Soul of the Age (24 page)

Thank you for your kind expression of interest in my book. And also for the idea of recommending a French edition in Paris. I would very much welcome that. Since this book isn't destined for the crowd, I want to ensure that it's available to the small group of individuals for whom it is intended.

I'm a little embarrassed by your question about my book
From India.
But, of course, I shall give you the information you need. There are no illustrations, only text. It includes a strange little story, taken from the world of British India, which I enjoyed back then (1911) and still consider good.
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But, unfortunately, there isn't much worth recommending in the greater part of the book, which consists of notes from my journeys in Malacca, Sumatra, and Ceylon. The book is skimpy, and the journey was actually quite disappointing at the time; it has since produced some utterly beautiful fruit. But back then, having wearied of Europe and fled to India, I found only the lure of the exotic over there. That materialistic exoticism did not lead me toward the spirit of India, which I had already encountered before and was seeking again; it separated me from it.

Well, I have now been able to repay part of my debt to India in
Siddhartha,
and I believe that I may never need to have recourse again to this Eastern guise.

How well off we are basically as writers! Anybody who tries, as an artist, to portray how he feels about this diverse, multifaceted world has so many more alternatives than the person who tries doing so in a purely intellectual manner. Nowadays this can be seen quite clearly in the case of Count Keyserling, whose way of formulating things makes his beautiful, significant ideas banal. It's the same with the journalistic pieces of Tagore.
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But Keyserling and Spengler
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—I have been reading both of them—have nonetheless become very important to me. Both have a tendency to exaggerate and sound arrogant, which is common among scholars, the younger ones in particular in Germany. They feel threatened by the very existence of their colleagues and believe that they are ushering in an entirely new era. That is true only on the surface; both of them have an extremely nutritious core, which one can profit greatly from.

Warm regards to your dear sister. I'm counting on your getting nostalgic about Lugano, and then visiting me in Montagnola. I don't feel at home in Lugano; I'm almost as much of a stranger there as in Berlin. I only come alive up here, in my cell, which is in a primitive, peaceful, rural setting, but also has all the sophistication of a hermitage for gourmets.

Best regards, my dear friend, from my heart

TO GEORG REINHART

Montagnola, April 17, 1923

So I have to send you greetings once again without really knowing where you are. I hope that your surroundings are beautiful, and that you're feeling well and enjoying yourself.

I'm not faring all that well in my private life. Several things make me feel uneasy, including a problem with my girlfriend, which surfaced just when I was beginning to think I might get married again. Well, each one of us has to sort these things out for himself.[ … ]

It's very beautiful here in Ticino at the moment. The woods are just starting to turn green again, and there are flowers everywhere. My son Bruno, who lives with the Amiets, is spending a week with me here; he is outside, painting assiduously.

I paid a visit recently to my reclusive neighbor, Mardersteig.
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He has set himself up very nicely in his printshop, and will no doubt produce first-rate work on his press, since he not only has very good taste but is also a most painstaking and conscientious craftsman. His work is always marvelously precise and faithful.

I'm reading the thick volumes of Oswald Spengler's opus—have only acquired a copy now—and am enthralled, even though I rarely agree with his opinions on specific issues. I'm amazed that this clever and occasionally inspired work has been subjected to such vituperative attacks. To some extent, those barbs are probably directed at Spengler himself, who comes across in the introduction and elsewhere as an exceedingly vain person, just like Keyserling. But there is a worthwhile mind behind that vain, self-confident, rather Prussian façade.

Give my greetings to the parrots, crocodiles, and chimpanzees. I would so love to be at your place! And even fonder greetings to your wife and Vrene.

Fondly yours

TO JOSEF ENGLERT
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Montagnola, July 1, 1923

It's a cloudy and somewhat humid Sunday morning. The birds are chirping away in the trees at Camuzzi,
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and besides, it's my birthday tomorrow. I'd like to thank you very much for your kind letter. I have been wanting to write to you for days, if only to apologize for not visiting you in Zug. But, first of all, my personal mail is quite different from yours. There are letters every day, often quite a few, and things have also been quite hectic these past few days: Fräulein Wenger and her mother arrived, and my divorce came through.

I would certainly have liked to visit you on my way back, but I was so exhausted I had to husband my energy. I'm still barely mobile, each step is painful. I did get to the theater in Zurich one evening to hear Handel's
Rodelinda,
which is exceptionally beautiful and fine. It brought Spengler to mind. Whenever I hear that kind of music, or see Gothic or Baroque architecture, I sense clearly that those aesthetic creations belong to a formal universe that has disappeared completely. I have thought like that for a long time, and now Spengler is saying the same thing systematically. I'm still reading the second volume. It contains many mistakes and distortions, but is nonetheless the most significant book to have come out of Germany in the past twenty years.

My dear friend Englert, you foresee a wonderful future for me.
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Let us hope your predictions come true, before I dry up altogether. I appreciate your friendship and am grateful for it.

I'm sure your inner compass will guide you to a place where your life can take root, and I hope you end up close to me!

The Dr. Lang who dabbles in astrology has just written saying that the signs favoring marriage are so strong this year that I shall hardly escape that fate. I agree with his assessment, but cannot banish my fear of getting married again and the feeling that I should avoid it. But we all have areas in our lives where we behave passively and just follow our stars.

Fond greetings from a grateful friend, who sends best wishes to you both!

TO THE SWISS DEPARTMENT OF POLITICAL AFFAIRS

Montagnola near Lugano, July 26, 1923

The undersigned writer, Hermann Hesse, hereby presents a petition to the Swiss Department of Political Affairs requesting reinstatement as a Swiss citizen.

I am Swiss by origin, since my father had been living in Basel for a number of years before I was born, and he acquired citizenship for the entire family. He remained a citizen of Basel for the rest of his life, and my only other brother is still a citizen.

But in my case, in accordance with my parents' wishes, I became a naturalized German citizen in Württemberg at the age of fourteen. They had strong reasons for this step, since I was suited only for an intellectual profession by talent and nature, and I would need to get state foundation scholarships (a free place in the theological academy and in boarding school in Tübingen) if I were to continue my studies in Württemberg, to which my parents had moved. So, in 1891 or 1890, my parents decided that the best way to safeguard my prospects for the future was for me to apply for naturalization as a Württemberger. I was naturalized, and have been a Württemberger ever since. When I came of age, I had to reaffirm in writing that I had renounced my Basel citizenship.

In actual fact, I have been a continuous resident of Switzerland since 1912, living in Bern from 1912 until 1919, and in Montagnola up to now. Prompted by a variety of considerations and feelings, I would very much like to become a citizen of Switzerland and Basel again, and hope your esteemed department will accede to my request, if this is feasible.

I have just discovered that this petition requesting reinstatement of my citizenship should have been submitted within ten years of my return to Switzerland. I was not aware of that regulation, and so in that regard my petition is not altogether immaculate. There are two reasons why it has taken me so long to petition for reinstatement of my citizenship. First of all, I see more clearly than heretofore that my sons, who have grown up in Switzerland, have put down roots here and have no desire to keep in contact with Germany. Second, even though I was more or less compelled to become a German, I couldn't quite manage to desert my adoptive fatherland during the first years of the war. But as far as I'm concerned, those considerations no longer apply.

TO GEORG REINHART

Montagnola, October 29, 1923

I just wrote something today about the Officina Bodoni, which I revisited recently, and I have sent it off to Hans Trog at the
Neue Zürcher Zeitung.
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I'm enclosing the carbon copy, which I don't need back.

After spending nine days hunched over the typewriter, with rain pouring down outside, I have finally completed my Baden manuscript. It's entitled
Psychologia Balnearia: Notes from a Baden Spa,
and I think it represents something new and different. The manuscript is very intimate, some parts are purely confessional, and at this point I definitely don't intend it for public consumption. However, I would very much like to have about two hundred copies printed for friends and a small number of devoted readers; I would have to sell enough of them to cover my costs. The pamphlet would not be available in bookstores; people would have to purchase it through me. I have already contacted my Berlin publisher about the project, but don't know yet whether the whole thing is financially feasible or not. If I'm unable to fulfill my wish, I shall at some point read you the
Psychologia Balnearia
(about 100 pages long, the size of this sheet) or see to it that you eventually receive a copy.

I haven't written in such a frenzy since
Klingsor,
a nice experience, but so feverish that I'm now totally exhausted. I'm thinking of going to Basel within the next couple of days, and shall be staying at the Hotel Krafft. Some obstacles to my marriage plans have surfaced, and there has been no progress, even though I have been trying for weeks to make the necessary arrangements. The German authorities are being very bureaucratic. They insist on petty details and keep demanding additional documents and formalities, so much so that I shall probably have to withdraw my application for a marriage certificate. I shall try to become a naturalized Swiss citizen as quickly as possible, and then get married. That is quite disappointing, and it is a real blow to my plans that the German authorities, who have kept me waiting for many weeks, are bringing up new difficulties and complications.

I hope you're in good health and things are going tolerably well for your daughter. With many fond greetings

TO CARL SEELIG

Basel, Hotel Krafft, December 28, 1923

Thanks for your kind letter. I had wanted to wait until my marriage had actually taken place, before notifying you about it. So you found out in advance. I have to pass through a few more bureaucratic hoops before I can get married, but it should take place within the next fourteen days.

There is no contradiction between my remarrying and what I have said in my letters. I have naturally entertained thoughts along such lines—e.g., people like us shouldn't marry—and, in theory, I think that is all very fine and absolutely true. But if you have ever read a book of mine,
Siddhartha
say, you must realize that I regard clever ideas like that as a game, nothing more, since I feel one has to endure whatever happens in life and just submit oneself to one's fate. So I'm getting married because that's how things have turned out. I am as little concerned with free choice or hopes for my future happiness as I was last year when my divorce came through. I'm getting married quite reluctantly, with a lot of reservations, even though I love my bride very much. I haven't taken this decision actively, for compelling inner reasons, but rather as a means of fulfilling my fate.

I would like to thank you for your love, and kind gifts, and encouragement. I wish you all the best for the New Year. Fondly

 

Basel, Hotel Krafft, February 17, 1924

Your kind letter arrived yesterday and also your present of the beautiful paper. Many thanks.

I have been married now for several weeks, have spent virtually the entire winter in the city, and my life has actually hardly changed at all. I didn't attract any attention walking about in the streets; as usual, I kept to myself more or less. My wife is a singer, still a student, but quite advanced; she has a beautiful high soprano voice, with a special aptitude for Mozart. The problem is that I'm an aging man with a wife who is still very young, and this has led to all sorts of new experiences, both pleasant and difficult, which have required some adaptation and change on my part. We don't always have the same roof over our heads; I shall go to Montagnola again in the spring, and stay there alone, apart from a few brief visits. We hope to discover bit by bit a suitable style and modus operandi for our marriage.[ … ]

My Berlin publisher, Fischer, has been here for the past two days. We haven't met in person for ten years; the last time we were together was on Lake Garda in the spring of 1914 during those balmy prewar days. That period is, I believe, not so much a lost paradise as a form of childhood, which, of course, is irretrievably lost. I wouldn't dream of asking to relive those years, even though my life back then was a lot more agreeable and brighter than it is now.