Many years ago, at a _Thé d’esprit_, I was introduced to a daughter of
Bettina Arnim. Her first words after the introduction, as she handed
me my cup, were, “What do you think about the immortality of the
soul?” “I believe in immortality, but not in the soul,” was my reply.
This story is suggested by the article “Carus,” excellently translated
by you in the last magazine. It interested me very much, but did not
at all satisfy me.
Do you know a children’s game _Frau Gevatterin, leih mir d’
Scher’_,[23] in which those who take part keep changing their seats,
while there is always one who finds all the chairs taken, because
there are more players than there are seats? Carus lets his ideas play
this game, or rather the designations for the ideas. Ego, personality,
soul, its activity, spirit, idea, consciousness, and so on, keep
changing their places with great agility—but there is always one of
them that gets nothing.
It does no good to give all ideas new names or to foist new meanings
upon old words—there is always one left in the air; that is, he no
more finds the ultimate cause than do the rest of us, only he does not
acknowledge it as we do.
What answer does C. give to the question with which the article
starts? Is that which used to be called Soul a cause or an effect
(that is, a phenomenon)? Does he believe that every cause begets
effects, the children of which again become causes? Does he close the
circle and regard the last effect as the first cause and vice versa?
He constantly provokes me to contradiction even in details. For
instance, he brings Luther forward as a “progressive spirit,” because
he substituted the Bible for the Church—belief in authority for belief
in authority—! Whither this progress has led, we can see by the
sanctimonious frauds with the halo! these Bismarcks with the tiara—!
Pardon, if C. is a favorite with you, but frankness is the first
condition of a wholesome correspondence. Even with Villers I used to
have frequent controversies.
Your many-sided activity and creative enthusiasm fill me with
admiration, like a great drama of nature. Now pray allow yourself the
enjoyment of the latter, as I did yesterday in my world’s-end
thunderstorm.
Gratefully yours
R. H.
Best regards to your worthy husband.
Here also I introduce a letter which I received from Mirza Schaffy,
after I had sent him a review of my novel by Carneri in the feuilleton
of the _Neue Freie Presse_. The Peace Congress which Bodenstedt tells of
is the one that took place in Paris in the year 1849, under the
presidency of Victor Hugo, when Cobden was present.