My dear friend, so happily restored to me! It is a source of infinite joy to me to learn, from your exquisite letter, that the really very delightful society at the Princess’s has benefited you physically, and, therefore, as I should say in my criminal materialism, mentally also. Such a society, blown together chiefly from the same fashionable world of Berlin (somewhat flat and stale), immediately takes a new shape in the house of Princess Pueckler. It is like the spirit which should breathe life into the state; the material seems ennobled. I still retain your “Christliche Glaubenslehre,”[31] I who long ago, in Potsdam, was so delighted with Strauss’s Life of the Saviour. One learns from it, not only what he does not believe, which is less new to me, but rather what kind of things have been believed and taught by those black coats (parsons) who know how to enslave mankind anew, yea, who are putting on the armor of their former adversaries. I shall gladly copy the passage concerning Spinoza. Will not the late date of the second volume of the “Glaubenslehre” (1841) he urged against it by these men who pretend to teach from ancient manuscript? It would seem to me a better plan to have published the wonderfully conflicting chronology with some remarks on the new faith in the whole “_roman historique_” of the apostolic collectors of myths. He who teaches so publicly has to subject himself to the publicity arising from the defence of those who differ from him in creed. A private statement, clothed in the mild language of complaint, makes the subsequent public one very difficult, and elicits only patronizing smiles and a denial. It is not the mishap of Spinoza, but this degradation of the noblest intellectual faculties in the service of the narrow doctrines of dark ages, that is really painful to me. The man[32] himself had certainly nothing attractive for me, but I had a kind of predilection for him, because everything enthrals and enraptures me, in which, as in his lecture on Art, the gentle breath of imagination warms and enlivens the harmony of language. Now we are separated. In his last speech, not the one on art, amid the glare of torchlight, he spoke of his departure like a well-paid artist who had just accomplished a musical tour—probably only a sentimental figure of speech to frighten his listeners. Now for an answer to enquiries for the biography, of which, after all, I think with some fear, not on account of its political contents, but on account of family considerations. I rely on your promise. The man certainly cannot want to afflict so many!