impudently flaunting itself everywhere just now, whose clumsy disciples, fee in hand, hold forth with such unction and emphasis, that their voices penetrate even into learned, critical reviews issued by Academies and Universities, and into physiological as well as philosophical books, where however, being quite in their wrong place, they only damage their own cause by rousing indignation.[1] Under such circumstances as these, it is gratifying to see the public betray an interest in philosophy.
I have nevertheless one sad piece of news to communicate to our professors of philosophy. Their Casper Hauser (according to Dorguth) whom they had so carefully secreted, so securely walled up for nearly forty years, that no sound could betray his existence to the world—their Caspar Hauser—I say, has escaped! He has escaped and is running about in the world;—some even say he is a prince. In plain language, the misfortune they feared more than anything has come to pass after all. In spite of their having done their best to prevent it for more than a generation by acting with united force, with rare constancy, secreting and ignoring to a degree that is without example, my books are beginning and henceforth will continue to be read. Legor et legar:[2] there is no help for it. This is really dreadful and most inopportune; nay, it is a positive fatality, not to say calamity. Is this the recompense for all their faithful, snug secrecy; for having held so firmly and unitedly together? Poor time-servers! What becomes of Horace's assurance:—
"Est et fideli tuta silentio
Merces,——?"[3]
For verily they have not been deficient in faithful reticence; rather do they excel in this quality wherever they scent
