During the first few weeks of my stay in Berlin I had, busy with my cases for the Kammergericht, suddenly sunk into a near-collapse. Excitement and stress had overcome me. The first who by chance entered my apartment, was Nikolai. Through him the report with my files arrived at the Kammergericht.

Soon a carriage rolled up to my house and someone that I did not know, whose every trait emanated benevolence and support, entered. It was the Criminal Director, Hitzig. He was, he said, also employed at the Kammergericht, had heard about my accident, and offered me, who perhaps had no connections in the city yet, advice and support; his wallet was open for me. My illness, I was certain, was already on the mend; I also did not need his support, but I was touched by his noble and humane friendliness, and it filled me with joy and inner thankfulness.

In the meantime E.T.A. Hoffmann had died. His stories were then the source of general amazement in Germany, as they would later give the major impetus to the burgeoning of the romantic school in France. Hoffmann became familiar in France long before Goethe and Schiller did. And he was not only a poet, but also a composer, had provided several dramas with music, and his Undine had been a great success a short time before at the Berliner Theater. As if that were not enough, he showed himself to be a talented and spirited draftsman of portraits and caricatures; although it could not be denied that his portraits, for example several drawings of Blücher, wandered entirely unrecognizably to the other branch of his art. In addition he was an excellent jurist; his reports were often heard in session with amazement, although at the same time case files with the most amusingly grotesque caricatures were circulating amongst the lawyers, in which one thought one could recognize one or another colleague. Now, after an eventful life, he had become council for the Kammergericht.