way from here (my third capitol, the first of my own). The King quite
recently (which I could not in the least expect) received me here at the
railway station, in the most affectionate way, and demanded a promise from
me that I would pay him a visit within a year and a day. But I have once
for all declared myself as the "hermit of Charlottenberg," and hermits and
prophets should stay at home. I do not even go to Carlsruhe and Coblentz.
_Cui bono?_ What avails good words, without good deeds? But the nation is
not dead. Don't imagine that. Before this month is out you will see what I
have said on this subject in the Preface to the "God in History." Within
six to ten years the nation will again be fit to act. Palmerston will cut
his throat if nothing comes of the Neapolitan business, and just the same
if he cannot make "a good case;" the principle of intervention even
against Bomba is self-destruction for England, and disgraceful in the
highest degree. The _fox_ cannot begin war in Italy at _the present
moment_ from want of money, and his accomplices are afraid of losing their
stolen booty. So he tries to gain time. He will still live a few years.

I have seen ----: he knows a great deal more than he allows to appear, but
is the driest, and most despairing Englishman I have ever seen. He has
suffered shipwreck of everything on the Tuebingen sand bank. The poor
wretches! Religion and theology without philosophy is bad; philosophy
without philosophy is a monster! So Comte is a trump-card with many in
Oxford! He is so in London. What a fall of intellect! what a decay of
life! what an abyss of ignorance! Jowett is a living shoot, and will
continue so; but John Bull is my chief comfort, even for my "God in
History." America is my greatest misery after my misery for Germany; but
the North _will_ prove itself in the right.

With hearty greetings of truest attachment and love to your mother, truly
yours.

We expect George on the 18th. Ernst is here.

[76.]

CHARLOTTENBERG, _January 29, 1857_.

You have really inflicted it on me! For though I have but one leg to stand
upon (I cannot _sit_ at all), as the other has been suffering for four
days from sciatica (let Dr. Acland explain that to you, whilst you at the
same time thank him heartily for his excellent book on the cholera), still
I am obliged to place myself at the desk, to answer my dear friend's
letter, received yesterday evening in bed. The last fortnight I have d