend of mine, whom, however I did not succeed in seeing +during either of my visits to California, is W. C. Morrow, who is a +professional teacher of writing and himself a splendid writer. He +could help you. He lives in San Francisco, but I think has a class in +Oakland. I don't know his address; you'll find it in the directory. +He used to write stories splendidly tragic, but I'm told he now +teaches the "happy ending," in which he is right--commercially--but +disgusting. I can cordially recommend him. + +Keep up your German and French of course. If your English (your mother +speech) is so defective, think what _they_ must be. + +I'll think of some books that will be helpful to you in your English. +Meantime send me anything that you care to that you write. It will at +least show me what progress you make. + +I'm returning some (all, I think) of your sketches. Don't destroy +them--yet. Maybe some day you'll find them worth rewriting. + + My love to you all. + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Olympia, Euclid and 14th Sts., Washington, D. C., + January 20, 1913.] + +DEAR MR. CAHILL, + +It is pleasant to know that you are not easily discouraged by the +croaking of such ravens as I, and I confess that the matter of the +"civic centre" supplies some reason to hope for prosperity to the +Cahill projection--which (another croak) will doubtless bear some +other man's name, probably Hayford's or Woodward's. + +I sent the "Argonaut" article to my friend Dr. Franklin, of +Schenectady, a "scientific gent" of some note, but have heard nothing +from him. + +I'm returning the "Chronicle" article, which I found interesting. If I +were not a writer without an "organ" I'd have a say about that +projection. For near four years I've been out of the newspaper game--a +mere compiler of my collected works in twelve volumes--and shall +probably never "sit into the game" again, being seventy years old. My +work is finished, and so am I. + +Luck to you in the new year, and in many to follow. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Olympia Apartments, Washington, D. C., + I prefer to get my letters at this address. Make a memorandum of it. + January 28, 1913.] + +DEAR LORA, + +I have been searching for your letter of long ago, fearing it +contained something that I should have replied to. But I don't find +it; so I make the convenient assumption that it did not. + +I'd like to hear from you, however unworthy I am to do so, for I want +to know if you and Carlt have still a hope of going mining. Pray God +you do, if there's a half-chance of success; for success in the +service of the Government is failure. + +Winter here is two-thirds gone and we have not had a cold day, and +only one little dash of snow--on Christmas eve. Can California beat +that? I'm told it's as cold there as in Greenland. + +Tell me about yourself--your health since the operation--how it has +affected you--all about you. My own health is excellent; I'm equal to +any number of Carlt's toddies. By the way, Blanche has made me a +co-defendant with you in the crime (once upon a time) of taking a drop +too much. I plead not guilty--how do _you_ plead? Sloots, at least, +would acquit us on the ground of inability--that one _can't_ take too +much. * * * + + Affectionately, your avuncular, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + March 20, 1913.] + +DEAR RUTH, + +I'm returning your little sketches with a few markings which are to be +regarded (or disregarded) as mere suggestions. I made them in pencil, +so that you can erase them if you don't approve. Of course I should +make many more if I could have you before me so that I could explain +_why_; in this way I can help you but little. You'll observe that I +have made quite a slaughter of some of the adjectives in some of your +sentences--you will doubtless slaughter some in others. Nearly all +young writers use too many adjectives. Indeed, moderation and skill in +the use of adjectives are about the last things a good writer learns. +Don't use those that are connoted by the nouns; and rather than have +all the nouns, or nearly all, in a sentence outfitted with them it is +better to make separate sentences for some of those desired. + +In your sketch "Triumph" I would not name the "hero" of the piece. To +do so not only makes the sketch commonplace, but it logically requires +you to name his victim too, and her offense; in brief, it commits you +to a _story_. + +A famous writer (perhaps Holmes or Thackeray--I don't remember) once +advised a young writer to cut all the passages that he thought +particularly good. Your taste I think is past the need of so heroic +treatment as that, but the advice may be profitably borne in memory +whenever you are in doubt, if ever you are. And sometimes you will be. + +I think I know what Mr. Morrow meant by saying that your characters +are not "humanly significant." He means that they are not such persons +as one meets in everyday life--not "types." I confess that I never +could see why one's characters _should_ be. The exceptional--even +"abnormal"--person seems to me the more interesting, but I must warn +you that he will not seem so to an editor. Nor to an editor will the +tragic element seem so good as the cheerful--the sombre denouement as +the "happy ending." One must have a pretty firm reputation as a writer +to "send in" a tragic or supernatural tale with any hope of its +acceptance. The average mind (for which editors purvey, and mostly +possess) dislikes, or thinks it dislikes, any literature that is not +"sunny." True, tragedy holds the highest and most permanent place in +the world's literature and art, but it has the divvel's own time +getting to it. For immediate popularity (if one cares for it) one must +write pleasant things; though one may put in here and there a bit of +pathos. + +I think well of these two manuscripts, but doubt if you can get them +into any of our magazines--if you want to. As to that, nobody can help +you. About the only good quality that a magazine editor commonly has +is his firm reliance on the infallibility of his own judgment. It is +an honest error, and it enables him to mull through somehow with a +certain kind of consistency. The only way to get a footing with him is +to send him what you think he wants, not what you think he ought to +want--and keep sending. But perhaps you do not care for the magazines. + +I note a great improvement in your style--probably no more than was to +be expected of your better age, but a distinct improvement. It is a +matter of regret with me that I have not the training of you; we +should see what would come of it. You certainly have no reason for +discouragement. But if you are to be a writer you must "cut out" the +dances and the teas (a little of the theater may be allowed) and +_work_ right heartily. The way of the good writer is no primrose path. + +No, I have not read the poems of Service. What do I think of Edith +Wharton? Just what Pollard thought--see _Their Day in Court_, which I +think you have. + +I fear you have the wanderlust incurably. I never had it bad, and +have less of it now than ever before. I shall not see California +again. + +My love to all your family goes with this, and to you all that you +will have. + + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., + May 22, 1913.] + +EDITOR "LANTERN",[17] + +[17] The editor was Curtis J. Kirch ("Guido Bruno") and the weekly had +a brief career in Chicago. It was the forerunner of the many Bruno +weeklies and monthlies, later published from other cities. + +Will I tell you what I think of your magazine? Sure I will. + +It has thirty-six pages of reading matter. + +Seventeen are given to the biography of a musician,--German, dead. + +Four to the mother of a theologian,--German, peasant-wench, dead. + +(The mag. is published in America, to-day.) + +Five pages about Eugene Field's ancestors. All dead. + +17 + 4 + 5 = 26. + +36 - 26 = 10. + +Two pages about Ella Wheeler Wilcox. + +Three-fourths page about a bad poet and his indifference to--German. + +Two pages of his poetry. + +2 + 3/4 + 2 = 4-3/4. + +10 - 4-3/4 = 5-1/4. Not enough to criticise. + +What your magazine needs is an editor--presumably older, preferably +American, and indubitably alive. At least awake. It is your inning. + + Sincerely yours, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + May 31, 1913.] + +MY DEAR LORA, + +You were so long in replying to my letter of the century before last, +and as your letter is not really a reply to anything in mine, that I +fancy you did not get it. I don't recollect, for example, that you +ever acknowledged receipt of little pictures of myself, though maybe +you did--I only hope you got them. The photographs that you send are +very interesting. One of them makes me thirsty--the one of that +fountainhead of good booze, your kitchen sink. + +What you say of the mine and how you are to be housed there pleases me +mightily. That's how I should like to live, and mining is what I +should like again to do. Pray God you be not disappointed. + +Alas, I cannot even join you during Carlt's vacation, for the mountain +ramble. Please "go slow" in your goating this year. I _think_ you are +better fitted for it than ever before, but you'd better ask your +surgeon about that. By the way, do you know that since women took to +athletics their peculiar disorders have increased about fifty per +cent? You can't make men of women. The truth is, they've taken to +walking on their hind legs a few centuries too soon. Their in'ards +have not learned how to suspend the law of gravity. Add the jolts of +athletics and--there you are. + +I wish I could be with you at Monte Sano--or anywhere. + +Love to Carlt and Sloots. + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + September 10, 1913.] + +DEAR LORA, + +Your letter was forwarded to me in New York, whence I have just +returned. I fancy you had a more satisfactory outing than I. I never +heard of the Big Sur river nor of "Arbolado." But I'm glad you went +there, for I'm hearing so much about Hetch Hetchy that I'm tired of +it. I'm helping the San Francisco crowd (a little) to "ruin" it. + + * * * * * + +I'm glad to know that you still expect to go to the mine. Success or +failure, it is better than the Mint, and you ought to live in the +mountains where you can climb things whenever you want to. + +Of course I know nothing of Neale's business--you'd better write to +him if he has not filled your order. I suppose you know that volumes +eleven and twelve are not included in the "set." + +If you care to write to me again please do so at once as I am going +away, probably to South America, but if we have a row with Mexico +before I start I shall go there first. I want to see something going +on. I've no notion of how long I shall remain away. + +With love to Carlt and Sloots, + + Affectionately, + AMBROSE. + + +[Washington, D. C., + September 10, 1913.] + +DEAR JOE,[18] + +[18] To Mrs. Josephine Clifford McCrackin, San Jose, California. + +The reason that I did not answer your letter sooner is--I have been +away (in New York) and did not have it with me. I suppose I shall not +see your book for a long time, for I am going away and have no notion +when I shall return. I expect to go to, perhaps across, South +America--possibly via Mexico, if I can get through without being stood +up against a wall and shot as a Gringo. But that is better than dying +in bed, is it not? If Duc did not need you so badly I'd ask you to get +your hat and come along. God bless and keep you. + + +[Washington, D. C., + September 13, 1913.] + +DEAR JOE, + +Thank you for the book. I thank you for your friendship--and much +besides. This is to say good-by at the end of a pleasant +correspondence in which your woman's prerogative of having the last +word is denied to you. Before I could receive it I shall be gone. But +some time, somewhere, I hope to hear from you again. Yes, I shall go +into Mexico with a pretty definite purpose, which, however, is not at +present disclosable. You must try to forgive my obstinacy in not +"perishing" where I am. I want to be where something worth while is +going on, or where nothing whatever is going on. Most of what is going +on in your own country is exceedingly distasteful to me. + +Pray for me? Why, yes, dear--that will not harm either of us. I loathe +religions, a Christian gives me qualms and a Catholic sets my teeth on +edge, but pray for me just the same, for with all those faults upon +your head (it's a nice head, too), I am pretty fond of you, I guess. +May you live as long as you want to, and then pass smilingly into the +darkness--the good, good darkness. + + Devotedly your friend, + AMBROSE BIERCE. + + +[The Olympia, Euclid Street, Washington, D. C., + October 1, 1913.] + +DEAR LORA, + +I go away tomorrow for a long time, so this is only to say good-bye. I +think there is nothing else worth saying; _therefore_ you will +naturally expect a long letter. What an intolerable world this would +be if we said nothing but what is worth saying! And did nothing +foolish--like going into Mexico and South America. + +I'm hoping that you will go to the mine soon. You must hunger and +thirst for the mountains--Carlt likewise. So do I. Civilization be +dinged!--it is the mountains and the desert for me. + +Good-bye--if you hear of my being stood up against a Mexican stone +wall and shot to rags please know that I think that a pretty good way +to depart this life. It beats old age, disease, or falling down the +cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in Mexico--ah, that is euthanasia! + + With love to Carlt, affectionately yours, + AMBROSE. + + +[Laredo, Texas, + November 6, 1913.] + +MY DEAR LORA, + +I think I owe you a letter, and probably this is my only chance to pay +up for a long time. For more than a month I have been rambling about +the country, visiting my old battlefields, passing a few days in New +Orleans, a week in San Antonio, and so forth. I turned up here this +morning. There is a good deal of fighting going on over on the Mexican +side of the Rio Grande, but I hold to my intention to go into Mexico +if I can. In the character of "innocent bystander" I ought to be +fairly safe if I don't have too much money on me, don't you think? My +eventual destination is South America, but probably I shall not get +there this year. + +Sloots writes me that you and Carlt still expect to go to the mine, as +I hope you will. + +The Cowdens expect to live somewhere in California soon, I believe. +They seem to be well, prosperous and cheerful. + + With love to Carlt and Sloots, I am affectionately yours, + AMBROSE. + +P.S. You need not believe _all_ that these newspapers say of me and my +purposes. I had to tell them _something_. + + +[Laredo, Texas, + November 6, 1913.] + +DEAR LORA, + +I wrote you yesterday at San Antonio, but dated the letter here and +today, expecting to bring the letter and mail it here. That's because +I did not know if I would have time to write it here. Unfortunately, +I forgot and posted it, with other letters, where it was written. Thus +does man's guile come to naught! + +Well, I'm here, anyhow, and have time to explain. + +Laredo was a Mexican city before it was an American. It is Mexican +now, five to one. Nuevo Laredo, opposite, is held by the Huertistas +and Americans don't go over there. In fact a guard on the bridge will +not let them. So those that sneak across have to wade (which can be +done almost anywhere) and go at night. + +I shall not be here long enough to hear from you, and don't know where +I shall be next. Guess it doesn't matter much. + + Adios, + AMBROSE. + + + + + _Extracts from Letters_ + + +You are right too--dead right about the poetry of Socialism; and you +might have added the poetry of wailing about the woes of the poor +generally. Only the second- and the third-raters write it--except +"incidentally." You don't find the big fellows sniveling over that +particular shadow-side of Nature. Yet not only are the poor always +with us, they always _were_ with us, and their state was worse in the +times of Homer, Virgil, Shakspeare, Milton and the others than in the +days of Morris and Markham. + + +But what's the use? I have long despaired of convincing poets and +artists of anything, even that white is not black. I'm convinced that +all you chaps ought to have a world to yourselves, where two and two +make whatever you prefer that it _should_ make, and cause and effect +are remoulded "more nearly to the heart's desire." And then I suppose +I'd want to go and live there too. + + +Did you ever know so poor satire to make so great a row as that of +Watson? Compared with certain other verses against particular +women--Byron's "Born in a garret, in a kitchen bred"; even my own skit +entitled "Mad" (pardon my modesty) it is infantile. What an +interesting book might be made of such "attacks" on women! But Watson +is the only one of us, so far as I remember, who has had the +caddishness to _name_ the victim. + +Have you seen Percival Pollard's "Their Day in Court"? It is amusing, +clever--and more. He has a whole chapter on me, "a lot" about Gertrude +Atherton, and much else that is interesting. And he skins alive +certain popular gods and goddesses of the day, and is "monstrous +naughty." + + +As to * * *'s own character I do not see what that has to do with his +criticism of London. If only the impeccable delivered judgment no +judgment would ever be delivered. All men could do as they please, +without reproof or dissent. I wish you would take your heart out of +your head, old man. The best heart makes a bad head if housed there. + + +The friends that warned you against the precarious nature of my +friendship were right. To hold my regard one must fulfil hard +conditions--hard if one is not what one should be; easy if one is. I +have, indeed, a habit of calmly considering the character of a man +with whom I have fallen into any intimacy and, whether I have any +grievance against him or not, informing him by letter that I no longer +desire his acquaintance. This, I do after deciding that he is not +truthful, candid, without conceit, and so forth--in brief, honorable. +If any one is conscious that he is not in all respects worthy of my +friendship he would better not cultivate it, for assuredly no one can +long conceal his true character from an observant student of it. Yes, +my friendship is a precarious possession. It grows more so the longer +I live, and the less I feel the need of a multitude of friends. So, +if in your heart you are conscious of being any of the things which +you accuse _me_ of being, or anything else equally objectionable (to +_me_) I can only advise you to drop me before I drop you. + +Certainly you have an undoubted right to your opinion of my ability, +my attainments and my standing. If you choose to publish a censorious +judgment of these matters, do so by all means: I don't think I ever +cared a cent for what was printed about me, except as it supplied me +with welcome material for my pen. One may presumably have a "sense of +duty to the public," and the like. But convincing one person (one at a +time) of one's friend's deficiencies is hardly worth while, and is to +be judged differently. It comes under another rule. * * * + +Maybe, as you say, my work lacks "soul," but my life does not, as a +man's life is the man. Personally, I hold that sentiment has a place +in this world, and that loyalty to a friend is not inferior as a +characteristic to correctness of literary judgment. If there is a +heaven I think it is more valued there. If Mr. * * * (your publisher +as well as mine) had considered you a Homer, a Goethe or a Shakspeare +a team of horses could not have drawn from _me_ the expression of a +lower estimate. And let me tell you that if you are going through life +as a mere thinking machine, ignoring the generous promptings of the +heart, sacrificing it to the brain, you will have a hard row to hoe, +and the outcome, when you survey it from the vantage ground of age, +will not please you. You seem to me to be beginning rather badly, as +regards both your fortune and your peace of mind. + + * * * * * + +I saw * * * every day while in New York, and he does not know that I +feel the slightest resentment toward you, nor do I know it myself. So +far as he knows, or is likely to know (unless you will have it +otherwise) you and I are the best of friends, or rather, I am the best +of friends to you. And I guess that is so. I could no more hate you +for your disposition and character than I could for your hump if you +had one. You are as Nature has made you, and your defects, whether +they are great or small, are your misfortunes. I would remove them if +I could, but I know that I cannot, for one of them is inability to +discern the others, even when they are pointed out. + +I must commend your candor in one thing. You confirm * * * words in +saying that you commented on "my seeming lack of sympathy with certain +modern masters," which you attribute to my not having read them. That +is a conclusion to which a low order of mind in sympathy with the +"modern masters" naturally jumps, but it is hardly worthy of a man of +your brains. It is like your former lofty assumption that I had not +read some ten or twelve philosophers, naming them, nearly all of whom +I had read, and laughed at, before you were born. In fact, one of your +most conspicuous characteristics is the assumption that what a man who +does not care to "talk shop" does not speak of, and vaunt his +knowledge of, he does not know. I once thought this a boyish fault, +but you are no longer a boy. Your "modern masters" are Ibsen and Shaw, +with both of whose works and ways I am thoroughly familiar, and both +of whom I think very small men--pets of the drawing-room and gods of +the hour. No, I am not an "up to date" critic, thank God. I am not a +literary critic at all, and never, or very seldom, have gone into that +field except in pursuance of a personal object--to help a good writer +(who is commonly a friend)--maybe you can recall such instances--or +laugh at a fool. Surely you do not consider my work in the +Cosmopolitan (mere badinage and chaff, the only kind of stuff that the +magazine wants from me, or will print) essays in literary criticism. +It has never occurred to me to look upon myself as a literary critic; +if you _must_ prick my bubble please to observe that it contains more +of your breath than of mine. Yet you have sometimes seemed to value, I +thought, some of my notions about even poetry. * * * + +Perhaps I am unfortunate in the matter of keeping friends; I know, and +have abundant reason to know, that you are at least equally luckless +in the matter of making them. I could put my finger on the very +qualities in you that make you so, and the best service that I could +do you would be to point them out and take the consequences. That is +to say, it would serve you many years hence; at present you are like +Carlyle's "Mankind"; you "refuse to be served." You only consent to be +enraged. + +I bear you no ill will, shall watch your career in letters with +friendly solicitude--have, in fact, just sent to the * * * a most +appreciative paragraph about your book, which may or may not commend +itself to the editor; most of what I write does not. I hope to do a +little, now and then, to further your success in letters. I wish you +were different (and that is the harshest criticism that I ever uttered +of you except to yourself) and wish it for your sake more than for +mine. I am older than you and probably more "acquainted with +grief"--the grief of disappointment and disillusion. If in the future +you are convinced that you have become different, and I am still +living, my welcoming hand awaits you. And when I forgive I forgive all +over, even the new offence. + +Miller undoubtedly is sincere in his praise of you, for with all his +faults and follies he is always generous and usually over generous to +other poets. There's nothing little and mean in him. Sing ho for +Joaquin! + + +If I "made you famous" please remember that you were guilty of +contributory negligence by meriting the fame. "Eternal vigilance" is +the price of its permanence. Don't loaf on your job. + + +I have told her of a certain "enchanted forest" hereabout to which I +feel myself sometimes strongly drawn as a fitting place to lay down +"my weary body and my head." (Perhaps you remember your Swinburne: + + "Ah yet, would God this flesh of mine might be + Where air might wash and long leaves cover me! + Ah yet, would God that roots and stems were bred + Out of my weary body and my head.") + +The element of enchantment in that forest is supplied by my wandering +and dreaming in it forty-one years ago when I was a-soldiering and +there were new things under a new sun. It is miles away, but from a +near-by summit I can overlook the entire region--ridge beyond ridge, +parted by purple valleys full of sleep. Unlike me, it has not visibly +altered in all these years, except that I miss, here and there, a thin +blue ghost of smoke from an enemy's camp. Can you guess my feelings +when I view this Dream-land--my Realm of Adventure, inhabited by +memories that beckon me from every valley? I shall go; I shall retrace +my old routes and lines of march; stand in my old camps; inspect my +battlefields to see that all is right and undisturbed. I shall go to +the Enchanted Forest. + + + + + PRINTED BY + JOHN HENRY NASH AT SAN FRANCISCO + IN DECEMBER MDCCCCXXII + THE EDITION CONSISTS OF FOUR HUNDRED + AND FIFTEEN COPIES + FOUR HUNDRED ARE NUMBERED + AND FOR SALE + No. 208 + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Letters of Ambrose Bierce, by Ambrose Bierce + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LETTERS OF AMBROSE BIERCE *** + +***** This file should be named 36218.txt or 36218.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/2/1/36218/ + +Produced by David Clarke, Melissa McDaniel and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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