On the 24th of February I wrote to the Chancellor begging to be allowed to take leave of him personally, as I proposed to start for Leipzig on the following Thursday. I handed the letter to the porter at the palace at 11 A.M., and in about an hour and a half I received an invitation through Sachse to call upon the Prince at 3 o’clock. He was in the room behind his study, which opens on the garden. He was in an armchair, half sitting, half lying, and had beside him a small table covered with documents. After he had asked me how I was, he complained that he still felt very poorly. When one trouble left him another set in. The neuralgic faceache often prevented him from sleeping. If he could only go to the country, away from business, things might improve; but the King would not grant him leave, and “pestered him with all sorts of unimportant orders,” &c., as, for instance, with the question as to who should go to St. Petersburg to attend the coronation. “He thinks,” he continued, “that if I can manage to keep on my legs I shall live to be old,--and if not, why then I must die in the fulfilment of my duty.... And here in the Foreign Office I have no proper assistance. Look at that pile of documents which I must read through myself!” I said: “Of course there is not much to be done with Hatzfeldt. He has little ability, and still less inclination, to work. He only wants to amuse himself, and to draw a big salary for doing so.” “Yes,” he replied, “Hatzfeldt does little for his money, and has neither a good memory nor a taste for business.” He then continued: “The Crown Prince is also inconsiderate, and torments me with matters of no importance; and, in addition to that, the people in the Diet are committing all sorts of blunders. How abusive they have been during the past few days! But it is the same everywhere with Parliaments and Ministers.” I remarked: “Quite so, for instance in France.” “It is no better in England,” he rejoined. “The European is no longer making progress. There is nothing more to be done with him.” He repeated that he was sick of politics, and wanted quiet. He then spoke of the Kulturkampf, observing: “The Pope is really well disposed, but he is not so powerful and independent as one may think; he is dependent upon people who will have no peace. For some time it appeared as if a _modus vivendi_ could be arrived at, but now that is at an end. On the signs of approaching fine weather Windthorst threatened to strike and resign the leadership of the Centre party. He wants a stormy sky for other purposes, for stirring up discontent and strife, and they on the other hand need him, or think they do. They accordingly became frightened in Rome, and now they are once more making themselves unpleasant.” I said: “Catholicism has always been a secondary consideration for Windthorst. He is, above everything else, the well-paid advocate of the Guelphs.” He rejoined: “Ah, he believes in nothing whatever. He has absolutely no religion.”