Within Four Walls: The Correspondence Between Hannah Arednt and Heinrich Blucher, 1936-1968 [First U.S. Edition] 0151003033

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WITHIN FOUR WALLS The Correspondence between Hannah Arendt and Heinrich Bliich.:-r. 1936-1968

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Within Four Walls The Correspondence between Hannah Arendt and Heinrich Blucher 1936-1968

EDITED AND WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY LOTTE KOHLER

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY PETER CONSTANTINE

Harcourt, Inc. NEW YORK

SAN DIEGO

LONDON

© 1996 by Lotte Kohler © 1996 by Hannah Arendt Blucher Literary Trust, Lotte Kohler, Trustee © Piper Verlag GmbH, Munchen 1996 English translation copyright© 2000 by Harcourt, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to the following address: Permissions Department, Harcourt, Inc., 6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777. www.harcourt.com The translation from the original German edition subsidized by INTER NATIONES, Bonn. Library ofCongressCataloging-in-Publication Data Arendt, Hannah. Within four walls: the correspondence between Hannah Arendt and Heinrich Blucher, 1936-1968/translated by PeterConstantine. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN 0-15-100303-3 1. Arendt, Hannah-Correspondence. 2. Blucher, Heinrich, 1899-1970Correspondence. 3. Political scientists-Germany-Correspondence. I. Blucher, Heinrich, 1899-1970. II. Tide. JC263 .A7417 2000 320.5'092-dc21 [B] 0 0 -033593 Text set in Stempel Garamond Designed by Lori Mc Thomas Buley First U.S. edition ACEGIKJHFDB

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Editor's Note Introduction by Lotte Kohler Chronology I: August 1936 to October 1938

II: September to December 1939 III: July to August 1941 IV: August 1945 to August 1948 V: November 1949 to June 1951

VI: March 1952 to August 1953 VII: February to June 1955 VIII: September to December 1955 IX: October to November 1956 X: May to October 1958

XI: September to October 1959 XII: February to June 1961 XIII: February to March 1963 and September 1968 A Lecture from the Common Course Notes Proper Name Index

vu IX XXIX

1 46 58 77

99 148 219 265

301 313

340 351 381 390 401 453

V

Editor's Note

T

his is the first publication of the letters that Hannah Arendt and her husband, Heinrich Blucher, exchanged throughout their lives. I :rom more than 400 letters that have survived, 304 have been in­ cluded. These have been edited in numerous places. Irrelevant pas­ sages have been removed, and are indicated in the text by ellipses within brackets. Ellipses that appear without brackets are those of the 1.:orrespondents. In some cases, comments concerning third parties have been omitted out of consideration for the persons involved. The originals of the letters in this edition, initially handwritten and later to a large extent typed, are part of the Hannah Arendt Archives in the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. Words inadvertently omitted in the originals have been added in brackets; those that were in English are given in italics and are en­ closed by < and >. W herever corrections have been made, this is indicated in the notes, which follow the text, and the original word or phrase is given. Foreign expressions whose meaning might be un­ clear appear in translation in the notes. Every effort has been made to preserve the correspondents' stylistic and idiosyncratic characteris­ tics in the English translation. Biographical information on the people referred to in the letters is provided in a note the first time they are mentioned. In the index, the page numbers of these notes are given in italics. W e l lknown figures and people whose background is clarified in the text are not included in the notes. Vil

Introduction Lotte Kohler

O

f all Hannah Arendt's correspondence published or in the pro­ cess of being published over the past decade (correspondence with Karl Jaspers, Mary McCarthy, Kurt Blumenfeld, Hermann l\mch, Martin Heidegger), her exchange of letters with her husband, I lcinrich Blucher, occupies a special place. In none of the other corre­ ,pondence do the participants write with such natural intimacy and unrestrained frankness, covering topics and people that elsewhere ap­ pear in pale outline, or not at all. Regardless of whether they are writ­ ing about the most personal matters, or about works of art, cities, nature, or events in world politics, Hannah Arendt and Heinrich 1\lucher speak the language of unconditional partnership. Through its immediacy, this correspondence presents an informa1 ive supplement to the previous publications. It is perhaps the most personal testimony to come out of Hannah Arendt's posthumous pa­ pers, presenting her in her vulnerability, her human attachment, and her feminine sensitivity. Over a period of three decades these letters document the durable bond of a close and lasting alliance, of a love re­ lationship, and of marriage as a place of refuge in dark times. The letter writers-she was twenty-nine, he was thirty-seven­ met in the spring of 1936 in Paris, to which both had escaped from 11crlin in 1933: Hannah Arendt, following a short imprisonment due to alleged illegal activity for a Zionist organization, and Heinrich Blucher as a member of the Communist Party, both traveling via Prague. The correspondence begins in August 1936, shortly after they lX

met, when Arendt went to Geneva for the founding of the Jewish World Congress. At the time, they were still married to others, Arendt to Gunther Stern (Gunther Anders) and Blucher to Nathalie Jefroikyn. Arendt and Blucher were able to marry only in January 1940, after their divorces had come through, in 1937 and 1938. The letters of the first phase reveal, through their flood of emo­ tion, an uncertainty about the dependability and reciprocal com­ mitment of the other, and doubt about the possibility of a lasting relationship. Arendt answers Blucher's invitation to "take a seat in that third chair"-his best friend was occupying the second chair­ with the objection "Look, you yourself said 'everything speaks against it.' What is this 'everything' ... except that we might not have a world in common?" She comes from an assimilated middle-class background, and her interests and activities during this period cen­ tered on her work for Youth Aliyah, and the Jewish concerns con­ nected with it. Blucher is from a non-Jewish proletarian background, and his Paris days are filled with dreams of world revolution and preparations for debates with Communist friends. This difference is reflected from the beginning in their clear posi­ tions. In a long epistle on the Jewish question, Blucher, as the "mod­ est student of the great miracle-rabbi," Karl Marx, appeals for a "Jewish combat unit against Fascism in Spain." He calls for the Volk­ werdung (the becoming of a people) of the Jews within the framework of the Communist world revolution, and wants to see Palestine liber­ ated "from the English plunderers" by Jewish workers joining "forces with the Arab workers and laborers." Arendt counters this soberly and realistically from the perspective of political history. There can­ not be any "identification" for the Jews with the international work­ ing class, for the Jews are not a people "like other peoples." "Plain, unambiguously self-serving politics" is what is called for, Palestine standing "at the center of our national aspirations ...because for 2,000 years the craziest of peoples took pleasure in preserving the past in the present, because for them 'the ruins of Jerusalem are, you could say, rooted in the heart of time' (Herder)." By the end of her stay in Geneva, Arendt's doubts about the pos­ sibility of a lasting relationship have "not been brushed away," nor has the "fact" that they are still married to others. But this seems enough for a beginning. "Let us try-for our love's sake." In the years X

following, the importance of the contrasting worlds they came from begins to pale before their awareness that they belong together: "I know with such beautiful clarity that I belong to you." In her love for Blucher, Arendt finds refuge and protection from a basic feeling in her life: the ever-recurring one of insecurity, the earliest testimonial of which is "Shadows," an autobiographical sketch she enclosed in a 1925 letter to Heidegger. In it, in a seemingly detached tone, she sorrowfully portrayed her emotional state as being threatened by ex­ treme vulnerability and governed by a "fear of reality ... of being itself." Twelve years later, this fear seems to be in check. "Dearest," she writes to Blucher, "I always knew, even as a kid, that I can only truly exist in love. And that is why I was so frightened that I might simply get lost....And when I met you, suddenly I was no longer afraid.... It still seems incredible to me that I managed to get both things, the 'love of my life,' and a oneness with my self. And yet, I only got the one thing when I got the other. But finally I also know what happiness is." Exiled, defenseless, lost in the world, her fear resurfaces again and again: "I'm worrying myself sick," "we shouldn't be apart. It is insan­ ity." Arendt only finds reassurance in her husband's calming words of encouragement, in the tangibility of .the letters-"You cannot imag­ ine how I waited for your letter. It is the link that reassures me, time and again, that I will not get lost"-and in the conjuring up of the place of refuge: "Snubby-for God's sake, you are my four walls." To what extremes Arendt's tortured experience of emotional inse­ curity could lead is shown in the "bitter and angry letter" she wrote to Blucher after nine years of marriage, when he did not keep to their letter-writing schedule as agreed upon. She writes that she cannot go "careering about the world like a car wheel that has come off, without a single connection to home or to anything I can rely on." And she "bitterly" reproaches him with the example of her friend Anne Weil, of "what can happen" when one spends one's "whole life" supporting two ungrateful people, Weil's husband and her sister.· Blucher, who had been quite ill at the time, is deeply hurt by the "strange comparisons" that are for him metaphysicaJly incomprehen­ sible, but does end his letter on an understanding and conciliatory note: "Don't be unsettled and unhappy. Your home here is standing, waiting for you. There is no ghost sonata being staged here." In his XI

next letter he takes up the subject again, conceding: "I might well be a man who's not capable ," but assures her that "No words, written or spoken, stand between us." He reminds her that he is also an exile who fully experienced and accepted displace­ ment. "I . . .could always say 'Where I am, I am not at home.' But that is why I have established an eternal home here in this world . ..right in the middle of this world, with your help and that of friends." In Blucher's absence, even small, everyday matters could shake Arendt's emotional equilibrium and make her "as vulnerable as I used to be." We see her "upset ... on the verge of tears, wounded" on read­ ing what she calls "the really outrageously vulgar notes" to a poem in an American edition of Nietzsche. The emotional insecurity surfacing in these letters may be attrib­ uted to Arendt's sensitive nature and the experiences of her child­ hood: the loss of her father when she was seven, the outbreak of World War I, and the flight (even if only for a short period) from Konigsberg to Berlin when she was eight. That both Arendt and Blucher were to remain forever anxious in the face of outbreaks of what they ironically dubbed "so-called world history" is the under­ standable result of the decisive experiences of their adult lives: their flight from Germany, their Parisian emigre years, the experience of the internment camps in 1939 and 1940, the flight from France in 1941, and their new beginning as stateless refugees (until 1951, 1952) in the United States, a foreign country with a foreign language. Even after years of living in safety in the United States, they did not feel secure. When the Deutschland-Vertrag, the treaty on Germany, was signed in May 1952, Blucher immediately expected the Russians to make mischief, with Arendt suddenly ending up "in a trap," and she decided not to fly to Berlin "under these circumstances." Soviet pre­ mier Malenkov's resignation in 1955 gave Blucher "a real fright," and, anticipating serious trouble, he designated Bard College as "meeting­ place"-"in case of emergency." With the news of the Hungarian re­ volt, Arendt's impulse was to "suddenly drop everything and go" (leave Germany). In the 1960s, with the escalation of the Vietnam War, she felt that political repression was to be feared, and contemplated emigrating to Switzerland and even reapplying for German citizen­ ship. Both Arendt and Blucher countered this subliminal fear of h a v XII

ing to flee again with the absolute reliability of the "eternal home" within the sheltering love and friendship of their marriage. Arendt's emotional fragility-"the veil of worry often hides the beautiful daylight from me"-and her oversensitivity seem to stand in striking contrast to the confident fearlessness of her public persona, and yet correspond to a side of her nature revealed in her letters: her reticence to appear in public, her predilection for retreating into a pri­ vate, secluded life that would allow her to concentrate on productive intellectual work. "No amount of success can help me overcome the misfortune of being 'in the public eye.' " As much as she enjoyed teaching and debating with her students-"it's fun"-she did not feel equal to the daily constraints of the academic world and its adminis­ trative duties. "I cannot write and teach at the same time. These are two activities that are fundamentally opposed to each other, and I don't have the flair to combine them." What made public appearances easier for her were the good man­ ners of the people she associated with. She valued the "extreme po­ liteness" of her California students as a "veritable relief" after her experience of "the New York and Jewish-Brooklyn crudeness": "after all, that's important for me." An unmistakably conservative trait ex­ pressed itself in traditions that had become a matter of course with her. For instance, she wanted to wear black after her mother's death, which "is no longer a question of fashion" but "such an ingrained convention that it seems to have become second nature." Her convic­ tion of the deficient status of single women stands in stark antithesis to all modern views: "Believe me, my darling, women can only live in marriage." Whereas Arendt's life and person are widely known and discussed in biographies, monographs, volumes of correspondence and inter­ views, even experts on her work have at best a vague knowledge of the person with whom she spent most of her life. Heinrich Blucher does, however, live clearly in the memories of those who knew him, partic­ ularly his students, to whom in person and speech he seemed a resur­ rected Socrates. Twenty-five years after his death they are attempting to make available to the world his teachings, his lectures having been recorded on tape and kept in the library of Bard College, where he was a professor. Xlll

Blucher was a politically astute philosopher, who was impressive both in the originality of his thought process and in the brilliant pre­ sentation of it. He had grown up in a Berlin working-class family without knowing his father, who had died in an accident before he · was born. He managed to acquire a surprising philosophical and aes­ thetical erudition and knowledge of history. A stroke of luck started him on his academic career. One evening in February 1950, at Alcop­ ley's Painters Club in Greenwich Village, the speakers scheduled for an art history panel had to cancel; Bliicher jumped in to replace them. The audience was so impressed by his knowledge, presented with the compelling rhetoric and the gesture of the born orator, that he was in­ vited to give more lectures. Then, in the fall of 1950, Alfred Kazin arranged a teaching position for him at the New School for Social Research, in New York City, where he began giving lectures on art history and philosophy. What would have been hardly imaginable in Europe was possible in the United States: A highly talented amateur of philosophy, with neither a high-school diploma nor a systematic university education, became a professor (1952-67) at Bard College, in New York State, which, after his retirement in 1968, awarded him an honorary doctorate. He taught philosophy through philosophizing, without notes, "every word in his head, with a concentration that grabs the whole class," as Arendt proudly wrote to Kurt Blumenfeld on April 1 , 1951. Fully aware of the limitations of his capabilities-which did not in­ clude a talent for expository writing-Blucher repeatedly attempted to overcome what he called "my incredible lack of literary talent." Be­ fore he began his teaching career he admitted this in a moving passage in a letter: "The good fairy proclaimed: 'This boy shall have power of judgment,' and the evil fairy interrupted her and finished the sentence, 'but nothing else.' And that seems to be that." Blucher never published anything. Because his concepts are only incompletely expressed in his letters to Arendt-though they had an inestimable influence on the development of her thought-this edi­ tion includes his last lecture that appeared in the Bard College maga­ zine, "A Lecture from the Common Course." Blucher regarded philosophy within its historical framework in a double guise: in the form of a systematizing and illusion-creating metaphysic that lays claim to valid truth stabilizing the ruling powers, XlV

and in the form of free, critical philosophizing that questions systems and destroys illusions. The former philosophy created tradition and made history: as the metaphysic of schools, as handmaiden of theology, as a modern science with absolute premises, as totalitarian ideology; whereas free philosophizing, constantly rebelling in disillusionment against the pressure imposed by the system, has remained, rather, a pos­ sibility and a task. Though it is impressively represented by critical thinkers from Socrates through Kant and Nietzsche, it has remained without a concrete historical continuity in state and society. Blucher's early letters to his wife show that throughout the 1940s the basic tenets of his thinking, on which he built his later teaching as professor of philosophy at the New School and Bard, were developing with increasing clarity. Particularly prominent in his thinking was the notion of the demise of traditional Western philosophy following a long historical process of dispute with itself. "Philosophy will be fin­ ished," he writes in a letter of July 29, 1948, "when it finally speaks the truth about the truth, thus shedding its illusions, renouncing fur­ ther dream production." At the present stage of history, the abandonment of all theological and metaphysical illusions is synonymous with the experience of ni­ hilism: "we live in a nihilistic age," he wrote in "A Lecture from the Common Course." Therefore the confrontation with nihilism is the essential premise for a new historical beginning after the great catas­ trophe. To become seriously involved with nothingness in order to overcome nihilism demands that one not subjugate oneself to the "myth of nothingness"; it, too, turns out to be an illusion, yet another metaphysical dream: "How well one can worship oneself when one believes in nothingness." For Blucher, nihilism cannot be overcome with theoretical concepts, only by responsible action. Advancement beyond it assumes that one has first passed through it. As early as 1946, Blucher had stressed in a letter to his wife that "from a philosophical standpoint I'm completely serious about the nec­ essary break with 'Western thought: " This provocative rhetoric im­ plies nothing less than the radical claim that the philosophy of closed systems and absolute truths (myths as "idol-logies," theology, meta­ physics, absolutist science, all modern ideologies) must be replaced by questioning, illusion-destroying philosophizing (Socratic critical re­ thinking within the consciousness of not-knowing). In our century of xv

wars an [, . ,] Needless to say, the famous conference of fatherland-savers22 turned out to be much ado about nothing. Eastman23 didn't get a ma­ jority, which by a hair would have crystallized into a resolution against McCarthy,24 if the gang running the show hadn't deftly throt­ tled it. But they're going to have to face the resolution at committee level, or there'll be a split. I hear Mary25 did a very good job there, and she told me she intended to stand in for you, and that is why she swung it better than she herself expected. My lectures are moving ahead well and I'm having fun. I'm becom­ ing more and more up-to-the-minute, and the students are enjoying that. Clara26 has invited me to dinner twice this week, and I'm to talk to a small group of businessmen about the importance of a and , and also to a group of intellectuals and business people about new possibilities for U.S.-German commu­ nication. . Rejoice in yourself and in good old Paris. [. . .] Even though you are there, I often see you here sitting in your chair by the window, or on the radiator. Keep loving me as I love you. These are lousy times. Love Heinrich 157

[Paris,] April 17, 52

Dearest, I think today is letter-writing day. And since the mail from New York is working out, life is worth living again. Your letter of the 12th with the Guggenheim enclosure arrived safely and on time. I do still hope that they'll defeat the tax hyenas but, just in case, I did confirm that I was accepting the grant starting April 1 , so I can deduct my . As it is, I'm not intending to deliver anything; from now on I'm saving all the hotel bills. Tant pis. I had a good laugh at the idea of you as a . [. . .] Monday I was in Chartres with the two children, i.e., Alfred [Kazin] and his Ann [Burstein]. I can't tell you how beautiful it is! And the most heavenly spring, with the sun spilling through the win­ dows, making the blue even bluer. Only now do I really have eyes for architecture. I never knew what a perfect miracle it is. Otherwise: I'm seeing everyone and his mother. Yesterday Fran�ois Bondy,27 secretary of the fatherland-savers, who, however, are different here. He turned out to be a Prague Jew with a Swiss pass­ port and a Brandler past. 28 He seems so damned familiar (did you know a Franz Bondy?) that I got frightened about inquiring any fur­ ther. I felt there was some connection. A very pleasant, very decent, and also quite intelligent fellow. -Much more significant (this for Rose!) is Milosz, whose article about the Bahs you'll find in the Feb­ ruary issue of Preuves. 29 We most probably have it, or Rose can give it to you. He is, I think, really quelqu'un. Young and confused and exceptionally unhappy, but very nice. In every way a dear boy. He might be coming to America; that would really make sense. Here he'll be lost. This is more or less how things stand here: Kojeve30 (the Hegel man, tu te rappel/es [sic]31 ) declares that the murder of 6 million Jews is of no interest, since it is not "a historical event." Everybody here decides for himself what is history and what isn't. One can't even be sure of the facts, i.e., the facts acknowledged as being history. All one can be sure of is that the blueprint comes from Hegel. The whole thing is idiotic, with a greater or lesser dose of perspicacity thrown in. Everyone is writing up a storm and getting published, and there's a lot of rushing around. And Paris, as I've already mentioned, has found son petit bonheur again-and nobody gives a damn how the franc is 158

doing, or what would happen if America decided to stop paying. In Chartres I also had time to walk through the town: women washing their clothes in the river, houses that not only were built at least 300 years ago (those are the newer ones), but that haven't been repaired for a good 100 years. La province ne se meurt plus, elle est morte. 32 [. . .] Rooms are important; since yesterday I've been living like a princess, definitely sous !es toits de Paris,33 a nice big room with sepa­ rate entrance and bathroom. I grabbed it here in the hotel, very cheap, because no one wants to walk up four flights; I don't give a hoot. Mornings I regularly go to the library, in the afternoon I should write, but haven't until now. Dearest, if I turn into a fool, it doesn't matter, does it? [...] The Council of Judaism has been enthusiastic about me for quite a while now. Things like that are always good publicity, I can do with some. [I] was very happy about Mary. [...] Yours [New York,] 4.18.1952 Dearest, Your address list, which always lies on my desk before me, has Paris as your first address, and I followed the indication automatically instead of working out the dates. Your long letter is so marvelously Parisian that even I have become almost homesick. I would have really liked to be there and to partici­ pate, and when do I ever or did I ever want to participate in anything ? Everyone seems to be revolving around you and being nice to you, you much-loved creature. Elke [Gilbert], I take it, is enjoying herself all alone in the good old world. Well, after such a terrible illness I'm happy for her. And if the two of you also send me a postcard of the heart of Paris, what else can I want? [.. .] I see the rue Buci and the Auvergne before me, just as I see you trotting past it to meet me in all haste at the cafe on the corner there. So you are here with me, because it is impossible to imagine you not being here in this apartment, but 159

there are also times, often, when I am there with you because the two of us were really together there, and this state of having really existed together is what constitutes foreverness. Life becomes ever more cu­ rious when one starts being able to live it. So you are drinking where one should be drinking, in Paris, and with friends-and you are working where one can work, in Paris, surrounded by all those mag­ nificent fellows of the past.And it would be even nicer if you couldn't write me long letters. But it is a womanly wile to twist that into a rope for me (think of how Ariadne's thread can easily be turned into a hal­ ter) and to demand long letters from me, who, subjugated by condi­ tions that pit themselves against any semblance of normalcy, must spin through the [sic] of this modern Babylon's nihilistic maelstrom, the only help afforded me being my twice-weekly de­ scriptions of it to my contemporaries.34 On top of that, affectionate Clara has entangled me in three dif­ ferent plans to bring in money for the school, and I'm seeing all kinds of strangers and impressing them. Another philosophical activity which Socrates wouldn't have dreamed of. Also, my curriculum for fall has to be worked out within a week. Using the concept of politics, I want to launch a criticism of political reason in order to conjure up Athena once more, and also to sing a new kind of song of praise to Aphrodite: . And so further lure our youths into the modern Athens secretly rising within the modern Babylon, and-here Socrates didn't have much luck-our maidens too. How times change! He had to lure them away from the gods, and I have to lure them back. But the gods too, after their bad experiences with us, have retreated into themselves and transformed themselves into a most splendid form. You simply never know what they are capable of. This summer the "35 will involve much read­ ing on my part, which is inconvenient because I'm already too deep in my new plans. Otherwise, how marvelous it could be. 'I'll expand my introduction to philosophy into a real shocker. The Cezanne exhibit at the Metropolitan. Over a hundred master­ pieces in a row. Just as Bach embraces almost the whole range of music, Cezanne does of painting. Such an exhibition comes about only once every fifty years. Pity you can't see it. But I guess I'll see it four times and describe it to you when you return. Kiesler36 has ex160

hibited a marvelous modern synthesis of sculpture and architecture, and solved the problem that derailed Rodin. He says, very happily, that I'm the only one who's understood it, and that makes me a real expert. This fall at the New School I intend to set up a sensational panel which I'll moderate, with him and Holty and a few others of my choosing, about the style of transformation. In the meantime, next week I'm going to explain to a group of businessmen something that will come as a big surprise, a transforma­ tion through divine intervention. I will show them the extent to which representatives of the liberal arts like us share their interest in freedom. How they, just like us, the true free intellectuals, will find that their ex­ istence is jeopardized by the , who is on the point of swinging himself up onto the backs of the masses, and to bury us where the masses are most concentrated, in concentration camps. (. . .] Jaspers, yes, Jaspers, of course I was right, because it's natural in the best and most marvelous sense. The things those philosophers of yours are doing to you! But that's what you wanted, and "the gods bestow everything,"37 but don't ask me how. If you can stay a bit longer and have a summer vacation with Jaspers in St. Moritz, . Such opportunities don't come often, and I don't mind sitting alone in Palenville,38 as long as I can have you at home afterward. Lots of little pats of the best kind. Heinrich [Paris,] 4.24.52

Dearest, Today, I think, is my writing day. I'm swimming through Paris, which unfortunately has cooled off, but otherwise is marvelous. Your good, nice, long (!)-main thing-letter, which arrived here most punctually on Tuesday. [. . .] Paris once again: "Truly ex1stmg together is what constitutes foreverness." My clever $nubby. Super-clever, even useful to busi­ nessmen. -I go faithfully to the libraries, work in the archives, lots of interesting stuff, but still just stuff. 161

My philosophers cause me much grief. Jaspers writes about every two days; I finally wrote to Freiburg;39 initially I left him without my address. I confirmed for May 19, then we'll see what happens. He wrote that he was relieved at least to know where I was. Difficulties with Madame are quite obvious. I imagine she's also furious that Jaspers treated him en canaille, and most probably she's somehow pinning the blame on me. In a word, a , which we already knew full well in New York. [. . .] I'm meeting everyone and his mother. I've written to you about Milosz already, haven't I? I'm meeting him again Saturday, together with Jeanne Hersch40 and a Frenchman, Rouault; writer. I also liked Herbert Luethy, Swiss, young, clever, and very charming. Will also see him again. Camus just rang, and I'm seeing Raymond Aron and Jean Wahl41 next week. This evening Koyre,42 who, it seems, is doing somewhat better. He has grown very old. Sartre et al. I don't want to see; it's pointless. They have immersed themselves completely in their theories and live on the moon a la Hegel. Went to Weil's Hegel semi • nar; pretty boring and very plodding. Really nothing special. I'm sure Gurian will suddenly pop up here at some point. I'll be very careful in Freiburg, and, the Lord willing, have a little bit of luck. I won't be able to keep my trip to Freiburg much of a secret. Ini­ tially I'll stay at least a week. But if at all possible, I'll use business as a cover. Alfred gave quite a good talk at the American Embassy, and we were all very proud and pleased. Then they both set off, he to Cologne by way of Holland, she [Ann Burstein] is going back. That child is already quite frightened of him; always the same story, and unpredictable. I like her very much, she really loves that boy. From Lasky an invitation to Berlin, which I think I will accept, and from Tiibingen (tell Alcopley) an invitation to give a talk at the Leibniz Institute. I hardly get to write, I have to make full use of my time in the li­ braries. The only thing I absolutely have to do is that piece for the Jaspers Festschrift, most probably about ideology and terror.43 It's just a question of time, and it would be great to get it down on paper so I can have it handy for lectures. 162

Dearest, go ahead and lure your youths and maidens to the gods, to your gods, whom you have hung so nicely on the walls of your study. I've finally grasped in Jaspers how dreadful and terrible it is to choose the old and jealous Jehovah as God, with his obsession about always being the only one. Today I sent off to you one or two book packages. You'll see. Let me know if there is something special you want. Books are relatively cheap. Tomorrow I'm going with Annchen to hear the St. Thomas Choir from Leipzig. Yours

Dearest,

[New York,] 4.26.52

When you live sous les toits de Paris, and; as I can see; participate

in its petit bonheur, stoutly boozing and cathedral-visiting, it's per­ fectly fine to get a little silly with happiness. I am deeply pleased that your feeling for architecture has blossomed. Now you will learn to love Paris twofold.

[. . .]

And all of you there, in Chartres, Cernay, la V ille, trees in flower. "When words such as these I do sing, is there any greater thing, than to praise you, 0 beauteous day of spring?"44 Are you trying to make me homesick? But how immune I am. I'm grappling with problems, ask the masters, explain to my students, and have spun a tight cocoon around myself. Well, I'll tell you all about it soon enough, and you'll interrupt me and I'll love it.In the meantime I can't escape the dinner invitations. [. . .] The congratulations for the Guggenheim are flooding in, and I'm thanking everyone on your behalf. Today I have to traipse out to New Jersey on a teaching jaunt with a couple of students and painters. The charming old Jew from my phi­ losophy course has become quite attached to me, he's turned out to be a New School , and is planning to visit me. Even out of philosophy a springs. Oh, well, he is charming. We had a few days of glorious spring, and now it's wet and cold again. I hope Paris is still basking in the sunshine and you too. 163

. Your long letter was marvelous. Your Heinrich Paris, May 1, 1952

My dearest, May 1st is an official holiday, and I'm wandering around like crazy. It's warm and sunny and what the Parisians call oppressive be­ cause they don't know what is. In short, marvelous. Your letters now are particularly nice. So free and easy, and defi­ nitely profoundly cheerful. [. ..] Yesterday I was with Camus; he is without a doubt the best man they have in France. All the other intellectuals are at most bearable. That also goes, entre nous, for Raymond Aron, who welcomed me with such warmth and friendship that I don't want to say this out loud. Jean Wahl, as always, /'intelligence d'un lyceen [sic] coated with a thick layer of so-called poetics. Today I was with Henry Fresnay, the former ministre de la resistance and now president of the Europe movement. He wants to place my book with Plon,45 which I don't think he'll manage.A marvelous man, military school, St. Cyr, I think, masculini generis. The only one who could have grabbed power after the libera­ tion, and who didn't out of decency and foolishness, although he is not foolish, but rigorous and intelligent. He understands a bit about America (this is well-nigh unbelievable), is a modern man, and in fact should really be in politics instead of wasting his time in this forlorn federalistic five-and-dime joint. Liked him a lot-I'm sure I'll meet him again. He told me about the political murder of rivals that the Communists committed in the name of the resistance right after the liberation, which, according to him, ran into the tens of thousands. In a single small town in the Department of Garonne around 800 Spaniards (Anarchists, Poum46 followers, etc.) were murdered. This gives you a perspective. And so in no time the entire resistance was compromised in everyone's eyes, i.e., the population's. And they didn't have the courage to expose these things ruthlessly and immediately disassociate themselves from the Communist murderers. Voila. A c ­ cording to him, this is about the most important reason everything went wrong. I want to find out exactly what's behind this dark story, 164

and in the next few days will meet with somebody who can tell me everything en detail [sic]. A girl will do her very best for her $nubby. Yesterday I had complimentary tickets to see Alban Berg's Wozzek,47 a marvelous Viennese performance. According to Ann­ chen, only the Germans know how to do theater. A great perfor­ mance. The music alone! (Don't laugh.) Tomorrow I'm getting more complimentary tickets for a piece by an Austrian the whole of Paris is talking about. On va voir. Sunday with Juliette [Stern] to see Avare. 48 Last week, the St. Thomas Choir from Leipzig. Unbelievably beauti­ ful. All of this just to let you know what I'm up to. But every day I'm at the library, like a good girl. Still the most incredible vacation. Also having a nice time with Annchen. Right now there is a nice exhibition of 50 years of French painting, which really does show what a tremendous development there's been. A couple of very nice Modiglianis and an ox head by Picasso. Unfor­ tunately there wasn't a single reproduction, otherwise I'd have sent you the whole exhibition. [ . . .] There's a whole bunch of books, some of which I bought, and some of which I collected. Among them a trouvaille-Le systeme [sic} de la nature by Holbach49 in a beautiful 18th-century edition, for about $2.50. I've no idea what I'm going to do with all this stuff. I'll have to practice packaging. I'm going to call it quits, though, for the time being, I don't have any francs left. As long as they're not new, books here are ridiculously cheap. And you can still find everything. My letters get to be so long because I have so much to tell you. They could be even longer.I'm a little embarrassed. So that you know how I feel, I'll write you a little poem, that came to me as we drove from Chartres through the blossoming countryside. The earth piles field on field, weaves in the trees beside them, and lets us thread our ways around the fields and out into the world. Blossoms rejoice in the wind, grass shoots up to bed them sweetly, the sky turns blue and softly greets, the sun wreathes the gentle chains. 165

People do not lose themselves­ earth, sky, light, andforest­ every spring reborn again in the play ofthe most wonderfulpower.

This paradise will come to an end next week, and the serious side of life will begin. It's high time, though. Believe me, we couldn't live here anymore. A fool's paradise, but a paradise. One would have to be very young or very old. But for a vacation, my God, too good to be true. DearestYour ] [. . . [New York,] 5.3.52 Dearest, Your letters have really become a necessity for me, I run to the mailbox. Your voice sounds so clear from within them, and you really give me the chance to take part a little in Paris and Europe, and to enjoy them along with you. I can picture everything so well again. Thank God the Barons had received your letter50 by the time I went there for dinner, and Jeanette's somewhat piqued countenance had melted into a friendly smile, while Baron's face, which had al­ ready begun reflecting reserved masculine feelings of inner hurt, now reflected deep contentment. They want to feel personally c o n ­ nected to you. The number of people that have become dependent on your regard for them is astounding, and pleasing for me to see. Overcome your reluctance and send some postcards with a few friendly words. [. . .] Padover51 wants to know if you want to give a lecture at the New School. I'll send you his letter along with other things on Monday. I found the blouse, and am hoping to send it to you with Rahe/52 on Monday. My only joy here is the Cezanne exhibit. Otherwise, lots of sense­ less work at the New School, . I feel terrible about Jonas, I talked you into it, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of money-panic. So, double-crazy. Poor Snubby. You are completely right about Heidegger. All that pustulating drives me up the wall, particularly when it manifests itself so clearly all around him. For it really isn't just his wife, but also his sons, and he himself, although this time he talked a lot and almost lamented (which he has never done before), and sees things as they are, but only it seems when I'm right there stirring everything up-like a fox in a henhouse. I'm happy about the New York causeries. $35 for something one doesn't have to prepare is not bad at all. And I really like doing that. I'll be seeing Alfred around July 6 in Cologne, unless he's in Basie get­ ting married. 195

[. . .]

Don't let my handwriting anger you; I did try hard. Will soon be back with you again where I belong. Your-

[New York,] 6.28.52 Dearest, I am very happy that you and Robert had such a friendly meeting. I wish you'd finally believe me that Robert likes you from the bottom of his heart. He has never spoken so openly about his problems to anyone else except me. With him, all I'm worried about is war, loss of citizenship. But maybe there won't be a war for a very long time. Oth­ erwise, nothing much can happen to him. He'll always pull through, and keep up his way of life with all his women. After all, none of us

change in those basic matters. If one can accept that, one can live quite

nicely with the people one loves, and one becomes actively tolerant and , which is one of the most important human qualities. But unfortunately in such situations, one can't have foolish women, and unfortunately Elke [Gilbert] is foolish, though not to the point of malice, like Martin's wife [Elfride Heidegger]. Natasha 133 has come to visit Minka [Huber). It is sad to see what fanatical modern religious movements can do to people. Particularly to Jews, who are subject to it through their moral idealism and total lack of understanding of freedom. This mix of servitude and thirst for power-it seems to have already ruined the whole of Western civi­ lization, at least in Europe. And how ugly it makes their women. The poor things! It would have been better to keep them out of politics and have them focus on their lovers their willingness to be of service. Napoleon was right. The question is whether the world will become republican or cossackish, and the problem was that we had no idea that the modern masses and the deep-rooted "unhealthy Egyptian faith" 134 know how to twist every attempt at freedom into cossack­ ism. And she's a person who used to listen to me. Nothing I taught her remains, and how the face contorts when my gods no longer smile upon man. But I will try all the harder to entice the youths and maid­ ens to the eternal and mostly invisible Athens. 196

We had a couple of terrible heat waves here, but the courses are going well, and all the students showed up heroically. Their numbers have in fact grown. The New School says that it's a record number for the summer. Big and long discussions. They won' t let go of me. I've received touching thank-you notes from some of the students who at­ tended my previous course, and I've become a constant topic of dis­ cussion in student circles. They form small discussion groups. They go to art exhibits together, and then tell me how much better they are able to appreciate works of art. Friendships blossom, and the young people become quite lively. Don't worry-this isn't a burgeoning movement or party, nor will any fanaticism grow out of my philoso­ phy, as much as some might wish it. No movement whatever, just a slow and constant impetus. Furthermore, for the second time now, the quality of the students is better. The right students seem to tell other right students. And that is the only form of publicity I wish for. [. . .] Frau Jaspers wrote me a nice letter about the blouse. [. . .] You are deeply missed here by all. Rose and Holty and Bowden135 send their regards. Jonas, too, would rather have you here-I can re­ late to the poor boy's feelings. People can barely grasp what a lone predator a goy like me can be, particularly one who's a philosopher. But it seems it's too late for me to acquire the famous and beloved Yiddishness, that emotional warmth of the womb with its unaired mentality, and I will have to end my days a cold bastard. You see how important your presence is to throw a warm ray of light on me and thus charitably deceive the poor souls. I know how awful you must feel about the Martin legend, 136 but I'm also aware that you can still be cheerful enough, not only because you are unslayable, but because you are becoming ever more alive, 0 girl from far away, 137 you are a good miracle. Your Heinrich

[Durham,] 6.29.Si Dearest, Should I be so incredibly captivated by the cathedral here? 138 Just to be sure, I'll send you a series of postcards, which obviously

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can't convey a real picture. The inner space is among the most beautiful I have ever seen in romantic structures. In this region there is much Norman architecture, which I don't really care for. But thisOtherwise I'm fine. I've had a most marvelous rest here, and feel damn good. Friede [Kronenberger]'s husband-a doctor of Jewish peasant stock, more peasant than Jew-even nicer than I remember him being. A small English suburban town near Newcastle in the middle of a mining district. But all of England looks like it's mainly made of coal. Everything black from 150 years of coal dust. The people here are doing well, and the rise of the working class is much more palpable than in London. I am very glad I decided to take this trip north and actually to see a bit of England. London is irri­ tating, , one can't find one's way about, the duodecirnal system139 plus driving in the wrong direction, but these are only symptoms of a characteristic English awkwardness that is hard to describe, but is very striking in every aspect of life. And yet things work out somehow, because everyone is surprisingly friendly. All very strange. Today is Sunday, and we're about to drive off into the surrounding area. I want to see the Duke of Northumberland's castle and the sea. Tomorrow morning it's back to London, where I'm going to meet Herbert Read140 in the afternoon and Jaspers' translator in the evening. 141 On Tuesday I'm off to Cambridge, and then in the evening to Paris. Globe-trotting. I do enjoy it. Dearest, you have to do me one more favor. Kate Furst didn't manage to leave Palestine. She sent a telegram that she couldn't. Most probably because of a new tax law-anything above fifty pounds in foreign currency is taken away. This means that they're even worse off. I have to send CARE. It's quite easy: you send a $10 check to Care (I think it's 25 Broadstreet [sic], but I'm not sure), with the ad­ dress.Please do it right away, and do it once again in July or at the be­ ginning of August. Her address: Mrs. Kate Furst, 16 Halevanonstreet, Tel Aviv, Israel. Favor no. 2: Get Friede a two-year subscription to Harpers Maga­ zine. Address: Mrs. Friede Kronenberger, 52 Hartley Avenue, Monk­ seaton, W hitley Bay, Northumberland. 198

Don'.t be angry. I read about the heat wave. I hope you have finally decided on air­ conditioning. Please leave New York the moment your course has ended. Don't wait for me. Your Hannah I forgot: I bought a woolen vest for you and a cardigan for me, which I sent directly home, addressed to me, because that way one avoids the incredibly high . So don't be surprised, just store with mothballs. These things are so nice and cheap here that one really can't resist.

Dearest,

Cambridge, July, 1, 52

A quick word, because I've just found out my next addresses. [. . .]

I really can't write here. Two charming children are rollicking around me. I'm staying with my very charming, and also charming­ looking, "little" cousin and her husband,142 who is a very decent and sensible art historian whose job is preservation of historical monu­ ments in Cambridge. Cambridge is a dream and, once again, very, very strange, like everything else in England. One can have good and sensible conversations here. I enjoy that. This evening on to Paris, where Annchen is expecting me tomor­ row morning. There, a letter of yours will be waiting for me and everything will be fine. Here we are having a so-called heat wave, and in London it is really , which hardly matters as far as I'm concerned, what with that incredible talent the English have for mak­ ing life uncomfortable. [. . .] You never write about book packages. I hope you've received everything. Do confirm from time to time. Farewell, dearest, get yourself some air-conditioning!!! Soon, soonYour Say hello to Jonas. 199

[New York,] 7.5.52 Dearest, You see, I got your short letter with the change of addresses in time. This letter, I imagine, will be as short as yours, because we're having such an unbearable heat wave that I simply can't do anything beyond my lectures. Everything is becoming unbearable. I still don't have any air-conditioning-I dawdled too long to get a cheaper one. And I can't make up my mind about anything.The lectures have been good till now, and the people are enthusiastic, but I never really know how I'm doing and whether I'm doing it right. Anyway, I'm too ex­ hausted. You're sending woolen things? My God, I haven't put any­ thing in mothballs yet! I checked right away. Everything seems still unharmed. I should put your fur in storage. Jonas is staying now in our front room, how can I expose him to that stench? I haven't been out of the city yet because I was too undecided to accept any of the invitations, and have become tired of people, don't want to see any­ one, don't want to hear anything. Am immersed in my work, though things are progressing slowly because of the heat. [. . .] The unopposed passing of the horrendous new immigration bill has completely dis­ heartened everyone. Even the idiots on the left who moved all the way to the right are taken aback. Though they themselves helped bring it about. It seems that anyone can be expatriated just on the basis of a simple denunciation. 1 43 And my case isn't moving along at all. 144 With one stroke, this country's citizenship has become the most worthless in the world. And how soon will it be before they will want to develop a master race out of the . I miss you. I can't curse away my fury, and it is horrible to have to swallow every­ thing without saying a word.

[. . .]

I am happy that the Engadine145 matter is definite. I imagine you'll need some relaxation too. Particularly after the shock with the Freiburg [Heidegger] situation. I'm sure you did the right thing, but what a mis­ ery, a life ruined like that. And all of it because of foolish preconcep­ tions and social weaknesses. This society does deserve to go to hell, and it seems that it will. If his manuscripts could at least be secured. Dearest, don't be angry about this moody letter. It's not that bad, you are mine and that's all I want. Your Heinrich 200

Schloss Georghausen, July 7, 1952

Dearest, I'm still amazed when I finally arrive somewhere. So I arrived here in Cologne yesterday from Paris after a pretty hellish journey-the train completely filthy, the temperature 95 degrees or higher, about 38 Celsius-with Alfred and Zilkens waiting for me at the station. Zilkens drove all of us straight here, where, as a reward, it is simply heavenly. A baroque castle from the end of the 17th century, com­ pletely unchanged, marvelous rooms (my closet nicely dated 1684) with all the comforts of then and now. The touchingly sweet Zilkens ordered my room specially months in advance, the most beautiful in the whole castle. Zilkens, nota bene, first abducted Alfred's picture of you which is always on his nightstand, and second gave me a mar­ velous book of photographs of Zwiefalten146 for you.That I'll send­ and if you could bring yourself to write him a few words of thanks, that would be very nice. You can't imagine how nice this fellow is to me. Next Sunday, after amply relaxing, I will talk in front of the smallest gathering. A real friend, and (this, more for you) he has quite an extraordinary talent for viewing art. W hile we are on the subject of presents: in one of the book packages that will be arriving from Mu­ nich, or might already have arrived, there is a Boethius; 147 it's from Jaspers for you. Alfred and Ann got married in Basie. Alfred is leaving for Cam­ bridge before the end of the German semester, because he can't stand it here. But that's his restlessness more than anything else. That boy­ he's basking in happiness right now-is a problem and will remain one. His little girl much less so. I'm sending him to my cousin in Cambridge. She, N.B., and her husband are very nice people. I always see to it that everywhere there is someone who can help a little. I have to start getting my for the Festschrift148 into fair copy, as Martin would say. That is why I don't want to write to you about England yet, which is still preoccupying me very much, be­ cause it would distract me. Maybe we should put that off until I see you. Dearest-I can hardly wait. A few more words-Paris was like home again, this time almost more so, because I can speak freely again and know the city like no other in the world. I even still know the Metro system by heart. 201

...

[ ] I'm very sad about the business with Natasha [Moch]. I know how bad something like that can be. It isn't only the Jews who don't know what freedom is. Deep down everyone, or almost everyone, really wants to be dominated. And when the external domination of terror is coupled with the inner self-domination of ideology, people become ready and willing to endure anything. People like us are seen as the enemy and the ultimate threat. You can't do anything, but you can teach your courses, and that is the best and greatest thing one can do. To lure the youths. He who does not let the gods lure him is lost. (Dearest, I wish you were here this very moment, for the frogs are croaking so beautifully.) I'm looking forward to fall and to being able to come to your course regularly. To have the time to do that and to be able to cook for you seems heavenly. I am feeling very rested, regardless of all my tir­ ing activities. Only England was really tiring-and also very expen­ sive. Which aggravates me, because I've never been as uncomfortable anywhere else. When I got to Paris, I had only a single thought in my mind-. I ate like a pig with Annchen. [. . .] I wish you would decide on an air conditioner. I saw some nice machines that wouldn't cost more than $300 for a small room. For your room, where you should put your couch on really bad days. See you soon, dearest. Your

[New York,] 7.12.52 Dearest, Please don't be worried about my last moody letter. You know how easily one's nerves can fray here in summer. Air-conditioning wouldn't help either. It's simply too much to have to teach a class every day, and one class is three hours long. And I can't supply the New School with air-conditioning. The course on the seemed to me one of the most intelligible classes I've given. And its issues are totally up-to-date, so I often run into admiring hos­ tility. I try to take away too many illusions from people. Nor are they

202

knowledgeable enough to grasp the literary side of things. So I con­ stantly have to correct everything, which is obviously tiring. Every­ one says the lectures are marvelous and brilliant, but I'm not satisfied. You know that ultimately I trust only your judgment, and I really miss your guidance, particularly on this course. But things wiU work out. I'm over the first half now, and only have six lectures left for each course. On top of everything, my disgruntlement manifested itself as an upset stomach, which I've finally got over. I'm in great shape again, and the heat isn't bothering me that much either. I don't think I'll be going to Palenville before you arrive. When I finally get some time to myself, around August 1st or so, and the classes are behind me, I want to work quietly on my fall courses. Hav­ ing a stranger149 standing and walking about the house sets my nerves on edge. I'm simply not young anymore. And then that snooping tact­ lessness that most Jews feel because of their plebeian heritage, which isn't their fault. And I, of aJl people, have to deal with it. He [Jonas] is doing fine. Just that he can't cope with the heat. Mary has been begging me to come over. If I wait for you, would you go there with me to the seashore for three or four days, and then to PalenvilJe? I'd still have three weeks, and that's more than enough. Anyway, let me be the judge. Once Jonas has left, your room will really entice me to work there. Durham Cathedral is truly remarkable. And now thou art at a baroque castle, and then St. Moritz. Imbibe it all; this is just what I wanted for you, real fun after aJI that work. I can't wait to hear about everything. Well, Paris, I know. Sometimes I actuaJly get homesick. Particularly when you are there. Yes, we did live there, as unreal as it may seem, and to some extent became what we are. [ ] By the way, most of the opposition in my classes comes from the old Jews and the young American dunderheads. The more intelligent students seem to be all the more swayed, and storm me with ques­ tions. An evangelical , a student of Tillich's, after a lecture and a subsequent discussion with Tillich about problems of religion (after which the student was visibly shaken), turned away from me as from the devil. WeJl, philosophizing is the most dangerous thing in the world, and that is what I teach them in my classes. But the old

...

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Jews love me anyway, regardless of how I shock them. By the way, Bertha [Gruner] is taking this course and is very enthusiastic! I wish the two of us were already unwinding in Palenville, mulling everything over. That bastard [Robert A.] Taft has been given carte blanche by his party for his alliance with [Douglas] MacArthur and Joseph McCarthy. It's a ray of hope. The other ray was when the French suddenly called the Communist bluff. But now they're suddenly acting all shy and lawful. Had the Americans initi­ ated a progressive workers' politics of their own coinage in Europe and Asia, the Russian menace would have collapsed within ten years without war. My warmest greetings to Alfred [Kazin] and his wife, and I wish them all the best. Also say hello to the Jaspers, and to everyone you meet. Who is that nice Mr. Zilkens? I send him my greetings anc!. my thanks for all he has done for you. Are you going to see Robert again? I'm working on some new things and am quite curious myself. . Waiting for you here are your Snubby, your home and your friends. Your Heinrich My greetings to fine old Heidelberg. What will your talk be about? Anyway, it'll do them good. And what will you speak about to the select few at the baroque castle? I am somewhat curious about your work, my dear Fraulein. So, drop me a line or two. Heidelberg, Z 18.52 Dearest, The thing that really worries me in your letters is that you are so unhappy about your living arrangements. I can't quite understand it. The apartment must be big enough for the two of you not to keep tripping over each other's toes. With you, though, one really can't do that. My poor, beloved, misunderstood Snubby. The heat must really be unbearable this year. As far as that's con­ cerned, here it's over, and even in Heidelberg it is so cool that I run around in a jacket. Last week was quite strenuous and I went a little crazy. First Cologne with two discussion evenings that went on late into the night, followed by champagne to venerate me suitably. Very 204

charming. I talk everywhere about "Terror and Ideology," which I've fixed up quite nicely for the Jaspers Festschrift. I have definitely done my best. -On my arrival, I was greeted by a letter from Jaspers. -In Cologne I met a ministry department director (or something like that) from Bonn, who officially negotiates for Germany in Paris. He was complaining quite bitterly about French chauvinism, while pro­ claiming in the same breath that he had studied at the "former Ger­ man Reich University of Strasbourg, now the Expatriate German University of Strasbourg." You find this kind of attitude all over the place, without people even realizing what they are saying. -Heidel­ berg has been a personal success for me, by far the greatest of the day; and yet there are also a large number of things that make one fear the worst.I've just come back from a discussion with students which they themselves set up (needless to say, the faculty eyes me with suspicion) to talk further about my lecture. High quality, but it was only the best who came-about twenty-five from all departments. Otherwise there is sectarianism. On Wednesday, a priest of the Niemoller 150 credo spoke, who had brought along his own group of theologians lined up like a military column. As if by command, these gentlemen scraped their boots and stamped their feet throughout the discussion, until I stepped in and made things so difficult that they fell silent. Gurian let himself be provoked and (understandably) got really nasty. At that, the same students obediently marched out of the room, followed by the dean (!sic!) and some of the professors, doors slamming shut behind them; then, after a while, they meekly came back again, without slamming the doors. There's a similar Heidegger clique too-the lowest of the low. Some of them were at my lecture, total idiots-and they only make things more difficult. Everything is concentrated around these pseudo-political organizations; there's not much philosophy being studied. Things being what they are, Lowith is probably not that bad, because he knows a lot, and how to clarify things. On the other side of the barricade are people like Riistow,151 affiliated with Sternberger, who proclaim (this was directed at me), "Metaphysics are quite superfluous." That Riistow fellow is even more impossible than I had already gathered from his book.152 Idiotic. Stern­ berger has gone completely bourgeois. Lowith, very nice-I went to see him-but he's bent on waging war. It's an absolute madhouse, and 205

I'm glad that it's got nothing to do with me. -I also went to see Al­ fred Weber, who, unfortunately, is so "youthful" that it verges on childishness. But that, too, nobody notices here. Basically, I'm glad to be getting out of Heidelberg. I realize from this letter that I'm angry. But it's nothing personal. Everyone is charming to me, and the Heidegger clique was even en­ thusiastic. My reasons are objective. The long and the short of it: I need to get back to my $nubby, not to have to watch my p's and q's, to ask questions and listen, and not be alone. The nice Mr. Zilk.ens, as you call him, is my acquaintance from the train, and by now quite an "old friend." He's behaved touchingly. He's a doctor from an old Catholic family from Cologne, about thirty-four years old, wife and child, had read all my essays and set everything up for me in Cologne. He follows me everywhere, even traveling through the night. In short, my last(?) flirt. Mary: I agree. The seashore sounds good. I have to be in Buffalo on the 25th or the 26th at a stupid conference, but that should work out fine. Then I'll also come over to Palenville if that fits in with your plans. You definitely need at least a four-week change of air and some real peace! I myself don't need that. I'm rested and am getting all the rest that a European summer offers. And on top of that, the days in St. Moritz. I'm about to set off for Marburg ( Jewish Cultural Reconstruction) to look into a couple of things that I can't find elsewhere. After that, at the beginning of the week, Frankfurt, where I imagine I'll be stay­ ing with Dolf [Sternberger]. Air-conditioning: I believe that it would help things and can't quite see why you haven't installed it. The only reason we hadn't done it yet was because our finances were shaky. But now it looks like we'll pull through quite well. Ergo . . . Please, I beg you: don't let my fur get moth-eaten! That won't do. All you have to do, should you not want to mothball the closet, i s to take the coat out for storage. Anyway, we should definitely use mothballs, or we'll definitely get moths-I 'm drowning in all these definitelys. [ . ..] 206

Farewell, dearest. You have my . Soon, soon, not even a month. I'm anxious. Your

[New York,] Z18.52 Dearest, This is a Friday letter, because I have to go to Connecticut imme­ diately to take a look at Gumperz's new place. It couldn't happen at a better time, because we're having another heat wave, this time with humidity of a kind we've never had before. One can barely see a thing, and one sweats buckets. In class both students and teachers are more dead than alive . . . in almost all the classes the students stay away en masse, except in my classes. That borders on the heroic. And at the helm, Clara Mayer, who regularly comes now to sit in on my Myth class. I'm glad I'm getting out of the city for two full days. But the few preparations for the trip and the three-hour train journey are almost too much for me. I experienced air-conditioning in Clara Mayer's office for a few hours, and came to the gloomy realization that here too one sits sweating in musty air, and this to a never­ ending hum. Oh, well. I still have to take care of a few things for the trip and meet with Case,153 the President of Bard College, who through [Horace] Kallen will call me here this morning. What could he want? Oh, God, a college full of uppity geese, I can already see them sitting around foolish and all puffed up and hear them chattering away, all the chilly­ sillies [sic] [. . .] If the goblet is of gold, I won't be able to refuse it, but maybe it will pass me by. I sent off the [sic]. The rest hasn't been done yet. 154 (. . .] That was the president just now, with an arrogant, casual, fake Anglo-Saxon voice. I have to meet him right away. These gentlemen always act so busy, and inevitably insist on the time they mention­ they can't meet half an hour later. Dearest, in this letter you must make do with unexpressed feel­ ings, but they are . Instead, I am enclosing the business cor­ respondence of my famous Madam Snuffy.

207

I'm glad you'll be in St. Moritz soon, and am looking forward to August 17, which isn't that far away anymore. Your Heinrich Frankfurt, 7.25.1952

Dearest, I hope that the goblet with the fake Anglo-Saxon voice is not of gold, and that it passed you by.Bard College is, I believe, particularly unpleasant, but your across-the-board dubbing of our gender as geese did upset me a little. I'm sitting here in Frankfurt, staying with the Sternbergers, who are touching and very sweet to me. I ran into Dolf by chance in Hei­ delberg and then had to agree to come over. Which also had its good side, even though I can't really do any work because too much is going on around me. In Marburg I also saw Bultmann and Kruger, 155 the latter very pessimistic about political developments in Germany, the former quite unaware, but charming and decent as ever. Hans [Jonas] should write to him immediately, unless he already has. He is a little hurt, and is too good a man to be hurt. Intellectually, Marburg is completely dead. It doesn't even have the pseudo-intellectuality of Heidelberg. And there are so many fraternity students around that one prefers to stay off the streets. Everyone over twenty is a lost cause; as for the rest, it's a different matter. Yesterday I sat up till one in the morning with Fritzchen Uaensch], Hella's son, who came into town after a workday that lasted from four-thirty in the morning to nine in the evening. W hat a ray of light. That boy has an intellect that is so clear and bright, and a cheerfulness that warms one's heart. May the Lord preserve it. He knows as much about the [U.S.] presidential elections as I do and, without knowing it, looks at things from a similar standpoint. But otherwise I'm happy to be leaving. Even though that's quite unfashionable now. There are many "returnees" here from America, all of them intellectuals who couldn't stand the States anymore, and who didn't want to let the really good (but in my opinion temporary) opportunities here slip through their fingers. I did write you that I saw Lowith.He's just one of many. But don't let this tempt you; we would have a hard time putting up with this masked ball of the '20s, which re208

sembles Proust's death ball to a hair. In this sense I'm also worried about Heidegger's fame, i.e., worried for him. The whole thing hns turned into a "movement," a "direction," and tomorrow the wind might well blow differently and change course. He's well aware of this, yet somehow is swimming along, though I have made him a little more mistrusting. Very careful. Jiinger, e.g., whom everyone was talking about two years ago, is totally out now-his books are nowhere to be seen, it's as if he no longer exists. Here things change from one day to the next. Right now the same applies to Jaspers, although that doesn't mean anything. It's the current German climate where everything is up in the air. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think so. I'm looking forward to St.Moritz, and the cool European summer seems to be doing me good. I only wish I could let you have some of it. This year must have been crazy and worse than ever. I'm not con­ vinced by your objections to air-conditioning, and I'm worried that you didn't put my fur in mothballs. My good, expensive coat! [. . .] I'm curious what you've decided concerning Mary, and if we'll go straight there. I wish you'd left New York right after the end of . How is Rose? Haven't heard from her again. Say hello to all our friends and tell them not to get too used to my absence, because I'm coming back and am hoping for an extremely warm welcome. I'm dying to really and truly work again. I think I finally know . The same goes for the Near East. And, on top of that, what's tied in with all of this is the idiotic overfilling of positions, offices, jobs. For instance: In some godforsaken hole in the Belgian Congo, where America has no interests at all, other powers have consulates with two, three at the most, employees. The Americans, however, 220

have 45. It's the same everywhere. Particularly in London and Paris. Whenever he has to find something out, or needs some information, he goes straight to the English consulate-they might be ironic, but they do things so marvelously that one gladly puts up with their irony. Then a big discussion about Mendes-France.3 He has to laugh when he reads the newspapers here, but also doesn't really believe that Mendes-France will make it. He evaluates France very accurately; in­ cluding his very high opinion of engineers in road and railway con­ struction. He gave American cars as an example of slackness and stultification here: despite marvelous parts, the cars are becoming increasingly useless, and are much worse than French or German models, because the isn't working anymore. He was traveling to California to see his children and grandchildren; was very worried about the latter, because he was frightened they would become stupid. Well, that was my engineer. Then I had a real dinner in the dining car, where a so-called Italian dinner was served, which is very popu­ lar and which I took because it is cheaper. Across from me, a lady from Rochester-you should have seen that: espresso and garlic con­ sidered the height of civilization and reading what? a detective story. As for garlic, the dining car, fully aware of the latest fashion, had put so much into the food that it would have been enough to "civilize" the whole continent. But who would have imagined that such a future would have awaited garlic! The lady, by the way, was quite charming. But so typical that I had to look twice to assure myself I wasn't sitting opposite Ruth [Schulz] or Mary [McCarthy]. Otherwise, I only befriended the Pullman conductor, with whom I admired the Mississippi in the moonlight-actually we were the only ones. The rest were drinking whiskey, playing cards, or reading mysteries (this, only the did). But at least now there's nothing I don't know about the railroad worker wage-and-pension plan. And also that every gets an additional dollar from the government for every dollar he makes, with the result that everyone in a family has his own car, and the brother-in-law of my conductor, believe it or not, has thirteen. His conclusion was that the railroad workers should also get something like that-I calculated that he was making about $7,000, if not more-and that the government could subsidize railroad workers the same way it did the farmers and their 221

butter. Interestingly enough he kept stressing that it wasn't the com­ pany's fault that things were so "bad" for them. When he retires he will get only $140 a month, to which Social Security will be added. Circumstances being so desperate, these men work till they are over eighty. Particularly the ones not interested in golf. Believe it or not. An older man, N.B., and very nice. You see, Snubby, this girl is learning a lot. The train is a dream, i.e., from Chicago on.The most beautiful train in the world, I think. And very punctual. The sloppiness is only in the Central and Pennsylvania systems. It's not that expensive, either-one can eat very cheaply in a . Everything much, much better once the train has left Chicago. Everything changes. And people speak so loud that you feel no longer like that hard of hearing uncle Hanemann.4 Well, so I arrived very punctually and was picked up and delivered by a young gentleman from the [Political Science] department. My room here is exactly the way one would imagine a comfortable monk's cell to be. I am sure that in a monastery too all the monks come dropping in on new arrivals under all kinds of pretexts. One woman has already slid all the maps of San Francisco, Berkeley, the campus, timetables, etc., under my door, imploring me to keep them, and just now a very nice girl from next door dropped in to ask if I would like her dictionaries, and this just after one of the nuns left dejectedly with her radio, which for some impenetrable reason she wanted to unload on me of all people-needless to say, free of charge. The excitement is particularly intense because they know, or claim to know, my book.5 Anyway, they've obviously never seen an author before.What's worst is that two Germans exist somewhere here in the monastery who have done their bit to fan the excitement. I heard some German spoken in the corridor today, and immediately bolted my door. I'm sure things will settle down.They are all very charming and decent, and on Monday I'm getting a nice office at the university where I can be [sic]. Oh, yes, and imagine: There was already a letter waiting for me. But not from a concerned Snubby, oh, no, but from a , the current president of the Commonwealth Club, asking if I could give a talk there. It is the most prestigious club in the state, which is with clubs, , as in , and 222

it's considered a great honor. Should I take part in that charade? The members are all university presidents, generals, and the like. The first letter from a retired general-nice, isn't it! Today I went to the department, everything seems to be all right.A massive factory conglomerate; I don't know yet what the students are like, except that two of them from some Greek letter of the alphabet managed to kidnap me (i.e., one of the ). Of course they want me to give a talk. They say [President] Truman also talked there, etc. I had a cup of coffee with them first-which, by the way, is worse here than I've ever had before. And it's the same everywhere. I have just purchased a small electric coffeemaker, otherwise I'll die. Or will become as stupid as the Czech engineer thinks the young generation is.I've settled in, but haven't managed to do anything else yet. I can see the Pacific in the distance, i.e., the bay. Tomorrow I'll probably cross over to San Francisco, armed with my schedules and maps. I cannot start work before I have seen the Pacific. Beautiful, beautiful world. By the way, the food at the club seems to be excellent and very cheap. Everything very comfortable. One returns from breakfast to a made-up room. My class is from 9 to 10. It doesn't matter. I got used to getting up at 7 easily enough on account of the time difference. And I really can't imagine that anything here could possibly keep me from being in bed by 11 on the dot. Well, dearest, that is everything. For the time being. And don't forget to write me. The telephone number is: Thornwald 5-5084, but you have to pre-book the call. I don't have a telephone in my room, it's in the corridor. Greetings and kisses. YOUR [New York,] 2.5.1955

Dearest, This time, the train hadn't even left the station yet, but I will nev­ ertheless be continuously waiting for you. It is so good that we belong together so this way. It will be a patient wait, as everything is planned down to the last detail, but it will also be an uninterrupted wait. Yet I imagine that it is much easier for me than it is for you, because 223

I am here at home with everything that is part of us warmly sur­ rounding me. And these intimate objects also express your presence. I hope you are comfortable enough there to immerse yourself completely in work. New surroundings can also be quite stimulating. Here I am swamped with students and their problems, have the New School exams behind me, and am preparing the new semester. The exams have depressed me. What little thought and understanding I have managed to arouse in these students! [. . .] This evening I'm going to listen to the "Magic Flute" at Lotte [Be­ radt]'s. Tomorrow some students are coming, and I will spend the whole day working and reading. I can't wait to hear how you have settled in and how you feel there. Your Heinrich

[Berkeley,] 2.12.55

Dear dearest, You cannot imagine how I waited for your letter. It is the link that reassures me, time and again, that I will not get lost. For when I am not with you I once more become as vulnerable as I used to be. And then what happens is, e.g., that I charge through Kaufmann's Viking Portable6 and read the really outrageously vulgar notes, like the one that claims that the song "It is noon, "7 with its restless bliss of watch­ ing and waiting, is , and what happens is that I get so upset I'm on the verge of tears, wounded, as if someone had walloped me over the head. That's how it is when you're not with me. And it is good that we belong together. But let me describe things as they happened: I was in San Fran­ cisco, very, very nice, like a vastly enlarged Lisbon. The Pacific, i n ­ credible-dark sand, imagine! And long and dangerous waves. The Golden Gate Bridge like the [George] Washington Bridge, they're really good at that here. The city is elegant and quite obviously in­ habited by retirees. But what is really marvelous here is the climate. It is indescribable-regardless of what you're wearing, you never feel 224

too hot or too cold.Why this is I have no idea. Of course everything is green all year round. And yet the temperatures aren't really high at all, but there is a constant fresh gentleness in the air which takes one completely by surprise. One's body also feels completely different, i.e., one doesn't feel one's body at all. It is easy to understand why people here go spiritually meshugah. It's the climate. I haven't seen the redwoods yet. Right behind my house are some very nice hills, still part of the university, with the most fabulous trees. Next week, though, Saturday I think, I'll go there. It's pure nonsense that one ab­ solutely has to have a car.The buses run as often as in New York, and all the connections are smooth. What is true, though, is that everyone here uses a car, even if it's just to go round the corner. Not I. Everything here in the club is wonderful. The food, a bit like Palenville, very much better for the men, and I can eat there too.Ac­ tually it's quite cheap here, though everything seems to be a little more expensive than in New York. The nuns no longer pester me, and a couple of them are quite charming. Interestingly enough there are two factions here, one ultra liberal/radical faction, which with unerr­ ing instinct made a beeline for me, and a McCarthyite faction, which is also being very attentive. I act as if I had no idea what's going on; and I'm sure this way I'll pull through. The liberals told me that there had been an all-out faction war here. This isn't reflected in personal relationships, though. Everything is done with extreme politeness, , very well-bred, and a veritable relief after the New York and Jewish-Brooklyn crudeness. Also, the students are very well-mannered, and behave elegantly. I am breathing a sigh of relief; after all, that's important for me, . It could also be that he's just working. My losing weight is no big deal. Actually it suits me, and I'm treat­ ing myself to large amounts of spaghetti. Furthermore, we already have CHERRIES here. Say hello to Lotte. She sent me such a charming little scarf. And also the Goethe calendar proved to be just right. She really has an incredible instinct for what other people need. I think of her often. Tell her! Farewell, dearest, till Sunday. Also the book package arrived. Merci. Your

[New York,] 5.29.55 Darling, I was very glad to turn down the Bard invitation for you.You are absolutely right about teaching and writing. Most of all, one can't work on one's own things if one has to work with young people. It re­ quires a constant changing of levels, which interferes with the conti­ nuity of one's work. I can take that better than you can, and I reap other benefits from it. But the semester out there seems to have done you some good if you are so stimulated that thoughts are buzzing around you, chewing you up like insects. I think the titles you sug­ gested are great, and I can't wait to hear about your new plans. I have done quite a lot of work in the direction of amor mundi myself in the last few months, for it is metaphysically one of my basic themes. The last weeks at Bard are proving to be very difficult for me. I've never been so exhausted in my life, and I need a real rest. We had too much back and forth with the students, and God knows if we would have survived this time if I hadn't intervened. Right now everyone's grateful to me, but I don't know if it won't just fuel jealousy in the long run. I have to train new teachers for the course, and I guess that in summer I'll have to do a couple of sessions at Bard myself. But that's a long way off, and it won't be too much trouble. Now I'm in the midst of laying out my material for next year, and it's getting on 261

my nerves. Particularly the endless book lists and all the administra­ tive preparations. [. . .] These last weeks have really been dragging on, but they are the last weeks, and soon we will be together again and talk. Take a good look at all the landscape there so you can tell me all about it, and have some fun in San Francisco. Till next Sunday, my darling. Your H [Berkeley, beginning of June 195j]

Dearest, I have just finished sorting out my ticket, although it did take me five hours. It had to be transferred to another railway company, and in the whole of America there isn't a single agency that can handle this kind of nonsense. But now everything seems really marvelous. I will be leaving on Saturday, June 18, in the morning, and will go first to the Grand Canyon, where I'll stay for a day, and from there via New Mex­ ico to Chicago and then home. I will be arriving at Grand Central from Chicago on Wednesday, the 22nd, at nine in the morning. Till then I still have so much to do, and so much I want to see, that my head is spinning. Tomorrow off again to the redwoods. Saturday/Sunday to Carmel, Monday a walking tour with Eric Hoffer.And in the meantime I have seventy papers lying here on my desk, along with the proofs of the German book,69 which my assistant did so badly that he needn't have bothered at all. Yesterday there was a big party, I had invited my graduate seminar and forty people showed up. I served them wine and cookies. It was quite nice, but I must say they are a foolish lot. Except for one who is absolutely brilliant, Morrison, whom I've invited to lunch on Thursday. He wrote an eighty-page paper about the relation­ ship between the Bolshevik party and the Soviets from 1905 to 1923, which is by far the best thing I've seen on the subject. Still, I feel relieved. Basically it's over, and I don't have to worry about lectures and seminars anymore. It did help me a lot, but enough is enough. Last week did pretty much finish me off, with the extra seminars and the "circus," and the simply unbelievable office hours. In my last lecture I attacked all the accepted theories here quite ener262

getically--so that the faculty, which is divided more

or less into these four camps, will know why it is against me. For, needless to say, all of this will spread across the campus with the speed of lightning. Yes, my darling, if it's halfway possible we should stay home for a while and not rush off to the four corners of the earth.You'd prefer that anyway, and I have had enough nature for this year. There's a big difference between living in New York's stone desert with all its noise, wanting to escape, and having spent so many long months under the open sky. I will really miss the quiet here. We can barely hear the jet planes, whose trails we always see high up. [. . .] I have to use every free minute to correct my , be­ cause I can't skim over them while I still have the faces of the kids freshly etched in my memory. From what I've seen they've really tried their darnedest. The circus, that is, not the . Next week I'm getting another fifty papers from my lecture course. Well, all of this will come to an end. Till then, dearest, try also to get some rest! Your! [New York,] 6.12.55

Darling, I'm glad you decided to see part of the West on your way back. One doesn't get such opportunities every day. Here it is cool for the time being, and I hope it will stay this way so we can really enjoy the apartment, which I'm already doing.I closed a week earlier at Bard. The last faculty meeting finally accepted, after three years, the 70 as a permanent and fundamental part of the academic program. Unanimously. Even the inveterate opponents of the Course didn't want to be known as such anymore. So, victory all the way. Now the college has to survive, and I'll have a permanent position, which is surprising enough as it is. But the president is doing his best to ruin us with his negligence and . It seems clear that we will be able to open next year. What is not clear, though, is if in April we'll be in the same position as last year. I hope that by then the rising birthrate will take effect here too. 263

...

[ ] All the world is asking after you, and you'll have quite a job at first catching up with all the social obligations.

.

Have fun with the new landscapes there, and hurry back!

.

Your

H. [B.] 6.15.55

Dearest, Your letter just arrived-your last. Thank God that all this splen­ dor is coming to an end. But splendor it is. I've been all over the place, but I'd rather tell you about it when I see you. My first impression, though, is that both stretches of coast along the Pacific are as similar to each other as along the Atlantic! When one arrives at Carmel, if one isn't driven insane by the nonexistent architecture, i.e., the futile imitation of gingerbread houses, one realizes immediately that one is almost in China. But the redwoods-which only now I have seen in real forests! Monday I went on a walking tour with Eric Hoffer and another dock­ worker. Really marvelous, but very strange, these giant trees. One suddenly feels like a child, i.e., one remembers how gigantic trees were in one's childhood. I have finished correcting all my . I also read all the poems which the young literati put to paper, some better, some worse. Among them also one about me. You see, everything's taken care of. Often at the end of the exam papers there was a letter to me. Very strange. As if they'd all suddenly gone crazy. I only hope that they're not all going to turn up in New York, peu a peu. That would be the end of me. Here at the club they're also mourning my departure. This damned popularity. I feel like an infernal scoundrel for wanting to go home as soon as possible. [ ] This time, a week from today, dearest, we will be together again. Your Hannah

...

264

VIII September to December 1955

Hannah Arendt's trip to Europe to participate in the international conference sponsored by the Congress for Cultural Freedom, in Milan, also took her to France, other places in Italy, Greece, Israel, Turkey, Switzerland, Luxembourg, England, and Germany. The trip lasted from September 1 to December 20, 1955. [Paris, 9.2.1955] Friday-breakfast

Dearest dear, That thing with the landing-stage was great: you see we were wait­ ing for a couple who, I have no idea why, hadn't managed to arrive on time. The was marvelous. The airplane empty, every passenger had a whole row of three seats to stretch out and sleep. The flight much smoother than any train, not to mention cars. We arrived here on time, and I found a mountain of mail waiting for me. Including a letter from the Europaische Verlagsanstalt saying that Plon wants the book.1 I'm going there right now to see. -Yesterday: Paris in great autumnal beauty-Picasso exhibit a bit of a disappointment, but I'll send you the catalogue by regular mail. Then Juliette [Stern], aged. Then, incredibly nice and friendly, a whole evening with Koyres. Today I'm going to see Alcopley and an exhibit of Picasso drawings. (By the way: the Picassos on these cards2 are not in the exhibit!) To­ morrow morning at 5:30!!! I'm off again. [...] I just got a telegram from Mary [McCarthy]-saying that it seems quite unlikely she can 265

get me a room. Venice seems to be "sold out."3 Paris-boom! They're building a little, too; incredible prices, only feasible for foreigners. Paris is making a killing on foreigners. . And, needless to say, poverty for everyone who has a regular job. The in­ tellectuals have all become rather fanatical and foolish. One is a Com­ munist or a Catholic or-enough! Your

Ravenna, Thursday, 9.8[1955] Dearest dear, It's beginning to rain, thank God, and I'm sitting outside in a cafe in Ravenna and getting some rest after the mosaics. But first of all Venice: I'm staying with Mary, who has an apartment, and who, like all Americans, is living in a golden ghetto. Horrendous. But Venice. I'm all eyes, and the weather is marvelous, the Italians charming and on the upswing. There's building going on everywhere, good building. Venice-the absolute tourist paradise, but smaller places like (yester­ day) Ferrara and Ravenna are visited only by Germans and are posi­ tively invades. Fantastic, but not uncomfortable. Italy is cheap, not for Americans, but for everyone who hasn't lost his mind yet. -Yester­ day in Ferrara, Cossa's4 frescoes, which I'd never heard of, 15th cen­ tury. I'll send you absolutely everything on postcards, which are good and cheap. Ravenna: a revelation for someone who has never seen mosaics and sees them all at once. And the old venerable city that now is only a small town, but charming and lively. Furthermore: alone at last! Mary very unhappy, I should say wretched, a la re­ cherche de rien du tout. 5 Koyre in Paris, nice and friendly as always. But France rather repulsive, and the French intellectuals gone to rack and ruin on Hegel. You see I'm swimming, and so is my head. How am I to write? I've never traveled this way, and I feel as if I had slipped into a new person who is suddenly seeing everything for the first time and who isn't even looking for words yet. I'm not writing about Venice because it hasn't slid into my word-sphere yet. And this marvelous being out­ doors all the time, with every piazza, not just San Marco, like a room. And the bridges at night in the full moon! 266

Dearest, write me. How's the semester? How have you solved the teacher problem at Bard? [. . .] Your!

H.

Venice, 9.10.55 Dearest, I hope that in the meantime you've received all my cards and the little letter, handwritten. I'm sitting now in front of Mary's type­ writer while she's having breakfast. I'm completely confused, for three days now I've simply driven around, roaming through this in­ credible, beautiful world and landscape, and late last night arrived like a Gypsy or a tramp in elegant Venice, which is a world apart. I was in Ferrara, Ravenna, Bologna and Padova. Tomorrow morning I'm continuing by bus via Mantua to Milan. Tell Lotte [Berndt] that the buses are just the right thing. And one doesn't feel that this landscape is foreign at all, everything feels familiar and intimate, yet forgotten or never known. And the people treat one as if one be­ longs, even if one doesn't speak a word of Italian and they don't speak a word of any other language. Somehow Europe is a reality here, and not in the sense of the glory of the created world and the cultivated landscape-grapevines twined into trees like garlands, binding everything with everything-but in the sense of the sim­ plicity of life, of the small trattoria, the tiny cafe in the town. Every­ thing also incredibly alive in the countryside; they are building everywhere. [. . .] I'm sending you a mountain of cards, and a little book of Giotto6 frescoes in Padua to Lotte. Do not fear, I won't get lost so easily. The most heavenly roaming around, without the slightest responsibility. As always it's charming at Mary's. And it was the only solution, as in Venice there's not a single room available. Farewell, dearest, stay healthy and work well, and don't get too upset about Bard, regardless of what happens. [. . .] Your Hannah

267

Milan, 9.12.55 Dearest, I'm sitting in the first meeting of the congress7-Hook is speaking, and it's so boring I could die. But as we all know, it's not something you die from. Yesterday I met with [Daniel] Brody, who was beside himself with admiration for my Broch work,8 but right away tried to attack me in a highly unliterary manner. But it was actually quite charming. I'm staying here in a hotel de luxe with a balcony facing the cathedral. This morning a charming letter from Lotte. Say hello to her, and I'll send a little card. All of America is here-Bell, Dwight.,9 etc. I'm sitting next to Hans Kohn,IO and we are both bored, both know­ ing that we have to sit out our expenses. -Just received an invitation to go to the Berlin Festival--but I won't be able to go, I'll be in Athens at the time. But I will get to Berlin. The bus trip was great, again the towns and castles, and bridges and gates and churches in the landscape. This afternoon I'm going to play hooky and go to the Brera. 11 My paper is on Wednesday, and I'm sure I'll be able to dodge most of the other things. Also a propos German tourist invasion: A woman wants to buy postcards and the salesman tells her the price in Italian, to which she-you should have seen her attitude!-"Auf Deutsch, bitte!" [In German please!] Sic! Milan has marvelous shops. Quite a temptation! Your!

[Milan, 9.12.55] Afternoon If boredom is restful-then I will be so rested that I'll pass into eternal rest. The whole thing is absolutely outlandish-. I.e., we have [sic], for the best restau­ rants in town, every valued at 2,000 lire, about $3. No one can stuff down that much food. Ergo, every time I have a meal I get a couple of dollars back! Imagine-the land of milk and honey. With the money I'm earning from the food, I'm going to go shopping. From time to time I try listening-sans succes. The French are even worse than the others. Unfortunately I understand their lan­ guage, which gets in the way of my writing and reading.

268

And all of that-when one just has to go out into the corridor to see Leonardos, on loan from the Brera, drawings, but also paintings. [Milan,] 9.13.55 Dearest, look, a typewriter. Living in a luxury hotel does have its pluses. This morning it was unbearable, I played hooky. Yester­ day spent the evening with Spender and Dwight and Schlesinger.12 Dwight is supposed to become editor of the magazine Encounter and needs support. Then to bed, dead tired from nothing. This whole thing an incredible scandal. One could almost suspect they had set it up on purpose to deliver propaganda into the Communists' hands. Everyone is wallowing in unimaginable luxury. Everyone completely and utterly corrupted.They are touring, eating, and shopping them­ selves silly. Well, it won't do me any harm. But try as one might, one really can't take it seriously, and I have to laugh when I take a look at my . Nobody has realized it, but I can see all too clearly what a strange figure I cut here. I wrote to you about how Mary is hitting the skids, and basically doesn't know . And yet she's in a hundred times better state than the people here. Dwight so naive and touching, it's truly amusing. The Europeans the worst riffraff the Lord created in His anger. Yesterday Manes Sperber 13 and Raymond Aron and so on and so forth. All of them showing me the deepest respect and a bit of fear. I am overly nice to everyone, as I'm worried that my con­ tempt is oozing out of every pore. I just got a letter from Jaspers, who is writing a preface for my book in Germany. He writes marvelously and very amicably, and I'm very happy. Tomorrow it's my turn here, I really don't give a damn, I'm not even nervous. [ . . .] Dearest, write me. It's a great relief that Lottchen has the ad­ dresses, and I was very happy to get that little letter. Farewell my darling. Your Hannah 269

9.17.55

ROMA

Dearest, I've just returned to the hotel dead tired from my first stroll through Rome-and, who would have guessed, they too produced a typewriter, which has, however, the strangest keyboard layout, which I'm having a bit of a hard time with. Anyway-this is a good but simple hotel, and the mere thought of what would happen to me if I were to ask such a question in France (and here I asked it in my non­ existent Italian) makes me shudder. The flight from Milan this morn­ ing was indescribably marvelous.We flew over Genoa, along the coast to Pisa, next to me a very spry old French priest who travels a lot, constantly journeying all over the whole world for fun, and who ex­ plained everything to me. Told me exactly what I absolument had to see in Istanbul, where to eat, etc. When I asked him to suggest a good hotel in Istanbul he said he always stayed at a monastery, vous com­ prenez cela ne me coute presque rien. j'ai compris. 1 4 Thursday in Genoa. Blumenfeld15 really quite a ruin, and yet so marvelously unchanged. His wife has become incredibly active, ag­ gressive, malicious; he is exactly as imprisoned as we always imagined. Both of them basically helpless. They arrived here without visas for Germany, had to leave within the hour, and yet they maintained their visas were waiting for them at the local consulate. Needless to say, there was no sign of the visas. So I went there with their passports to

see the consul, who spoke with a strong East Prussian accent. I told

him right away that we were all fell ow countrymen, at which I was given their visas on the spot, without photographs and without the poor old things having to walk up five flights; the elevator was out of order. It was quite a coup.The wife had a typical Israeli air, of which I already had a taste at the congress from the Israeli delegates. They walk through all the wonders with pinched lips, as if they were jeal­ ous of everything that other nations had accomplished: and there is a good deal to be jealous of here. Oh, dearest, this excess of beauty! And of the best things there are never any postcards for Snubby, but this morning I did send off a package. How can I describe the view from the plane to you-when the clouds no longer float in the sky but over the ground. Or how the green of Lombardy slowly transforms itself first into a light- and then

270

a darker brown of the south, and how the green suddenly becomes darker and graver, and heavier. And the lakes with the little rock is­ lands in them. And all of this, after San Ambroise and Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan and the vanishing Last Supper; 1 6 which still glows even as it fades. And the Dome of Bramante. 17 Or now in Rome the Picino with the Villa Borghese and the Medici. The latter, N.B., invisible, i.e., one can't get in the Garden because they [sic] belong to the French, who only allow entry to people with French passports, except during certain months. This is literally true. I used my best French, first politely, then very impolitely. And then the Spanish Steps, and just now the Pantheon, and then quickly the Piazza Navone, or something like that; the elliptical square with the three fountains, of which the one in the middle is horrendous. But what does it matter if water suddenly surges but doesn't run or flow? Everything in Rome is surging, life itself surges into the Eternal City. And, quite by chance, I stumbled dazed and exhausted into a church, della Pace, a pure and in­ describably beautiful Renaissance phenomenon. It is only now that I understand what Renaissance really is, and what light is. But this little church, completely hidden, in the early evening. I didn't have the foggi­ est idea where I was, and asked a gentleman who happily explained everything to me right away.That's how it is everywhere, and I'm al­ ways talking to people in my appalling, I should say nonexistent, Ital­ ian, asking them to tell me what things are, which they gladly do and I usually understand them quite well. Congress: Thank God that's over.I escaped before the end. Had a big fight with Hook, who was scheming incredibly and with incredi­ ble success against Dwight, and tried rallying everybody and his mother against me, which he didn't manage to do. I kicked up a real fuss there, 18 and he felt personally attacked. Too boring to explain. Mary can give you a full report if you or anyone else is in the least bit interested. Anyway, I did liven things up, and once again made the members of the stronger sex jealous of my so-called courage. Then, suddenly, all the newspapers and radio stations wanted to interview me, which I most amiably turned down. But I did accept an invitation to Stockholm and Goteborg. For the end of November or the begin­ ning of December. That should be a lark. 19 I am glad, however, that the life of luxury is over. I'm staying here with Julie [Braun Vogelstein] (who is doing marvelously) in a very 271

nice and not too expensive hotel, in a good location, comfortable, with everything in it one needs, and not with everything one doesn't. I felt quite corrupted, with all that food and liquor. But I'm not. Tomorrow things really get going. Today I just roamed around so I finally could spend some time alone. All these people have driven me crazy. Mary is always the best thing for me; when I have her to myself, without others. Dwight, touching and funny in his pink shirts, as if he were a caricature of an American in Europe. Which he absolutely isn't. That trophy must be handed to Dani [sic] Bell. -I had a nice time with Franz Bohm, who's not very bright, but one of the best and most decent people I know. Silone20 much more important-I'm going to see him again­ with his attractive peasant face, he's like a fish on dry land, or some large animal writhing in the nets of these impudent schemers and scroungers (Horkheimer was there too). They are using him and his name for double-dealing, they deceive and cheat him left and right, and he keeps "discipline" as in olden times. He spoke a lot about Brandler and Thalheimer;21 everything became much better right away. Only he and I and his wife-whom I know from New York, an Englishwoman, like a goblin or something along those lines, probably Irish; very pleasure-hungry, intelligent, adventurous-they have ab­ solutely nothing in common. I like him. He's not clever, but solid, very honest through and through. Incorruptible. I'll see them again on Tuesday. [. . .] And now off to bed. Dearest dearYour H. [New York, mid-September 1955] Darling, The congress must have been pure torture. Particularly in such a silly free-for-all in one of our oldest cities. That's how these modern riffraff-intellectuals carry on at the expense of the people all over the world, from America and Europe to Russia, with the help of their riffraff administrators. It's an outrage that will turn the next anti­ cultural movement into an extremely popular anti-intellectual one. 272

What was it that Nietzsche said? Live hidden so that people won't mistake you. Oh, and how easy it is for people to mistake us, both you and me. You there, and me at the New School and at Bard. We have to have our little corner so that we can find shelter in it. Then we can think, then we can see. You are now enjoying a true orgy of see­ ing. I'm glad I taught you how to do that. But I feel sick to my stom­ ach when I imagine how this modern cultureless mass lumbers with the grunts of intellectual Philistines through the great cultural land­ scapes, which have fortunately survived. And to think that it is this situation that makes it possible for people like us to see this greatness. Insane connections. Your letters and cards are pretty, and I somehow participate in everything. It's also nice to hear about your successes. I must say I think it's a miracle that in our era work like yours can bring so much respect and sometimes even love. It seems that in every period there are people who are able to rise above prevailing circumstances. I am happy that Jaspers is writing the preface.22 But now Heidegger will doubtless never read the book. A very good start at Bard. Surprisingly good classes. A quiet, friendly staff. The usual idiocies of the administration. If I allow Lotte to keep feeding me this way,23 I'll become fat despite Bard. But I'll find a way to keep both her and me in check. She's very glad that she can write to you, and will appreciate your postcards very much. Tillich called and complained in a sad voice that he misses you. He's doing better as far as health goes, and has given a radio interview here. He seems to like the glare of publicity, but what kind of a life is that? Robert's new Madame, with what is probably the higher power of the female instinct for self-preservation, gave him a child on the very same night that his daughter will now in all likeli­ hood give birth to his grandchild. In these uninhibited times every­ thing is topsy-turvy and no one is paying any heed to age or custom. Elke (Gilbert] sees all her hopes floating away and is in distress. But keep to the nice feasts of Greek Helen, as Goethe suggested, and try to see the land of the Hellenes through them, instead of seek­ ing it with your soul. Give my warmest greetings to Julie. I'm happy that you can experience this together. It's perfect. I don't think this letter will reach you in Rome. So it will greet you in Athens instead.

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Keep an eye out for Socrates, I'm sure he's still lounging about some­ where there, and tell him how he amazes me. Akiss and a pat. YourH. [Athens,] 9.22.55

Dearest, I've just arrived safely-flew over the clouds and saw nothing! With Greece one is right away in the Balkans. A thousand details. This luxury hotel, in which thank God I landed against my will, is in­ describable. A perfect example of marvelous outside but filthy inside. As long as I don't have a typewriter, I can't write. I'm also too tired now. Am sitting at the bar among rich, disgusting Greeks! No comparison to the Italians. My thoughts are still in Rome. W here everything opens to the inside, instead of unfolding to the outside. W here the city with itspiazzas coalesces, grows, is rounded. Every pi­ azza a kind of external courtyard. Like the Pantheon. Or the monu­ ment of Constanza.24 The opposite of Paris, where the streets radiate from the squares, and the squares are the natural destination of the streets. In Rome you turn the corner-and again you find another large or small piazza. And above all that, the sadness of the cypress trees, of their dark green. Oh, and the olive groves near Tivoli. And how clear it is that not only is the Romanesque style a direct result of the Roman style, but the Romantic evolved when the 19th century discovered the classical aspect of Rome and its landscape. This is the actual, true Romantic landscape. I am sleeping, and the pen given as a present by the congress­ -is running across the paper on its own. Be well, and don't work too hard. How is the New School? Your

[New York, end of September 1955) Darling, [. . .) I will be going to Bard this weekend. I have things to do there, but will hop over to Palenville one more time to take a look at the mar-

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velous autumn. The marvelous descriptions of your feast for the eyes has made me jealous, and I want to do something for my eyes too. Everything is going well at Bard. My first made a big impression on the kids. They are a good batch this year. They have a decent respect for their teachers and the great things of chis world. Next week I'm starting at the New School. I am frightened as always, and hope that this time too I'll get over it. In the meantime, you have flown through the great European cen­ turies and are now standing on the Acropolis as on the Mount Olym­ pus of the history of mankind. I am so happy for you and along with you. The reports from this fantastic spiritual journey will be an elixir for me. Say hello to Julie. The Roman day, where you ran through the Eternal City like a little urchin, must have been marvelous. And also the opportunity to have a good French quarrel with the French there. I'm beginning to see Robert as the grand patriarch. I doubt he will send away his Hagar, but he shouldn't send away his Sarah eithcr.25 Greetings to Hellas, and tell them that here I'm trying to talk with increasing clarity about Hellas. A kiss and a pat and may you soon be returned to me. Your H

Athens, 9.29.55 Dearest, A week in Athens, but how can I write? Truly blinded with seeing, never knew what bliss it was to have eyes. Have dark tan in blissful heat. Will write to you as soon as I can get my hands on a typewriter. I am sitting here at an outdoor cafe with a band playing, sur­ rounded by at least three gentlemen who are trying to pick me up. Very funny. Behind me, a German group. Am living very feudally, and, unfortunately, not in the least cheaply. Greece isn't expensive, but so uncomfortable that one has to get the best of everything if one doesn't want to lose so much time that it isn't worth it in the end. Fur­ thermore, there's no point in trying to go if one doesn't speak the language. All the prices double right away, so that one ends up living uncomfortably and expensively. The hotel is really good, and for here first-rate, with a bathroom. 275

I'm paying about $3.30. I'm doing everything by cab with Julie. It's almost impossible to get by speaking a foreign language [such as En­ glish or French]. Besides, the people here, unlike the Italians, are un­ commonly stupid and primitive. Julie is comporting herself marvelously. Her aloofness is quite pleasant here, and we get along wonderfully. We were in Delphi on Monday.Tomorrow Kate Fiirst, whom I invited, is coming from Pales­ tine, and on Sunday we're off to the Peloponnese-Corinth, Olympia, Epidaurus, Mycenae, five days! I'll have a car and driver, which will only cost about $30 more than if we tried to do the tour without one. Right after that, Delos. Then a few more days in Athens. One only gets a feeling of scale from the Acropolis and its vastness. I'll shorten my Palestine stay; I'll most probably not fly until October 13. I have to stay here as long as I possibly can. I'm spending a small fortune on postcards and still am not finding many treasures. Julie has a friend who is photographing for her and who might still be able to get us photographs of pieces at the museum where we took down the numbers. What I can't get over is the land­ scape.I.e., today the bay across from Salamis.Or Cape Sounion, where the sea is really and truly wine-dark, as Homer calls it. But also the theater at Delphi, and then Delphi's landscape. In other words, temple and landscape in such close union that every column has absorbed the eternity of nature. Tremendous-not at all an abundance of beauty as in Italy, rather barren, but 8ELvoc;.26 I wonder what inexplicable magic once occurred in this nation. In spite of all the ruin it's never sad here, no Roman melancholy, which is also because the stone pines and cy­ press trees are much brighter, but shining. And the olive groves! Today I ate a black one directly from the tree. It fell into my mouth. At the foot of the Acropolis, in the theater from Roman times, we saw Oidipous [sic} Tyrannos. Not a good performance, but a thrilling story. I almost began crying. Modern Greek would be easy enough to learn. I can make myself understood, not as well as in Italy, but that's only because the people here are so stupid that they don't understand a thing. W hile the Ital­ ians always know instantly what word one is trying to say. E.g., today we went to Socrates' prison-along the Ilissos, where Phaedros' plane tree stood,27 but no longer stands-and I pronounced Socrates with the stress on the first syllable instead of the second-and, lo and be276

hold, nobody had ever heard of the man. No, dearest, his spirit has emigrated. I'm sure he's still lurking about somewhere, but not here! The city is dreary, and the people rather unpleasant. [. . .] What do you think about the stock market crash?28 And Eisenhower? Your last letter sounded so cheerful it made me really happy. Dearest, keep well! And contented. Your [New York, end of September 1955] Darling, Last week I went again to Palenville with Lotte. One stormy day and one day of marvelous autumn weather. The Henns29 were alone, and overjoyed at being roused out of their boredom. You have all of Europe and its marvels, but autumn here can compensate me for some of it. Bard is in full operation now and is taking up much of my time again. The new students are very nice and eager to learn. For the first time I'm not hearing complaints about too much work, but am get­ ting requests for more. That, of course, means more meetings for me. I'm lucky if I can catch the Thursday-night train. The New School has started. I have a good class. The beginning was very encouraging. [. . .] Teaching is so strange. The more you give, the less you feel you know. Pretty tormenting. And the less you feel you know, the more you can give. Quite marvelous. I'm sure your comparison of Italy and Greece is very astute. I'm glad that Rome became so alive for you this time. With the help of your postcards I am almost traveling with you. Your descriptions are so im­ portant. But they are so brief now. This isn't a reproach. You'll have all the more to tell me. It's wonderful that the Olympian gods were so ap­ propriate for once, and this for our enterprising touring ladies. And yet the modern Balkan demons of those regions there worry me a little. There are omens of political turmoil that seem like ancient bubbling and hissing again of hellish vapors above these once so classical, shin­ ing sites. Be very careful in Greece, Turkey, and Palestine. [ . . .] 277

I am again fully booked every week, hemmed in, and can barely move. Nice to know that you are flying through the southern lands free as a bird. Say hello to Julie, and write a little more about Greece. And please, please make sure you keep an eye on the situation in Pales­ tine every day. Leave immediately if you smell something burning. A kiss and a pat. Your H [. . .]

[Athens,] 10.7.55 (please: date your letters) Dearest, How right you are! This time round you've written nicely and in detail. And I-I'm lost without a typewriter! So I can only really write from Tel Aviv. Yesterday, back from the Peloponnese. Olympia, Epidaurus, Mycenae, Corinth, Argos, Nauplia. Swam in Nauplia. I saw, saw, saw. Believe me, even if you haven't noticed yet, your little girl has learned a new thing or two. -The modern country is horrendous. The people absolutely foul, just as i n Portugal. Poor, and lazy, and stupid. I don't give a hoot! For-tomorrow I'm off to Delos for a four-day Greek island tour. And I leave on the 13th, after two more days in Athens. Don't worry: At the slightest sign of danger I'll take the first plane to more civilized territory. You're not even getting any postcards! I've gathered all these treasures and can't part with them. I sit like Moliere's Avare staring at my hoard. Olympia is so beautiful I could have cried, and Mycenae most unexpectedly magnificent.

...

[ ]

Farewell, and take care of yourself, and don't be impatient! I'll write the moment I get a typewriter. Your [New York, beginning of October 1955] Dearest, It seems safer to send this letter straight to Tel Aviv, since you didn't seem sure how long you were going to be in Athens. I'd defi278

nitely prefer that you stay in Greece as long as possible. I can see it is an incredible pleasure that should last a lifetime. But I imagine you'll be with your family30 on your birthday, so I'm sending you my greet­ ings there. Lotte, Rose, Busch,31 Elke, Holty, Pachter,32 all send their birthday greetings, and wish you all the best, but also wish you were back. Greetings to everyone who will be celebrating with you, partic­ ularly Kurt Blumenfeld. After my this Friday I will drink a toast with our friends here. I'm slowly preparing your birthday and Christmas presents. And now I'll also wish myself the very best for your birthday, and hope that you will enjoy your birthday, if for no other reason than because it falls in this grand period of a journey through the center of world culture. How much and how close we have grown to each other. In my thoughts, I almost participate in your journey every day. Bard is fine, but unfortunately I have more to do than I antici­ pated. At the New School I have a big class that seems both interested and enthusiastic. Anyway, they're lively in discussion, and that always makes things more pleasant. Physically I am still in quite good shape, but the weekly curriculum makes me very, very tired. We're having marvelous October weather, and so Bard offers a little bit of relax­ ation for the few hours that I have off there. Eisenhower? I am afraid that in domestic policies the [Vice Presi­ dent] Nixon boys will increasingly worm their way into the adminis­ tration. In foreign policy they're already carrying on just as well without him as they had carried on with him. The Russians basically have carte blanche, they can do what they want. As always things are dark and we have to keep our own lights burning.

...

[ ]

A birthday greeting and a birthday pat After seeing so much, enjoy some rest and some luxury. Your Heinrich [Tel Aviv,] October 14, 1955

Dearest dear, Have been in Tel Aviv since yesterday evening. I returned from Delos, Mykonos on the 11th. The filthy Greek steamship left at three in the morning and sailed into the breaking day. It is virtually impossible 279

to picture these islands in which the sea is enmeshed, where the infi­ nitely varied becomes finite; because the maps always chart the larger islands but do not show the tiny islands popping up, making the sea inhabitable as if it were a landscape. Basically neither land nor sea, as we know it, just an infinite maze of rocks in the water. My farewell to Athens yesterday and the day before-whoever is damned to part from what is most beautiful33-but my averted eyes were relieved by an incredible cloudburst that flooded everything. The streets were all under water, and we had a hard time getting to the airport. But other­ wise, great luck, with the weather of all things, which this year in Athens had been uncommonly bad. In Olympia, in the Peloponnese, and in Mykonos we had marvelous sunshine. For the time being everything is fine here. Your letter came today, in other words right on my birthday, which I have spent without cel­ ebration, but in the bosom of my family. A nice swim in the after­ noon. My cousin [Ernst Furst] very pleasant, and we get along as well as we did when we were children. Of the two daughters, one of them, the small one,34 is very charming. Tomorrow we'll go for a drive. Otherwise, the phone has already been ringing, but I'm letting myself settle in a bit first. It's still summer weather here, but not too hot, and in the evenings pleasantly cool. Actually, just right. I imag­ ine I'll have nothing but difficulty with [Kurt] Blumenfeld, not diffi­ culty exactly, but, I imagine, Madame Jenny [Mrs. Blumenfeld]'s carefully devised stratagems too. Scholem will be back next week, and I imagine I'll spend about eight days in Tel Aviv and eight days in Jerusalem. [...] 10.15.55 I'd just got this far when my eyes fell shut. Now it is early morn­ ing, the sun is radiant, but not hot, and we're about to drive off to Emek, the old Kibbutz area. A big family is not the right environment for letter-writing. But the letter has to go off, otherwise there's no hope it'll reach you by the coming . [. . .] Dearest, what a pitiful letter, and you are already so impatient to get a real one. Don't worry. Keep healthy. Be well! And greetings to everyone. Your 280

[fel Aviv,] 10.18.55 Dearest, This little country whose borders are always in sight! It is sadder and less maddening than I had imagined. Maybe because my sur­ roundings here are relatively sane, and particularly the charming chil­ dren, the younger one is something quite special. The fear is great, overshadows everything, and manifests itself in one's not wanting to see or hear anything. Needless to say, in the end the "activist ele­ ments" will get the upper hand. Almost everything is already spoiled. On Saturday we drove to the kibbutzim, I spoke to old acquaintances. The decline, the dilapidation is tangibly felt everywhere, all the way down to the dirty dining halls and the relationships between people. Everyone who opens his mouth is bitterly nationalistic: the Arabs still in the country should be thrown out, and so on; we drove through Arab territory, which right now is supposed to be calm; but no one in the car felt comfortable except for me, who hadn't really noticed anything or was only slowly beginning to. [. . .] I see one per­ son after another, but always here in the house, where I actually feel at home. I can't explain it specifically, but my childhood and adolescent habits have remained completely intact. [ ...] Oh, dearest, I'm quite dreadfully anxious. Your Greetings, kisses. [. ..] [New York, mid-October 1955] My darling, I received stacks of postcards, and looking at them is a great plea­ sure. As it is, with my I'm not really in any shape to do any­ thing else.[ . . .] I hardly have time for myself, although I do go to the movies now and then, and also listen to music on Friday evenings. And yet, everything around me has been somewhat drab since you left, or, better, empty. And although I increasingly love silence, our apartment is too silent for me, because I don't hear you puttering about.I t also disturbs me that you don't come in from time to time to "disturb" me. 281

I've heard that almost everyone has written you for your birthday. I hope you enjoyed it. The political situation in the new and enlarged Balkans still seems to me repulsive and dicey, and that goes for all the participants. Keep your eyes open and get out of there if you have to. I hope you won't need to take everyone's so-called questions there so seriously that you'll get involved in debates. A dangerous era like ours, which on top of everything lacks any kind of greatness except a strictly personal one, is a blot on the history of mankind. [ ] Be well, darling. Your Heinrich

...

Jerusalem, 10.22.55 Dearest, I just arrived in Jerusalem, where I'll be staying till the middle of the week. I saw a lot, and a lot of people. [. . .] But: my cousin's child [Edna Furst], I'm afraid, takes a little after me. Twelve, very talented, lively; we're very good friends. The country: What has been achieved, often quite impressive, ba­ sically goes back to the German Jews in the cities and their social work. What would have been possible in this pigsty that calls itself the Near East is incredible. But all of this is unimportant! From a political standpoint, things are even more hopeless than I thought. One loses interest. Everyone, with very few exceptions, is idiotic, often to an outlandish degree. Also, the opposition to the Ben­ Gurion35 regime is dated and stultified. The only time I ever saw any­ thing like it but not to this extent, was in Germany. The ga/ut36and-ghetto mentality is in full bloom. And the idiocy is right in front of everyone's eyes: Here in Jerusalem I can barely go for a walk, be­ cause I might turn the wrong corner and find myself "abroad," i.e., in Arab territory. Essentially it's the same everywhere. On top of that, they treat the Arabs, those still here, in a way that in itself would be enough to rally the whole world against Israel. When they see a United Nations car, which makes things easier here, they curse. Every­ one is afraid of war and is a warmonger. The kibbutzim are no longer of any importance. And yet the material-economic and social achieve282

ments are incredible, particularly in the handling of immigration. And then to make things easier, there's also the internal terrorism of Or­ thodoxy. Amazingly enough nobody is really against them, and so this black power-hungry pack is becoming more and more insolent. And this despite the fact that the majority isn't even devout. Typically the battle-to the extent one can call it a battle-is not about civil weddings and the separation of church and state, but about ham. I'm not joking! And for the time being the battle against pork has been won, if only because pig breeding is not good for agriculture. Though with everyone of the opinion that the whole world is against them, which is proof of the world's idiocy, the country's legal morality is pretty much the same as in France: No one takes laws seriously, not even, as one lawyer told me, those who made diem. The pressure under which the people live here is great, the climate very difficult to endure. Even now that the weather is coo] and one can sleep at night. The country is not poor compared to other Med­ iterranean countries. No comparison to Greece. I just came back from a Bar Mitzvah reception at the Mendelssohns'.37 You remember, the husband came to us in New York wanting .38 I have seen "elegance" such as this only at Dorothy Newman's39 receptions. I imagine they must have gone deep into debt. But still! I stayed for ex­ actly half an hour and then left. Don't worry that I'll put my foot in my mouth. I say very little, and most of the time nothing at all. But I do ask questions and listen. Friday morning I'm off to Istanbul, and on the 31st I'll be back on civilized ground, namely in Zurich and Basie. I received a charming letter from Jaspers. I am really looking forward to seeing him. I feel as if I hadn't opened my mouth for months. -I will begin making my telephone calls now, and then, I imagine, the rush will start. Your Istanbul, 10.28.1955

Dearest, I just arrived here from Palestine, I should say escaped, relieved and sad, from a hysterical, half-panic-stricken, half-boisterous w a r ­ spirit that has engulfed the whole country. I wasn't even pleased with Jerusalem! And now all of a sudden, after a three-hour flight over the 283

Greek islands, of which this time I got a perfect view, I'm sitting on a hotel terrace, drinking Turkish coffee, speaking French, looking across the Bosporus in the cool dusk out into the Golden Horn­ enchantingly beautiful. I haven't seen anything yet; I wanted to write you quickly so you wouldn't worry. The madhouse there is really something else, and although I'm convinced that none of the leading lights wants war or is seriously ready for it, with all the shouting going on, needless to say, the whole thing can explode quite easily. As I'm writing, I feel one weight after another falling from my mind. I have never before grasped the concrete meaning of "relief" so clearly. And yet I really feel sorry for those people, and am also wor­ ried for them. (The moon has just risen, and there are so many little boats! In the building next door, a mosque, from a minaret an old man is chanting prayers. Doesn't bother me.) Also the climate change! Here, quite cool already, there still quite hot. Climate + language (He­ brew, of course unlearnable!) + poverty = fanaticism. But now I am tempted to take a look around. I also need to buy a couple of things. It's really getting dark. Everything a very delicate blue-gray. Monday morning I'm going on to Zurich, Tuesday I'll be in Basie! Dearest, I'm quite anxious already and getting a little fed up with globe-trotting. Greetings to everybody. [.. .] Your [Bard College, end of October 1955] Darling, I'm afraid this letter would not reach you in Palestine, so I'm sending it to Basie. I had to go straight to Bard from New York to stop a revolution by the girls against a twelve o'clock . Everyone was in total panic, as they had already started an all-night sit-down strike in front of the building. The faculty voted unani­ mously that I should take charge of the matter.I spoke for thirty min­ utes to the , and everyone went back to work. But the preparations and the endless discussions with teachers and students were exhausting. [...] Your description of the Greek islands is marvelous, and it's very 284

comforting to me that you are getting to see all of that. Give my warmest greetings to Jaspers and his wife. Your H. [Zurich,] 11.1.55

Dearest, When yesterday, after a marvelous flight-Corfu, Brindisi, winter Alps-I suddenly saw the autumn colors of the Zurich woods, I could have shouted for joy. I am staying here twenty-four hours in a nice hotel to get some rest before Basie. I spoke to Jaspers on the telephone and will be going to Basie in an hour. My Istanbul stay­ Hagia Sophia and Sinan40 buildings and the Bosporus and the incred­ ible walls-was too short.I miscalculated. And yet! Turkey on its na­ tional holiday, particularly, very militaristic, brutal, but intelligent (no comparison with Greece!), prohibitively expensive when one buys Turkish pounds officially (which of course I didn't), and halfway vi­ able when one changes money on the black market. But unpleasant. Zurich is unchanged, and is the best thing for me at the moment. The exact opposite of the so-called Near East, where everyone deceives everyone and considers it the answer to everything. Jaspers, incredibly lively on the telephone: I should turn the Milan paper41 right away into a little book for Piper. He has almost signed the contract! -Yesterday, Antigone here in the theater, the Holderlin translation. The verses sounded marvelous from the stage, even though the performance was interesting but not first-class. You see-first Oedipus in Athens, and now Antigone too. But just as important-this morning I had plum jam for break­ fast! Since I weigh only 120 pounds now, I can devour all kinds of d e l ­ icacies. And finally it's cold outside and well-heated inside! I've just bought myself some warm slacks and a few other things. The postcards: I'm happy that you're pleased with them. None from Istanbul; they all disappeared on the black market. The Greek ones I want to show Jaspers first, then you'll get a giant package.-I imagine a letter will be waiting for me in Basie, but I'll send this one off from here so you'll get my news quickly. Say hello to Lotte. Your 285

[Bard College, beginning of November 1955]

Darling, Please, please, forgive me, but once again I had to go up to Bard earlier. We're having a new financial crisis, and I can't see how we'll survive it. Besides, my cold has turned into a regular flu, and this is the first day that I'm fully free of fever.Then I had the worst stomach rumble, and only managed to keep my head above water with alcohol. Now I'm slightly over it. They're simply heaping too much onto my plate. I always have to jump in when there's a crisis, and endless meet­ ings are tagged onto my , which is overburdened as it is. Now on top of that I have to face the damn 42 for another 40 students. All that will settle down next week, but by then there will be new crises. I'm just glad you will have landed safely at Jaspers'. You didn't write anything more about Blumenfeld, which tells me all I need to know. The bitch [Blumenfeld's wife] got her way. It's always been my opinion that jealousy is basically envy, and should be punishable by death almost.I just hope you will recuperate in the humane climate at Jaspers'. My warmest greetings to both of them. A supplement to Bard. There's a possibility that Time will do some­ thing on the last progressive college in the States (Black Mountain43 just closed), and of course I have to speak with that reporter fellow, and it'll be up to the to save Bard. We shall see. I spoke to Dwight [Macdonald] and to Bertha [Gruner]. Dwight is very nice. Needless to say, after you turned your back, Hook ruined everything44 for him with the help of the financial backer. [...] But Dwight will move to London for a year, where he'll be the for Europe. As his first article is entitled .45 all this is hardly surprising. [. . .] Also, Dwight is very inter­ ested in Bard because he knows a couple of students who are enthusias­ tic about me.Should I take advantage of that and let him do an article for the New Yorker? It disgusts me a bit. The New School is good. The class is still growing. How I do it I don't know, but I seem to be doing it. Write me something long and joyful, and use your time to enjoy yourself. It will be very good for me. [...] Kiss, pat. Your H . 286

Basle, 11.6.55

Dearest dear, Writing a cheerful letter to my poor, overworked, fluey Snubby is not the least bit difficult under the circumstances. I'm recuperating very quickly from the horrors of Israel, so quickly, under Jaspers' un­ ruffled brightness and joyfulness, that I'm already beginning to re­ proach myself.Things are going splendidly, he is vigorous, much more vigorous than three years ago, his wife charming and unchanged, al­ most youthful, but not in a bad sense. He seems more open to new things. Both of them are so enchantingly and simply good to me that it is hard to describe. Despite all my protests, they've decided to buy me a new bag, which I don't need-but I can't stop them. Right now we are immersed in long conversations about the atom bomb. I'm also reading his Schelling book,46 which turned out wonderfully, by far the best thing he's published in the last few years. A work that in its own way is Just as classic as the one on Nietzsche. 47 Very helpful for read­ ing Schelling. I will bring it with me, or I might even send it with the postcards from Greece, which I still can't part from. Dearest, don't drive yourself crazy with Bard's chronic financial worries. Black Mountain College was a completely different story. Too boring to explain. Of course you must let Dwight write the ar­ ticle for the New Yorker, if he wants to do it, and help the Time mag­ azine people onto their feet. You'll become famous, not that we'll give a hoot. A little propaganda on the printed page won't do you any harm, especially as you never publish anything yourself. [.. .] Bertha [Gruner] never wrote to me, I won't write to her either. It can't be helped. It must be, among other things, her menopause. If I also crack at that age, you'd better rattle me back into place, the way a good Snubby should. -Did I write you that I heard the Holderlin Antigone? Not a particularly good performance, but to hear the verses on stage! Really great, hard to understand, yet somewhat easier than reading it. But it is the only translation there is! I will come home very rich, as Gaspers] has insisted on paying his "debts." Even though I spent money in Greece without a second thought, and heaped presents on everyone in Israel, I'm still finan­ cially in good shape. I spoke with the publisher Piper here, and half accepted to do a short introduction to politics48 for his very attractive series of "introductions," which Jaspers opened with his introduction

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to philosophy.49 I'd like to do that. I also want to write in German again. I'd have to do it this summer, right after Chicago.50 [. . .] I'm not sure whether this letter has turned out cheerful or not. But I am cheerful, and so rested that I'm beginning to turn into a total idiot. I imagine you can tell. I'll be better, though, by the time I get home. Farewell, dearest. I'll let the letter lie around till tomorrow, as it will only reach you Thursday or Friday. I hope the telegram didn't frighten you; I was worried you had forgotten the whole thing [changing the itinerary; see letter of 10.28.1955], and I'm only staying here for a limited time. So I sent a telegram just to be sure. Also, I imagine I'll drop by here again before I fly home. Jaspers is calling from downstairs to remind me to send you his re­ gards. Just got a message from the publisher. I am to give a talk in Frankfurt around the 20th, the book is out:51 Phew. [ . . .] Your [Bard College, beginning of November 1955]

Darling, This time I really can't get Bard off my back, but at least I've fi­ nally shaken off the flu after three weeks. I am in a nervous state, as I haven't been in for a very long time. It is possible that the root of the problem is my fear that Bard will go under, and that all my efforts will have been in vain. Am I becoming old and frightened? Things are going very well at the New School, but it's also a strain. It looks as though they might well be able to scrape some money together, and then there might be a possibility for me there. [...) I am glad you have left the East behind you, and that you are now in somewhat friendlier latitudes. Are you really thinking of going to all the trouble of putting a book together while you are there? Won't there be time enough later? Why don't you chat with Jaspers to your heart's content instead? What is happening with Heidegger? No men­ tion of Blumenfeld anymore. I take it you'll be seeing Annchen [Weil] next week. I hope that will go well. [...] Your H. 288

[New York, mid-November 1955] Darling, How good that you managed to go straight to Jaspers from the whirl of hatred and idiocy of the new expanded Balkans. Your letter shows how much good this has done you. Where one can't love, one should pass by-how right Nietzsche was;52 and especially for more mature people one only has to add: Where one loves, one must tarry. So you were in Jaspers' harbor (I'm very eager to see the Schelling book),53 and I hope you will be just as sheltered at Annchen's. In the meantime, you are getting closer to our home both in time and in dis­ tance, and your arrival isn't as far away anymore as it seemed to me a week ago. [. . .] I have finally shaken off the flu and can work properly again. But I'll have to work night and day and all next week to make up for lost time. I had enough strength only for the bare essentials. I am capable again of taking the Bard matter easier. Maybe this time too it won't go under, but it almost seems to me as if the source of all evil is the im­ possible ideal of coeducation at this stage in life and in such tight quarters. Maybe at that age I, too, wouldn't have learned a thing under such tempting circumstances, and would have occupied myself exclu­ sively with the fair sex. But since they hadn't learned anything before either, their situation is pretty hopeless. When it comes to work, the New School isn't all that different. The class is good and capable of debating intelligently. But in the sem­ inar they are lousy because they simply don' t prepare. They literally do nothing but open their mouths, to a greater or lesser extent intelli­ gently, hoping that milk and honey will pour in of their own accord. If it weren't for the few exceptions-fewer and fewer as years go by-it becomes clear that one is nothing more than a worker in the gigantic modern entertainment industry, and on top of that in its most ridiculous and worst-paid branch, the metaphysical entertainment in­ dustry. If this continues and I stay at Bard and at the New School, I will perhaps dedicate myself to science again and simply try teaching history . Oh, how I sometimes long to teach political geography, so I can force the students really to sit down on their butts instead of rollicking around in the fresh meadows of their ignorance. [. . .] I'm glad your German book54 is finally out. If you enjoy working

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on the German introduction to politics book,55 then there is no rea­ son why you shouldn't think of it as a prelude to your new book.56 But have Piper pay you well for it. A kiss and a pat. Your Heinrich Luxembourg (in the back of beyond) 11.14.55 Dearest dear, I've been here since the day before yesterday and have had a great time chatting with Annchen. She has moved off to her High Auth o r ­ ity, as the Coal and Steel Union57 with its six member countries calls itself, and I'm sitting here peacefully at the typewriter and am trying to arrange the next few weeks. I'll stay here till Sunday; then my Cologne friend [Dr. Zilk.ens] will pick me up, and on Tuesday I'll be in Frankfurt for a lecture and other things. From there I'll also deal with Heidelberg. I hope to get to Berlin after that, but haven't had word from Lasky yet.Unfortunately I haven't heard from the Stock­ holmers;58 I would really have liked to do that, but it's not important. Basie was as pleasant and nice as could be. I kept thinking how very wrong you were not to bring yourself to join me. Believe me, it was worth coming to Europe just to see this man. I, as always, like their own child, fitting right in; this time with pure debates; Jaspers much more receptive than ever before, much readier also to take something in (not to learn, of course); she, at the age of 76, surpris­ ingly fresh and unchanged. Heidegger-I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but I don't think I'm going to see him. The fact that my book happens to be coming out now (I just received the first very nice-looking copies, 800 pages) makes for the worst situation. He doesn't know I'm in the country, but, as it is, I have the distinct impression he is not particu­ larly interested in seeing me at this point. The reason-see above. On top of that, all the existing difficulties. I have the feeling I should let the dust settle a bit. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm underestimating on my side the difficulty of a reunion, although it does look very much as if this time it won't take me three years to come back. For Jaspers, if for no other reason. And because people will want me and will 290

somehow pay for the trip in a way that I'll be able to fly over for a few weeks: anyway, that's how it looks to me, I can't help it. I am, as you know, quite prepared to act with Heidegger as if I had never written a line and was never going to write one. And that is the unuttered con­ ditio sine qua non of the whole affair. But right now-and before I have what's important to me down on paper and in safety-I could only do this with the greatest of difficulty, and I have no wish to. You see, the long and the short of it is: I am about to do exactly the same thing I did 30 years ago, and somehow can't change it. Title: Accord­ ing to the law under which "it" was begun . . . Don't let Bard upset you so much. Things always end up working out somehow. And don't let them overburden you to such an idiotic extent. You're not that young anymore. I just wish the vacations were coming up now. You're going to have to go on strike on account of those .59 Has anything changed ·at the New Schoo]? Gunther [AndersJ60 got in touch with me, and if I can somehow fit it in, I'll try to meet him in Munich, even though it's the very last thing I want to do. His sister told me in Jerusalem that he's divorced again. But he's publishing a lot, and has almost become famous. [. . .] Farewell, dearest. Oh, how beautiful it will be to be home. I'm anxious already, but now it's no longer that far away. I feel so recuper­ ated that it's almost a scandal. [. . .] Keep smiling, and don't worry, things are bound to work out somehow. Your [Bard College, mid-November 1955] Darling, We are on our final spurt at Bard, and I'm all in a state because one administrative curse after another is descending on my head. I just couldn't write to you on time. The faculty evaluations are finally in. I have been unanimously put up for tenure. So should this miserable dump continue holding together, I will have found myself a perma­ nent position, in other words a position for life. To that I can only say: "I wonder, I wonder my little son, when you grow up what you will become." Obviously a run-of-the-mill petit bourgeois. 291

Now, toward the end of the semester, the students are working better, and sometimes we have quite enjoyable classes. I'm glad that you've been lazing around so much, I'm sure you will manage the few lectures just fine. I'm happy you're seeing Jaspers again, and that you had such a good time with Annchen. So this trip has also been worth it from another essential standpoint, the most personal one. Soon now you will be back home laden with news. Everyone is sending you greetings and waiting for you. Roschen, it seems, with more longing than anyone else. Greetings, kisses, and pats. Your H.

[Cologne,] 11.21.55

Dearest dear, Today just a short hello, because unfortunately I have to work on my lecture,61 which I have to give tomorrow morning in Frankfurt, on Dec. 1 in Cologne, and on the 8th in Berlin at the university. I've been lazing about so much that working has almost become a prob­ lem, but not a very serious one. All I want to do is come home, but of course now that I've started it I have to finish it. I've been in Cologne since yesterday evening. It was very enchant­ ing at Annchen's. The two of us completely in tune with one another, without talking much, circling around each other in the small apart­ ment, very cozy. Yesterday my Cologne friend [Dr. Zilkens] came and picked us up with his car and we drove to Trier and nicely and appro­ priately admired the Porta Nigra and the cathedral and the Roman Basilica. Today I'm here with my friends, quietly working, and to­ morrow morning I'm off to Frankfurt, where I'll stay till December 1. Then until and including the 4th, back in Cologne again, where I'll be speaking at the university on the 1st, and on the 4th I'm off to Essen to see Orff's Antigone. You see, I'll be coming home, but you can truly say: This girl has learned a new thing or two. Germany blos­ soming, a sparkling, brand-new country. Every chair in every restau­ rant looks as if it had come off the factory bench only yesterday, and every house is new. Cologne has already been completely rebuilt, and Cologne had been the worst. Good building everywhere, modern 292

and solid. Everyone is doing well; life is more expensive, but everyone can also afford so much more. And Europe, as I had already suspected in Italy, is actually a reality. On the borders, e.g., it says in all lan­ guages: You are entering another country, but you are still in Europe. Very impressive. Customs and foreign exchange clearance too. As if they were only a formality which nobody can take seriously any­ more, including the customs administration and the officials. I've just written to Gunther [Anders] to try to meet him in Frank­ furt in the coming week. I hope it will work out. [. . .] Don't be angry, dearest, you are overworked and need a vacation. You should definitely swallow some vitamins, that always helps. Try it! And don't scold me for this botched letter. But tell Lotte that I was in Trier. She was worried about my education. But that, of all things, is now in somewhat better shape. Concerning these damned lectures, the same applies as applies to Berkeley : Rescind, even if eter­

nally disgraced!

Dearest, soon all this will be over, and I can hardly wait. Your Hannah

[New York, end of November 1955] Darling, Please don' t worry about me, I'm completely all right again since my flu has gone. The two of you seem to have had a really good time in Basle. Jaspers wrote me a long and very nice letter62 filled with declarations of love for you. You made them very happy. I think your impressions of the Heidegger matter can't be quite right. To leave without letting him know that you are there seems very harsh, and I don't quite understand it. Otherwise, I imagine it is as you say. There is a possibility that the New School will get a for three lectures by a "famous" philosopher. They have sug­ gested the strangest candidates. I mentioned Jaspers or Heidegger to Clara [Mayer]. What do you think of that? But it isn't definite yet. Clara would like to know if you have an Englishman in mind. 293

Jonas just came to see me. He was very nice and sends his regards.[.. .] Jaspers wrote that your book would become a sensation in Ger­ many, and if it didn't, it would be the Germans' fault. I'm happy though that it's available in German now. A kiss and a pat. Your H. [Frankfurt,] 11.28.55

Dearest dear, Now there are only three weeks left and I'm already quite antsy to come home. Germany is actually interesting, sparklingly new from head to toe. You can't see the war damage at all anymore, but also no construction sites (the last time the place looked like a giant construc­ tion site), even though they are still building a lot. The cities have all been rebuilt, everything simply brand-new, from tiled roofs to the last chair. And modern. Very strange. Typical of the mood is that every­ one generally feels sorry for Heidelberg's having escaped unharmed by the bombs, because it's so old that it would have to be torn down completely. Otherwise, an economic miracle all round, but what goes on underneath, nobody knows. And yet one gets the feeling that all this is just a fa\'.ade, much more so here than anywhere else. Quite un­ canny! Everything covered in noisome restoration! It seems to me that this country is drifting into a new Rapallo,63 but drifting, because nobody actually wants it. The fa\'.ade is so bour­ geois that I am constantly humming to myself: "The pigtail is hanging down his back."64 Intellectually not much is happening, except for a strong renaissance of everything classical. Otherwise, still only Hei­ degger, but this too pretty repulsive, in the sense that people either declare it to be pure nonsense, or imitate him in the most incredible ways. To what extent he encourages this himself, I do not know. Lowith told me without the slightest bit of malice (Heidegger's picture hangs in his office), that Heidegger is holding seminars for professors in a farmhouse in Todtnauberg, and that, basically, he is force-feeding them his philosophy. Doubtlessly this is the only thing that is really alive in Germany, but I imagine in its effect it's 294

doubtlessly also disastrous.But even this has disappeared from public life. In every bookstore you find neither Ji.inger nor Heidegger, but Goethe and even more Goethe. Spiritually everyone is pretty much asleep, the average person even more so than in America. But this could be just Frankfurt, which for the time being is the only place I know. In the meantime, Marianne Wendt has turned up, and my "nephew"65 has come to say good-bye to his "aunt" after a successful visit to the American consulate. I have a feeling you'll like that scoundrel a lot. There still is, after all, a totally independent and com­ mon sense-loving Germany. At the beginning of March he will turn up on our doorstep, to be shipped off right away to a farm. As always, things are going well with Marianne. And also Cohn-Bendit,66 who's as much of a drunkard as always, but much more pleasant, and with a new girlfriend. He is the only one who has a nose for the political de­ velopments here. He, too, is a little uneasy about them. It seems he's living quite well off restitution cases. Dolf Sternberger-really, really unbearable. But Karl Reinhardt,67 enchanting.He came to my lecture, and I went to visit him. An elderly gentleman who has just lost a close friend in Riezler. Objectively, not very productive. They are all living off their opposition to Heidegger. Now to Heidegger, dearest. Things are not as simple as I had writ­ ten in a few words. The fact that I'm not going to see him seems to me like a silent arrangement between Heidegger and myself. As I haven't really heard from him since I went to Berkeley. As I do every year, I sent him birthday greetings from Greece, and I gave him an address. He didn't even write me for my birthday. Tu vois . . . He could have put two and two together, and seen that I would come to Germany. The reason seems very clear to me: on one side there's my book plus my 68 (which naturally has been trumpeted here in Germany), and on the other side there's the Freiburg matter, about which he knows my opinion without my even having to go there.He is teaching one-hour classes this semester, and seems to feel that my visit would be an unbearable disturbance. And I imagine it would be.Because he is teaching, a meeting outside Freiburg would be out of the question. But this would be the only possibility. I could surmount all of this and appear there, just go, and that would be that. But that,

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of all things, I simply cannot do right now, because my own problems are flitting about in my head, which he would spot in five minutes. When I've finished dealing with these things, then it's another matter. And if all works out the way Piper and Jaspers say, then I will be in­ vited back for a radio lecture next year, which will cover my traveling expenses. And then I'll definitely go to Freiburg. But let me know what you think. Just got a letter from Lotte. She bought me a phonograph, and writes quite cheerfully: "Heinrich doesn't know anything about it, but will be delighted, as he is about any present, even if it's the Cologne Cathedral, so you needn't try to turn to him for support." Can you at least attempt to prove her wrong? It's really not right. By God, we can afford it better than she can! Please do your best, and at least take a stand. Otherwise, I will definitely bring her the Cologne Cathedral as a gift in return, which is what she's afraid of anyway. It'll be simple enough, since I'll be in Cologne tomorrow.

The book is out and is already displayed everywhere. My pub­

lisher [Europaische Verlagsanstalt] has turned out to be a nice little operation with good political literature (Mathiez, French Revolution, Rosenberg, Weimar Republic, etc.). [. . .] They organized the lecture69 here very well, it was well attended and was discussed in detail by the press. Everything very respectful and pleasant enough. Sans chichi. [. . .] On December 1st I'm talking in Cologne at the university, and on the 8th in Berlin in the series for Reuter70 where Kennan and Spaak71 have talked before me. In the Auditorium Maximum. I'm dreading a little. [. . .] Enough. All this letter-writing will soon come to an end, and I will be sitting where I should be sitting. But trotting around is quite nice too. Just here and there I get impatient and can't wait anymore. [. . .] Hamburg has just called. The university wants a lecture too, and Snell,72 a classical philologist, is begging me to come. That would mean that I'd have one day less in Berlin, which makes me sad. We'll see. I told them to call me again in an hour. As you see, trotting around and all trotted out. But not uncheer­ ful, and I'm finally over the Israeli shock. Your Hannah

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Frankfurt-Cologne, 11.30.55

Dearest, I'm sitting on the express train, riding along the Rhine, just passed Ri.idesheim. Nice weather, and the Rhine swarming with small boats, beautiful. It's quite pleasant for a change to see something that even the Germans can't make sparklingly new. But I'm writing because I forgot the philosophers matter73 at the New School. Jaspers will definitely not come-health reasons.74 I don't know if he should be invited anyway out of respect? That would be nice. I leave it up to you. Heidegger would naturally speak Ger­ man. I would think it very unlikely that he would come, but not im­ possible. England: in my opinion, only RusselF5 is worth considering. There might be a point to this, a political one. There is no philosophy in England! The Rhine is too beautiful for me to be writing letters, and the train is wobbling disturbingly. Dearest, a greeting and a kiss. Your Gunther [Anders], who seems to be doing rather badly, didn't come. Actually I was quite relieved.

[New York, beginning of December 1955]

Darling, [. . .] If Heidegger didn't write back to you, then I imagine your view of the situation must probably be right, and there's nothing one can do. What fear and narrow-mindedness! There's not much anyone can do about Lotte, but I will heap so many expensive presents on her that she will keel over. In the image she has of herself, she sees her few monstrous traits as so sweet that I will ab­ stain from suggesting improvements. Besides, I've always liked letting things run their course, as long as they don't get in my way. Roschen is looking very good again, is quite pleased with her job, is reading a lot, and wishes you were back here. She's damned proud of you. I only have to go up to Bard twice more, and God knows it's high 297

time I had a bit of peace so I can occupy myself with matters that I really want to think about. It seems that in Germany it is only the old nonsense made brand­ new, more wasn't to be expected. I can hear them all the way here bragging foolishly, and am closing my ears tight. See you soon. Your H.

[New York, first half of December 1955] Darling, Your hasty letter from the old Rhine was very beautiful. But they'll find a way of making it brand-new, too. I am very glad that you can go to Jaspers one more time; after all, your old friends are the most important for you on the whole trip. Give him my warmest re­ gards, and thank him for his wonderful letter. I am in an end-of­ semester fever, and it keeps getting worse here at Bard instead of better.Everyone is at the limit of their nerves. But actually I'm still in quite good shape. Naturally, I will try to have the New School make an offer to Jaspers first.Even if Heidegger were to read in German, it would still be a sensation. But in that case, I'd rather have Camus, be­ cause of the political aspect. And probably the whole thing will end up with Jonas deciding who it is to be. So, I am to teach a course for seniors next semester, thus bringing them into the .76 I'm quite looking forward to it, even though I'll have to work like a dog. But you'll be here by then, and I'll be calmer. Successful Mary is here again, and they have sold their house and taken a New York apartment. [. . .] I can't wait to see Jaspers' Schelling book.77 It will come just in time to help me with a couple of problems in religious philosophy. I will have to do a lot of work for the new Bard course during the but I do hope I'll be able to get to some of my own work too, and also simply to read. Greeting kiss pat. Your H 298

[Hamburg,] 12.9.55

Dearest dear, Since I've been involved with this congress,78 which I attacked so vigorously in Milan that they have no idea what to do anymore to convince me, in short since Monday, I can but sing: "Only he who lives well lives pleasantly."79 Were it to last even two days longer, my patience would run out again. But-tomorrow at noon I'm off to Basie. And here I'm sitting right by the Alster, too good to be true! Yesterday Berlin: much applause, especially from Frau Reuter, which made me happy.80 Otherwise, unimportant. Then today I took the plane here, picked up by Snell. Every time I start writing, the phone rings or young men, some with roses, some with violets as thank-yous for my articles81 in Die Wandlung-[ . . .] Berlin was very nice again. The only city in Germany where the Wilhelminian fuss doesn't wash over everything, and one can still face the problem of striped versus black trousers with relative calm.82 OtherwiseBut Berlin, not East Berlin, where I also went, and where it's pretty dreadful. Very nice with Grumach! Orff's Antigone in Essen: a really great work of art! [. ..] Now my schedule: Tomorrow I'm booking for London for Wednesday the 14th, and for New York for the 20th, so that I'll be there on the 21st. But I'll telegraph you the time of my arrival. [ . ..] Enough, dearest. I have to dress and go to my lecture. Your Basie, 12.13.55

Dearest dear, So this is my last written greeting, and from Basie. Next to me lies a marvelous ostrich bag, of the kind millionaires have. Anything less, they both felt, wouldn't do for me, and also Goethe's letters, in four marvelous onionskin volumes. And again: Jaspers says he must see you and get to know you. It was really marvelous, a never-ending heartiness and liveliness. [. . .]

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Also I had to get my lecture, which I gave everywhere with great success, ready to be printed here. Am getting telegrams from all over the country to talk on the radio and other such nonsense. Of course I'm turning everything down. Today, only one wish-to go home! Enough-see you soon. This is your last week. By the time I'm back, you will have recovered a little. Get a lot of sleep, my darling. Your Your Your Your soon to be bothering you again Hannah

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IX October to November 1956

On her trip to Europe in the fall of 1956, Hannah Arendt saw many old friends again: Mary McCarthy, Karl Jaspers, Anne Weil, Benno van Wiese. She gave two lectures in Cologne, and visited libraries in Paris, Geneva, Cologne, and The Hague, probably to conduct re­ search for her book The Human Condition, which was to appear in 1958. Amsterdam, 10.3.1956 Dearest, Heavenly sunshine outside my window. My flight was not very comfortable, because it was completely full all the way to London. We had quite a delay in London, or I should say before we got to L o n ­ don. It turned out that a jet from Australia had just crashed there.The airport looked outlandish: half the field was in flames. Fire like I've never seen before, bright red, as in children's drawings. We couldn't land because the English had to close almost the whole airport. On top of that, London fog, black-gray with the smell that only London has. Then we had a delay of an hour and a half because so many planes had piled up that they had to take off at intervals. And so off to Amsterdam, where Mary [McCarthy] was waiting for me. Poor Mary wasted half the day at the airport. We went straight to the hotel-a great recommendation by Alfred [Kazin], very cheap, very good, we each have a room with a bathroom for about $2.50, incl. 301

breakfast as you can find only in Holland. Then to the Rembrandt ex­ hibit for an hour-drawings-where we are about to go now. Yester­ day the paintings in Rotterdam and the Mauritius House in The Hague. Mary, enchanting: we're like old copains [friends], completely used to each other. She has changed; I'll tell you about it, but not now. She looks really beautiful, and is quite charming. I am convinced again of my fondness for her. She has completely dropped all those crazy lux­ ury ideas of hotels and restaurants. Holland-much nicer than I expected. The people very helpful, with an amazingly civilized, unvarying friend­ liness. Streetcar conductors, waiters, people on the street, everywhere the same friendly, simple, contented manner. Very, very pleasant. Nowhere a loud word-unless one is unfortunate enough to happen upon a group of German tourists. Otherwise hardly any foreigners in the country. Everything spick and span. Food good and cheap. Yesterday in The Hague: Sul [sic] and David, 1 again as overpower­ ing as it was twenty-five years ago. In Rotterdam, an incredible female figure decorated with flowers. Some self-portraits. But from the H e r ­ mitage, just a few pictures-as a whole, not very good, the drawings seem to be much more unusual, I mean as a compilation. This afternoon perhaps to Haarlem and Delft. Everything is very close together, like suburban traffic.We use only streetcars; taxis are completely superfluous. Walk a lot. Today I almost got a good night's rest, but not quite yet. [. . .] Enough, my dearest. The weather is too good for letter-writing. I'm extremely cheerful, am roaming around with relish. Say hello to Lotte [Beradt]! Your [Paris,] October 9, 56

Dearest dear, Paris ice cold and unheated and very, very beautiful. C'est mal­ heureux, the French say, basically that it's so cold. That they could turn on the heat doesn't cross their minds. Also not in the libraries or the restaurants. They answer timid hints on our part with: Mais, 302

, Madame, , est beaucoup trap tot. 2 I am wearing everything I own, and as, thank God, I have a room with a bathroom, and, wonder of won­ ders, hot water really does come out of the pipes, actually hot, I can heat my room very nicely, and I sit in a comfortably warm fog. [. . .] The libraries,3 very productive, it's been worth my coming. Basically a lot of fun. The librarians call me la mangeuse des livres. 4 Now to Pleiade:5 Balzac 10 volumes, St.-Simon (Due) 5, Rabelais 1 . Price: between $5 and $6 per volume. Tally it up, and write me i f you want them all. I don't have enough francs now, but can bring some from Switzerland. So write to me to Geneva or Basie. I'll be in Basle around the 20th, and will stay there till about the 25th. Everything went very, very charmingly with my family. Toupi6 very enchanting. I'm seeking his medical advice, and he's already begun treating my rheumatism and giving me suggestions for the next few years. We are really en famille. My cousin [Njuta Gosh] looks dazzling, at least ten years younger than she is, and very nice. Both of them very hardworking, they now have two factories in India, with 500 employees. Holland was as follows: Green, green, green lawns cows, speckled, on the meadows, the sky lets the heavy clouds hang deep into the county. Brown, brown, brown water flows quadratically round the lawns in canals: fence and street; the world lies still. People kneel between waters on the lawns under clouds, hack wet black earth wide world in view. In short, really like a picture by Ruysdael.7 I must run. Farewell, dearest, . [. . .] Your 303

[Bard College, mid-October 1956]

Darling, The poem is very nice, one has the landscape both in front of one and inside of one. I hope cold Paris will not give you rheumatism since a family doctor is right there. It's wonderful that you can still like your family, rare enough after so many years. Wealthy family, on top of that. The things in this world! [ . . .] A professor from Tokyo who was in New York for a few weeks called. Mr. Seizo Oe. He sends you his warmest regards as one of your old language students at Heidelberg. He had tracked you down from the telephone book. Was sad he wouldn't get to see you. By the way, he maintains that Kitayama8 isn't in Japan, but still in Prague. What does that mean? Has he become a Communist? This time I'm really enjoying my classes at Bard, but my commit­ tee work, on the other hand, [...] has become almost unbearable. Otherwise, clear October weather, good air. As I'll be returning only Friday morning, it is the first time I have a chance to live and hang around at Bard. I can also rest a little between classes or . Then back in New York there is good food and good wine at Lotte [Beradt]'s. Right now I'm avoiding schnapps of all kinds. I feel well, and haven't gained any weight. Greetings, kisses, and little pats. Your Heinrich Geneva, October 17, 1956

Dearest, Your letter, which I had been waiting for, just came. Anyway-I had imagined you would write me for my birthday. That didn't hap­ pen. Jaspers, on the other hand, sent me one by special messenger so it would definitely reach me before Sunday. And Lotte, of course, etc., but no Snubby. I intend to rub this in till the day I die. Anyway, in case you have forgotten, I am 50 years old now. Paris was still indescribably beautiful, the light of the Ile de Seine [Ile de la Cite], glorious, warm autumn weather. But the unheated rooms gave me a cold you could be jealous of.It's fine by me, a sort of insurance against rheumatism. 304

The best thing about Paris was Mary, whom I have never bcfo1 c seen so delightful and charming. We were together a lot. My family, though, on closer scrutiny, wasn't quite as nice as they looked at first. Rich and miserly, and other things too. On Sunday I was in Clamart, where Katchen [Mendelssohn] cooked a fantastic dinner, and Weil stood us a bottle of champagne. He obviously regretted it so much that he was plus desagreable que jamais [sic].9 Actually quite funny, and afterward I was sorry that I couldn't amuse anybody with an ac­ count of this "party." Naturally I also saw Annchen [Weil], since she comes to Paris from Brussels every Sunday. Geneva very pleasant, heated (!), but bad food, very quiet and relaxing. I was quite worn out, and since then have dedicated myself wholly to the library and my cold. With relish. Saturday I am meet­ ing Elke [Gilbert] in Bern, and Sunday morning I'll be in Basie. I'll stay there till the 27th, and then will travel to Cologne via Brussels. [...] Oe from Japan-I vaguely remember Kitayama saying that the name is a common abbreviation for "Yuck, how disgusting!" Kita in Prague, I don't understand. It's quite possible that he's become a Communist. I forgot. In Clamart Katchen had us all drink a toast to you. [...] Enough, my darling. You don't deserve it. Write me immediately to Jaspers which Pleiade volumes you want. [. . .] Your [New York, latter part of October 1956]

Dearest, It is so nice to see you holding half a century in your hands, and, to an extent, at your personal disposition. And as you have just en­ tered the middle of your real self, my hopes are high that you will manage to call a full century your own. It is a good feeling to have spent such a large part of your first half-century with you, and for this reason alone I am ready for more. How well one can be alone and truly one, when one can be together and truly two with you; there are not merely dead circles, but also living spirals. Like the ancient Chinese productive circling of the life powers Yin and Yang. 305

Is not also the time in which you are flying around out there much nicer, because more and more has crystallized around your home? One doesn't like hearing about a cold, particularly when one doesn't happen to have one oneself. I hope you are rid of it and can dedicate yourself completely to Jaspers; please convey my warmest greetings to him. The Russians, thank God, seem to have thrown an enormous wrench into their totalitarian machine. One's heart rejoices seeing them trip over their own foolish feet in Poland.1 0 Lotte has blos­ somed at this farce, and Roschen is dancing with joy. It's wonderful that fat old Khrushchev, who with Tito makes up the most unappe­ tizing image of fat men out hunting since Wilhelm II, hadn't read your book, otherwise he'd have thought twice. My own endeavors in new problems have again brought me a couple of times very close to your train of thought in the last manu­ script.11 And I'm more and more impressed with it. All of it really has substance and import. My administrative "activity" enervates me more and more. But the students are good. I am developing my plan for the course at the New School.That, too, I enjoy.Above all, I am once more fully occupied with Chinese philosophy and am finding out some good things. Otherwise, everything is rolling along nicely as always. The French are far too expensive for me. We have a Balzac, and it would be better to get the St.-Simon from the library should we really need it. But I would like to have Rabelais in this nice edition, and I also need him. Otherwise, only Vauvenargues12 would be interesting to me. I hope you're having as good autumn weather there as I am having in the Hudson valley. Love that has not rusted with age, Your Heinrich Basle, October 24, 1956 Dearest dear, Your letter just came-as we returned from a very nice drive in the Jura. (The Jura, in case you didn't know, are rock mountains of 306

very strange formation, wooded, but with the old rock jutting out everywhere, hilly meadows, i.e., no smooth mountain slopes, and, be­ hind them, the Alps in majestic splendor, as if they weren't in the least concerned with these small chains of hills.) Just as I have devised lectures that take effect only a week later, you have obviously devised birthday letters that one writes a number of weeks after the event. What can I say, my darling. At any rate, it did turn out to be the nicest birthday letter one could imagine! Yes, we seem to have done pretty well this far, and one would ex­ pect that we will continue doing things halfway right. You're also ab­ solutely right about flying around the world. My appetite for travel manifested itself only after our home had become so central that one could crystallize the whole world around it. I just read that the Russian army has intervened in Hungary. 13 That's marvelous! Finally, finally they have to show their hand. And when the Russians intervene on one side, then tomorrow Tito might well intervene on the other. The end result of the whole story could well be that Molotov14 and the old Stalin clique will win and have another chance at it. But things will never again be as beautiful as they once were. It turns out that the only parties, or I should say countries, that are reliable are those which no longer have autochthonous par­ ties, where there isn't anyone who is not directly a Moscow agent, as in France or in East Germany. Things here are going very well. Jaspers completely unchanged, is just finishing his first thousand-page volume of his great philoso­ phers, 15 which he begins with the four "definitive people": Buddha, Confucius, Jesus, and Socrates. I haven't read anything yet, and won't get to it here either. For I am busy with my radio lectures on history, which, needless to say, I'm rewriting. 16 Lotte mustn't scold me, I'm like a cat that can't give up chasing mice. 17 [ ] Jaspers is planning to write his Germany book now.18 It seems that everything we (and others too) told him served only to strengthen his resolve. I'm not saying another word! Both of them are indescribably good to me. They send you their very warmest greetings. Jaspers says that by the time you finally come

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307

here the two of them will be more than half gone. But from what I see here, a lot of time will pass before that happens. My dearest and my home, I greet and kiss you. Your [Bard College, end of October 1956] Dearest, It's a pity that this week of all weeks you didn't send me a letter. For days I had some sort of horrible headache, was almost unable to work, and I could barely get through the day. Today, somewhat bet­ ter. At any rate, I finished my course program by the skin of my teeth. I hope you were cheerful at Jaspers'. Or did you maybe not get the let­ ter I sent to Basle? That can't be. Or did your letter get lost? The administrative muck is weighing heavily on me. I have to get out of this, even if it's with a certificate of disability. Paulus [Tillich] called and was horrified, literally, not to be able to see you. He's running around too much again and is exhausted. Also has gout and is frightened. I consoled him with your gout, and he was glad to hear that you still keep drinking now and then. He really misses his red wine. Mary phoned, happy and still very enthusiastic, and so at least I did get greetings from you, even if not an assurance of how you were doing. And that I need to know, dearest. The Berkeley people seem quite desperate.19 They even managed to track me down at Bard to get your address. Next Friday I'm having dinner with Mary and will hear much about you. How is the Rhine wine there now? Paulus sends you a sorrowful hello, and both Lotte and Roschen send you their best. Me too, but please write, or else I will become even more anxious than I already am. Your H. Cologne, October 31, 1956 Dearest dear, [. . .] I did finally have a sort of general discussion with Jaspers in Basle, 308

in which he almost gave me an ultimatum on the Heidegger front.20 I became furious, and told him I would not tolerate anyone giving me ultimatums. He pulled back right away, and I don't think it has af­ fected things, but I'm not quite sure. On verra . . . In the meantime, everything, including my joy over Hungary,21 has been overshadowed by the crazy events in Israel.22 Do you un­ derstand what's happening? Please, please write me. I might send you a telegram tomorrow evening, so that you get it Friday morning, for I will probably change my plans. Instead of going to Kiel, I will go to The Hague, where there is an important library which I didn't even know existed. So don't get worried-what a foolish sentence, since you'll definitely read about it again in this letter. In Brussels with Annchen, very charming as always, even with the existing restrictions. But an incredible thing: the new Picasso fi]m,23 which you must immediately see. From it one can tell who the man really is-namely, Proteus. Breathtakingly absorbing and incredibly marvelous. I was very excited. Very nice here, a Jot of people, and in addition to that the two radio lectures,24 and then right to the library. I get wildly anxious when something unforeseen happens, like Israel now. I feel totally lost. But otherwise Germany is quite pleasant. I'm staying in a small and very charming hotel, where an apple is put on one's nightstand in the evening , and I have a very nice desk. Berkeley: Obviously I'll turn them down. I can't understand it at all. I told them back in Palenville that I wouldn't be available for next year. I'll write them right away. [...] My schedule: [...] Saturday 17th, back in Paris, old address. And then straight back home!! Your [New York, beginning of November 1956]

Darling, [...] The program for the New School is ready and the have been delivered. Some old people really get so poisoned by obsti­ nacy you'd think they were drunk. The Germany book25 as well as 309

the Heidegger question seem to have become a kind of idee fixe for Jaspers. The elections here are almost overshadowed by the outbreak of Jewish patriotism.26 Mary told me sadly that Rahv and Natalie27 have become militant Jews. Thank God you are not here, but in Europe, far from the action here and in Israel. Right now Dwight [Macdonald] is in Egypt, of all places, interviewing Nasser. Don't let yourself be too frightened by the national heroic battles of the Jewish Arabs and the Arabic Jews. This isn't a massacre situation, but a skillful English chess move, and the English hardly had any choice other than letting the old lion roar one more time, after the gin-rummy politics of the Americans in order to secure Europe's oil supply. It's not a war, but an armed demonstration of nations beneath the UN's windows. I hope. However, the Jews will be so proud of their victory that the massacre will edge closer. But-time will tell. I had dinner at Mary's, and it was a very nice evening. We drank to your health, they were both28 very open in their conversation and incredibly nice to me. They send their warmest regards. Roschen is well. Lotte says hello. Regards to the Wieses and to Annchen. Your Heinrich Munster, 11.5.56 Dearest dear, So now so-called world history has dealt us a harsh blow when we least expected it. I'd rather not write how heavy m y heart is. Nor that I want to leave, nor that I might well just suddenly drop everything and go. All day yesterday I tried reaching you at home by phone.But you weren't there. Now I'll telegraph you, so that you can telegraph me back when you think it would be best for me to come home. I don't really believe that things will intensify too quickly, and I think we Americans will still be able to get out in time. But one never knows, and I try to be careful. Which is difficult without you. What is much harder is to be without you now. Hard to bear.Oth­ erwise it would have been very, very nice here. The day before yester­ day and yesterday too-Harder,29 who knows my book30 better than 310

I do, is very taciturn, and has obviously spent many years systemati­ cally punishing himself. But I'm not in the mood to write about that. I'll tell you everything when I see you. Yesterday afternoon Benno31 invited over three of his doctoral students,32 and it was really lively and very pleasant. They are politically so open-minded that I kept thinking that one might well be able to get something going here. It was extremely enjoyable. My friendship with Benno is as strong and as open as it used to be. But still, in essence, a life spent rushing from one radio broadcast to another. Dearest, please we must be very careful not to lose contact with each other now-I would rather that you risked one telegram too many than one too few. Your The news was just on. It looks as if war is not about to break out, even if only because everything is in ruins, including the systems of alliances and the United Nations. That can very well mean that the Third World War is really at our doorstep; and when it starts, it will be like these events now-no declaration of war! But I'm sure we still have a couple of months. Oh, dearest, how dismal this world is, and how lost I am in it when we are not together. Farewell, my darling, , don't tire and upset yourself with trivial things that only seem important right now, but aren't. H. Hannah [handwritten] [New York, beginning of November 1956] Darling, As you haven't telegraphed me, I take it that my last letter assured you a little, and that is why I want to give you an appraisal of the s i t ­ uation right away. Right now the immediate danger of a Third World War has subsided. The Russians made big troop movements, spoke big words, and frightened the world. A new trick: The press state­ ments which they gave about their memoranda were much sharper than the memoranda themselves. They wanted to gain the time and space to throttle the Hungarians, and they did. Ben-Gurion filled his 311

mouth with big nationalistic words, and now is busy trying to swal­ low them. Partly because the Russian bluff with the Russian and C h i ­ nese "volunteer" troops i n Egypt tricked him into believing he saw the massacre coming, and mainly because Eisenhower began, for the first time, to speak about American-Jewish money. It is not apparent what Nasser actually did. Did he hold back the other Arab nations he had incited, in order to wait for a better situation? Did he spare his own army, or did it fail? He has the same problem that Ben-Gurion and many others have-they cannot decide whether they want to be statesmen or leaders of the masses. Every healthy national as well as international endeavor is time and again deflected and destroyed by racial or socialist mass feelings. The Russians cannot come to terms with a ·national non-Communist Hungary, and so the red terror is un­ leashed, and the Hungarians answer with the white terror which the initially heroic resistance automatically turns into. England, in des­ peration at the total inactivity of the Americans, gave a feeble demon­ stration of state imperialism, and Russia suddenly showed Hungary what mass imperialism is. In Hungary the Russians can no longer rule with Hungarian Communists. Russian Communists have to do it openly, and with this begins the open party-imperialism that was hid­ den for so long. Eisenhower and a Democratic majority were elected here in both houses. Quite clever. Eisenhower gets more independence from his party. Unfortunately the Southern Democrats are in too, and the South is already being ruled by committees of white , and not by Washington. Here too the racial movement deforms national politics. I hope the wine there is good. The imported wine here doesn't taste that bad either. At Bard the kids' enthusiasm for Lao-tse is a great comfort to me in these dark, cold times. Besides, you'll be back again soon, and we'll need to hold each other's hands tight. Your Heinrich

312

X May to October 1958

At the beginning of July 1958, Hannah Arendt accepted a n invitation from the City of Munich to give a lecture at the International Cultural Critics Congress.This and a series of other lectures were the occasion for this trip to Europe (on which Rose Feitelson accompanied her part of the way). This trip lasted from the end of April to the end of July. In September 1958, Arendt flew to Frankfurt for a few days, to give the speech for the prize the German Book Trade Association awarded to Karl Jaspers. Paris, May 4, 1958

Dearest, This letter-paper is all that has remained from the crossing. It is a hiatus, not a journey in which one is carried faster or slower from one place to another. It isn't a stone's throw either, as it is in an airplane. It is as if a most comfortable nothingness pressed itself between coun­ tries or times; quite unreal, like water itself, without palpable resis­ tance, this immense desert of water that we call ocean. But the voyage was very nice, without storms, just one day of rough seas [. . .J. My proneness to being seasick seems to have passed again. We were im­ mediately given a second cabin and I stayed in the first, and the com­ missaire refused to accept a tip or anything else. On nous a bien arrange. 1 This was important. Being together in a room-that would have become difficult. [. . .] But we swam every day, in lukewarm 313

sea-water, the saJt content of which was so high that one could lie on one's back and positively fall asleep, and one had a hard time getting one's legs down. Yesterday we were at the Chinese opera-a big sensation here. The whole thing a kind of popular, very funny, circus with variete, and here and there a little bit of socialist folk dancing, like European minuets. The only amazing thing about it, really, was how much it re­ sembled a puppet theater, except that the puppets were people. I did like it, because I like puppet theaters so much; but it wasn't art. The only really interesting clement was the music, not just the accompani­ ment, but also the independent pieces, one of them a quartet that mimicked birds, i.e., five people whose leader would set a birdcall, at which point the others played variations on it on a stringed instru­ ment and some wind instruments. All of it just melody, without any harmonies, but very, very nice, and not in the least peculiar. Then came the man with the stringed instrument-only one or two strings-and played two solos, which were unusually beautiful. The people looked very charming, from Peking. Tomorrow evening I'm going on to Luxembourg. This evening I'm going to the Koyres'; we ran into them at the theater yesterday and were together for quite a while. Otherwise, I'm only going to see Ralph Manheim2 for the Jaspers translation and Jean Wahl, with whom I just spoke on the phone.3 Koyre looks marvelous and was in a very good mood. Charming as I haven't seen him in years. Paris is marvelous, marvelous. Sunshine and warmth, not too warm, just right. No American invasion yet, but many Germans, not unpleasant. The city fantasticaUy ; in this small hotel, e.g., everything renovated, new bathrooms and toilets. All very lively and cheerful. As if Algeria4 did not exist and no worries about the government . The Koyres talked along the same lines, every concierge has a refrigerator, etc. A true orgy of shopping has broken out among this [sic]. The prices are constantly rising, and everyone is buying everything. It's a breath of fresh air after America. Even the newspapers are in­ telligent and open-minded. One really feels the stale atmosphere of vacuity in America two and three times over after one comes here.

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314

I must finish. Rose is picking me up for a Modigliani exhibit we want to see. [...] Greetings and kisses. Your [New York,] 5.4.58 Dearest, [. . .] I am eager to hear about your crossing, because the weather here was often bad. It looks like we're in for a chilly Three Saints Days. I hope you didn't miss Annchen in Paris. Here I'm trotting on in my usual routine. The course at the New School will be over in three weeks. That will give me a breather, be­ cause Bard always gets more tiresome toward the end of the semester. I've worked out and sent in a new course about and .5 I will be launching some new philosophical shockers! Esther6 is looking after me really sweetly. Lotte, of course, too. So be a free woman and sing. Have you recuperated a little already, or are you still rattled from all the overwork? It is strange here, in this only half-inhabited apartment. But it's fine, though I am sometimes truly amazed not to run into you here and there . [. . .] Be well, my darling . H

Luxembourg, 5.10.58 Dearest dear, [...] It has been most marvelous here at Annchen's. A chat-orgy, and on top of it the two of us together like an old menage or an old married couple, incredibly in tune, although we had hardly ever been together before. Yesterday and today she had free time. She has an exquisite three-room apartment with the furniture from her 315

parents' home; it looks just like Allenstein.7 But it's not uncanny at all.[ ...] Paris was beautiful, beautiful like a dream that one knows so well. Very nice at the Koyres', a charming evening with the two of them alone. Otherwise, Jean Wahl, who has really and very suddenly grown old, and who plied me with hospitality en grande amitie. 8 Very funny. Otherwise, only the Modigliani exhibit. It's a pity you didn't get to see it. I really like the new subject--and I'm most curious. [. . .] Dearest, don't let them spoil you too much, otherwise you won't be able to get used to me again, and that would be a pity. [. ..] Annchen just gave me some snapshots of the Pont Royal. Really marvelous. But I prefer not to send them, so that nothing can happen to them, and, besides, I don't want to let them go yet. But they are for you! However, I am sending you an article about Algeria9 which I want you to read closely. It is precisely these things that we know nothing about. I met a young Frenchman on the train to Luxembourg with whom I had a very pleasant, one could say friendly, conversa­ tion. Cela arrive -It once more gave me a bit of a feel for the coun­ try. My French is still quite respectable. Needless to say, I'm still afraid of the lectures, IO but no longer panicking. Things are bound to go wrong. I got two letters here from Jaspers and his wife, as a welcome. I'm really looking forward. Say hello to Esther. And all the rest, i.e., especially Lotte. . Your [New York,] 5.11.58 My darling, How nice that you journeyed so cheerily into the open­ mindedness of France. Paris warm, sunny, friendly, and cheerful­ that must be marvelous. I hope you will also enjoy Germany-but, as you see, the Germans in their incredible seriousness have ceremoni­ ously inducted you into their Academy of Poets, and you will have to 316

grin and bear it, for who has the heart to hurt poor poets. How irk­ some it is to be known, how embarrassing to be famous, but to be heaped with honors and distinctions-for that one really has to have nerve. One has to face one's fate the way a good dog endures a cloudburst. Everything is in the same old rut. I live quite regularly, drink little, and have come upon a couple of new things. After two more classes I will be finished with my course, and I'm almost sorry. I'm still on a good roll and maybe can make a good transition to the ethics course. [. . .] Be very happy, and don't overexert yourself. Kiss and pat. Your Heinrich New York, 5.1 8.58

Darling, That was a nice, cheerful letter. I really needed it, because quite a few people up at Bard were sick, and I, too, felt pretty miserable. This time the old complaint took it out of me more than ever. And then suddenly everything blew over. I feel fantastic and am enjoying my­ self at Bard in this year's long and marvelous spring. It is warm but not yet hot. [...] You haven't written anything about the political brouhaha in France.11 We had another whole week of American failures12 in the world. Everything is getting increasingly idiotic and dangerous, and everyone is trying as hard to throw us into chaos. So enjoy your life to the fullest there, and tell them, the few who will listen, the truth, but do it without getting worked up, otherwise they'll end up putting their hands over their ears. A nice vocation we have! Greet everyone greetable. [ . ..] Have you heard from Jaspers? Greeting, kiss, and pat. Your H 317

[Cologne,] May 19, 1958 Dearest dear, Your letter arrived safely at Zilkens', and we arrived safely in Cologne. Hamburg and Bremen13 were quite nice. Roschen talks well and, since she is surrounded by people (my friends), she is much eas­ ier to take. Yesterday we were in Aachen and Maastricht in Holland, quite unusually impressive and beautiful. Didn't know Aachen. Zilkens is driving us all over the place with the greatest enthusiasm. But right now I am about to go to Benno [von Wiese] in Bonn. You needn't worry about the Poets' Academy. As Benno told me, it is a sad organization and an associate member is not a real member; I inquired who else belonged, and then agreed to join, because who cares? You must have received the letter from Luxembourg a while ago, unless the mail has fallen apart altogether, which might well happen. Needless to say, we are totally preoccupied with France. I just read the French Express, which rightly said that Massu14 has finally managed to put the French army at the disposal of the Algerian colonial ad­ ministration-which, among other things, means that France doesn't have an army now. You see, all I have to do is leave a place and things start happening. [. . .] I've been negotiating here with Kiepenheuer's Witsch, whom I don't trust, but maybe everything will be fine-Rahel with an appen­ dix of letters and an advance. 15 Royalties for the selection, which won't be deducted from my royalties. [ . . .] [. . .] Here in Germany, nothing but nuclear unrest; 16 I am surrounded by people who see it as hysteria and maneuvering by the Social D e m ­ ocratic Party. I disagree, and I think the way these people express themselves is quite intolerable. Everyone is eagerly waiting Jaspers' book 17-I'm sure it will be a spectacular success. The people from the radio, etc., know it already from the galleys. Germany-about that when I'm in Switzerland. The contrast with France in the general level of intelligence is sadly astonishing. Prosperity quite unbroken, the people are doing magnificently. We got to know the boy18- Lotte [Beradt]'s boy-and spent the whole day walking around town with him. To date, by far the most 318

pleasant impression and person. Always the same old story-in Ger­ many only a few here and there. The boy is unusually nice, clever and, it seems to me, an uncommonly fine person. I told him a few things about his girl. 19 W hat a joy the two of them are. Say hello to Lotte, she has really done a good job.20 And, last but not least-Danton's death. 21 The production and performance quite good, but not overpowering. BUT: what a play! My darling, don't work too hard, . I kiss you. Your [New York,] 5.25.58

My darling, The New School is over. Better and better to the end, according to everyone. Great applause.Phew. Four more weeks at Bard.Two extra talks this week. Very tiring. But physically in good shape. I am already beginning to take a look at my next projects. It's quite a lot of fun. Imagine, I have the whole of next Friday to myself! [...] I'm in no mood for anything but my crazy musings. How is Benno doing now? It seems [Lotte Kohler] won't be able to accept [a teaching job at] Bard because the money isn't enough. That is so-called life, where one always has too little or too much, mostly of the wrong thing. [...] The French, although with them one never knows, will most probably opt for a skeptical fascism, which will then be in cahoots with the Russian bastards. , a local Dominican said over there-how sadly true. It's plainly clear where hallowed self-interest leads to-to blind hatred. It's a pity for mankind, but in no way for those individuals. Things here are becoming more and more curious with our lead­ ers. The stones that were thrown in South America at the American crown prince [Nixon] are making even Mr. Eisenhower and maybe Mr. Dulles22 a little apprehensive, if that's at all possible, but the American masses want to isolate themselves, . If only everything in this world weren't so damned logical, but crap reproduces its own logic. But unfortunately, for this 319

self-reproduction, it does need the blood of the innocent fools, who are not even aware that they don't deserve any better. [. . .] Your anxious, but otherwise quite cheerful

H

Zurich, May 25, 1958 Dearest dear, Thank your for your letter, which did reach me here, as we have been here since Wednesday evening. Elke had flowers, fruit, and sweets put in the room, and I am very touched. Maybe you can give her a call and tell her that I'll write to her as soon as I have a free minute. The apartment23 is quite pretty, a typical sublet, but ideal for my purposes, very quiet and yet centrally located, the study and the bedroom fitted with everything a person might need. Since I arrived in Zurich all hell's broken loose. I had scarcely walked in when the telephone started ringing. (And it was Jaspers on the phone, a long conversation.) I'll tell you about that in a minute. Unimportant things first: The lecture24 in Zurich was what one calls a success; we had to move from the auditorium into the assembly hall, which has never happened before-and so on. After that, a very nice dinner with Bretscher, the editor-in-chief of the Zuricher Zeitung, who had come back specially from his vacation, and is a very nice, very sharp man, full of humor. (He suggested that the German antinuclear mass meetings should opt for demonstrations against death: that would surely rope in quite a few more people.) After the lecture, news­ paper people, but nice ones, poured into my house bringing flowers. In short, very amusing. This, of all things, in the presence of Hans Kohn, who sat there with a most sour expression on his face, barely able to conceal his disapproval of me and of what I was saying. He kept assur­ ing me over and over that the best thing about my Zurich stay was that I had brought Roschen with me. But things have been quiet since yes­ terday, and I do need it, for Cologne was incredibly nice and amicable with Zilkens and Benno, but pretty tiring, too. Furthermore, I have to go to Geneva tomorrow for my lectures at the Institut International. Dearest, I don't give a honking hoot about all of this! On the other hand: You must have read in the papers that Jaspers has been given the

320

German book-traders' Peace Prize,25 which will be ceremoniously awarded at the Paulskirche. They have the local custom of having a so­ called oration, in other words a glorification of the honoree, which serves to introduce him. And now-this is the Lord's doing-these people have had the outlandish idea that I am the one who should give the oration!! And so, please start thinking about this right away: should I or shouldn't I? Jaspers, who had nothing to do with it, im­ mediately declared he was enthusiastic. But that doesn't necessarily tie my hands. He just called to assure me once again that I shouldn't feel obliged in any way, and that if I should have misgivings about the whole thing (cf. daimonion),26 I shouldn't do it. He didn't, however, accept the reason� for my misgivings. They are as follows: This is a public-political act. What speaks against me is 1) that I'm not in the same league as the other prominent figures. You'll see what I mean when I tell you that the others, who would be asked if I don't accept, are Camus or maybe Reinhold Niebuhr.27 2) The personal friendship between Jaspers and me is an obstacle, but only an obstacle for me; he does not acknowledge the radical difference between private and public. 3) I am a woman and a Jew and a non-German, i.e., an emigrant. All of that will make a very bad impression in public. Jaspers isn't contesting this, but he enjoys it. When I asked the Germans "How did you come to choose me of all people?" they answered: "It would be great for a woman to appear in the Paulskirche for the first time." (Title: Freckles too are points of view!!) 4) I am afraid. Jaspers sees only rationalizations in these considerations, and is barely prepared even to discuss them with me. His reasons: He would really enjoy it, possibly the only enjoyment in this whole thing, which he isn't really enjoying. He is 75 years old; it is basically a unique op­ portunity for me to do something nice for him. There is also another reason, maybe even two, which I can't tell Jaspers. First of all-Heidegger. Of course this matter would only confirm what is already established, or, better, isn't established-and this, due to no fault of mine-but it would force me into unambigu­ ously taking sides, at least to all appearances, which I do not want to do. And tied in with it is the fact that this would also be a declaration of political solidarity, or appear to be one, which needless to say I 321

don't feel particularly comfortable with. To this one could say that I do, after all, have a mouth, and that I can say whatever I please. The practical side of it is: At the end of September I would have to fly to Frankfurt for a couple of days-no big deal. Expenses would be paid. Two sleepless nights is no problem at all for me. So now, dearest dear, you know everything. What should your Snuffy do? Can you telegraph me or ring me here in Zurich? The tele­ phone number: 24-67-45. I will return to Zurich Friday the 30th in the evening, and stay till Monday morning. You have to let me know by then. I'll be in Heidelberg on Tuesday, and I'll have to tell them what I have decided. Otherwise, even more important things: I am negotiating with Kohlhammer for the Human Con dition,28 and I will most probably break off all connections to Kiepenheuer and Witsch, who are sup­ posed to do Rahel, because Mr. Witsch is very unreliable, typically German, so one never knows where one stands with him. As Piper wants to have Rahel, I will most probably decide to give it to him. Witsch, a kind of Kurt Wolff, except on a much lower level.Everyone cautions against him, and I'm in no mood to have to hire a lawyer to get my royalties out of him. Kohlhammer is in Stuttgart, and I will drop by to see him on June 2, before I go to Heidelberg. [...] Yesterday we went to the theater here; very well-acted plays by Max Frisch, a kind of Swiss nihilism, but in the form of a French com­ edy of manners, so at least funny. Dearest, forgive me for this crazy letter. You know how it is­ whirled about and in panic and no Snubby in sight for me to discuss things with. [ . . .] Frau Britschgi29 told me here that Robert has married again, but that Elke doesn't know it(!), and he has become a father for the second time. Poor Elke, if only she would decide to get a job. She can't here in Switzerland because she's a foreigner, but in New York it should be possible with her sewing. This whirling about between continents is pretty miserable. Believe me, my darling, women can only live in marriage.30 [...] Your very own 322

New York, 6.1.58

My darling, How good modern technology is when we can use it for our own purposes. It is marvelous to be together in the same room again, though across the ocean. Of course ceremony is always unpleasant. But for a friend-one can even stand up in the Paulskirche, which actually is quite amusing. National politics or partisan politics are not involved here at all. But there is something fundamentally political about this, namely, that both Jaspers and you are very much interested only in the future of mankind and nothing else. Like Nietzsche. And me. You should really talk to them about the concept of the good European. , that little German shrimp! [. . .] I don't give a damn who gets Rahel, as long as German men fall all over themselves for her again. [. . .] This Friday was already free, marvelous. Three more weeks at Bard, and I'll be alone with my thoughts. Greetings, kisses, and little pats.

H

[Zurich,] June 1, 1958

Dearest dear, What a miracle and what joy suddenly to hear your voice here. Af­ terward I called Jaspers right away, who was quite relieved. Then Frau Jaspers, too, called me, in high spirits and very happy that I would also be in Frankfurt. Of course you are right-the whole thing is ba­ sically six of one, half a dozen of the other; and it makes him happy. Returned from Geneva the day before yesterday, where I filled the students with enthusiasm, and where I had a great conversation with a young English student. It was very nice. Every time I go to Zurich I like it more. Yesterday we were up on the Dolder and today a long cruise on the lake. Really marvelous. A lively, humane, pleasant city. I definitely could live here. And quite comfortably too. In the mean­ time, the phone has been ringing off the hook. (I did tell you that 323

Jung31 wants to meet me. I think I can survive that. Tomorrow I am going to Heidelberg via Stuttgart (Kohlhammer, publisher). [. . .] The De Gaulle hysteria32 seems to have run its course. Naturally he is setting up a party cabinet like all the rest. Grotesque. The So­ cialists are comporting themselves even more ridiculously than in the past, but still in the same style. Will this be the end of the Comites du Salut Public in Algeria? Or will they dare to stand up against this id­ iotic savior of the fatherland? The Russians, however, are already flut­ tering their eyelashes at De Gaulle. And this, along with the German antinuclear movement, could well be the end of NATO. The situation in Germany is not serious, but it is highly emotional. Gunther [An­ ders] is marching right up there in front, and Heidegger, who simply can't keep away from mass movements, has joined in full force. It all hinges on the notion that one will have to reach an understanding with the Soviet Union. If one takes a close look at the whole thing, it really turns one's stomach. One could conceive of a serious movement for the neutralization of Europe. But no way! This is complete hyste­ ria, which only indicates how weak and unsteady all the current regimes are. In Italy, too, the Communists and the Nenni-Socialists33 have more than 36% of the votes. What's on the agenda is not neu­ trality, but reaching an understanding with Russia and hitching oneself onto the train of history. Seen from this idiotic perspective, one can even understand Jaspers' unconditional pro-Americanism­ which, basically, is also foolish. We have no choice but to "crazily muse." That's still the best way of getting somewhere. Trying to negotiate in this hodgepodge seems impossible. One inevitably ends up on the wrong front regardless of how one does it, and so one is forced into insane alternatives. Dearest, I am quite anxious, really, even if it doesn't come across in my letters. In between, I'm also having fun. Roaming around is al­ ways nice, but one mustn' t get lost. Keep on "crazily musing" as you did last semester. I'm already looking forward to the next. Snubby: don't drink too much. Your very own Tell Lotte I'm sending her greetings and kisses. Her letters are marvelous-wherever I go, a note is waiting. She knows that I am 324

afraid of getting lost, and acts accordingly. I'll write her when I get back from Heidelberg. I'm too tired today. [New York,] 6.3.1958 Darling, I'm glad you're taking this thing34 calmly now, the way you should. Zurich sounds quite nice from your description. It always seemed like a postcard to me, and, regardless of the good food, I often asked myself if I could live there for more than two days. De Gaulle has taken a coura­ geous stand against his own supporters. But whether the Europeans and particularly the French will manage to keep a foothold in Africa now, at the eleventh hour, is rather doubtful. Otherwise the Arabian bloc with all its horrible possibilities is inching closer and closer. Here we are still having a clear and fresh spring, a true wonder of nature. It's beautiful up at Bard, with this year's abundance of green­ ery and flowers. Otherwise, of course-but all that will end in two weeks. The majority of the faculty has declared itself ready to work next year according to a if Ford [Foundation] will give us the money for this experiment, which I don't really be­ lieve. Well, we'll see. I don't spend much time thinking about these things or about my future, except cynically. [...] At Bard we are trying to find a few prominent names as substi­ tutes for the literature professors who will be away next year. One for each course. Alfred [Kazin] has almost accepted. Where is Mary? It would be fun to have her back at Bard again.35 Send me her address, or, better yet, pass my inquiry on to her. I will also ask Dwight [Macdon­ ald]. Alfred didn't know you were away and sends you his love.[. . .] YourH. . [Zurich,] June 8, 1958

Dearest dear, My first truly quiet Sunday, alone in the apartment, the weather heavenly, and the only thing making a considerable noise is the birds. 325

Rose left yesterday, it was quite touching after all, with great protesta­ tions of love for me. [. . .] Also, the lectures are over for the time being. The only thing left is Munich36 in three weeks, and I'm going to write that lecture now in my own good time. I have calmed down a little about the Frankfurt Paulskirche; I spoke with Lambert Schneider in Heidelberg, who right now is the chairman of the book traders and the founders of the prize. And, as a result, I have the impression that my most serious problem is: What should I wear? and How does one address Heuss? I'm sure both problems will be easily solved. Gunther [Anders] is blissfully floating in nuclear death,37 and is hoping to go to Tokyo very soon, with side trips to India and God knows where else. He might well come here at the end of the month. Writes touchingly, as always, completely unchanged-he in his writ­ ing and I in my reaction. I am quite queasy about seeing him again, and am secretly hoping he'll cancel. I have also turned down other re­ quests for lectures, because I want to be left alone for the three weeks I'll be in Zurich. But I've left myself open everywhere to giving a few more lectures at the beginning of October-naturally only if I am paid appropriately. Because I can't simply use what I already have. I'm going to record my Zurich lecture on freedom38 for the radio here. The education crisis39 has been the most profitable-Cologne and Bremen are broadcasting it, and it's also going to be published some­ where. Cologne is paying me 1 ,500 DM. Tu vois-these things are really beginning to bring in some money.

[. . .]

I think I forgot to report that Benno sends you his warmest re­ gards. We had a very nice day and evening together at Zilkens'. But a professor in Germany will always be a strange , if he's as nice as Benno. All the while I keep thinking-I want to rush home to my Snubby. Your New York, 6.14.58 Darling, Here it was damp and tropical for a couple of days, but now we are having the most wonderful German June weather. I am happy that 326

you are quartered so well in Zurich. It will give you a breather. I can picture both Gunther and Heidegger. Everything is whirling and twirling again as on a roller coaster at Luna Park, and in the dizziness it is easy enough to be under the impression that everything is re­ volving around oneself, and that one is doing something for the world that the world has patiently been waiting for. When will we be saved from the saviors? At Bard, the semester is coming hectically to an end, and next week will be terrible. Now I am sweating over 60 , and then come the -and, phew! Otherwise nothing to report, because, thank God, I'm not seeing or hearing anything. It is possible Mary hasn't managed to reach me. It's a pity.[. . .] A gigantic package came from Hamburg. I haven't opened it. But Esther is enthusiastically looking forward to the good kitchenware.[...] Copies of the book40 have finally arrived. They look very good. It looks like I'm going to have to go to Schulz in Connecticut. Don't overexert yourself with all the money-earning and the . A kiss and a pat. [Zurich,] Sunday, 6.15.58

Dearest dear, The first of my three weeks is already over, and it was very nice. Very, very quiet, hardly spoke to anyone, except, obviously, to Jas­ pers in Basle, and that on the telephone. Also worked well, so peace­ fully and basically contented. This is really a relaxation that will give me energy for years. Because I still like Zurich very much. The post­ card thing is quite true, but it really has a kind of beauty. Today, with the sun shining, the lake was truly heavenly with all the small sail­ boats and the many swans and the mountains in the background and the roses. And everything so nice and clean, as if they licked them­ selves like cats every day. When you were here, you were too young for this city, and it hadn't yet become so ·much the carrefour de ['Europe: France, Germany, Italy lying within easy reach. The thing with Bard does worry me. Maybe you should take a leave of absence next year, so that they can conduct their experiments 327

there, if at all, without you. Next year would be perfect because of Princeton. 41 Think about it. I know your first reaction is always "no," but maybe it is a good idea to do only the New School for a change. I don't have Mary's address.You're going to have to call and ask Bow­ den [Broadwater]. [. ..] Gunther wrote to me that he won't be coming after all, because he's flying off to Tokyo. I already told you. I can't get excited about the Paulskirche right now. Long discussions with Frau Jaspers as to what he should wear. I: A black suit. She: He doesn't have one, and as he's so old, it isn't worth spending that kind of money. The old blue one, from the Heidelberg days, will do well enough. I: How do you know when he's going to die? She: Even if he lives another ten years, he'll never use the suit again. I: You never know-a discreet hint on my part at the Nobel Prize-and how much is it going to cost? She (with audible horror): 1,000 francs (about $250)! I: That's not more than 10% of the prize money. 10% in expenses is perfectly normal. I wonder who will win. The 10% expenses seemed to have con­ vinced her for the time being. I am also of the opinion that she needs a dress, but I think I'd better discuss that with him. You see, it is fun! I am enclosing a copy of a letter42 to Ralph Manheim. He is Jaspers' translator, but has also translated Heidegger, Einfiihrung in die Metaphysik. 43 He wrote me after a conversation we had in Paris about the blessed Nazi affair, and, needless to say, specifically about the part in the book from the 1934 lectures, which [Heidegger] hadn't edited out yet. I tried to explain-the result he wants me to write an introduction for the American edition (Yale Press)? I answered. Tell me if you think I made the right choice. I gave it a lot of thought, and can't come to any other conclusion. 4 4 So there is nothing new to report. Except that I have granted the wish and purchased a lorgnon. It's great fun, but does look somewhat antiquated. Tomorrow I'm going to Basle again, and at the end of the week there will be a preparatory meeting there for the Paulskirche with Piper and Lambert Schneider. [...] Oh, yes, I also have to report that the cherry season is quite out­ standing; the cherries are becoming cheaper and better every day, and I can barely keep up-I've already had my stomachache, my intes­ tines are beginning to get accustomed. What a marvelous taste! 328

You see, !! Say hello to Esther!! Your I forgot: I was at the theater twice, once the Barrault company which performed marvelously in a bad play by Anouilh45 and also Kleist's Amphitrion [sic]-very badly performed, but the play is indestructible. Your very own [Zurich,] June 17, 58 Dearest, I just got a letter from Mary, who had every possible and impos­ sible problem with her photographing in Florence46 and she might come here next week to recuperate. That would be very nice.

. . .]

[

Yesterday Basie, and I imagine tomorrow too. The lectu res [Jaspers']-Pascal-are excellent, I must say he is . Arid on top of that, those two old people who are so thankful they are still together; and quite without pathos and fear of death or threat of death. I also have his nuclear book.47 I'll read i t quickly, it seems very sensible, then send it to you. Dearest, I'm anxious, which is the only reason I'm writing. Here, too, we're having the most marvelous weather. Today I've been pretty much lazing about because I've had a horrendous attack of gout, I can't move my right shoulder properly, and I took some Atophan, which helped my gout right away but gave me a horrendous rash. Now I need to choose between not being able to move and scratching. So I didn't sleep all night, but am still quite cheerful. I comfort myself with cherries. Your-I'm definitely not overexerting myself! Your [Bard College,] 6.23.58 My darling,

. . .]

[

I can't write to Mary right now, barely to you. The last days at 329

Bard were indescribably strenuous and aggravating. The students re­ volted against the new system, the great majority of teachers acqui­ esced out of fear for their livelihoods. Nobody knows what will happen. I simply can't take next year off, whether I want to or not. And I don't want to either, because I can perhaps help sort this mess out. That's what I'm busy with now. Some of the better teachers have already taken next year off, and I want to replace them with even bet­ ter ones, since one can't be sure if they'll be coming back at all. So I'm stuck here with my only-somewhat-belated and am fuming with anger. It's wonderful that Jaspers is in such good shape. It's good for you too. Take care of your rheumatism. Here we've had cold and rainy weather till now, and we're expecting more. Unusual, but quite pleasant. A kiss and a pat. Your H [...] [Zurich,] June 24, 58

Dearest dear, The summer here simply won't start. There are a few warm hours here and there, but in general it's constant jacket weather, and it looks like this is what European summers are like, only that we've forgot­ ten. I think our climate is more pleasant. At least one knows what the sun is for. I got a letter from Blumenfeld. Jenny48 has just been released from the hospital, and they wouldn't be able to make it here before July 16. That means that my nice plan of coming home earlier has fallen through. So I'm going to have to meet with Kurtchen [Blumenfeld] after Jaspers, and will only be rolling in, in other words, flying in, around the 29th or the 30th.As I'm generally very anxious, I'm not in the least bit pleased. But what can I do? In the meantime, Cohn-Bendit, whom Chanan [Klenbort] had re­ ported missing, has turned up here. I'm meeting with him on Sunday in Munich. [. . .] Otherwise there isn't anything in particular to report. I was again in Basie on Saturday, and am going again tomorrow. Jaspers is un330

commonly fresh and lively. Many parts of the nuclear book49 quite outstanding; if he would only refrain from all the moralizing; but he can't, that's precisely what is most important to him. He's having a copy sent to you. On Saturday I also wandered around Basie with Piper and his wife.We ended up in the cherry fields, and the three of us simply plucked from the trees whatever we could manage-and we managed quite well. If anyone had seen us, all three of us would have ended up in the Basie jail, and Jaspers would have read in the Sunday papers that unfortunately his publisher and his officially appointed laudator were at the moment otherwise engaged. That would have been quite funny. I'm arranging a couple of lectures for myself in autumn, so that there'll be some money coming in. I also accepted the invitation from Notre Dame.$300 is $300, and Snuffy would like to bring something home with her. Otherwise she'd be embarrassed. Yes, the Chicago book [The Human Condition] looks great, and, I think, reads very well. Lotte wrote me an enchanting letter about this and that. So that you are aware of the "effect" I'm having here, and so that you see that the clothing question has been effectively solved, I am enclosing a criticism of my Heidelberg lecture. 50 It is funny! You see-I'm still managing to do quite well with the German goyim! [. . .] Farewell, dearest. See to it that it gets a bit warmer. Your semester is coming to an end now, and I'm not there. It does upset me. Your very, very own New York, 6.29.58 My darling, It's a pity that summer isn't settling in there. Here it was late, but it's marvelous now.One never knows what's better. I hope you're not having any rheumatism. Your life in Basie is beginning to sound in­ creasingly bucolic. Have you got anywhere with the writing you were planning to do in Zurich, or did you finally just have fun? My greet­ ings to Cohn-Bendit. I hope he's still greetable. I've finally got all the papers off my desk, and am beginning to work. I've lost my good, new German biology book. 51 I can't find it, just when I need it. Did you lend it to somebody? Does maybe Jonas, 331

our new natural philosopher, have it? Every day the first thing I do is arrange my books, and then Esther dusts. Otherwise, 1 only see a few movies and listen to music. Orff's opera Die Kluge is out on records here, and it is marvelous new theater. I'm also liking Bartok more and more. I read a beautiful play by Lorca, Blood Wedding. It came out as an Insel paperback. Buy it and bring it with you. Of course it is important that you see Blumenfeld-we'll go to Palenville in August. Say hello to the Jaspers, and let me know where you intend to roam around after Munich to forget all the official rumpus. [. . .] A greeting, a pat, and a kiss.

H

[Munich, beginning of July 1958]

Dearest dear, So what happened this time? Didn't you get my letters, or have the and the Bard problems thrown you totally out of joint? Also, your letter arrived in Zurich so late that I almost sent you a cable. I, for one, am also slightly out of joint. The lecture here52 was a real success, particularly with the students, who began hissing when­ ever anybody raised any objections to what I was saying in the dis­ cussion. Very funny. Cohn-Bendit was here too, with Herta [his wife] (!); they're trying to live together again on a trial basis. He had a breakdown in April and was halfway sober-completely sober on the first day, and quite intelligent. Really the only one with whom it is worth having a political discussion about Germany. Yesterday, though, when the two of them came over for lunch, he again smelled a little dubious. It's so sad I could cry. The doctors told him pretty brutally that if he continued he'd end up in an insane asylum. That was a wake-up call for him. But for how long, the gods only know. Always the same old story: a question of self-confidence, etc. I must say I'm being confronted by all the layers of my past. The widow of Nickel, a Konigsberg friend of my youth, suddenly turned up and gave me a picture of him taken before he died. And little Hans 332

Jonas' great love from the Heidelberg days, and so on. And in the meantime, always the congress,53 pretty ghastly, with Horkheimer and Sternberger and Peter de Mendelssohn, a talented, run-down journalist, charming and hopeless. And then Piper, with whom I'm beginning to become friends. Right now I'm waiting for a very charming person, a Countess Donhoff,54 a German journalist, intelli­ gent, around forty, beautiful and ver y spirited. By the way: The man who introduced me at my lecture compared me (it seems it invariably has to happen) with Rosa Luxemburg and Ricarda Huch.55 I answered, without reacting to Huch, that I was very honored to have my name and Rosa Luxemburg's mentioned in the same breath.At that the whippersnappers in the auditorium broke into spontaneous applause! But tell me please, where do they know her from? You can't find a single book of hers in the bookstores. Piper, e.g., barely knew anything. The young people are in good shape, but the others are so un­ bearable that you wouldn't believe it. They pose and strut about and declaim and puff themselves up. Disgusting! And Horkheimer! Need­ less to say, billing and cooing. Stevenson56 and Silone canceled. If S i ­ lone were here, quite a few things would be different. Dearest, I wrote you better and in greater detail from Zurich. The Bard matter worries me. Not so much that Bard �ight fall apart, but that you might let yourself be chewed up. This newest reform seems completely idiotic to me, and I can see why the teachers are leaving. The students, I'm afraid, will do the same.

[. . .J

Dearest, don't leave me without news!

Your H.

New York, 7.6.58 My darling, How can you get so angry when a letter arrives a little late. I sent off the last one Monday evening. That's all. Next week I might have to go to Bard for a meeting. I'm also supposed to go to the Schulzes' for a weekend and visit Dwight [Macdonald], who has settled down 333

there very close by for the summer. So don't get worried if letter-days change a little. I have calmed down completely about Bard, because I don't give a hoot anymore. The Ford Foundation, believe it or not, has granted our president $15,000 for a so-called . It's simply ridiculous. I hope he'll pocket the money while hardly doing a thing, otherwise he'll ruin the college for these slim pickings. I'm beginning to recuperate and feel reborn without all those daily worries about the brats. My plans for my new course are beginning to take shape. I'm extremely pleased with the impression you've made on the boys and girls. Will new life sprout from the earth? Goodness never founders completely, just as evil never fully prevails. Say hello to Jaspers. I am to send you greetings from Rahv, with whom I had dinner. He was very nice, and feels lonely . (. . .] A kiss and a little pat. Your H

Zurich, July 9, 1958

Dearest dear, I came back this morning from Tiibingen57 on one of those typi­ cal German trains that leave at seven in the morning! But I'm rested now, and am beginning to recover from Munich and Tiibingen. Imag­ ine being with Horkheimer, Ludwig Marcuse, Wilhelm Herzog, and Hermann Kesten! 58 There's not much a dermatologist59 who speaks East Prussian and tries to run everything marvelously can do. The gentlemen tore each other's hair out; you should have seen them! And their vanity! W henever they were applauded, they would stand up, as in an opera, and bow! Indescribable! I haven't seen this kind of van­ ity in twenty-five years, so unabashed. I still laugh when I wake up in the middle of the night and think of it. Your Snuffy was somewhat the star because of her "boisterous temperament," as the gentlemen of the press call it. So the men were disgruntled, and the ladies, as always, very pleased. Countess Donhoff was very nice, very clever and pleas­ ant. She spoke only in the discussion, and I talked with her a lot. Most 334

of the time the two of us debated without paying any attention to the foolish cockerels trying to pass for men, who, as I mentio�ed, were not particularly pleased. Furthermore, I put the Rahel letters60 in order, in other words, I did quite a bit of work. I checked everything again, went pretty much with Lotte's selection, but added some things which we couldn't get hold of in NY [sic].Also, Piper is going to pub­ lish my monograph Die ungarische Revolution.61 So I will need an offprint of the English text62 right away-there must be one at home, presumably in the study. Please send it immediately by airmail, , to Jaspers' address. I just spoke with Jaspers on the phone. I'll be there on Saturday. His nuclear book is an incredible success in Germany. And I must say it is an exceptional book. A German critic wrote that Jaspers63 Z 10, in the morning I had just got this far when the telephone rang and there was a "This is Blumenfeld" on the line. I hadn't expected it, because I was under the impression that they would be coming later, and directly to Geneva. So I rushed off to their hotel the way I was, and then it was already time to pick up Annchen [Weil] from the station, who has come here from Arosa for the last two days before I sequester myself at Jaspers'.64 We're very cheerful, and are about to go to breakfast.But I can't really write you properly: I wrote this, believe it or not, before breakfast. Anne isn't ready yet-all this so that you will find some­ thing waiting for you when you return from your bearable-to-nice weekend. Say hello to Dwight [Macdonald] and to melancholy Rahv. Mary is in Florence. I'm in touch with her. I'll tell you more when I see you. Your New York, 7.14.58 My darling, I am very pleased that the Ungarische Revolution is coming out in Germany. If the young there have an inkling about Rosa Luxemburg, then it will do them good to be confronted by this first attempt to show what practical methods all obsolete powers use to exert politi­ cal control over free people through fear. Jaspers' book really seems exceptional in that in it, in a way, Kant speaks to our times. For the 335

new political necessity of freedom it is a clear re-establishment of the indispensable philosophical foundation of politics, without which the new structure cannot be erected. But, as you know, the concept "republic" must be understood in a new and more decisive way. So we are deeply connected with Jaspers. It's great that you have Kurt [Blumenfeld] there. I was very happy to see his handwriting. Tell him I, too, often think of him and always with genuine pleasure. Say hello to him and to Annchen. And convey to Jaspers my happiness and gratitude for the book. Even my first cursory impression is enough to recognize its worth. I am somewhat recovered, even though I am constantly being pestered by Bard matters and lose a lot of time. The work on my new course is progressing well. I will also have a chance to make the prob­ lems Jaspers has posed known a little. [sic]. Lotte is working her fingers to the bone on your book in order to meet the deadline and to have it ready for you to go over in Palenville.65 I'm very pleased with your successes, even if they annoy the vain fools, for they will help promote Die ungarische Revolution. Soon you'll be back here again, thank God. A kiss and a pat for my good little Snuffy. YourH. [Basle,] July 16, 1958

Dearest dear, Jaspers is at the dentist, and I have some time quickly to write you a few words this afternoon. I'm brimming over with stories, and it's high time I came home, if only to tell them to you. "Here" is mar­ velous again. But, for reasons I cannot fathom, I'm being spoiled so much that I'm sure I will become unbearable. Yesterday Jaspers launched into a long discussion, a long lecture I should say, about silky velvet. Fool that I am, I told him, or mentioned, what a mar­ velous material it was. And now he has got it into his head that he will make me a present of such a dress. It would cost 2,000 francs, in other words, about $500, and I told him politely that he was out of his mind. Then there followed a long lecture. Indescribably charm­ ing. Thank God it subsequently turned out that one can't find silky 336

velvet anywhere. The success of the nuclear book, which has alrcad y sold out its first printing in German, has gone to his head. But she [Frau Jaspers] is no better. I did have to accept a silver cigarette case, though, and as Annchen gave me a silver powder compact, and J treated myself in Munich to a very beautiful brown ostrich bag-as a counterpart when I'm wearing brown to the black bag that Jaspers had given me-I will come back home so elegant that you won't recognize me. I prefer to keep silent about all the other marvelous things. [. . .] Whenever I have a little time, not very often, I am preparing Un­ garische Revolution for publication. Piper just sent me the contract. But there has been a disaster with the paperback edition of Totalitari­ anism:66 I wanted to proofread it in order to check the revisions of the new edition, and can do that only with the manuscript. I had ex­ pressly asked them if I should take my manuscript with me, and was expressly told not to worry. Now they write: It is impossible for us to send you the manuscript. I feel ill, and am now trying at least to get hold of the [sic]. In New York, that is. [...] So, that's all for now, as the rest' would be too much. Unfortu­ nately I'm doing scandalously well. Everyone here sends you their warmest regards. Jaspers says: "I wonder if Heinrich will write me about the nuclear book? He wrote me once, such a nice letter."67 He reminds me of you in little details, e.g., at the dinner table, when he is supposed to eat a leftover piece of meat which might not keep, he will say: I'm not a garbage can! He is sprightlier and more cheerful than ever. With her, too, you wouldn't believe she was seventy, and she's almost eighty. Your very, very own [No place or datel

Dearest, Your letter just came-and the newspapers. Obviously, all I have to do is cross the ocean, and bang, there goes world history.68 Do you think it will be a new Korea?? Please write me immediately. If you get 337

this letter on Monday and write back right away, it will arrive here be­ fore I leave for Gstaad to see Kurtchen [Blumenfeld]. [. . .] Lotte: Your news that she is working on my book in a state of panic has put me in a state of panic. I almost sent her a telegram. For: She misunderstood me. I won't get a chance to look at it and get it ready for publication before next summer. Dearest, if you think about it you'll realize: I did tell you that the introduction to politics69 need be ready only when I start working on the Vita activa.70 Dearest, what are we going to do? I am so embarr.assed!!! I am so anxious and looking forward to you. My darling-I love you. Your H. [A.] [New York,] 7.21.58 My darling, It is wonderful that you are doing so well. It's the only thing one has left in the totally derailed st.ate of the world, and one should have as much fun as possible. All of Jaspers' pampering is great, but it will be over soon enough when you return; I know myself. I haven't man­ aged to read his book [Die Atombombe . . .] any further, and therefore can't say more about it. Its tremendous success is due to the desperate times, and will doubtless be used as a remedy by those who have lost their way. I am having a very unpleasant bout of pleurisy, and my nerves are about to crack. I haven't had a drop of alcohol for weeks, and as a result have had a nice little sequence of well-known with­ drawal symptoms. They are very funny. Unfortunately my work has suffered as a result, and I have gotten very little done for my courses. Right now I'm catching up, and hope that I will be more or less ready. As Bard received only the ridiculous sum of $15,000 for the [sic] "experiment," it looks like I won't have to have anything to do with it.71 I am not worried enough by the current state of the world to think you are in danger. It looks as if they just wanted to secure Iraq,72 and they have managed. Things will keep escalating step by step, slowly. As long as there isn't-but that can always happen. I'm sure you'll be 338

able to enjoy yourself there until the 29th without worrying. Greet­ ings to everyone. I'm really sorry about the misunderstanding with Lotte, because I could have prevented it if only I'd listen better and think about oth­ ers, instead of thinking about the world. [. . .] It's high time we were together again. Not only because you have so much to tell me and I can hardly wait, but also because there is a lot to discuss. A greeting, a kiss, and a pat. Your H. On September 24, H. A. flew to Frankfurt to give the laudation for Jaspers. A letter that might have preceded this one was not found among H. A.'s literary remains. New York, 10.4.58 My darling, I am glad that Jaspers and his wife enjoyed it [the eulogy]73 so much. And I am glad about your walk through town with Lotte [Be­ radt]. And I almost laughed myself sick about the diamond heist73 you fell victim to, as if you were Tiffany's. The thugs took you for a rich aunt from America. This is what happens when one starts giving oneself airs. Unfortunately it's Lotte's loss, too, and so she ended up paying yet again the tuition fees for a meshuggene friend, who is learning so late in life that people really do steal. [ . . .] A greeting, a kiss, and a pat. Your H.

339

XI September to October 1959

Hannah Arendt traveled to Europe in the autumn of 1959 to receive the Lessing Prize, which was awarded her by the City of Hamburg. After that she flew to Berlin, where she settled her restitution claims, and then traveled on to Florence to spend time with Mary McCarthy. At the end of October she visited Jaspers in Basle. [Paris,] Mercredi [9.16.1959]

Dearest, I just came back from Juliette [Stern], whose husband has died. There I found out quite by chance that Cohn-Bendit is dead. I called his Paris apartment, and his son-Gabi 1-answered the phone and confirmed that it was so. He said it was lung cancer. I have no idea if they are saying that to cover up the truth. Anyway, Herta [Cohn­ Bendit] is living in Frankfurt, and I will try to go and see her. I am upset. Can you call Chanan [Klenbort] and inform him. I intended to write a letter today-so that you would have news by Saturday-though not to you, but to Lotte [Beradt], from whom I got yesterday (!) already the first enchanting note. But now I no longer feel like it. Say hello to her, and tell her I'll write her very soon. The flight was very nice. I had a whole row of seats to myself, and lay stretched out the whole time. The Lutetia2 is no longer what it used to be, but still quite decent. Very run-down. Paris-truly mar340

velous in the autumn light. Nice, mild weather. A lot of work with Ralph Manheim, who has done a superb translation.3 Really excel­ lent.Yesterday, a small party at his place. Otherwise, just work really. In Hamburg I will be staying at the guest house of the Senate. Ad­ dress: Haus Wedell, Neue Rabenstr. 31, Hamburg 36.4 You didn't give me Robert [Gilbert]'s address in Munich. An over­ sight? On purpose? Manheim will be coming back in a few minutes. Farewell, be well, .

Your H.

New York, 9.25.59 My darling, Your letter at last. You seem to feel great, and that makes me happy. I am still having a lot of trouble with my 125 and the 4 new teachers in the course. But I am in great shape, and intend to stay so. As I expected, all the preparations for the new Winter Col­ lege are landing on my shoulders. But Eugenio and Frank Oja5 are a great help. For the next few weeks it looks like I will be returning to New York late Fridays. But the weather is fabulous, and this way I will have some time for little walks. I am sorry about Cohn-Bendit. Maybe cancer really had been gnawing at him a while now, sapping his will more and more.[ . . .] Kurt Wolff has written you a nice, sweet letter. I hope you can meet with him, and you must give him my warmest regards. As for Robert, I had the impression that you felt uneasy about looking him up. I am writing him today on his sixtieth birthday, and, needless to say, I would be very happy if you could see him. Robert Gilbert, c/o Lowitz, Mi.inchen 27, Fossartstrasse 14. [ . . .] I'm arranging things very comfortably for myself here and at Bard, and I already have a bit of time for my new thoughts. , don't put too much on your plate, and take care of your rheumatism. A greeting and a kiss, and a pat, and putting you to bed, Your H 341

Berlin, [9.30.1959] Dearest, Your letter just came, reaching me in Hamburg. Now I'm with my family6 and uneasy, because I haven't written yet and will only get to write tomorrow. Hamburg, a great success.7 More, later. Berlin: re­ built! Looks much better. Dearest! Your Berlin, October 2, 1959 Dearest dear, I'm only getting to write you today, and only if we are really lucky will you get this letter on Monday. Part of this luck, too, will have to be that you will look in the mailbox. I don't want to describe things in the order they happened, namely to report about Hamburg. Berlin-I toured around the city yesterday. Unrecognizable! It's grow­ ing together again, the wounds are healing, it wasn't deadly; even the East very changed. Everywhere they are building like crazy, and life is flooding through the streets again, although that only in the West, really. And the access to the East, quite open-the city, in this sense, is also growing together. I hope it won't just remain a dream! If you wait another year it will be so much better that it will even pass your muster. No trace of abject misery left. And, most important, it has suddenly dropped its provincial aspect again. It is no metropolis, but it is a city once more. You see: I am really pleased and happy to have such good news to report. [. . .] In France the Algeria matter8 is going bust; what now? One can't rely on German newspapers for information, and also the Euro­ pean edition of the Herald Tribune is no good. And one has to read the Zuricher three times a day in order to grasp everything. Ergo: Lotte must, pour /'amour de Dieu, continue sending me reports; oth­ erwise I'm going to turn into a country bumpkin. Today I went to see the lawyer about 9 and spoke to a Mr. Herzberg, who is standing in for him, since he might or might not be recuperating in some sanatorium after a breakdown, which seems to be the fashion here in Germany. The selfsame Mr. Herzberg, a judge by profession (!), was very pleasant and precise, which I need and like. Tomorrow I will go to the Senate first-with a reference 342

from Hamburg-in order to reach the right officials. Then we'll see. I am hoping to get everything done here by Tuesday, and then to move on by Wednesday. And then, Florence. I won't go to Munich, because Piper doesn't want me to talk on the radio right now. He wants to postpone it for six months for publicity reasons.10 Lotte [Kohler] needs to be told, because this means we won't get paid for the time being. Yet Piper wants to launch the Hamburg lecture 11 separately in the Piper­ biicherei, and I'll have to rewrite it for that. I'm going to do that in Florence. It's too good to be true! My family: I'll tell you when I see you, but things are quite good. Not all that good! I'll write to Robert for his 60th. Maybe I can see him in Locarno, where he has a house. I'll write to Munich. This evening, [Richard Strauss's] Ariadne aufNaxos, and on Sun­ day, Galilei12 in the East, and on Monday maybe Chinese theater, also in the East. And then there's the Pergamon Altar, which is to be solemnly consecrated on Sunday. 13 Also, tomorrow my so-called Aunt Lotte 14 is coming back from vacation, and all of us will clasp her to our breast. Ernst Grumach is in Crete, but I'm going to see his wife tomorrow. Otherwise, hardly anyone, except for family. Very strange after all these years. And finally, Hamburg. You can barely imagine-the appropriate headline for it might be: Snuffy Popular! Dearest, I have to take a bath and change for the opera-hurrah!! Be well. A letter from Eugenio [Villicana] just arrived. Your very, very own! Berlin, October 7, 1959

Dearest dear, Thank you for your letter.15 I have always written on time, but haven't always mailed the letter on time. It was almost impossible in Hamburg, as I was staying at the hotel and the post office was quite far away, and I was always rushing around- people, lectures, work, telephone calls, and a rumpus all around. I've just come back from the Restitution Office, where I have reached a "settlement" of, believe it or not, 45,000 DM. It's not really 343

a settlement-it's by far the highest claim I could have hoped for. Zolki16 had advised me to settle for 20,000 DM, and the lawyer over here, 30,000 DM. But the officials here simply offered me the 45,000 DM. Why, only the gods know. I am going to get the money at the be­ ginning of next month. Unfortunately, 20% of it will go for lawyers' fees. Tant pis! I will tell you all the details when I see you.I did make a very good impression, you could say, and then there was my usual luck with the Germans. As for the lawyer: a nice, decent, and also sen­ sible fellow, no Einstein, but he did advise me very well. I only just managed to stop him from pinching my bottom-out of joy at the set­ tlement, I would hope. He calls me Hannah, but we're not addressing each other with «du" yet. When it comes to that, I have very strict rules. Otherwise, the most charming thing in Berlin is Aunt Lottchen [Arendt]. This part is really my letter to Lotte [Beradt], tell her every­ thing! Aunt Lottchen has become "rich" and is really living it up, but is such a good soul that it's a pleasure. And, believe it or not, she was in Rome, and-who would have thought-is bubbling over with en­ thusiasm. (In an East Prussian fashion, but bubbling.) I went to the Stachelschweine17 with her, very interesting. Yesterday, the Pergamon Altar and East Berlin in general, with a nice Berlin woman, whose name I didn't catch, but who drives me everywhere. [. ..) A little confused by my sudden wealth. Be well, dearest, your [New York, mid-October 1959] My dear, little, marvelous girl, How great that you were born18 and dispatched into this world, great for the world, even if it's not aware of it, and better for me, who am very much aware of it, and perhaps, at times, not at all bad for you either. If you were here, where you should really be on such a day, we would surely have one of our ever-longer weekly talks and talk ever deeper into each other. Yet the second best thing on such a day is to be in Florence for the first time. That is a good birthday present that the world is offering you. (One of tl1e great attempts to build a republic. Thwarted, but for memory's sake turned to stone.) I will send you a telegram,19 a ceremonious and elegant thing to do, for you are so rich 344

now that nothing less will do. But what should I give this rich child as a present? I ponder many extravagant possibilities, but I could never manage something as right, as charming, as unusual, and as uselessly useful as Lotte [Beradt] has thought up. If only I could consult with you about it. So, for now, I shall send you a large packet of little pats and greetings. It seems that everyone really liked you again in Hamburg. So you see, your talk20 was very good after all. There is already a letter wait­ ing for you from the German cultural attache in Washington, who heard you in Hamburg, was very impressed, and would like to see you sometime in New York. [. . .] I feel that we are in for some stormy weather. The steel strike here can have very serious consequences. American exports are prac­ tically down to zero. Traders are hinting that there might well be an inevitable devaluation of the dollar. The Russians would have a field day. Give my best to Robert and to Kurt Wolff. I hope you have good weather in Florence. Your H Florence, Hotel Helvetia & Bristol Piazza Strozzi October 13, 1959

Dearest dear, Florence is indescribably exciting, and I'm beside myself with joy. And I'm supposed to be working, but am having the hardest time staying put. I've been here since Friday evening, but I spent an evening in Zurich without letting anyone know because I was dead tired after the Berlin adventure, and, on top of everything else, I had bad luck with my plane connection in Frankfurt. Zurich was foggy, and we all had to spend the night rather uncomfortably in Wiesbaden. Tant pis. Yet I did manage to buy some nice watches for us in Zurich at 8:30 in the morning, believe it or not. Quite efficient, no? Robert: I haven't heard from him at all, although I sent him a letter to Munich and informed him of my address here. I could definitely 345

stop over in Locarno, but I prefer not to if I don't hear from him. What do you think? If you write immediately, the letter will reach. me here in time. Please do so! You know how I mistrust people, and without you I never know if I'm not about to do something incredibly stupid. I'm staying at an excellent and for Florence incredibly cheap hotel in the heart of town, in a room that looks a little like a monk's cell. So I am subjected to all temptations and also, unfortunately, to in­ credible noise. However, I am more than used to stuffed [ear plugs] ears. But since Greece,21 no journey of this kind has been as impor­ tant to me. If only you could be here too[. . .] I don't get to write because I'm either lying dead tired on my bed, or sitting at my desk (a beautiful one, N.B.), or am stuck with rela­ tives,22 or (and this most of the time) wandering around looking at the marvels. Farewell, my darling. I will send this off today, although I hope I will get a letter from you tomorrow, because, in case you have forgot­ ten, it is my birthday. I want to be sure you will get this by Saturday. My family has just rung the bell-they are quite nice, by the way. Greetings and kisses. Your New York, 10.18.59

Dearest girl, Now that you are at Jaspers', you are surely happy. Are you being pampered again? That is the bane that old gentlemen can throw at those who are younger.Just wait till you come home! I am steaming with fury. It is simply impossible to forward aJl the adoring letters, i n ­ vitations, and so on, and I am not suited to be your secretary. (It's bad enough that you couldn't have become my secretary.) Jaspers-give him my warmest greetings-is much on my mind with his somewhat premature plans for the reform of universities.23 He has laid down a decisive foundation with his differentiation be­ tween science and philosophy, but that is no reason to become impa­ tient. His differentiation between religion and philosophy is unclear and equivocal, not to mention art. His efforts on the subject of poli346

tics are great, but "what has been chipped from a minute, an eternity can never restore."24 I will try from my small but essential experiments slowly to en­ gage him in conversation. How did it go with Robert? I hope, I hope well. It is time, 0 my famous little bird, that you return to your nest where you can hide yourself again. But first you will have to answer some twenty letters that are not worth forwarding to you. It is like a fairy tale. Here there is a great campaign by the combined institutions25 . The landlords are to be forced to improve their properties, etc. Maybe we won't have to move out,26 and that would be great, because I like it here so much. Bard is going downhill terribly financially, and marvelously uphill academically. It's all such fun. Be greeted, kissed, and patted. Your Heinrich Please don't bring me any kind of liquor, but instead a hundred of those marvelous old cigars that they make in Brissago in Switzerland near the Italian border-the long Virginias with the blue ribbon and with straw in the middle. And furthermore, come home. Florence, October 20, 59

Dearest dear, Turned to stone is the perfect description of tl1is city, increasingly beautiful the longer one stays. By which I mean that the wonders mul­ tiply. This incredible eruption of genius, wherever one looks. And nothing is clearer here than that the usual division of Middle Ages, Re­ naissance, etc., is pure nonsense. Here the 13th century often, and the 14th always, are already "Renaissance"; what one sees is much more the spirit of the city than the so-called chronology or the spirit of time. The Fi.irsts left Saturday morning, and it was pleasant to the end, amicable and very harmonious since I pretty much avoided anything 347

political, which, as it is, doesn't seem to interest them particularly. Childhood relationships do last: One knows people on a level which might not be crucial, but is still present in one's movements and habits, etc. Here in Florence my cousin [Ernst Fiirst] was very nice, it was only in Berlin, where he was neurotic about botched accounts in the restitution matter, that he got on my nerves. Here he forgot every­ thing in his enthusiasm, which was quite genuine. I think he has two court cases going in Berlin, one against the authorities and the other against his lawyer. Insane! Your letter, my dearest. Are you writing me love letters in our old age? But I have more to report. Bouchi27 arrived here yesterday evening with Silky [her cat] and her car. Quite touching, really. She drove for two days so we could meet. Today we are driving to Arezzo, and to­ morrow to Siena. And Thursday morning we're off to Locarno. Wolff's second letter convinced me to go. 28 But: I will not see Robert. I did everything I could. He didn't answer, but Elke wrote me that he was in Zurich. [. . .] Friday evening I'll be in Basie and will stay again at Jaspers'. She [Gertrud] wrote that I had to stay there, indescribably touching; that he was lonely and that he had no one he could talk to. I will stay a week in Basie. [...] Dearest, I'm anxious, I want to come home. Enough roaming around! It is high time I discussed everything with you in detail. With­ out this possibility everything remains mute. Actually, I'm constantly talking with you as I wander about, roaming through the palaces. Write, my darling, stay healthy, no stomach troubles! Don't push yourself too hard. And please, think about whether you can somehow take a whole year off. We can afford it. Your H. Basie, October 26, 1959 Dearest dear, A week here is so long that I don't quite know where to begin. Anyway, here I am again in sheltered surroundings that have a two­ and threefold effect after traveling around through all those countries. 348

Annchen [Weil] would say: a patting down of the nerves. It's mar­ velous with Jaspers, and both of them unchanged. He is completely open and lighthearted. I read him the things in your letter referring to him.29 He wasn't quite sure what you meant by "impatient." I said I would ask you. He: No, I'll do that myself. So he will be writing to you. Very happy about your reaction, particularly because you ex­ press yourself critically. But now I shall report. So: Buschi [sic] came to Florence as planned, and drove me and Silky to Sienna and Arezzo. It was inde­ scribably beautiful, the sun shining brightly on all the marvels, the Tuscan landscape. You know it well, but I had never seen it before. About Florence, not a word. Because then I wouldn't be able to stop myself. Turned to stone, as you say, but, as it were, conceived with that in mind. And now the wretched masses of little people who have moved in among those momentous stones, having a good time with the most incredible kind of noise-apelike and uncanny. I'm going to get into a fight with Mary about Michelangelo, but little else. She has observed cleverly and well. It is a beautiful book.30 After that, at the Wolffs' in the Esplanade in Locarno. A really beautiful hotel. Both of the Wolffs, not only he, incredibly amicable and affectionate. My Cologne friends31 happened to be there and drove us around Tessin. Again radiant weather, a truly perfect day. I've been here since Saturday, and today Scholem, who happens to be in Basie, is coming to pick me up.[. . .] If you are still worrying about a birthday present, I suggest the Artemis Goethe edition (we have the letter volumes). What do you think? We'd have to get rid of our old ones. But it's not that important. Manheim, Jaspers' translator, will send me the rest32 here from Paris. Should any problems arise, I could go to Paris for two or three days after Brussels. I also have to report that the bird from the dark forest [Heidegger] complained bitterly to my Cologne friends that he didn't have my address. (I sent him a telegram on his 70th birthday [September 26]. Did I write to you that I am giving my Hamburg lec­ ture33 again at the university in Cologne? Enfin, voila. I was hoping to bring back some money. But they are planning a reception, with food and God knows what. They are paying for the food, but not one penny more. I am also going to hang around with the German Women's Guild. 349

Much more important than all this shnokes is that you or Lotte must write immediately to Frau Jaspers to let her know the brand name of your hearing aid. I have forgotten it, and I think it would really help her too. Lotte can definitely do it. Don't become impatient with the stupid mail. We will throw everything into the wastepaper basket and will only refrain from lighting a bonfire because we don't want to end up in prison for arson. And say hello to Esther! You see, I'm doing well, and even the steel strike can't ruin my mood. Neither can a Hungarian poet who appeared at Jaspers' and sentimentalized the whole revolution to such an extent that it could turn one's stomach. Don't worry about Bard, dearest! But please don't kid yourself into thinking we can keep on living in our old apartment. Why don't you talk with Gumperz about investments. Should I leave the money in Germany? Or in Switzerland? In securities? I'm going to have the restitution money34 transferred to our Cologne account. [. . .] Now I must go down to Jaspers. I can't wait. Despite all of this I want to rush to you. Your

350

XII February to June 1961

In the spring of 1961, Hannah Arendt taught for a semester at North­ western University in Evanston, Illinois.On April 7, she flew to Israel to report on the Eichmann trial for The New Yorker. She interrupted her stay in Israel to visit Jaspers in Basie and friends in Munich. After a second short stay in Israel, she returned to Basie, where she was joined by Heinrich Blucher, and the two of them visited Jaspers. [Evanston,] February 1, 1961 Dearest, [. . .] Dearest, it wasn't right that you didn't come. One has to keep one's promises, even when they are given to one's wife. Your Bard excuse is strange, my darling. You could be in Chicago in two hours. And your aversion to flying will only put you in a situation in which you basically can't move anymore-like a person SO years ago refusing to take trains. It is high time you tried it. This whole thing really gave me a fright, because it never crossed my mind that you simply weren't going to show up-and because I'm frightened that if I don't positively force you, which I would never do, that you will act the same way this summer about Europe. [. . .] Please send me the Morgenthau! 1 And: I had asked Lotte to send me the Aufbau,2 which she did once, but has forgotten to do so since. Please send it. It is important because of the Eichmann affair,3 and of course I can't get it here. 351

Have you read Gunther [AndersJ's letter to Kennedy?4 Funny how wrong one can be, when, on the other hand, one happens to be quite right. Or, what do you think? The different 5 are great. I wonder if it will help? Will he manage to convince the country? It'll be much harder, I imagine, than it seems right now. Anyway, he does know what is going on, and that at least is reassuring. Last Monday we went to a cabaret, very nice, and some of it was pretty good. At any rate, enjoyable. We were with the owner, a weird fellow. Precisely as half-intellectual as these people often are. And let me tell you, Chicago is a really strange place; in a sense, much more in­ tellectual than New York. Particularly the Jews here have a markedly Middle-European . God knows from where, for they all come from Russia, their parents, that is. And not from Poland or Galicia! The same old story. Otherwise, everything very quiet, as I had kept these days open for you. From now on it will get less comfortable. A series of [sic], which, however, I'm looking forward to, and Extra-discussions with my , who are very nice and very well disposed. Furthermore, they are better in the than in the . That surprised me at Columbia. It's no longer the case that talented students basically don't want to have anything to do with politics. It's a different society and a different generation from 5 or 6 years ago. Now you didn't get a birthday present,6 which would be a fair punishment, if there were a punishment for you. So I suggest that we buy you a little [sic]; I take it you'll want to listen and see more than you have till now. What do you think?

[. . .]

Farewell, dearest, and repent your sins. By the way, I got a nice letter from Mary. Bowden [Broadwater, Mary's husband] is going to Alabama for a divorce. LowelF wrote that he was invited to the inau­ guration: . Isn't that strange? Your [Evanston] 2. 17.61

Dearest dear, I'm suddenly horribly anxious. It's simply too long. I just finished reading the proofs8-phew! And got an enchanting letter from 352

Jaspers, who is delighted about Kennedy and your photos.9 And, needless to say, wants to know when we are to be expected in Basie. With the postponement of the Eichmann trial,10 everything is topsy­ turvy. If you could make up your mind to come right after the end of semester, then it would be the most logical thing for me to stay in Eu­ rope after all. Although basically the seven hours are not the issue. But it is a clifference of about $500.

[. . .]

Otherwise, nothing particular. This [Evanston] is a la longue a pretty dreary hole. Chicago is, after all, an hour away (!) by cab, and though my students are quite nice, not one of them is really talented.[. . .] Your H.

[Tel Aviv,] Sunday [April 9, 1961] Dearest dear, Everything went marvelously! Splendid flight, what a difference by jet, and then in Paris a comfortable hotel with bath, and today an enchanting flight here-over the Mont-Blanc plateau, and then along the Italian coast and over Crete. A marvelous view! Chanan [Klenbort] with my family11 at the airport. I will see him tomorrow in Jerusalem. Will be at Kurt [Blumenfeld]'s tomorrow, and just spoke with Jenny [Blumenfeld], who seems to be doing bet­ ter right now. My little niece, 1 2 very pretty and nice. And otherwise too, so to speak, in the bosom of my family. Dearest, don't leave me without news! In Paris the chestnuts were blossoming, the lilacs, the fruit trees, everything at once! Your very own [New York, mid-April 1961] Darling, To date I have only your account of your nice trip and arrival. Everyone is asking after you, and there's little I can tell them. Lotte S. 13 has come to terms now with the terrible situation, and is acting splen­ didly with her daughter. [Dr.Kurt] Goldstein says she might go back 353

to college soon, Barnard, though, New York. The sweet little girl has started studying Greek with a teacher from Brooklyn College, and is enthusiastic. She might also be able to do her here and will enlist my help. Her one eye is still almost blind, but the symptoms are easing up. I think Lotte is quite right. Chanan's14 pres­ ence here would be unnecessary and would only lead to agitation and confusion. Next week I will probably start with the work of bestowing eizes15 on the encyclopedia. 16· I also have to fly for a weekend to Puerto Rico. At Bard everything is fine. You have really entered dark times again. The German defense 17 might well have been dreamed up by George Grosz. Eichmann looks as if he should never have existed. And Jewish Mr. Beer18 has demonstrated under his leader, Ben-Gurion, or, better, behind his leader's back, how easily interchangeable these modern se­ cretive power-shysters are. Over here and there and everywhere everything is quite dark. So at least we have to be rays of light for each other, hard though it may be in these dark times. Give my best to Kurt Blumenfeld, And . of course Chonne [Chanan Klenbort], too. A greeting, a kiss, and a pat. Your H. P.S. Regardless of how much you are against publicity, isn't it high time you got into a philosophical dictionary (see request)? April 15, 1961 Jerusalem Beit Hakerem Hotel-Pension Reich

Dearest dear, It's exactly a week ago today that I flew off-it seems much longer. It is a cold spring in Jerusalem, with a nice, warm sun. My hotel was impossible, so, as you see, I have moved-out of the city, which is loud and horrible, filled with the oriental mob typical of the Near East, the European element very much pushed into the back354

ground, the balkanization highly developed in every sense. You will already have read about the scandal19 in the papers; here there's an up­ roar, and also the fear that the trial might fall behind schedule. The trial itself: Eichmann l�ke a ghost that happens to have a cold, in his glass cage, more like a materialization at a seance. Not even eerie. His only concern, not to lose his composure. The public prosecutor,20 with countless assistants and surrounded by mountains of books and magazines, a Galician Jew, who talks a blue streak, constantly repeat­ ing and contradicting himself, acts like an eager schoolboy who wants to show how much he knows. The defense lawyer, 21 an oily, adroit, and without a doubt thoroughly corrupt fellow, but much more clever than the public prosecutor. And, towering high, the three judges,22 all of them German Jews, and in the middle the , Moshe Landau, who is really and truly marvelous-ironic and sar­ castic in his forbearing friendliness. Kurt [Blumenfeld] told me I would meet him at his place. I would love that, quite apart from everything else. In front of the courthouse, a mob of oriental Jewish children and Peies Jews23-as you'd expect at any spectacle. To tell the truth, the country is not all that interested, artificially whipped up. On top of everything, swamped with Germans, who are so philosemitic it makes one's stomach turn. Among them, sitting next to me at the table, the Mayor of Frankfurt and his wife, who have just deposited their son and a friend of his in a kibbutz. One of the jour­ nalists has already flung his arms around me, sobbing loudly: We are the ones who did this, etc. You'd think you were in a theater. Again, it was enough to make one's stomach turn. And then the smart and energetic gentlemen of the Economic Miracle, who are staying at the King David, and who are bubbling over with geniality and « good will." I can't imagine that this will end well. The only consolation: this whole thing isn't that important. Kurt has deteriorated pretty badly. I don't think he'll last long. Jenny [his wife] has leukemia; right now she is doing better. Kurt is still the best person to talk to. Intellectually perfectly fine. He talks a lot about you, and sends you his warmest greetings. My little niece [Edna Furst] has become quite charming; I'm waiting for them24 to arrive from Tel Aviv for a two-day excursion. I saw Baron, who will be testifying at the end of the month to provide a general historical overview. The trial will last many months; I doubt I will be able to be 355

there when it ends. Were we to have the verdict in August, it would be a miracle. So I will initially stay a week longer than planned, till May 8, then we'll see. Yesterday I met Fritz Lichtenstein, who had made such an impression on you with his efforts to get a piano for his kib­ butz. He is in the , unchanged, nice, and foolish. But proper and clean, which I imagine is slowly becoming worth its weight in gold here. I am becoming friends with [Thomas S.J Matthews, who is here for the Saturday Evening Post. He is the for­ mer editor-in-chief of Time. He is dealing with the Jewish question for the first time in his life. He is quite desperate, and I am vainly try­ ing to teach him the basics. I telegraphed Lotte [Beradt] when I moved, because I wasn't sure a telegram would reach you. Chanan was very upset and very brave in this whole business with Irene. I think Lotte [Klenbort] needn't be worried. He will remain calm, whichever way things develop. He is going on to Russia tomorrow. I can hardly wait for your first letter, especially for news if the poor girl has developed further symptoms. I am staying now at a very nice place, outside the city but very near the university, right in the mountains. I had a room with a bath and a balcony till today, but will have to move out tomorrow until after Independence Day in the middle of next week. It doesn't matter. It's a very pious establishment, the owner, from Bohemia, a former chemist, a very pleasant, nice, and sensible man. Fran�ois Bondy is staying with me here-and also the whole American [sic], Danish journalists, etc. Life here is insanely expensive, and not only taxis and luxury items, but the most commonplace things: soap, toothpaste, meat, etc. There has been a teachers' strike here since March, and for months now all the kids are at home with no school. It is a relentless struggle, because it's about the most basic things. And yet, here too there is some prosperity, particularly among the German Jews with .25 For the time being I'm sitting in the courtroom from morning till night, but am hoping that this won't really be that necessary anymore next week. Dearest, write to me! Even if it's just a line! Your H. 356

[Tel Aviv,] April 20, 1961 Dearest dear! I have been waiting for your first letter, and was very relieved to see your handwriting on one of the forwarded letters. Here every­ thing is going as expected, , with the ghost in the glass cage listening to his voice sounding from the magnetic tape. I imagine you've read that he would like publicly to hang himself. I was speechless. The whole thing so damned banal and indescribably low and repulsive. I don't understand it yet, but it seems to me that the penny will drop at some point, probably in my lap. Today I spent hours with Servatius' young assistant, Wechtenbruch, or something like that. He's flying off to Germany tomorrow, to try to round up witnesses, and particularly to get the Germans to initiate an extrad i ­ tion request. It was quite interesting, and typically he is a lot more charming than the people representing the Federal Republic of Ger­ many, who are suffering from the worst case of "Israelitis," as the lo­ cals are calling this outbreak of philosemitism. The whole thing is becoming more and more a matter between the Germans and the Jews, and outsiders look on with amazement and shock. There was a big [sic]26 here today, which I didn't go to see, and yes­ terday I watched the young Jewish generation sitting around a camp­ fire sentimentally singing the kinds of songs we used to know and hate when we were young. The parallels are fatal, particularly in the details. I have halfway decent lodgings near the university. Constantly badgered by people from all the different periods of my life. I go reg­ ularly to Kurt's, who, I imagine, I will not see again. He is intellectu­ ally fresh, but physically wasted, ancient. I showed him pictures of you, and he really wants one. You'll find them in the left-hand drawer in the ; he likes the friendly one. I don't want to part from mine; send it to me or to him directly (P.O.B. 538 Jerusalem) with a few lines. A friendly word from you will make a difference. I also met Fritz Lichtenstein,27 whose efforts to get a piano [for his kibbutz] made such an impression on you back then. But I think I've already written you about that. The best thing here is little Edna, who came to visit me for a day and has just gone back home. We are as close as if we had known each other all our lives. 357

[. . .] By the way, the prosecutor [Hausner] is becoming increasingly re­ volting. He told us that the Jews have given the German people Emil Ludwig28 and Kafka ( with someone else in between). And so many Nobel Laureates, you wouldn't believe it. And that Hitler was last in the series of Pharaoh and Haman;29 which led everyone to believe that the prosecutor obviously saw the murdering of Jews as a normal occupation for non-Jews. Ghetto-mentality, with tanks and military parades. Farewell, my dearest. Today is a letter-writing day. I have to write to the deeply enamored (it is very deep, sic!) Morgenthau.30 I am thinking of the moment when I will stand at the Zurich airport wait­ ing for you. But that's far off. Your very own Idiot that I am, I forgot the most important thing: Ricarda Schwerin31 called on me in reference to you. You know that her hus­ band is dead. She is very nice, it's very interesting how she can live here as a non-Jew. We became friends. She has two children, speaks enchantingly of you. In short, most pleasant! Now, the most aggravating thing: I still don't know when I'm going to get away. Tomorrow they are giving me 6 volumes of Eich­ mann's depositions! He has said more than anyone can possibly imag­ ine. The charges will continue this way for about another two months, possibly longer.I want to get away as quickly as possible, yet without the risk of missing anything important. But maybe I'll leave around May 1, and then come back at some point. But I might want to stay a little longer. The moment the date of my flight is settled, I'll tele­ graph- to Lotte again, as I feel that's safer. [New York,] 4.23.61 Dearest, As nice as it is to be alone, it is dreadful to be without you. One does need to be able to vent one's anger from one's chest when, e.g., Kennedy lets himself be talked into this halfhearted idiotic adventure with Cuba32 by the surviving Dulles,33 numskull number two. But it seems that these days no so-called statesman can avoid the lure of the undercover- and espionage-guys. And Mr. Dulles as well as Mr. 358

Beer,34 and all the undercover-guys, manipulate the world, probably because they are the most puerile among the puerile. But Kennedy is furious that he let himself be tricked by Dulles into opposing Bowles and Rusk,35 and now wants to get on the case of this unintelligent In­ telligence Agency. [. . .] One sees and hears a lot about the Eichmann here. It is horrendous. But now at least even the Rheinische Merkur argues how right the Israelis are that the world finally needs to take note, and ur­ gently asks for the carrying out of the 90 related cases in Germany against the main murderers, and the dismissal of high government of­ ficials who were Nazis (names are named). [...] I have lost four pounds to please you a little and to have some fun. May you be kissed, greeted, and patted. Your H [. . .] [Tel Aviv,] April 25, 1961 Dearest dear! Finally your letter. For God's sake, do not send me all the mail, it will cost a fortune, and is pointless. Only , every­ thing else can wait, particularly reviews. I just rang Baron and told him he needn't call you the moment he arrives in New York and chew you out for not writing to me. I was about to threaten that I was going to drop everything and return to New York. Writing from here is very difficult, because it's simply too much. The trial, though, very interesting. Today, e.g., Grynszpan's36 father told us in a few words how the Nazis had, from one day to the next, given all the naturalized German Poles ten marks and dropped them off at the Polish border. An old man, with a skullcap of the devout, very straightforward and direct. No gesticulating. Very impressive. I told myself-even if the only result was that a simple person, who would otherwise never have such an opportunity, is given the chance to say what happened, publicly, in ten sentences and without pathos, then this whole thing will have been worth it. Very interesting, and in part even funny, but I must say the Eichmann interrogations in 359

6 volumes, which we are not even sure yet how to transport­ grotesquely horrendous. But all of this I imagine lies in the well-known left peie. 37 The Cuban affair is an outrage, and I have the feeling a la longue outra­ geously dangerous. Could it be that our highly esteemed President is an idiot after all?? And the situation in Algeria38 is enough to drive one to despair. I take it you know that no airplanes can land at Orly right now, and that the French journalists have flown to Zurich and Geneva in order to try to get to Paris by train. W hen are you flying to Puerto Rico, and how is the thing with the lexicon going to work out? Quite a bit of overtime, I imagine. Write, write, write!! I'm still not sure when [I] will be flying off from here. Definitely next week, probably Thursday or Friday or Saturday. I will telegraph you should I change my plans. I will write to Jaspers now, and will tell him I'm coming on or around the 7th or 8th. I think it's best if you write me there (Austrasse 126, Basie). Yesterday I was at Fania Scholem's,39 who threw a [sic] for me with lots of kids from my class. Lots of fun. I got to meet Martin (Rosenbliith)'s brother-the Minister of Justice.40 Very pleas­ ant. Also yesterday a at the university, and again next Mon­ day. Quite interesting. This weekend off to Safed and Acco41 with my family (the Fiirsts]-my little Edna, quite uncommonly pleasant, but also otherwise enjoyable. Might be fun. For the time being no sign of heat, I'm constantly wearing a sweater and am glad I brought some woolen clothes. In the evenings it gets ice cold. I'm not exaggerating! Tomorrow an official at the university. Servatius-not completely a Grosz character, and yet! His assis­ tant [Dieter Wechtenbruch], very intelligent, a Carl Schmitt42 stu­ dent. I might see him again. Needless to say, no trace of my doing any real work. Tant pis. At any rate, my manuscript43 is being copied, and I hope I'll have some peace in Munich. I wrote to Piper about hotel reservations. Many people here are sending you their best. Particularly Blumen­ feld, whom I'm about to go and meet again. But also Samburski, who came to visit us once. I'm going to see Ricarda Schwerin again on Thursday. Often during the court case I keep thinking that Lotte [Be­ radt] should be here. I will bring her the 6 volumes of Eichmann. Even her eyes will pop out! 360

I must finish here, dearest. Dearest dear, take care of yourself, lose some weight!! Don't drink, or drink in moderation, weigh yourself. Don't overwork. And write me! Your [fel Aviv,] 4.26.61

Dearest dear, Your Sunday letter just arrived.44 [. . .] I have written to Jaspers telling him I am coming around May 8. I imagine it will work out. Yesterday I was invited to meet Golda Meir,45 and we quarreled until one in the morning-but without fall­ ing out, since she's American-it was almost amicable. The issues­ basically the question of constitution, the separation of church and state, the banning of mixed marriages along the lines of the existing Nuremberg laws,46 in part quite outrageous. My problem, because in the end I was really tired, was very simple: How does one get a for­ eign minister to go off to bed; when he, or in this case she, absolutely doesn't want to.Before that, I was at Blumenfeld's, whom I visit every other day. And he had invited Landau, , to dinner. That was incredibly pleasant and amicable. But please, don't tell anyone, because he is refusing out of principle to meet anyone from the press, and only came to the dinner under the condition that I solemnly swore it wouldn't be made public. He de­ clined years ago to accept 47-very difficult for him, since he has three children. It wouldn't be seemly for a judge. Today there was an official at the university, and Monday I am going to a philosophy seminar, after I went last Monday to a political­ history one. I enjoy it. We'll have some fun over the weekend. You will read in the papers about Goldmann's efforts to start a Liberal Party. That will be a stillborn child! There is nothing real behind them in this country; and Goldmann's tactic of presenting himself all his life as a of Israel is simply impossible right now. He is also living in a world that doesn't exist anymore. No one will give him a second thought. A pity, because right now is the per­ fect time to do something. Furthermore, Baron's in court was even worse than I expected. I wrote without knowing anything about the afternoon papers. 361

Cuba48- very bad! And Algeria even worse. A country without an army-that will be the best scenario. Kennedy's disgrace can only be halfway blamed on Mr. Dulles. Apart from all the secret informa­ tion, he simply didn't realize what a revolution is and what it means in the life of a people. And that is his fault, and also that of the Arthur Schlesingers he has surrounded himself with. Can you cut out the article from the Rheinische Merkur? And ask Lotte to keep her eyes peeled for me? It is very difficult to get one's hands on foreign papers here. The moment they arrive, they're gone. And as it is, there's very little coming from Germany. After you get this letter, most probably together with yesterday's letter, it will be better if you write me at Jaspers' . Should there be any changes I'll send you a telegram. Your very own-H. [. . .] [New York,] 4.30.61

Darling, As letters to Israel take more than two weeks because of the Balkan state of affairs there, I prefer writing directly to Basie. I hope you'll be able to catch your breath there. And as always, Jaspers will be a joy. Yes, I have let myself get mixed up in the lexicon job. 49 So far they have been very pleased with my work. But it's getting a bit much for me. At least I will earn my trip [to Europe]. I am working on the re­ arrangement of the program at Bard, which doesn't exactly make things easier for me. Otherwise, everything is in order. I will write to Blumenfeld today.[. . .] Kennedy launched into this idiotic and horrific Cuba adventure as a result of Eisenhower's long-standing policies. He has given in to the pressure of the idiotic Pentagon and the intelligence shysters and know-it-alls. This will cost us a lot. On the other hand, the French people really stood up once more for De Gaulle, and the fascist army5° was dealt a heavy blow. A little bit of hope for Israel and Africa. [.. .] I will report on your mail instead of sending it on to you. One item, though, needs your signature, so I'm forwarding it. 362

I have the impression that this whole business has somewhat taken it out of you. Pleas.e try to recover as quickly as you can from the shock. I am very happy that you have found Ricarda [Schwerin] (as is Lotte, too, who has been trying to find her for a long time) and that she is doing well. I hope she got a decent portion of the Schwerin for­ tune in the restitutions. I would like to know more about how she is and what has become of her children. Give my best to Jaspers and his wife. It isn't that long before I'll see them. Minka [Huber] wants me to see Natasha [Moch] in Paris. What do you think of that? Be well, my darling, and keep smiling. Your Heinrich

Tel Aviv, May 6, 1961 Dearest dear, Siegfried Moses51 has just driven me down from Jerusalem, dropped me off at a nice hotel near the airport, and tomorrow morn­ ing, at the crack of dawn, I'm off to Zurich, where I'll mail this letter so you'll know right away I arrived safely. I'll either go straight to Basie tomorrow or on Monday, but this time I won't stay at Jaspers', but at a hotel. I pleaded with him; it's much more comfortable for me that way, regardless of how nice staying with them has always been. And I also have the impression that people staying there in general puts a strain on everyone involved. I was just having lunch when a classmate I haven't seen in at least 40 years came up and spoke to me. Now I'm waiting for the Fiirsts, with whom I'm going to spend the day. I'm quite glad to get away, although I don't want to miss things here. The trial is a real show trial, and a lot is presented that doesn't have the slightest thing to do with Eichmann. E.g., all that happened in Poland. The trial is quite obviously being directed personally by Ben-Gurion's public prosecutor. But the is really quite im­ pressive. Most impressive of all was the woman from the Warsaw ghetto, who was one of the organizers of the uprising. No theatrics. But most of the others have been very much into theatrics, often very . It is having an effect, not only on the Israeli spectators, who

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for weeks now have been filling the otherwise empty , but also on the journalists, it seems. The basic mistake-if one can say such a thing-is not only that Eichmann has been completely forgot­ ten, his name often not mentioned for days on end (really typical, e.g.: After the prosecution put 29 volumes[!] concerning Hans Frank52 on the table, Servatius rose and asked: "Does the name Eichmann appear in any of these volumes?" The answer: "No"), but also that the Jews want to pour out their sorrow to the world, and forget that they are there to relate facts. Of course, they have suffered more than Eich­ mann has. This is the real problem in the attempt to turn the trial into a kind of historical stock-taking. And furthermore: as repulsive as the horrors are, they are not exactly ; and many people, not only me, have the uneasy feeling that the true essentials are being plowed under in a welter of horror and atrocities. I have seen lots of people. E.g., Rosen (Martin Rosenbliith's brother) quite a few times, all kinds of people from the Foreign Min­ istry. One thing seems certain: Goldmann and his Liberal Party, i m ­ portant as they would be right now, don't have a chance; a stillborn child. All of them obsolete people who no longer understand the world. Ben-Gurion, dangerously crazy as he is, is basically the only .The biggest danger he faces is that the young will rebel against him, but here, too, only a small group of high-school and uni­ versity students. In domestic politics, the biggest problem is pretty much the "unhealthy Egyptian faith,"53 and I think I already wrote to you that Golda Meir, e.g., admitted straight out that it's basically a matter of race. No mixed marriages-in order to make that go through they will accept anything. Disgusting! And yet, one can't say that people like Ricarda Schwerin are being treated badly; there are still enough human beings in this country to make life possible. But for how long? The question is: Should I come back here again for the defense? I imagine I should, but I'm not sure. I think that Wechtenbruch, Ser­ vatius' assistant, whom I've already mentioned to you, will call on me, since he is going to Germany to question witnesses for the defense. And of course it also depends on my appointments. Zurich on June 24th-etched in stone! [ . . .] Needless to say I forgot the most important thing: Please send me Lotte's copy of my revolution manuscript54 by , or, better 364

still and more inconvenient, by . I think I left it on the table in our library. And please, send it to Munich!! I could start working on the translation. Furthermore: don't be surprised if an or­ dinary, but registered, package arrives with the English revolution manuscript. I had to get rid of the carbon copy of the text that I have had transcribed here in Jerusalem! Also, the weather here is c o m ­ pletely crazy: namely, downright cold!!! And we just had a downpour. Yesterday evening I was at the Blumenfelds', where things were going a little bit better. He was in great form. Dearest dear-write me. I must stop here. The family just rolled in, and they're taking the typewriter away with them!! Your very own, H.

[New York, mid-May 1961]

Darling, Not too much to report, and I haven't much time. [. . .] Unfortunately, you are right about Kennedy. Everyone in power forfeits their basic intelligence. The Unintelligence Agency seems to have had its hand also in the affair with the French fascist generals. Their fear and hatred of Communists makes them go soft in the head. Rockefeller55 has signed a bill that prevents people against whom there is proof that they are for bringing down the government from getting a