[Knopf to Fassbender.]
.... and tell me, did I ever meet at your house a teacher by the name of Runzler? It is very important to me to know, this, for he was my father-in-law.
I think he was at your house, and took snuff out of a large box.
Yes, it is so. I have just, asked my Rosalie. Her father used to take snuff from a big beech-wood box. So my idea was correct. Memory is a whimsical thing. We ought, professionally, to take it into consideration far more than we do. I remember actually nothing but the beech-wood snuff-box; but I beg you to tell me what we talked about at that time. You recollect, or rather I remind you, that I was at that time much saddened by the childish prank which Roland had played off upon me. I was so troubled, that I cannot remember any thing that passed. So write me all about it, and you will be doing me a great favor. You will soon receive a card inscribed thus:
EMIL KNOPF,
Rosalie Knopf, née Runzler,
Married.
I tell you the world is full of romances; the whole of life is but a romance.
The philosopher Schelling is right; poetry, art, government, religion, everything, had their origin in myths.
My good Roland has described to me his visit to Abraham Lincoln, and I have a good poem about it in my head. Unfortunately I have as yet only the title; but it is a beautiful one, for the piece is to be called: 'In Abraham's bosom.' Think how much can be included under such a heading!