Hoping to learn something of Motley during the two years while we had lost sight of him, I addressed a letter to His Highness Prince Bismarck, to which I received the following reply:—­

Foreign office, Berlin, March 11, 1878.

Sir,—­I am directed by Prince Bismarck to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 1st of January, relating to the biography of the late Mr. Motley.  His Highness deeply regrets that the state of his health and pressure of business do not allow him to contribute personally, and as largely as he would be delighted to do, to your depicting of a friend whose memory will be ever dear to him.  Since I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Mr. Motley at Varzin, I have been intrusted with communicating to you a few details I have gathered from the mouth of the Prince.  I enclose them as they are jotted down, without any attempt of digestion.

I have the honor to be
Your obedient servant,
Lothair Bucher.

“Prince Bismarck said:—­

“’I met Motley at Gottingen in 1832, I am not sure if at the beginning of Easter Term or Michaelmas Term.  He kept company with German students, though more addicted to study than we members of the fighting clubs (corps).  Although not having mastered yet the German language, he exercised a marked attraction by a conversation sparkling with wit, humor, and originality.  In autumn of 1833, having both of us migrated from Gottingen to Berlin for the prosecution of our studies, we became fellow-lodgers in the house No. 161 Friedrich Strasse.  There we lived in the closest intimacy, sharing meals and outdoor exercise.  Motley by that time had arrived at talking German fluently; he occupied himself not only in translating Goethe’s poem “Faust,” but tried his hand even in composing German verses.  Enthusiastic admirer of Shakespeare, Byron, Goethe, he used to spice his conversation abundantly with quotations from these his favorite authors.  A pertinacious arguer, so much so that sometimes he watched my awakening in order to continue a discussion on some topic of science, poetry, or practical life, cut short by the chime of the small hours, he never lost his mild and amiable temper.  Our faithful companion was Count Alexander Keyserling, a native of Courland, who has since achieved distinction as a botanist.

“’Motley having entered the diplomatic service of his country, we had frequently the opportunity of renewing our friendly intercourse; at Frankfort he used to stay with me, the welcome guest of my wife; we also met at Vienna, and, later, here.  The last time I saw him was in 1872 at Varzin, at the celebration of my “silver wedding,” namely, the twenty-fifth anniversary.

“’The most striking feature of his handsome and delicate appearance was uncommonly large and beautiful eyes.  He never entered a drawing-room without exciting the curiosity and