aterials is making itself decidedly felt. I go about in the rooms in
my shirt alone, as the dear blue dressing-gown is too narrow, even now
at six o'clock in the morning. A courier wakened me half an hour ago,
with his war and peace, and I cannot sleep any more now, although I
did not get to bed until towards two. Our politics are drifting more
and more into the Austrian wake, and as soon as we have fired a shot
on the Rhine then it's all over with the war between Italy and
Austria, and, instead of that, a war between France and Prussia will
take the stage, in which Austria, after we have taken the burden from
her shoulders, will stand by us or will not stand by us, just as her
own interests dictate. She will certainly not suffer us to play a
gloriously victorious role. It is quite remarkable that in such crises
Catholic ministers always hold the reins of our destiny--Radowitz once
before, now Hohenzollern, who just now has the predominant influence,
and is in favor of war. I look very darkly into the future; our troops
are not better than the Austrian, because they only serve half as
long; and the German troops, on whose support we reckon, are for the
most part quite wretched, and, if things go ill with us, their leaders
will fall away from us like dry leaves in the wind. But God, who can
hold up and throw down Prussia, and the world, knows why these things
must be, and we will not embitter ourselves against the land in which
we were born, and against the authorities for whose enlightenment we
pray. After thirty years, perhaps much sooner, it will be a small
matter to us how things stand with Prussia and Austria, if only the
mercy of God and the deserving of Christ remain to our souls. I opened
the Scriptures last evening, at random, so as to rid my anxious heart
of politics, and my eye lighted immediately on the 5th verse of the
110th Psalm. As God wills--it is all, to be sure, only a question of
time, nations and people, folly and wisdom, war and peace; they come
and go like waves of water, and the sea remains. What are our states
and their power and honor before God, except as ant-hills and
bee-hives which the hoof of an ox tramples down, or fate, in the form
of a honey-farmer, overtakes? * * * Farewell, my sweetheart, and learn
to experience life's folly in sadness; there is nothing in this world
but hypocrisy and jugglery, and whether fever or grape-shot shall bear
away this mass of flesh, fall it must, sooner or la