“On Saturday I drove with Rochow to Ruedesheim; there I took a boat and rowed out on the Rhine, and bathed in the moonlight—­only nose and eyes above the water, and floated down to the Rat Tower at Bingen, where the wicked Bishop met his end.  It is something strangely dreamlike to lie in the water in the quiet, warm light, gently carried along by the stream; to look at the sky with the moon and stars above one, and, on either side, to see the wooded mountain-tops and castle parapets in the moonlight, and to hear nothing but the gentle rippling of one’s own motion.  I should like a swim like this every evening.  Then I drank some very good wine, and sat long talking with Lynar on the balcony, with the Rhine beneath us.  My little Testament and the starry heavens brought us on Christian topics, and I long shook at the Rousseau-like virtue of his soul.”

“Yesterday I was at Wiesbaden, and with a feeling of melancholy revisited the scenes of former folly.  May it please God to fill with His clear and strong wine this vessel in which the champagne of twenty-one years foamed so uselessly....  I do not understand how a man who reflects on himself, and still knows, and will know, nothing of God, can endure his life for contempt and weariness.  I do not know how I endured this in old days; if, as then, I were to live without God, thee, and the children, I do not know why I should not put life aside like a dirty shirt; and yet most of my acquaintances live thus.”

Now let us see what he thinks of his new duties: 

“Our intercourse here is at best nothing but a mutual suspicion and espionage; if only there was anything to spy out and to hide!  It is pure trifles with which they worry themselves, and I find these diplomatists with their airs of confidence and their petty fussiness much more absurd than the member of the Second Chamber in his conscious dignity.  Unless some external events take place, and we clever men of the Diet can neither direct nor foresee them, I know already what we shall bring about in one or two or three years, and will do it in twenty-four hours if the others will only be reasonable and truthful for a single day.  I am making tremendous progress in the art of saying nothing in many words; I write reports many pages long, which are smooth and finished like leading articles, and if Manteuffel after reading them can say what they contain, he can do more than I. We all do as though we believed of each other that we are full of thoughts and plans, if only we would express them, and all the time we none of us know a hair’s breadth more what will become of Germany.”

Of the Austrian Envoy who was President of the Diet he writes: