Dresde, December 20, 1870.
You have been constantly on my mind these days. Through the Hegel editor, as well as the noruegian newspapers, I have heard about your sickness. I've assumed you've been too weak to read letters, and that's why I haven't written you.
Since I received your friendly lines yesterday, I've calmed down. Thank you so much for remembering about me!
You ask me what you should do next. I'm going to tell you. For some time you must not do anything. You must let your thoughts and your imagination rest , for a determined period of time. You will get better in that calm; that is, precisely, what's good about these diseases. You will have indescribable days when you begin to regain strength. I know so from experience. The bad thoughts had fled; I didn't want to eat, or drink, anything but delicate and light things; I don't think crude things would have done me any good. It is an inexplicable state of wellfare and gratitude.
What will you do when you get your stength back? You will do what you must do. A nature like yours does not hesitate...
I have been in Copenhagen this past summer. There you have more friends and supporters than you can think of. It would make it even better for you to be absent for some time. It is good to make yourself noticed...
This is where they have given Rome to us, humble mortals, to give to the politicians. Where do we go now? Rome was the only place in Europe that was transitable, the only place where true freedom reigned, that which escapes the tyranny of political freedoms. I don't think we will go back to it, after everything that has happened.
The beauty, the primitive calm, will dissappear from