Yours, A. V. HDT. 40. HUMBOLDT TO VARNHAGEN. MONDAY, _March 9th, 1840_. The Crown-Prince, to whom I brought, this morning, your thoughtful “_Lebensbuch_,” has ordered me to express to you, revered friend, his “most friendly thanks.” It reminded him, at the same time, of your “Sophie Charlotte,” your “Seydlitz,” your always delightful language, and your skill in portraying difficult relations of life. The liberal passage on Grimm I read to him. It pleased him much, and brought on a conversation on Hanover. He expressed himself very sensibly in regard to it. “The King of Hanover does not understand how to treat Germans: he does not know how to win them, by availing himself of their loyal emotions. On the day when the news of the final election in Göttingen arrived in Hanover, I would have sent an aide-de-camp or a civil officer to Göttingen, to thank the professors, and ask them whether they would like to have the whole seven professors reappointed.” These are words flowing from a noble soul. Of your article on Niebuhr, I do _not_ speak to the Crown-Prince, though I entirely agree with you regarding it. With old attachment, Yours, A. V. HDT. 41. HUMBOLDT TO VARNHAGEN. WEDNESDAY, _March 18th, 1840_. An insipid polemical book of Mr. Gretsch, against Melgunoff, and against the book of Koenig, which is entirely unknown to me, full of Siberia, strangulation, secret funds, and Russian patriotism—an insufferable rehash! Will you read it, my dear friend? For you alone understand it entirely. The book might almost reconcile me with Mr. Melgunoff, against whom I have felt some anger. I have, it is true, neither a recollection of him nor of my conversation with him; but he must have strangely interpreted and translated into his own language, what I said to him, when he represents me as condemning one whose great talents and delightful style and manners I praise everywhere. How is it credible that I could have spoken unfavorably of you in the only conversation I ever had with a man who brought me a letter from your own hand? Who recognises in me such careless, Orinoco manners? Marheineke also has made a campaign in the “Kritische-Blätter,” more against Savigny than against Stahl. There is a good deal of acrimony in the air, and the black coats are not merciful. The conclusion of the philippic is very eloquent, in the climax from the rationalists, _viâ_ St. Hegel, to Galilee. It is a pity that the preceding twelve pages are so indifferently written—in the most mediocre style.