Gotha, May 12, 1841.—I had proposed to arrive here yesterday evening but the outskirts of Fulda and Eisenach are so complicated that I had to sleep at Eisenach, where I naturally dreamt of St. Elizabeth. I am staying here for a few hours to see the Dowager Duchess who was a great favourite of my mother and was quite vexed with me last year because I left Germany without paying her a visit here. Apart from this, my monotonous travels are proceeding without incident and in fairly fine weather.
Wittenberg, May 13, 1841.—The Dowager Duchess of Gotha received me with the utmost kindness, asked me to dinner and hurriedly invited five or six people from the town who had known me in my youth. She dines at three o'clock and at six o'clock I asked leave to continue my journey. I would have stayed longer if the poor duchess had not grown so deaf that the honour of replying to her questions was literally exhausting. I preferred to spend the night in my carriage, for if I had slept at Gotha, I should certainly have had to spend the evening at the Castle. I am therefore going to take my rest here that I may not reach Berlin entirely exhausted. I have borne the journey very well so far and my little halt at Mannheim was a pleasant interruption to the monotony of my life on wheels.
For the last two days I have been reading a life of Queen Blanche of Castile by a certain lady whose work was well reviewed; the facts are interesting but the style is poor and the tone of the work is very anti-Catholic. While I am reading I cannot help conducting a silent course of refutation against the author; silence is very appropriate here at Wittenberg, the old cradle of the Reformation. From the convent of the Augustine monks, the ruins of which are now before my eyes, Luther launched his first firebrand, and he was buried in the church by the side of the inn.
Berlin, May 15, 1841.—I arrived here yesterday evening but have seen no one yet except my business man, Herr von Wolff. At midday I called upon the Countess of Reede, the Queen's chief lady and an old friend of my mother, and then upon the chief lady of the Princess of Prussia, to deliver the numerous parcels which the Duchesse d'Orléans had asked me to take to this Princess. I then went to the Werthers, to Countess Pauline Neale and Madame de Perponcher and I found no one at home.
Berlin, May 16, 1841.—No one would guess who gave me his arm to the mass from which I have just come. It was Peter von Arenberg who has come to ask that his property on the right bank of the Rhine should be made an hereditary fief for one of his sons.
Berlin, May 17, 1841.—To-day is a day of sad and grievous memories, being the third anniversary of the death of our dear M. de Talleyrand. It is a day which always arouses many recollections and I am sure that these will not be without their influence upon others. I wish I could spend it in quiet thought, but that is impossible here.
Yesterday was an unusually busy day for me and I am quite wearied. Mass was followed by the necessary calls upon the great ladies of the country; dinner with the Wolffs; tea with Princess William, the King's aunt; a prima sera with the Radziwills; while I spent the latter part of the evening with the old Prince of Wittgenstein. Besides all this I had a long call from Humboldt who is starting for Paris in a few days. It was impossible to breathe. The worst part of it is that everything here begins so early and that the day is divided in an unusual and very disagreeable manner.
Berlin, May 18, 1841.—Yesterday I dined with the King and Queen who had come to spend a few hours in town. They were both most kind and pleasant. I saw Prince Frederick arrive from Dusseldorf, who is also one of the old acquaintances of my youth. He still looks surprisingly young. His wife is expected here; she seems to have become totally insane.
I heard yesterday, while dining with the King, that one of the unfortunate Infantas of Spain whom their mother so cruelly placed in a convent, had escaped with a Polish refugee, but had been caught at Brussels; a fine escapade for a princess! It seems impossible to repress Spanish blood at the age of twenty. The King also said that Espartero had been proclaimed sole regent and dictator in Spain.
Berlin, May 20, 1841 (Ascension Day).—Yesterday I went from Berlin to Potsdam by the first train. The King had asked me to be present at a great parade. It was a fine spectacle. The weather was propitious, the troops splendid, and the music magnificent, but the day was somewhat fatiguing.