To John W. Hallowell
New York, December 9, [1920]
DEAR JACK,—I have tried out New York again and find it lacking as before. No help! They do not know. … So I am going to Californi…A. I wish I were to be near you—you really have a special old corner in all that is left of my heart. And one of these days well indulge ourselves in a good time—a long pull together again.
I have been reading William James’ Letters—and real literature they are—far better than all your novels. What a great Man—a mind, plus a man. Not to have known James in the last generation is to have missed its greatest intellect; Roosevelt and James and Henry George were the three greatest forces of the last thirty years. Sometime when you come across a good photo or engraving or wood-cut, or something, of James, will you buy it and send it to me? I want a human one—not a professional one. I guess he couldn’t be the pedantic kind anyway.
Billy Phillips has a new baby-boy born Monday.
My plan is to leave here in a week, go to Washington and see Nancy, and get a glimpse of some of my old people in the Department, thence to South Carolina and then probably California for two or three months. Ah me—most people would think this luxury—I think it hell! But it may be for my great spiritual good. Certainly if I could have you to walk with for these months, and more of William James to read, I could take a step or two forward.
Have also been reading a bit of Buddhism lately. It is too negative—that is almost its chief if not its only defect, as an attitude toward life. It won’t make things move but it will make souls content. And I can’t get away from the thought that we are here as conquerors, not as pacifists. I can’t be the latter, save in the desire.
Peabody dropped in yesterday from Chicago. (I have forgotten whether you knew him well or not.) Able chap, fond of me, as I of him. My boy works for him. He sent me a gorgeous edition of Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy which I have always wanted, largely because it is one of the curiosities of the world. …
Write me as often as your Quaker spirit moves you to utterance. Your dinner got quite a send-off in these papers, which is something, for New York to recognize Boston! Terribly tough job though. Poor babies! Hard to believe in a good God and a kind God, isn’t it?
I hear talk of shoving Hoover outside the breastworks. Fools! Fools! Best for him but worse for the country. Whole question of Republican success turns on the largeness of Harding. I don’t ask a Lincoln—much less will do. If he is only a smooth-footed politician he will fail. So far he has been the gentleman. …
My love to your whole circle, from Grandmother down.
Affectionately,
F. K. L.