Your letter reminded me, to my enormous shame, how much I 
have neglected my duty to write to you. It was really disgraceful of 
me and there is no excuse whatever for this crime. So I’m setting 
to work immediately and replying to your nice letter which I 
received the day before yesterday. I had a dose of cannon fever 
yesterday. What happened was this: I was very unwell and felt 
really weak the whole morning and was then ordered to artillery 
practice and was nearly laid out at the gun, so I left and had a 
shocking fever all the afternoon. I felt a bit better this morning 
but still was not quite up to the mark at the gun-fire practice, 
although I have now almost recovered and have got myself two 
days sick-leave on account of catarrhal cannon fever, after which I 
hope I shall be able to handle the sponge properly again. 
Incidentally, don’t write home about this, it won’t be of any use. 
Do you know what the doctor prescribed for my cannon fever? 
A glass of punch before going to bed, isn’t that splendid medicine? 
You can see from this that an army surgeon is worth much more 
than, say, a Dr. Reinhold, with all his plasters, Spanish flies, 
leeches, etc., although he doesn’t need to know nearly as much. 
But we only apply powerful remedies here, genuine medical heavy 
artillery, bombs and shells and 24-pounders. Our prescriptions are 
very simple and I always cured myself that way in Bremen. First 
of all, beer; if that doesn’t help, then punch; if that doesn’t help 
either, then a swig of rum—that’s bound to help. That’s artillery 
medical treatment for you. But I’m sure you would laugh yourself 
sick if you saw me in my jerkin, standing beside the six-pounder, a 
long, thick sponge in my hand, and jumping around the gun- 
carriage. My uniform, incidentally, is very fine, blue with a black 

collar adorned with two broad yellow stripes, and black, yellow- 
striped facings together with red piping round the coat tails. 
Furthermore, the red shoulder-straps are edged with white. I 
assure you the effect is most impressive and I’m worthy to be put 
on show. Because of this the other day I shamefully embarrassed 
Rickert, the poet, who is here at present. I sat down right in front 
of him as he was giving a poetry reading and the poor fellow was 
so dazzled by my shining buttons that he quite lost the thread of 
what he was saying. Apart from all this, as a soldier I enjoy the 
privilege of not having to knock at anyone’s door when I go to see 
them, nor having to say good day or pay them any other 
compliments. Someone once came to our Captain’s quarters and 
accidentally banged against the door with his scabbard. He got a 
week’s arrest, because the Captain insisted that he had knocked on 
the door. You see what kind of cutthroat I am. On top of it I shall 
soon be promoted to bombardier, which is a sort of non-commis- 
sioned officer, and I shall get gold braid to wear on my facings. So 
you must treat me with proper respect. Because once I’m a bombar- 
dier, I shall have all the privates in the whole Prussian army under 
my command and they will all have to salute me. 

Why do you talk so much nonsense in your letter about old Fritz 
Wilm? and about young Fritzchen Wilmchen>? You women should 
not interfere in politics, you don’t understand anything about it. 
But since you so much want to hear something about your beloved 
Majesty, I can tell you that His Supreme Royal Highness will leave 
for London on the 16th of this month in order to act as godfather 
to His Royal Highness, the little English prince,‘ and will perhaps 
visit Paris on the return journey but most certainly Cologne, and 
in the spring he is going to Petersburg to celebrate the silver 
wedding of his noble brother-in-law, the All Highest Tsar of 
Russia,* then return to amuse himself in Potsdam in the summer, 
to spend the autumn on the Rhine and then to amuse himself in 
Charlottenburg during the winter. Now I must go to a lecture. 

Jan. 6, 1842 

This morning I moved out of the front room into the back 
room, because the front one has been let to a man from my part 
of the country, a jurist from the Cologne area; in any case, it is 

badly heated. This is curious, for the back room is larger than the 
front one but it is always warm from a little heating while the 
front one is as cold as ice. Whatever I did, 1 could never get the 
ice-ferns on the windows in the front room to melt, but here at 
the back, it is a pleasure to watch the ice, which has frozen finger- 
thick during the last week, melting away as in spring, and the bright 
blue sky, which I was unable to see from my former room for so 
long, is gaily looking in. And I can once again see the barracks 
of the 2nd Guards Regiment of Mudlarks (as we call the Infantry) 
and the Veterinary School and everything attached to it. 

We've got a Rhinelandish restaurant here where all our favour- 
ite home dishes— which are otherwise quite unknown here —are 
served. Every Saturday night we have fried potato cake along with a 
jug of coffee. Yesterday I had apple and potato. Our good old duck 
soup, which you know well, has a distinguished place there. And 
lots of other things which do not come to my mind. There is pork 
and sauerkraut for lunch today, which I’m looking forward to. 
The other day he was going to treat us to Pannhas* but it didn’t 
come off because there is no buckwheat flour to be had, so we 
can’t have yeast pancakes either, which we have long been languish- 
ing for. 

Splendid! The sun is beginning to shine well and truly, which I find 
most delightful, and so I shall go for a walk after dinner, and since 
Schelling is not lecturing tonight, I shall have the whole evening 
to myself and be able to work seriously and without interruption. 

The local theatre is very fine— magnificent 
sets, splendid actors, but mostly bad singers. So 
I don’t very often go to the opera. Tomorrow 
there will be a new play, Columbus by Werder. 
This is about Columbus who discovered Ameri- 
ca and Werder is a professor at the University 
here, the man who discovered the profundity of 
negation. Verily, verily I say unto you the 
theatre will be really full tomorrow night and I 
will be there contributing to its fullness. Two of 
the acts take place on a ship at sea, which 
should be interesting to watch. 

Here you see me in uniform with my great- 
coat draped round my shoulder in a most 
romantic and picturesque fashion— but strictly 
against regulations. If I were to go out like this 

into the street, I should risk being arrested at any moment— which 
isn’t very pleasant. For if I’m seen in the street with even one button 
on my uniform or one hook on my collar unfastened, any officer 
or N.C.O. can put me under arrest. So you see, it is quite 
dangerous to be a soldier, even in peacetime. One of the most 
delightful things is that we have to go to church every four weeks 
but I have always managed to dodge it, except once. You have to 
stand in the yard for an hour beforehand wearing your heavy 
decorated shako with its plumes and then when you are frozen right 
through, you go into the ice-cold church where you cannot even 
hear anything of the sermon, for the acoustics are so bad. Isn’t that 
delightful? Write again soon. 

Your brother. 
Friedrich 

The sealing-wafer isn’t one of the best.