...Paris was splendid, but fatiguing. Among other things I was introduced to the Académie des Sciences Morales, of which you may likely have heard that I am now an associé étranger(!!). Boutroux says that Renan, when he took his seat after being received at the Académie Française, said: "Qu'on est bien dans ce fauteuil" (it is nothing but a cushioned bench with no back!). "Peut-être n'y a-t-il que cela de vrai!" Delicious Renanesque remark!...
W. J.
The arrangement by which Mrs. James and Henry James were to have arrived at Nauheim had been upset. The two, who were to come from England together, were delayed by Henry's condition; and for a while James was at Nauheim alone.
To his Daughter.
Bad-Nauheim, May 29, 1910.
Beloved Péguy,—The very fust thing I want you to do is to look in the drawer marked "Blood" in my tall filing case in the library closet, and find the date of a number of the "Journal of Speculative Philosophy" there that contains an article called "Philosophic Reveries." Send this date (not the article) to the Revd. Prof. L. P. Jacks, 28 Holywell, Oxford, if you find it, immediately. He will understand what to do with it. If you don't find the article, do nothing! Jacks is notified. I have just corrected the proofs of an article on Blood for the "Hibbert Journal," which, I think, will make people sit up and rub their eyes at the apparition of a new great writer of English. I want Blood himself to get it as a surprise.
I got as a surprise your finely typed copy of the rest of my MS., the other day. I thank you for it; also for your delightful letters. The type-writing seems to set free both your and Aleck's genius more than the pen. (If you need a new ribbon it must be got from the agency in Milk St. just above Devonshire—but you'll find it hard work to get it into its place.) You seem to be leading a very handsome and domestic life, avoiding social excitements, and hearing of them only from the brethren. It is good sometimes to face the naked ribs of reality as it reveals itself in homes. I face them here with no one but the blackbirds and the trees for my companions, save some rather odd Americans at the Mittagstisch and Abendessen, and the good smiling Dienstmädchen who brings me my breakfast in the morning.... I went to my bath at 6 o'clock this morning, and had the Park all to the blackbirds and myself. This was because I am expecting a certain Prof. Goldstein from Darmstadt to come to see me this morning, and I had to get the bath out of the way. He is a powerful young writer, and is translating my "Pluralistic Universe." But the weather has grown so threatening that I hope now that he won't come till next Sunday. It is a shame to converse here and not be in the open air. I would to Heaven thou wert mit—I think thou wouldst enjoy it very much for a week or more. The German civilization is good! Only this place would give a very false impression of our wicked earth to a Mars-Bewohner who should descend and leave and see nothing else. Not a dark spot (save what the patients' hearts individually conceal), no poverty, no vice, nothing but prettiness and simplicity of life. I snip out a concert-program (the afternoon one unusually good) which I find lying on my table. The like is given free in the open air every day. The baths weaken one so that I have little brain for reading, and must write letters to all kinds of people every day. A big quarrel is on in Paris between my would-be translators and publishers. I wish translators would let my books alone—they are written for my own people exclusively! You will have received Hewlett's delightful "Halfway House," sent to our steamer by Pauline Goldmark, I think. I have been reading a charmingly discreet life of Nietzsche by D. Halévy, and have invested in a couple more of his (N.'s) books, but haven't yet begun to read them. I am half through "Waffen-nieder!" a first-rate anti-war novel by Baroness von Suttner. It has been translated, and I recommend it as in many ways instructive. How are Rebecca and Maggie [the cook and house-maid]? You don't say how you enjoy ordering the bill of fare every day. You can't vary it properly unless you make a list and keep it. A good sweet dish is rothe Grütze, a form of fine sago consolidated by currant-jelly juice, and sauced with custard, or, I suppose, cream.
Well! no more today! Give no end of love to the good boys, and to your Grandam, and believe me, ever thy affectionate,
W. J.