Keyserling

Ten years ago Germany's Count Hermann Keyserling made a triumphal tour of the U. S., buoyed up by his best-selling Travel Diary of a Philosopher, fees reaching as high as $1,000 a lecture, and praise such as Glenn Frank's: "Keyserling may turn out to be a John the Baptist of a new Western civilization." On that trip hostesses received printed instructions on how to entertain the worldly prophet: 1) rooms should be cool; 2) a supper should be served after each lecture; 3) champagne should be provided; 4) oysters should be served, but no vegetables except mashed potatoes; 5) pretty young women should be present. Due to arrive in Manhattan by New Year's Day, for another tour, big, broad-shouldered, bearded Count Keyserling unexpectedly canceled his trip. To disappointed hostesses he wrote mysteriously that he was stricken, that the greatest tragedy of his life had taken place. But observers who noted that he seemed as broad-shouldered as ever added an-other reason: Before Hitler took power, Count Keyserling had announced that the Nazis were unfit to rule, has been in official disfavor ever since.

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