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Semmering
July 20, 1928
Dear Mr. Viereck
I have owed you an acknowledgement of your friendly communications for a long time, and there is no justification for keeping you waiting any longer. I did not write about the Days in Doorn at once, because … yes, because something in this book rather annoyed me. I should like to spare your feelings, although I know from personal contact that your feelings are not easily hurt. Proof of great tolerance and an amiable nature.
I liked your “Clemenceau”1 very much indeed. One feels that this is how that strange man is, magnificent and indifferent to what mankind calls greatness. In a long conversation I had with Georg Brandes the year before his death, our talk turned to “The Tiger.” I let myself be carried away into calling him the greatest living offender against humanity. I didn't know at the time that he and Brandes had been intimate friends until the Great War (if I am not mistaken) tore them apart. The wise old man did not take me to task; with a friendly look he clasped my hand and changed the subject. I took this to mean: “Never mind, my friend, this is something you don't understand.” While reading your interview I realized to my surprise that I could feel a deep sympathy for this hated enemy, as though it were not at all difficult for me to put myself in his place, something I have never succeeded in doing with other despots like Lenin and Mussolini. I think I was overwhelmed by discovering a common outlook on the world. I bear him no grudge for maintaining that he never heard of psychoanalysis….