er or grape-shot tear off
this fleshly mask, fall it must sooner or later: and then, granted that
they are equal in height, a likeness will after all turn up between a
Prussian and an Austrian which will make it difficult to distinguish
them. The stupid and the clever, too, look pretty much alike when their
bones are well picked. With such views, a man certainly gets rid of his
specific patriotism; but it would indeed be a subject for despair if our
salvation depended on them.

TO HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW, OSCAR VON ARNIM

RHEINFELD, August 16th, 1861.

I have just received the news of the terrible misfortune which has
befallen you and Malwine, My first thought was to come to you at once,
but in wanting to do so I overrated my powers. My _regime_ has touched
me up a good deal, and the thought of suddenly breaking it off met with
such decided opposition that I have resolved to let Johanna go alone.
Such a blow goes beyond the reach of human consolation. And yet it is a
natural desire to be near those we love in their sorrow, and to lament
with them in common. It is the only thing we can do. A heavier sorrow
could scarcely have befallen you. To lose such an amiable and a
so-happily-thriving child in such a way, and to bury along with him all
the hopes which were to be the joys of your old days,--sorrow over such
a loss will not depart from you as long as you live on this earth; this
I feel with you, with deep and painful sympathy. We are powerless and
helpless in God's mighty hand, so far as he will not himself help us,
and can do nothing but bow down in humility under his dispensations. He
can take from us all that he gave, and make us utterly desolate; and our
mourning for it will be all the bitterer, the more we allow it to run to
excess in contention and rebellion against his almighty ordinance. Do
not mingle your just grief with bitterness and repining, but bring home
to yourself that a son and a daughter are left to you, and that with
them, and even in the feeling of having possessed another beloved child
for fifteen years, you must consider yourself blessed in comparison with
the many who have never had children nor known a parent's joy.

I do not want to trouble you with feeble grounds for consolation, but
only to tell you in these lines how I, as friend and brother, feel your
suffering like my own, and am moved by it to the very core. How all
small cares and vexations, which daily accompany our life, vanish at the